The night has not fully descended, but war has turned the twilight into a gray of death. On one of the balconies of the spiral tower, Rinoa stands alone, gazing at the dying cityscape. There is no gentle rustle of leaves, only the screams and roars of weapons clashing in the distance, weaving together like a dark symphony. The chaos of battle sounds like the world's sigh, almost surrendering. Rinoa observes the ruins of buildings that once stood majestically, now shattered, as if this city has erased itself from the map of history. The smell of smoke and blood envelops the air, creating a suffocating aroma that cannot be washed away by the night wind.
She brushes her disheveled hair, her fingers feeling the dampness at her temples. Holding back fatigue and a slight pain in her chest—pain that does not come from physical wounds, but from the news she had just heard a few hours earlier. She feels constricted, as if there is an invisible shackle binding her chest. Whispers among the sorcerers, murmurs in the infirmary—Fitran has impregnated two women at once: Oda, the iron general, and Iris, the earth queen. And now, both are fighting not only for the world but also for the children they carry. Rinoa closes her eyes for a moment, trying to remember the aroma of tea that now feels like a distant memory.
Rinoa shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her heart is tumultuous—not entirely anger, nor pure jealousy. Just... a bitter feeling. The realization that even though she knows, Fitran's world has never been as simple as one heart for one soul, still, the most human part of her wants to protest. The sound of raindrops beginning to fall makes her feel the uncertainty that cuts through her. Is it so easy for you to divide the world, Fitran? Is it so easy for you to divide love?
But she knows, love in their world is not like old tales. Fitran's love is a river that flows deep and branches into many mouths, not a small pond belonging to a single star. Rinoa bites her lower lip, feeling the cold vibration of the night wind sweeping across her skin. She tries to neutralize the conflicting emotions. She knows, and she wants to be able to fully accept. However, acceptance does not mean without feeling. She feels her heartbeat quickening, as if trying to fight the deep-rooted sadness. In her mind, the shadows of happiness that she may never achieve compete with the bitter reality she must accept.
She snaps out of her reverie as footsteps approach, like a soft thud in the midst of the oppressive silence. Fitran appears at the doorway, his body covered in dust and dried blood, as if he has just fought a monster out there. His tired yet gentle eyes gaze at her, hinting at the heavy burden he carries. The aroma of wet earth and the smoke of battle envelops the air, triggering a creeping anxiety within Rinoa.
Rinoa holds herself back from immediately turning away. She chooses to look at the sky, pretending to admire the fading blaze on the horizon, reminiscent of withering hope. Fitran stands beside her, saying nothing, but Rinoa can feel the emotional vibrations between them—a pause laden with meaning.
A long silence hangs between them like a thin mist. Only the sound of magic occasionally echoes, and distant roars sound like the rumble of a storm, disturbing the fragile peace of their hearts.
Finally, Rinoa speaks, her voice flat, slightly pressed, breaking the silence that surrounds them, "I've heard from the sorcerers. Oda and Iris... you have given them a legacy that will not be erased by war." Her voice catches in her throat, leaving a bitter taste. Fitran takes a deep breath, nodding, not hiding anything, no matter how bitter it feels. "I do not intend to hide it, Rinoa. In a world that is almost gone... miracles sometimes arise from wounds. I... am only following the call of meaning, not desire."
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Rinoa exhales, holding back the bitter laugh that almost escapes. At that moment, her flowing hair is gently blown by the wind, framing her face filled with hope and uncertainty. "The call of meaning, huh? You do like to use grand words to explain matters that are actually very... human." She turns quickly, gazing intently into Fitran's eyes, as if searching for answers in his deep gaze, not wanting to miss a single nuance. "I will not ask you to choose, Fitran. I will not force the world to shrink just for one name—even mine. But listen carefully..."
She steps closer, looking deep into Fitran's eyes, her voice trembling with emotion and determination: Around them, the aroma of smoke and blood from the battlefield still lingers in the air, invading their nostrils. The distant rumble of battle, like the soft clinking of metal, adds tension to their hearts. "If you truly want to be a protector, if you truly want to love... never prioritize me over them. Do not make me the center of the world while they remain mere shadows."
In the dim light of the half-destroyed spiral tower, the shadows of Rinoa and Fitran become increasingly prominent, caught between the chaotic room and the dark sky of shattered trees. Rinoa feels the smooth surface of the old building's wall behind her as she emphasizes each word, her fingers sinking into the cracks of the bricks, as if trying to find a solid footing amidst the chaos. "I can live without a crown. I can live without a title. But I do not want to live in a lopsided love—where I am just your reason to forget the others."
Fitran seems about to speak, but Rinoa raises her hand, asking for time. Her gesture is gentle yet firm, emphasizing that this moment is important for both of them. Rinoa can feel her strong heartbeat, the emotional energy flowing in the air that clings to her skin, reminding her of how fragile the entire world outside is.
"I know, the love we share is strange, unusual, and perhaps even unfair to the other world. But in this world—in this war and destruction—I choose to accept. As long as you are fair, as long as you continue to make room for all those you have ever loved, I will stay by your side until this world is gone." Her voice, though trembling, carries a deep certainty; hope rooted among the ruins. She smiles faintly, this time not with bitterness, but with sincerity that slowly grows from the wounds. Outside, the distant rumble echoes like a song that pierces, signaling how dangerous their surroundings are. "I do not want to be the only one, Fitran. I want to be a part of your life—without erasing anyone else's part."
Fitran finally smiles too, tired but grateful. He takes Rinoa's hand, holding it gently. With a soft gaze, he observes the small furrows on Rinoa's brow that deepen, a result of the worries and tensions that continue to assail her. As the whizzing of bullets and the rumble of explosions sound in the distance, their breaths synchronize, forming a calm amidst the chaos. "I promise, Rinoa. I will never prioritize one over the others. My love... is not about who came first or who stayed longer, but about who dares to remain in the midst of the storm."
Rinoa nods, slowly releasing his hand, then leaning against Fitran's shoulder. The warmth of Fitran's body becomes a comforting embrace in a world shaken by the thunder of battle. "After this war is over... do not let me sit alone at the end of the table. Sit in the middle—with all of us. Be the reason this world can start anew, not end because of one of our wrong feelings."
In silence, they both gaze at the still-burning battlefield, the orange-red flames reflecting the silhouette of the destroyed spiral tower, a remnant of the once-majestic city. Rinoa knows that her love may not be the only one—but now, she knows that love is enough to slowly piece together a torn world. The smell of gunpowder and dust mingles, evoking memories of the peaceful times that once existed. The sounds of cries and distant shouts penetrate the silence, adding weight to their hearts.
And beneath the imperfect sky, a crowd of gray clouds hangs low as if signaling sorrow, Rinoa learns to love not as the only light, but as part of a constellation that continues to grow. Every vibration throughout her body feels it; she knows that even though the night seems endless, hope can still flicker amidst the darkness that envelops.
