Moon of the Bloody Conqueror, 14 AC

  ***

  A young, red-maned girl opened her sparkling green eyes, feeling like she had just woken from a thousand-year-long dream. She was Romy, and her family was too poor and unimportant to have a proper surname. She looked around disoriented, making sense of her surroundings after that sudden feeling of déjà vu. She was currently by the stream next to her small village, holding wet clothes in her hand against a washboard. She was alone, with no one accompanying her but her thoughts and the pile of unwashed laundry. She quietly began to hum to herself as she continued her work once she finished gathering her wits. An old song, passed down in her town, came to mind. After a while she sang its lyrics, too.

  “Over the hills’ ephemeral green,

  By foreign sights yet to be seen,

  Waits for me a soul so kind,

  I’d gladly leave my life behind.”

  “To taste just once, sweet love’s kiss,

  To share in sorrow, and in bliss,

  To grow old and content to final breath,

  For my love to hold me until my death.”

  Romy stopped. She wasn’t certain she got the lyrics right. Her young mind also didn’t quite like that the song ended in death, but it was the classic that’s been passed down in her town for at least a century. Far from a lyrical masterpiece, just something the locals of old rhymed together after a hard day of work.

  She pondered its meaning as her hands simply kept scrubbing the dirty laundry. Why move far away to meet someone to love? Couldn’t she just find someone here? Why leave everything behind just for that one person?

  “What a pretty song. Is it local?”

  She turned around – there was a girl, a little older than her. Of marriageable age, at least. Her clothes marked her as a traveler, with a green cloak draped over her shoulders, with beautiful, almost noble-looking features. Silver hair sat on top of her head and red eyes looked at Romy, sparkling with life.

  “My parents tell me I shouldn’t talk to striders…” Romy answered quietly.

  “Well, that’s alright, then! I’m not a vagrant, I’m a minstrel! Aspiring to be one, at least.”

  The strange girl sat down next to Romy, smiling at her.

  “My name is Nicola. What is yours?”

  Romy still looked at her suspiciously but chose to answer her after all.

  “Romy.”

  “My, what a beautiful name! Say, Romy, do you like singing?”

  Romy was a little bit flustered by the stranger's directness, but she nodded, nonetheless.

  “Hmm... if you like it that much, you should think about becoming a real singer! A minstrel like me!”

  Romy couldn’t deny that she liked the sound of that. So far, she only ever sang when she was by herself, like today, when she was out washing the laundry. But she wanted to sing for others as well, at some point, at least.

  And yet, whenever that desire grew in her heart, it was smothered by her parents’ harsh words, which she repeated.

  “Singers and dancers are immoral women. No better than whores.”

  She turned her head to the side, away from the strange girl, knowing full well how insulting the words she just said were, though instead of being offended, she laughed.

  “Is that so? Then I strive to be the most immoral woman in the kingdom! I’ll make my music comfort, arouse and satisfy the people like a skilled whore would!”

  Romy looked at her in amazement, and a good bit of confusion.

  “Why would you want to be an immoral woman?”

  The girl grinned and fished something out of her traveling pack.

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  Romy nodded, then the girl called Nicola opened her hand and showed her a thick lock of hair. It glowed with a magical, golden light, and each of its strands measured at least an arm’s length.

  “Is that...?!” Romy’s eyes went wide as she recognized the Light Elf hair from the folktales she used to listen to.

  “That’s right! Do you want to know how I got it?” Nicola leaned in, smiling.

  Of course Romy nodded enthusiastically. She wanted to know everything!

  “I chanced upon a Light Elf in the nearby woods. She was taking a bath in a crystal-clear pond as I happened to walk by, and it was like the sun itself was rising from the waters. When she noticed me, she simply smiled and pointed at my lyre, telling me to play for her.”

  Romy listened with wide eyes as Nicola continued.

  “I played her one of my favorite songs. She just sat there, naked as she came out of the pond, and listened, like my music was the most beautiful thing in the world. Afterwards, she took my knife and cut her hair to give it to me. She told me to string a harp with it, so that it may delight the people of this world as I delighted her. But she made me promise one thing.”

  Romy tilted her head.

  “What did she make you promise?”

  “That I would never use her hair for anything but music. Now, tell me: would a Light Elf, a nigh godly being give me such a gift if my profession was truly immoral?”

  Romy didn’t have any argument against Nicola’s words. Not like she wanted to refute her anyway.

