Chapter 294 Anathema Veyrundis — When the Old Will Retaliates
Elysvarre
Seven nights after Sheena's Freedom Decree.
Every evening, as the candles in Sheena's room begin to flicker out and the world settles into a hushed silence, her thoughts drift towards one name that lingers in her heart like an old melody. The quiet surroundings echo the emptiness within her soul, filled only by memories of Fitran, the figure who stirs her emotions and ignites an unvoiced longing deep within.
Fitran.
She would sit by her bedside, the silk curtains draping around her like a protective cocoon, separating her from the world outside. In her hand, she always held a black ribbon—the very one that Fitran had tied around her wrist when he made the conscious choice to be her protector, not her savior. Gently, she touches the ribbon, feeling the warmth that lingers, as though his touch still remains, awakening hope buried beneath layers of sorrow and uncertainty.
"I didn't ask him to come into my life," Sheena thought. "He chose this himself." The voice of her heart resonates, and for a moment, she imagines the time when Fitran gazed at her with a warmth that could even soothe the dry night winds. "Why did he have to go?" she ponders again, stepping deeper into the labyrinth of her thoughts, thick with yearning.
On nights like this, Sheena would open her diary. Not to record politics or magic, but to write a single sentence that she always repeated: as if that sentence had become a mantra that helped her survive in the darkness. She contemplated their journey together, envisioning the small steps they had taken beneath the same moonlight, believing that, although separated by distance, her heart remained connected in a way that was beyond explanation.
"I choose to remember him."
In a world where will is often inherited or imposed by social norms, Sheena felt a profound sense of true freedom—the authentic right to love completely and unapologetically. Even though her heart remained tethered to memories that were difficult to erase, there was a glimmer of hope igniting in her thoughts. "What does love mean if we are not free to choose it?" she questioned herself, gazing at her reflection in the mirror with deep contemplation. She understood that true love must be discovered through personal agency, not dictated by others, and that the freedom to choose is the very essence of love itself.
Not for a kingdom. Not for an agreement. But for herself.
On the eighth morning after the Decree, the citizens of Elysvarre gathered in the bustling central plaza, drawn together by a newfound sense of community. A new flag—pure white and vibrant purple, symbolizing the freedom of will—fluttered proudly atop the towers. Laughter and enthusiasm began to replace the sadness that had once enveloped them, as a young man shouted, "We are the architects of our own destiny!" raising his hand confidently and inspiring those around him to embrace their newfound freedom.