After the short conversation, Lina looked at Axel. While his shivering hadn’t stopped, his skin seemed to have regained a little color. The air inside the tunnel wasn’t as cold as the outside which make Lina wondered. They already walked for a while which means the tunnel was quiete far, then how did air come inside the tunnel if it was far?

  She looked at the wall. Some devices, shaped like stones, were etched along the tunnel walls. A faint stream of air came from them.

  Fenric noticed Lina’s eyes fixed on the devices. “My mother made those. So we wouldn’t run out of air down here.”

  “But who feeds them mana? I don’t see a manakern or some kind of powersource along the wall. I mean in EInhartturm there are runic carving around the wall, I guess that it was for powering the runic lamp there.”

  “She said they feed on natural mana. She had many talents, you see.” Fenric smiled faintly, but there was a hint of bitterness in it, as if he were remembering something painful.

  Vierna glanced at him, catching the way his tone softened when he spoke of her. It wasn’t pride exactly—it was the ache of someone speaking about a memory that still bled a little

  “Didn’t you say your mother was a hunter?” Vierna asked. “No hunter could make a device like this.”

  “Yes. After we fled, she worked as a hunter. Not because she liked it, but because it was the only thing she could do without drawing attention.

  Teaching wasn’t an option anymore. Not with the Reich checking every name, every record. Hunting was easier. No one asks questions as long as you bring back food.”

  He let out a quiet breath. “When we finally settled in Rolbart, she had time to… breathe. To make small things again. To be herself for a bit. That’s why we owe this place more than most people realise.”

  He paused for a moment. “I’m not really sure how they work. I only remember what she told me about them. Despite being her son, I’m not good with this kind of thing.”

  Vierna’s eyes widened. Maybe this was something she could use later to bargain with Leopold. “Fenric, do you still have your mother’s notes?”

  “Yes, I do. I put them somewhere safe. Why?”

  “Nothing. I just thought of giving those notes to Herr Leopold.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’d be glad and decide to help Rolbart?”

  She knew that bargaining with Leopold using something so modest was a long shot at best. Still, it was better than before, when all they had was a pipe dream. At least now there was something tangible to hold onto.

  “Haha… I don’t think simple devices will be enough for that, Vierna,” Fenric said with a bitter laugh. “But oh well. I suppose something is better than nothing.”

  He looked at the creations his mother had left behind. Vierna caught the faint gloss in his eyes, like onyx touched by dew. They trembled slightly, betraying a longing he couldn’t quite hide.

  “Fenric, what exactly happened to your mother?”

  Fenric didn’t answer. He kept staring at the devices, and there was something else in his eyes, something deeper than longing, but Vierna couldn’t tell what it was. Seeing that he didn’t intend to respond, she decided not to press him further.

  Silence settled over them. Four teenagers sat in the dim tunnel, lit only by the dying flame of the lantern. A faint breeze drifted through, carried by the devices crafted by someone dear to Fenric. Vierna wondered if, in his place, she would feel the same—some small comfort from touching what her mother had once made.

  She had no keepsakes of her own mother. No pictures, no trinkets. Only the memory of a woman dancing under moonlight and the painful truth that it had all been an act. A mask to play the part of a mother, like an actor on a stage, reading from a script that God had written long before. And yet, Vierna longed for that illusion again, for that sweet lie where innocence still existed, where her biggest worry had been what book to read next. Was reality really better than the play? Was truth better than deception?

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The lantern flickered, casting long, trembling shadows across the tunnel. For a heartbeat, the world felt still—only the slow rhythm of breathing and the hum of the stones filled the dark.

  Her gaze drifted to Lina. Her fake blonde hair was a mess after wiping it dry earlier, yet somehow it suited her, like the soft disarray of someone just waking from sleep. The faint lantern light traced the red scars on her face, painting her like a warrior who had fought the world and survived.

  Those scars reminded Vierna of Lina’s real face—warped and uneven, a patchwork of collapse that only she could see as beautiful. Where the flesh twisted and folded, Vierna saw devotion; every raised ridge felt like a vow etched into skin. The slick, glistening parts, as if still weeping, were to her the tenderness Lina never spoke aloud. The brittle patches, cratered and rough, felt like memories scorched but unbroken. Even the faint yellow-lit veins beneath the surface, pulsing softly like trapped light, seemed to her the proof of a heart that refused to die.