  ***

  Nicola and Romy talked for a while longer while the latter continued to do her laundry. Nicola spoke of all the places she visited with her father before he passed away, and of all the places she still wanted to visit. It made Romy’s world feel so infinitely small. She even played a song for Romy, and after learning the words, Romy sang along. A strange warmth filled her in the presence of this girl. A sense of belonging. And singing felt like it set her soul free.

  As Nicola set out to depart, she asked her once again if she didn’t want to become a singer by her side, and Romy declined, despite her innermost desires. She had duties and couldn’t simply run away with this stranger.

  “It’s a shame,” the wandering minstrel told her.

  “You have the soul of an artist. You deserve better than to be confined to this village.”

  Romy didn’t know how to respond, so Nicola continued.

  “I will be back in… let’s say three years. I will ask you again.”

  With that, the young minstrel waved at Romy and walked down the street, headed for the next village. She would remain on Romy’s mind for all three years until their next fateful encounter.

  Moon of the Demigod, 17 AC

  ***

  Romy was carrying multiple empty mugs back to the tavern’s counter. She put them down before straightening her apron, looking over the festive crowd. About fifty people were present, almost all of the adults living in the village. She was the bride-to-be, yet here she was, working like it was a regular workday at the tavern, just with more people than usual. All she had to signify her status as the bride was a simple flower wreath placed upon her head. Of course, with their village being on the poorer side, they wouldn’t have the means to organize a feast or even decorations and an altar around town. The plan for tonight was simply for everyone to booze, say their congratulations, and then watch the bride be carried off into the upstairs bedroom to have her marriage consummated.

  She didn’t want this marriage. Her parents strongarmed her into it, convinced that her future was secured if she married the tavernkeeper, a man with a nasty reputation among the women of the village. He had money, so they said, and Romy knew that they mostly cared about her being able to provide for them once they grew too old work. Her siblings would be getting similar deals once they grew older: ‘Learn under a craftsman, even if you hate the craft, marry the farmer next door, even if he is thirty years older than you.’

  Tonight the grains in the hourglass of Romy’s life were draining towards the moment at which she had to open her legs and give her body to a man she couldn’t care for any less, and would have to bear his children. As many as he wanted.

  There was however one single ray of hope for her tonight, in the shape of a woman who sat in the corner of the tavern which was hastily turned into a stage for her to perform. For free, she even offered.

  Said woman was a silver-haired beauty wrapped in a green cloak sitting on a stool and holding a harp as she let her enchanting crimson eyes wander over her captive audience. She plucked skillfully at her instrument’s golden shimmering strings, delighting everyone around her with beautiful melodies, based on arrangements that were passed down orally for centuries. In addition, the strings of her harp themselves had magic properties, braided from the very same Light Elf hair which Nicola showed her three years ago.

  The sound emanating from the strings permeated everyone in the room and filled their hearts with joy, with sorrow, with whichever feeling they currently needed to feel from the minstrel’s music, as she kept plucking away.

  Romy watched her old acquaintance perform and felt a strange yearning in her chest.

  Nicola Bille. She had grown quite famous in the past three years. She came from a neighboring province, and rumors had already spread in the village before she arrived, despite Romy never talking to anyone about their meeting. She could seduce men and women alike with her voice and a simple glance in their direction, or so they said.

  “What are you standing around for, girl? Grab a pitcher and refill the people’s mugs while they’re in a good mood! And don’t forget to keep a tally!”

  Romy turned around to face her husband-to-be. She didn’t dare to talk back to him and sour her parents’ plans, so she meekly nodded. Grabbing a pitcher of ale, she walked between the patrons, looking for any who needed a refill.

  She handed out refills and kept count of how many times people’s mugs had been filled before while listening to the people’s congratulations and some crude comments about what was going to happen tonight.

  She returned to the bar and refilled the pitcher before she felt a hot breath on the back of her neck and closed her eyes. She wanted to be anywhere but here as the tavernkeeper felt her up and whispered.

  “Only one more hour… I’ve been dreaming about this for at least three years now. Tonight, you’ll be mine.”

  She didn’t answer and tried to get her mind off the feeling of his hands on her hips. She wished she could stop or even reverse time. She heard from multiple other girls in the village that he was a swine and was accused of taking any girl who got close to him for a ‘roll in the hay’, before acting like nothing happened.

