Chapter 3: Two died that day
She always felt a quiet joy when she visited the village. It was simple, warm, and unfamiliar in the best way. Whenever she went, she and Subaru were nearly inseparable. He was her first friend—the first person to treat her like a girl and not a monster. He made her laugh. Made her feel seen.
But this time was different.
"This is a proper date," he had said, puffing out his chest with that endearingly smug look on his face.
She didn't understand what made this any different from the other times they'd spent together. The word felt so... heavy in his mouth, like he was trying too hard to sound mature. He'd tripped over half his sentences just trying to explain it. And he'd blushed. A lot.
Hes so silly, she thought to herself with a fond little smile as she walked through the crisp snow, the familiar forest beginning to surround her again. Her boots crunched against the ground, and her breath steamed in the air like faint wisps of magic.
And yet, she felt it. That strange warmth. A glowing ember deep in her chest that ignited every time he teased her. It had been there all day. It shouldn't have meant anything—but it did. It lingered.
Her thoughts were interrupted.
"EMILIA!"
Someone shouted her name—desperate, urgent, too close.
And then—
A violent shove knocked her to the ground. Snow blasted around her, ice seeping through her clothes. She landed hard, gasping. Panic clawed at her throat. If the voice hadn't known her name, she would have thought this was it. That someone had decided to end her life. Finally. Cruelly.
They always hated her. Because of her face. Her bloodline. 'Her' name. Her existence.
Someone had slashed her face only a few weeks ago.
She scrambled to her knees—but then heard it:
"ARGGGGGHH!"
A raw, inhuman scream ripped through the trees, coming from where she'd just stood.
She turned her head—and her world cracked.
No.
No, it couldn't be. She told herself it wasn't him. It could be anyone. The scream could be from a stranger. The voice just sounded like him.
But her heart knew.
And when her eyes finally saw it—him—her soul collapsed.
Subaru.
On the ground.
Pinned beneath a snarling, slavering Wolgarm.
Still half-prone, she flung her arm forward, fingers trembling but determined. Her magic flared.
He would find out the truth—he would see the rumors, the whispers, the terror—but she didn't care. She couldn't lose him.
"El Huma!"
A single shard of ice, swift and sharp, shot from her palm. It struck the beast in its side. It whimpered—but didn't turn. Didn't flinch. It didn't even care.
"El Huma!" she cried again, aiming for the same wound.
It wasn't enough.
The Wolgarm's gaping mouth opened, teeth gleaming like ivory daggers, and it bit deep into Subaru's neck.
Her eyes widened in horror. Her magic faltered. Her breath caught.
No.
"El Huma!" she screamed, the air freezing around her as twenty jagged icicles materialized in a blizzard of fury and pain. They struck the mabeast's side, neck, and skull in a hailstorm of deadly shards.
She launched herself forward.
The distance between them—mere feet—felt like endless miles.
She couldn't walk.
She crawled.
She dug her fingers into the snow, her knees raw and burning. She clawed her way to him—her best friend, her only friend. The one who had laughed with her, held her hand, made her feel like she was just Emilia.
The life was draining from his eyes. His breaths were shallow. His blood—so much blood—soaking into the snow beneath them, staining her sleeves, her hands, her soul.
She collapsed beside him, her voice cracking with anguish.
"Puck! Puck! PUCK!!" she screamed, chest heaving, hands shaking. "Help him! Please!"
No one came.
He let out a choked sound. "Grk—"
He was drowning—in his own blood.
She held his neck, lifting his face close to hers. Tears streamed down her face, falling onto his cheeks, his lips, mixing with the crimson.
She wasn't good at healing. She was clumsy with it. Awful, really. But she had mana—so much of it—and she forced the spell through, like driving a war chariot into a glass temple.
She didn't care if it hurt.
Just—stay alive.
His breathing steadied for a moment. Just long enough.
"I—I'm—s-sorry, Mi-lia... I—I lo...lov—yo..."
I'm sorry, Emilia. I love you.
She heard it. Every broken syllable.
She understood it.
But she couldn't believe it.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?
Why would he say that now?
Why did he save her?
Why did it have to be him?
Why not her?
Why did the world keep taking everything away?
Why did it feel real?
Why did it hurt so much?
Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Her vision blurred again. She could barely see him now—just a shape, a shadow with eyes.
His strange, gentle eyes.
His ridiculous hair.
His ordinary, human face.
This was the first time she had truly looked him in the eyes.
And the first time he had truly looked at her—without fear. Without hate. Without disgust.
That made it worse.
Because for once, someone didn't fear her. Didn't hate her. Didn't see a monster.
And now...
He was slipping away.
He smiled at her.
She didn't deserve it.
His hand reached up—touched her cheek—soft, forgiving, loving.
Everything's going to be okay, his touch said.
No it's not, she wanted to scream. You idiot, no it's not!
Then—
His arm went limp.
His eyes dulled.
Gone.
She reached up as if to catch something, anything, as if she could hold his soul in place, keep it from leaving her.
She couldn't.
Something shattered in her chest. The pain wasn't just emotional—it was physical. Her whole body trembled under the weight of it. He had saved her. And she had only known him for three months—really, just twelve days. But in that time...
She had lived.
She had felt.
She had laughed, and longed, and ached.
Now, she screamed.
A scream not meant for ears, but for gods.
She screamed at the world for being so cruel.
She screamed at herself for being so helpless.
She screamed until the forest went dead silent, and even the wind seemed to pause.