  Every vermilion line was a kiss that time refused to fade, and every scar a promise that Lina had survived. Maybe she was the only one who found that ruin radiant, but the thought didn’t bother her. If anything, it made her glad—it felt as though Lina existed for her eyes alone, and she cherished that truth more than any illusion of perfection.

  Then Vierna realized that as long as she had Lina beside her, she knew—despite the pain—that reality was still far better than any stage play.

  “We should go now, folks. I don’t want the boy to suffer in this damp place any longer,” Fenric said, his voice breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, we should,” Vierna replied as she shifted her weight, ready to pick Lina up.

  “Vierna, just give me a piggyback. It’ll be easier for you.”

  “But I want to carry you like a princess… you look cute that way.”

  “Hehe… I’d like that too, but you were already at your limit back there, and we really need to get out of this tunnel soon, Moony.”

  Hearing that name made Vierna pause. Her fingers twitched slightly, a reflex born from habit.

  “Lina… Moony hasn’t said a word since the battle. She didn’t even whimper or scream when I used my last spell back then.”

  Lina’s head tilted slightly, her gaze dropping to the damp ground. Her shoulders sank, and her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, tracing invisible lines against the fabric.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It was my fault you had to push yourself like that.”

  “No, Lin… you tried to find a cure for the tea but got unlucky, that’s all.”

  “But—”

  “If anything, I really appreciate you doing that for me. Please don’t blame yourself, okay?”

  Lina nodded faintly, forcing a small smile. Yet her fingers kept worrying the edge of her sleeve, tugging and twisting it without thought.

  “But what does that mean for you?”

  “I don’t know Lin… I hope that Herr Halwen could help me later on.”

  “But doesn’t that means you couldn’t use magic again?”

  “Right now, yeah… I mean, I haven’t tried to use my mana since that last battle—too afraid of what might happen,” Vierna said.

  “But we’ll deal with that later. Now hop on.” She crouched down in front of Lina.

  Lina moved carefully. Her palms pressed against Vierna’s shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of her cloak for balance. She shifted her weight, inching closer until her chest rested against Vierna’s back. One knee came up, then the other, as she looped her arms loosely around Vierna’s neck. Vierna rose slowly, steadying her grip beneath Lina’s legs. The faint warmth of Lina’s breath brushed against her ear, and for a moment, the chill of the tunnel didn’t seem quite as sharp.

  The party continued. Fenric walked beside Vierna now instead of in front of her. The green glow of the runic stones and the dying vermilion ember from the lantern lit their path.

  “Hey, guys… how do we cover our black marks?” Fenric asked, breaking the silence.

  “Lina, did you get the cure back then?” Vierna asked.

  “Yes, I did. I’ll probably prepare it later—hopefully it’ll help the black veins under your skin subside.”

  Fenric leaned in slightly. “You’ve got some for me too, right?”

  “Of course,” Lina said, grinning. “I took a whole batch of it. Don’t worry, noble sir of antlers—your heroic deeds shall not go unrewarded.”

  Vierna laughed softly at Lina’s exaggerated tone. It reminded her so much during their first meeting with Albrecht. Maybe in a way Lina did took much after Vierna, maybe the effect of staying together for so long. In a way Vierna hoped that she too took after Lina’s bravery.

  “Haha… what are you even trying to be?” Fenric laughed, the sound awkward but genuine as he shifted Axel’s weight in his arms.

  Vierna raised a brow. “You’ve never seen a drama or a play before?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Fenric admitted, glancing down at the boy he carried. “We don’t have that kind of thing in Rolbart. People mostly just sing and dance. But lately, no one really feels like doing even that. It’s strange, really. Despite you guys being a spies, your arrival along with Yvlaine that night really lifted up our hope.”

  Hearing those words tugged at something in Vierna’s chest. The thought that Rolbart’s joy had dimmed so quietly left a dull ache behind—but at the same time, she felt oddly glad that her clumsy dance had lifted the village’s spirits, even for a moment.

  “I hope that one day we could do a play in Rolbart.”