  He dug his fingers into the fabric of her skirt, and subsequently, her thighs. It appeared he couldn’t wait another hour and would simply continue to feel her up, but he was interrupted by the bard’s voice.

  “For my next song… yes, you there, the bride! You look like you have the soul of an artist! I’d like to hear your voice!”

  Romy looked up and locked eyes with Nicola. The tavernkeeper grunted.

  “She’s busy right now.”

  “Well, I might just move elsewhere to search for a singer, then. Somewhere outside the tavern? But I think the crowd would follow me…” the bard put on an apologetic air before the tavernkeeper huffed and let go of Romy.

  “Do as you please.”

  Before Romy could leave, he grabbed her by the shoulder and leaned towards her.

  “Do your little performance. Right afterwards we’ll go to the bedroom.”

  She nodded meekly before she approached the woman on the stage.

  “Hello, dear. I am Nicola Bille, the traveling minstrel. May I know your name?”

  Romy squirmed in place, looking from side to side as all eyes were on her.

  “I’m Romy.” She answered, even though she was certain that Nicola remembered her.

  “A beautiful name.” Nicola repeated her old compliment with a gentle smile. Romy’s heart fluttered as the minstrel accompanied her words with a little wink, only visible to her.

  “Now, you know the old folk song from around here? I think even the children learn it at a young age… how did the lyrics go again?”

  She cleared her throat and struck a chord on her harp, then she played a melody. Romy recognized it, but not as what Nicola had been hinting at. Romy knew it as a ballad telling the tale of a poor maid running away from her marriage with a handsome traveler to start a new life, almost as if Nicola was hinting at something.

  “Ahh! I guess this wasn’t the one. Oh, right! Hm, hm… over the hills’ ephemeral green… that is the one, right?” Nicola played another song, this time the folk song she originally mentioned. She kept eye contact with Romy, and the latter nodded.

  “Right, then let us bedazzle the audience with your beautiful voice!”

  Romy was uncertain. Until this point, she only ever sang by herself, not in front of people. She was convinced that she would embarrass herself, and Nicola by extension, but she still resolved to give it her all, after that invitation. Anything to avoid having to submit to her husband-to-be, for just a few minutes longer…

  ***

  She sang, and as if she was possessed by a higher power, she sang with an angelic voice she didn’t even know she possessed. The bard’s enchanted instrument shook her to her core and elevated her voice to previously unknown heights. They complemented each other perfectly. Romy’s green eyes sparkled as she took in the wowed reactions of everyone in the audience, and in the end, she accompanied Nicola’s entire set while Nicola never asked her to stop.

  As the music finally stopped, and they basked in their well-earned applause, she saw the tavernkeeper looking at her. Fear gripped her heart again and she leaned towards Nicola, who simply smiled at her.

  “I want you to take me away from here… I want to sing more with you. I…”

  She returned the minstrel’s smile as she said her next words. “I want us to be the most immoral women in the kingdom.”

  Nicola nodded and placed her hand on her harp strings. “Cover your ears, beautiful.”

  Romy obeyed and covered her ears with her hands, and as everyone looked confused at what she was doing, Nicola struck a strange chord on her enchanted harp. It sounded shrill, and it must have sounded even worse for the audience, as everyone held their ears and closed their eyes in pain.

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  Nicola simply grabbed her by the wrist and ran outside of the tavern. Her former husband-to-be could do nothing to stop them, as he was still debilitated by the strange, magically enhanced sound.

  They made use of their head start and ran out of town, where Nicola’s horse was tied to a fencepost, waiting for its mistress.

  Lighting a mana lamp for safety, the two rode away, until the lights of Romy’s village, the only place she’s ever known, became so small that they were nothing more than a memory.

  ***

  A few months later…

  ***

  “You’re very talented, you know?” Romy admitted with some admiration as she watched Nicola make a little wooden marionette dance on its strings. She observed the entire process from the beginning: How Nicola carved the little figure from a simple block of wood, to how she attached twine, and how she finally built a simple controller. Now she made it dance, moving its arms from side to side in the shine of their campfire to entertain the children of some fellow travelers. Their trip between two cities would take two days, and this campsite was to be their place to rest for the night in-between while they shared the space with a merchant caravan whose hired bodyguards were a convenient source of protection.

  Nicola finished her little show to the clapping and cheers of the children, offering them a deep bow before she sat down next to Romy. “You’ve been saying that a lot recently,” she jested, and Romy let out a laugh.

