[POV Mizuk

  Dawn in Whirikal did not awaken with the noisy bustle of the cities from my world, nor with the sepulchral silence heavy with incense of the Orestian abbeys where we were held at the beginning. Here, the day began with the rhythmic sound of metal striking metal and the scent of dew freezing over the grass. I rose before the sun, driven by the unease my nighttime memories had burned into my skin like a scar. Julian and Arthur were still sleeping soundly, but I couldn’t remain still. I needed to feel the weight of my weapon to convince myself that this body was still real—that I wasn’t just a specter trapped in someone else’s war.

  I walked toward the academy’s training fields, wrapped in my hero’s cloak to shield myself from the biting wind. When I reached the edge of the main field, I stopped short.

  I was not alone.

  At the center of the arena, surrounded by a mist she seemed to generate by her mere presence, stood Liselotte. She was not wearing her ceremonial uniform; instead, she wore a light armor of leather and steel that clung to her figure like a second skin. She moved with a fluidity that stole my breath. This was no common practice—it was a deadly choreography. Every ssh, every thrust of her dark crystal sword, was accompanied by a trail of frost that solidified in the air before shattering into a thousand shimmering fragments.

  I remained watching her from the shadows of the pilrs. Seeing Liselotte fight was like watching a snowstorm contained within a human form. There was a terrifying efficiency in her movements.

  Suddenly, she stopped.

  She didn’t turn, but the air around her seemed to vibrate.

  —“Mizuki. If you’re going to stay there watching, at least come closer. The cold seeps deeper when you stand still in the shadows,” she said. Her voice was clear, without a trace of exertion despite the physical effort.

  I startled, my heart lurching. That ability to sense presences… that absolute certainty. I stepped into the light of dawn, feeling small and a little clumsy.

  —“Sorry, Liselotte. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I admitted, rubbing my arms. “I woke up early and thought practicing a bit might help clear my head. The nights here are… too quiet.”

  Liselotte sheathed her sword with a dry sound and turned toward me. Her blue eyes studied me with an intensity that made me want to look away.

  —“You look terrible. Didn’t you sleep well?” she asked. It wasn’t polite conversation; it was a direct, almost clinical observation.

  —“It’s hard not to overthink things,” I replied, walking toward a wooden weapons rack to avoid her gaze. “Last night I remembered a festival from my home. Lights, music… and someone I owe a great deal to. I realized I valued the wrong things back there. I was… pretty selfish.”

  Liselotte was silent for a moment. She stepped closer, and for an instant, the air around us grew strangely warm, as if she were controlling her mana so her natural cold wouldn’t discomfort me.

  —“Regret is dead weight, Mizuki. On the battlefield, if you carry that burden, you’ll be the first to fall,” she said, with a gentleness that surprised me. “I understand that you miss what you lost. But that festival is over. And that person from your past… she is also part of a time that no longer exists. You need to start seeing the Mizuki who is here now. The one who has to survive on her own.”

  I turned toward her, driven by a desperate need to understand her.

  —“How can you be so strong, Lotte? How can you be so sure of who you are in a world that isn’t yours?” I asked softly. “Sometimes I look at you and feel like you also went through an emotional fire. That you lost someone too, and somehow managed to rebuild yourself from the ashes.”

  I saw something flicker in her eyes. A shadow of pain, a spark of recognition that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Liselotte sighed and looked toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning to paint the sky orange.

  —“I didn’t rebuild myself alone, Mizuki. I was lucky. I found someone who saw the person behind the ice and decided she was worth staying for,” she replied, her voice tinged with mencholy. “But yes, I know what it’s like to lose everything. I know what it’s like to feel that no one is coming to save you. That’s why I train. Because I won’t allow anyone I care about to ever feel that kind of loneliness again.”

  At that moment, a figure appeared on the balcony overlooking the courtyard.

  It was Leah.

  She wore a white robe over her uniform and observed us with an unreadable expression. Her gaze settled on me and then on Liselotte. The tension in the air turned electric.

  Leah descended the stairs with an elegance that reminded everyone who ruled here. She stopped beside Liselotte, looping her arm around hers with a familiar, possessive ease.

  —“Well, it seems everyone decided to wake up early today,” Leah said. Her voice was melodic, but carried an edge of warning. “Good morning, Mizuki. I hope Liselotte isn’t giving you too cold a lecture. She sometimes forgets not everyone has her endurance.”

  —“Not at all, Your Highness. We were just… talking a bit before starting,” I replied, bowing my head instinctively.

  Leah looked at Liselotte, and I saw her eyes soften for a brief moment before returning to me.

  —“Mizuki, you look exhausted. Lotte told me a little about what you talked about yesterday. It’s understandable to feel nostalgic, but as the future queen, I must ask you to keep your mind here. Whirikal is counting on you. We cannot afford heroes who walk while looking backward.”

  —“I understand, Your Highness. It won’t happen again,” I said, feeling a stab of something I couldn’t tell whether it was envy or admiration.

  Leah was Liselotte’s present. She was the home that, in my immaturity, I failed to be for the person I loved in my world.

  —“Good,” Leah nodded. “Lotte, the King is waiting for us. There are new reports from the border that we need to review before breakfast.”

  Liselotte looked at me one st time before leaving.

  —“Practice your footwork, Mizuki. Your right foot is still too slow on turns. If you don’t fix that before the first skirmish, you’ll get yourself into trouble.”

  I nodded in silence as I watched them walk away. Leah stayed close to her, speaking in a low voice, and Liselotte listened with absolute attention. Seeing them together was the final proof that the connection I had dismissed in my world was the most powerful force of all.

  I remained alone on the training field, gripping my sword with renewed determination. The sun climbed higher, the warmth began to melt the frost from the sand, but my resolve remained firm.

  I would survive.

  Not just for myself, but for the person I left behind—whom I someday hoped to ask for forgiveness. Because now I understood that courage is not the absence of fear, but learning to walk with it toward a better future.