She buried her face into his torn, bloodied shirt, tears falling freely. Her magic churned without her control—an ice storm forming around her, swirling, crackling, building.
She was the eye of the storm. If anyone saw her now, they'd know.
They'd call her a Witch.
And they wouldn't be wrong.
She felt something inside her mind—her heart—snap.
And then—
A voice.
"LIA!"
Her eyes flew open, her body jolting upright.
She gasped. Cold sweat clung to her skin, and her breath came in ragged sobs.
Floating in front of her was a small, familiar figure.
Puck.
The spirit she had cried out for. The one who hadn't come.
Her eyes were swollen and red. Her cheeks burned. Her heart still felt shattered.
"Lia, it was just a nightmare," he said gently, his voice fading into a blur.
Just a nightmare.
She squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to block everything out. But the images remained.
She felt raw.
Broken.
Eventually, she opened them again. The room came into focus—barely. She wasn't in bed. She was on the floor. Her blanket crumpled. Pillows flung in every direction.
A nightmare?
That was a nightmare?
No—no, that was real. It felt real.
She had been having dreams like this lately. Places she'd never been. Conversations she'd never had.
Moments with Subaru that had never happened.
Even—kisses.
She blushed, hard, the heat crawling up to her ears. But she shook the thought away.
No. Not now.
She had always been able to tell dream from reality. Always.
But that?
That felt more than a dream. Too vivid. Too real. Every word, every scream, every tear—still clung to her like frostbite.
Was that... the future?
Puck's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Lia, you've been quiet for a while. Is something wrong?"
He floated a little closer, his expression laced with concern—but she barely reacted. She lifted herself up on one shaky arm, eyes drifting around the room. Still no sense of security. The cold from the dream still lingered in her bones, even though the fire was lit nearby. Even though she couldn't feel it in the first place.
She was back in her room.
Safe.
Subaru wasn't bleeding in the snow. He wasn't—
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart still raced, thudding against her ribs like it wanted to break free and run to him.
"I'm fine, Puck," she said quietly, her voice brittle. "It was just a reaaally bad nightmare. Sorry if I worried you."
She added a little smile at the end—forced, but polite. A mask she wore well.
Puck saw through it. He always did.
But he said nothing about it.
Instead, his voice softened. "You wanna talk about it?"
She shook her head. "Mm-mm."
He frowned slightly but didn't press. He'd known her long enough to recognize when she was unreachable. Once she closed the door, even he couldn't open it from the outside.
With stiff, careful movements, she stood up and started gathering the blanket and pillows strewn across the room. It felt like moving through thick fog—like her limbs were made of stone. Mechanical. Distant.
She moved to her wardrobe and hesitated.
Her hand rested on the green dress Subaru had given her weeks ago.
She stared at it.
The same one from the dream.
She felt her chest tighten. Not with sadness, exactly—something worse. Dread.
'No chances,' she thought quickly, letting go of the fabric like it had burned her. She was superstitious to the point of foolishness. If Subaru hadn't told her something was fake, she usually assumed it was real. And this—this dream—she wasn't about to tempt fate by recreating it.
She grabbed her usual outfit instead—a soft sweater, white stockings, and her fluffy boots.
She changed in silence, then sat on the edge of her bed, brushing invisible lint from her sleeves.
"Can you brush my hair, Puck?" she asked softly, still not looking at him.
She didn't know why she asked. Maybe she needed something simple. Familiar. Reassuring.
He floated behind her, summoning a small wooden brush from thin air.
He gently began combing her silver hair, taking care with every stroke.
But his thoughts were racing.
He hadn't answered her cries in the dream.
He hadn't been there.
She hadn't said it, but he felt it—she was hurt by that. And maybe… just maybe, some part of her blamed him for not coming.
But the worst part wasn't that.
The worst part was what she said after.
"Subaru! Subaru! Don't leave me! Please—don't go!"
His expression soured. The name left a bitter taste in his mind. That boy. The one she talked about every single day. The one who made her smile in ways Puck couldn't.
The one she was dreaming about—screaming for.
He would have torn the entire village apart just to keep her from saying that name again.
But he hadn't.
Because before he could act, he felt it: the temperature plummeting. The mana in the room howling. The forest itself starting to still.
She'd almost frozen the entire world around her. Again.
And it wasn't anger that fueled her this time.
It was grief.
If he hadn't shaken her awake, she might have stayed in that storm for centuries. Alone.
Now he brushed her hair in silence, keeping his face neutral.
Styling her for her first "date."
She didn't even fully understand what that meant. Naïve. Sweet. Innocent.
And he wasn't about to help her figure it out. Not with that boy.
She would stay his doll —his daughter—forever.
Emilia, meanwhile, stared at the floor. Her heart was quieter now. Not healed—just... numb.
The dream still lingered. Every time she blinked, she saw him.
Subaru.
Bleeding. Smiling. Reaching out to her.
She clutched the hem of her sweater without realizing it.
She wouldn't let that ruin today. It wasn't real. It couldn't be.
It was just a dream.
Right?
She moved to the mirror and checked her reflection. Her face looked pale, her eyes still slightly puffy. But her smile—she forced it up, slowly, carefully.
"It was just a nightmare," she whispered to herself.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
Her smile faded ever so slightly as she looked out the window, watching soft snow begin to fall again.
Right?
And somewhere in the village far away, a boy named Subaru awoke, unaware of the death that nearly claimed him in a dream that wasn't just a dream.
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