  “I mean…! You can play the harp; you can perform with marionettes… what other talents are you hiding from me, hm?”

  Nicola smiled and looked up at the starry sky, then she extended a hand. A small, blue flame appeared in it, and she tossed it from hand to hand.

  “You could probably tell from my eyes and hair, but I’m from a magically gifted bloodline.”

  Romy’s eyes widened, and she almost jumped up.

  “You should be at the academy and study to be a mage, then! Why are you…?”

  Nicola chuckled and made the flame vanish again, looking deep into Romy’s eyes.

  “Because I love music. I get by with whatever folk magic I pick up in the towns I go through, but I have no desire to become some aristocratic bookworm, locked away in a castle.”

  Romy sighed and sat down by Nicola’s side as the silver-haired woman continued.

  “And if I went to the academy now, they would confiscate my harp. Light Elf hair is a powerful magic conduit, and those mages would kill to get their hands on it. It would very likely be me.”

  “But you’re just using it for music,” Romy observed.

  “That I do. Because I made a promise, and the promises I make are set in stone. The world would have to end for me to even contemplate breaking this promise.”

  Moon of the Pale Queen, 18 AC

  ***

  “One year, huh?”

  Romy smiled at the night sky. She was lying in a vast field of lilies, where she and her companion made camp for the night. By now they had become a proper duo of traveling performers. A singer and a harpist, visiting various towns and cities to play for the common people and bask in their adoration as well as accept their donations, and their names were sometimes known in the towns they visited before they even arrived.

  The campfire was just a mere glow of embers now, making way for the safe shine of a mana lamp, and the two were naked, save for their bedroll and Nicola’s cloak turned into their blanket, looking up at the stars as they let the heat of their recent lovemaking die down. Today they confessed their love to each other and embraced in passion right after.

  “Time sure flies,” Nicola agreed with Romy, gently grabbing her hand under the blanket.

  “You know, with your reputation I thought you would claim me in a haystack one town over and then leave me.” Romy said in jest, gently prodding Nicola’s side with her elbow.

  “But instead you led me to a field filled with lilies, my favorite flower.”

  Nicola let out a stifled laugh.

  “Trust me, if I wanted to take advantage of you like that, we wouldn’t even have left the village. No, I saw your plight and your talent and took you in with… innocent intentions.”

  “None of what you did tonight was innocent in the slightest, you immoral woman.” Romy turned towards Nicola with a teasing smile.

  “Are you sure I’m the one with the silver tongue in this bardic duo?”

  Nicola’s face flushed a little before she reached out a hand to caress the redhead’s cheek.

  “Do you have any regrets, Romy?”

  “No. None whatsoever. I want to be with you. For as long as we live.”

  There was a little pause before Romy admitted.

  “Actually… I regret not having asked you sooner: can you teach me how to read and write?”

  The silver-haired woman looked at her in surprise.

  “Oh? You never showed interest before. What brought this on?”

  “I love stories. But there’s only ever been an oral tradition in our village, and no one was able to write them down. I have so many ideas… I want to write stories, Nicola…”

  Her lover smiled and nodded.

  “Then I’ll teach you! Anything for the love of my life! For the one who is my whole world.”

  Romy leaned in to claim another kiss from her lover. She wished that things could stay like this forever…

  Moon of the Bloody Conqueror, 20 AC

  ***

  Romy was scared. They were approached by a messenger in one of the remote villages of the kingdom, who delivered a dreadful message to them. For the twentieth anniversary of the Conqueror’s subjugation of the land he demanded that the best and brightest of artists should perform at the castle.

  The past twenty years, after his conquest of the surrounding nations, the king consolidated his power in the most tyrannical ways possible. Dissidents were caught and executed in the most barbaric, publicly displayed ways, and all manners of speech against the tyrant were outlawed, to be punished with the selfsame fate.

  They couldn’t refuse, or they would share this fate. And if they performed, they were walking on eggshells, for a single wrong word could offend the monarch, and their lives would be forfeit – simply by attracting the throne’s attention many people were already doomed.

  Right now Romy and Nicola performed in his throne room. Impossibly tall marble pillars supported the glorious hall in which their figurative funeral was held.

  The monarch was as menacing as the legends told; people said he was a demigod, sired by malignant divinity, and he had the looks. His very hair glowed in a sickly green color, with grey eyes to match his pale face. He towered even above the tallest man Romy had ever seen, and the woman by his side, his queen, looked bruised by and terrified of him.

  A small army of courtiers stood in the hall and watched the pair of performers with mocking gazes. Romy’s voice trembled, and she knew that their audience could tell. That was, until Nicola gently brushed against her arm and smiled at her like usual.

  Now Romy sang her heart out, just like Nicola played the best she had ever played in her life. The enchanted strings of the harp managed to break even the arrogance of the watching courtiers and banish the fear of the woman on the throne, but…

  Romy felt a hand on her shoulder. She was forcefully turned around and face to face with the monarch, who rose from his throne as her attention lay elsewhere. She wondered why he came down to them – and then she felt an excruciating pain in her chest.

  She didn’t even possess the strength to look down, but she knew that the king just thrust his sword into her heart. He yanked it out and pushed her back onto the ground, where she remained motionless. She heard Nicola scream. Was it Nicola? Nicola never appeared upset, or afraid, or... no. It couldn’t be Nicola. She would be smiling and hatching a scheme to get them out of this somehow. She wouldn’t be cradling Romy’s body like this, crying.

  She wouldn’t ever be so full of despair that she’d smash her precious harp and use its strings for witchcraft. She would never! She promised it to the goddess who gifted Nicola her hair, and she would never break that promise, unless the world ended.

  And yet…

  ***

  ???

  ***

  Romy was a disembodied ghost. She saw her own grave in front of the ruins of the monarch’s former kingdom.

  She witnessed everything. Her beloved Nicola was so broken that she not only broke her promise but also made a pact with a malicious force from elsewhere. She offered the memory of their night under the stars as a sacrifice.

  Little did she know that by doing so, she would prevent a small part of Romy’s soul from reincarnating, to serve as an anchor for the curse to take hold.

  Here she was, forced to witness the atrocities that first Nicola, and then Lethe committed. She saw Nicola’s regret and her millennium-long quest to release the curse somehow. She witnessed the sprouting of a million different lilies, all carrying a victim’s memories.

  And today she witnessed the brave struggle of two women in love, not unlike Nicola and herself.

  She suddenly realized that she was aware. She shouldn’t be. She was a part of Lethe and not meant to possess her own memories.

  She tried hard to recall why it was that she could remember. It was at that moment that she looked at her hands and saw them as the green things they were. A woman was lying on the ground, unconscious.

  I remember. I ate her memories.

  Another woman wearing blue armor was suspended above the ground, wrapped in thorned vines while shooting her a glare through a stream of tears.

  I remember. I used her blood to get this other woman’s memories.

  “GET OUT!”

  The voice that rang through her head was loud and debilitating. It forced Romy on one knee and made her gasp, confusing the woman in blue in the process as she witnessed that strange display.

  Romy brainstormed what she could do now, how she could end this once and for all. Nicola brought her back with a specific purpose in mind, she knew her love well enough to know this. But she still needed to find out what exactly it was she could do as Lethe… and her vision turned white as another memory flooded her mind.

  “Romy.”

  She knew this voice. The voice of her beloved.

  Romy found herself in what appeared to be a theater. Stage screens depicting various sceneries were rolled into the background, props like little towers which actors could climb on were scattered around her and a dozen man-sized marionettes besides. She looked down at her hands and saw that she was human. She wore green, and as she looked around, she noticed that she had red hair like in the past, but it was emitting its own glow, like the king’s.

  In front of her stood Nicola, dressed like an aristocrat, her hair braided beautifully, while her expression appeared like she had been carrying a heavy burden on her shoulders for ages. If it weren’t for her silver hair and her striking red eyes, Romy would have trouble recognizing her as the carefree bard who loved life so much.

  She tried to speak to her, but no words came out.

  “This is a sealed memory I made with the woman whose memories Lethe just ate. A message. We can’t actually talk.”

  Romy’s heart sank as she heard those words. She felt her mouth move and speak, but it was not her own voice that came out.

  “I don’t know how I should feel about being used like a tape recorder.”

  Nicola chuckled quietly and made eye contact.

  “Bear with it for just a little longer, Minerva. And hush.”

  Nicola put her finger on her lips, and the body Romy was currently trapped in nodded.

  “I’ve spent the past one thousand years trying to figure out how to undo Lethe’s curse. It turned out to be very simple.”

  Nicola produced a white lily.

  “Lethe perverted your love for these beautiful flowers. Each one of them holds a memory she stole. And it turns out that her existence is tied to the very first lily which grew in her garden. The memory of our first night together, which I sacrificed.”

  Nicola sighed heavily.

  “I tried to stomp it. Tear it out. Cut it to shreds. Burn it, even, or eat it to regain the memory, as I saw her do sometimes with a few victims to play a sadistic game with them. But Lethe is the only one who can undo any of her lilies and return the memories contained within. They simply grow back if they are not unmade without her leave, just like her own body keeps reappearing.”

  Nicola now pointed at Romy.

  “You are the only one who can release it. And I am sorry to ask this of you. To make you die a second time. I’ve done something unforgivable, first by speaking my curse and making my sacrifice, and next by making your soul remember. I will carry the stain of those dark deeds on my soul for as long as I will live. Maybe even longer.”

  Nicola trembled. It didn’t fit her looks at all as her face took on a sorrowful expression, yet she appeared like she was unable to even cry.

  “Please undo the curse and find peace in your next life, Romy. I am sorry for doing this to you. I love you. May we meet each other again, as different people.”

  Romy wanted to say something, to reassure her lover that it wasn’t her fault. But the memory simply ended, and she found herself back in the field of lilies.

  ***

  Romy’s eyes widened in understanding, and she turned away from the woman in blue, running up the hill in the middle of the large meadow of lilies.

  “STOP!”

  She heard the blue woman shout something, but it was drowned out by the curse’s screaming, trying to get her to stop what she had in mind, but she couldn’t be swayed from her course. She was going to cast a spell that Lethe knew but never used.

  Finally, she stood on top of the hill. There was a single lily, looking utterly meaningless among all the other memories Lethe accumulated around it over the millennium. Yet this one lily, showing two women making love under the starlit sky, was the key to everything. She plucked it and lifted it to her face.

  “DON’T YOU DARE! IF I DIE, YOU WILL DIE, TOO! THINK ABOUT IT: THIS IS YOUR ONE CHANCE TO COME BACK AND SEE YOUR LOVER!”

  The screaming voice of the curse in her head was debilitating and partially tempting. But she would not betray her love’s trust, no matter how much her heart yearned for a reunion.

  She had one last look at this precious memory before she set it free.

  Romy blew on the petals of the lily, and it disintegrated. Its petals and stalk were reduced to nothing, and the trapped memory flew into the sky as a shimmering light, headed towards its original owner.

  “WHAT DID YOU DO?! WHAT DID YOU-”

  The curse screamed inside her skull and grew ever shriller until it suddenly cut off, and Romy was content. She turned around towards the blue woman, giving her a last smile. Her own body’s integrity degraded quickly; the plant-like skin and flesh fell off the bones of the murdered woman they grew around in her grave. With her smile, she spoke her last words as tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Please, tell Nicola it’s not her fault… and cherish your time with your beloved.”

  She looked up into the beautiful sky, at the shimmering stars which broke through the fading darkness of Lethe’s collapsing domain as her body’s failing integrity reached her neck.

  “I envy you a little. But at the same time, although it was short, I’ve lived the happiest life a woman could ask for! I go without regrets.”

  Her face crumbled, and before long only her skull stared at the woman with the halberd.

  Romy’s existence ended. Her memories were lost to the ether, while the small fragment of her soul which clung to this body for far too long went on a journey to rejoin its larger part.

  ***

  Moon of the Murdered Singer, 1067 AR

  ***

  Madame Bille was seated in her workshop, carving away once again. She couldn’t sleep, and technically, she didn’t need to anyway, so she spent her restless night creating more of her marionettes. Today was the moment of truth: everything hinged on whether Seika and Miori would be able to make Lethe eat a memory fruit poisoned by her potion. She used her own blood and an alchemical mixture she studied three hundred years ago, which were both aimed to bring consciousness back to the sliver of Romy’s soul still trapped inside Lethe. She’d know what to do. She’d know that to break the curse, the spell, she’d have to remove the memory which was offered as a sacrifice, and it would only ever work if Lethe herself gave this memory up. Nicola had faith in her beloved, faith that she would do the right thing, even if it meant that she would die a second time. However, it filled Nicola with untold sorrow that her plan meant bringing Romy back for a few minutes only so she could end her own life. She was certain that the black stain of using the Amaranth on Romy’s soul would permanently taint her.

  A glow outside of her window caught her attention: innumerable thin beams of light ascended into the sky. Some went down in the city, and one approached her. It came through the glass of the window, shining right onto Nicola’s forehead.

  A memory returned to her mind and her eyes went wide. It was the night during which she confessed her feelings to Romy – and Romy confessed to her in turn. She could taste Romy’s lips on her own and feel the contours of her soft body in her hands as her memory of that night was restored in full.

  Nicola sat in silence and simply reminisced, reliving the memory she gave up for revenge over and over again. And for the first time in over a thousand years, Madame Bille cried silent tears.

  ***

  Hifumi jolted awake. She was lying in a large guest bed, with a small mana lamp shining on her face. She felt like she woke up from a thousand-year-long dream, in which she was someone completely different. Someone who knew Madame Bille, intimately at that. And within a single second, she forgot the dream entirely. She absentmindedly wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye, clueless why it was there, as she looked out of the large window, to the mountain range on the horizon.

  There was a beautiful sight outside. Behind the mountains it looked like a million thin beams of light were ascending into the sky and scattering, some flying towards Romystedt, some further into the sky until they were no longer visible.

  She got out of bed and watched the spectacle unfold, unsure what she was seeing, and in this moment she was even too distracted to notice that her heart felt a little fuller than before, that she lost the listlessness plaguing her whenever she wasn’t writing, as the piece of soul she was missing through a dozen previous lives rejoined her.

  Bellona wasn’t sure what she just witnessed. In one moment, Lethe was a cruel monstrosity, barely more than a beast driven by its base instincts, and in the next, right after devouring the fruit, her face cleared up. She even lost the monstrous features, with her face taking the shape of a young woman’s. She looked confused, scared even. Then a sudden determination had her run for the hill and pick up one of her flowers, blowing on it and scattering it into the wind, causing her own body to decompose and collapse.

  Her final words stuck with the Magical Girl, who undid her transformation and approached the unconscious Hitoishi. With Lethe’s death it appeared that her darkened domain now collapsed as well, making way for a beautiful, clear night sky.

  “Cherish my time with my beloved…”

  Miori approached the woman she loved and cradled her in her arms.

  But I am a stranger to her now. I’ll have to work hard to make her fall for me again.

  Hitoishi stirred and opened her eyes, looking up at the gothic lolita.

  “…pretty.”

  Miori couldn’t help but chuckle at the observation.

  “Thank you. You’re a flirt, aren’t you?”

  Hitoishi shook her head and lifted her good hand to point at the sky. Miori followed the gesture with her gaze and her eyes widened. Every single flower in Lethe’s Garden disintegrated the same way the original did. All of them turning into bright beams of light, flying off to somewhere else. A cluster of these memories was headed straight for the pair, splitting apart in multiple smaller beams to enter Hitoishi’s and Miori’s foreheads.

  The two looked at each other with wide eyes as eight years of stolen memories played out in their minds all at once. And after a certain point, the two looked away from each other, blushing furiously as those memories contained multiple different confessions of love from Hitoishi, none spoken with any less conviction than the last.

  An awkward silence hung in the air before Hitoishi broke it, bringing her good hand to her mouth to stifle a chuckle.

  “W-what are you laughing at?!” Miori asked, her face now almost glowing in the dark from embarrassment.

  “What was my younger self thinking? Confessing at Comiket?! I made us do couple’s cosplay, too!”

  Hitoishi laughed now, unrestrained and from the heart.

  “I... uh, I didn’t mind!” Miori stammered as she recalled that moment and blushed even harder. “Well, except for how revealing it was…” she added quietly.

  “What are you talking about? Cutie Honey is a classic among Magical Girl afficionados! It has to be revealing!” Hitoishi suddenly got fired up.

  “And it got a new series that year, too! So, you had to go as Honey, and I got to go as Natsuko! My otaku blood demanded it!”

  Miori rolled her eyes at Hitoishi’s otaku outburst and put a finger on her lips.

  “Shush now, Senpai. There’s something important I need to tell you.”

  She saw her beloved’s head tilt in confusion.

  “My mind just got flashed with several different declarations of love by you, and I can’t leave it standing without a proper response.”

  She pulled her finger away from Hitoishi’s lips.

  “I love you, Seika.”

  With that their lips met and they enjoyed their moment together, illuminated by ascending memories.