There it was.
The Veil.
Crossed again.
But this time…
Spring stood on the edge of a towering cliff, high above a vast sea that stretched as far as the eye could see. Wind howled past her pointy ears. The forest surrounded her, distant and quiet, but the ledge beneath her feet was perilous—just one misstep from death.
Sweat trickled down her spine.
Her breath caught.
One step. One mistake. And she'd be gone.
She inched backward, careful, step by step, until she found steadier ground. The solid earth beneath her heels gave her a flicker of reassurance—until she heard it.
Sound.
From the forest.
It was coming fast.
Several forces—closing in.
She squared her stance, grounded herself, drew in the scent of the Veil—
One… two… three—
They arrived.
Shadowy figures spilled out of the trees. Small. Black. Glowing amber eyes.
Mindless.
Spirits of the Veil.
Their only thought was to kill.
She knew this stage. The battle phase.
Normally, she would've wiped them out in seconds—
But something held her back.
Some deep, primal warning.
Don't use your powers.
You won't survive it.
Her hands curled.
Her mind raced.
The bag of leaves she carried was useless now.
The spirits crept forward, pushing her back toward the cliff's edge.
Closer…
Closer…
Shit—
They pounced.
In a panic, she threw herself backward over the edge.
The creatures skidded to a halt, stunned, peering over—
But there was no sound.
No impact.
She hadn't fallen.
She clung to a rocky outcrop just below the ledge, her fingers gripping a jutting stone no more than a meter down.
Above her, the creatures hissed. Confused. Furious.
One of them actually seemed to curse.
That made her laugh—sharp and breathless.
"I guess Veil spirits don't climb. Who knew?"
They shrieked, clawing at the cliff's edge—
And then, without warning—
They crumbled to dust.
Gone.
Spring stilled.
That could only mean one thing.
Something worse is coming.
Her body was trembling with tension.
Her fingers were slipping.
She couldn't climb.
There was no going up. Only down.
I guess this is it, huh…?
I imagined death more glorious. But oh well.
She was ready. She had made peace with it long ago.
And then—
"Spring! Quick—jump!"
Her heart stopped.
That voice.
It was him.
He stood just beyond the ledge, calling out to her.
His hand stretched forward. His voice urgent.
"There's a rock just beneath your feet. Push off—I can catch you!"
How is he here?
An illusion? A trick of the Veil?
She hadn't heard him approach.
But it didn't matter.
Real or not—her hatred of him didn't flicker.
"I would rather fucking die!" she snapped.
"Stop it—it's not the time for that! I can't reach you like this!"
"Then don't!"
He was growing desperate.
She could hear it in the way his voice cracked.
And still—she refused.
But deep down, she knew.
This was him. The real one. Unfortunately.
"Please," he said, breathless. "Just hurry up."
Her grip faltered.
Her hand was starting to give.
He saw it.
And something in him shifted.
He exhaled—hard—and then:
"Lara. Jump. Now."
Her blood ran cold.
He had said it.
Her name.
Her real name.
No one said that name.
Not even Winter.
Not since—
Her heart crashed against her ribs.
Then raced.
But it worked like a charm.
She pushed off the rock and leapt.
He caught her by the arm, strong and sure, and pulled her up—
Grounded her again.
He didn't let go right away.
He was smirking.
She looked down at his hand—then yanked her arm free with venom.
Turned her back.
Walked several meters away.
Stopped.
Fists clenched.
Body trembling.
She didn't turn.
He just stood there. Watching her.
And then, her voice:
"Why did you save me?"
He laughed, sharp and low.
"We wouldn't want that icy heart of Winter's to shatter, would we?"
Something twisted in her chest.
He dared—
To speak of Winter? Now?
The audacity.
She turned her head just slightly.
Didn't face him. Just enough to let the words carry.
"What about yours, Fall?"
It hit him.
His smirk faded.
His breath caught.
He opened his mouth to speak—
But nothing came.
She turned a bit more. Still not enough to see his face. Just far enough.
"I can't hear it."
She fully turned to him now.
Then steadier. Every word measured.
"Why can't I hear your heart?"
He didn't speak.
Couldn't.
The words collapsed in his throat.
He just dropped his gaze.
Shame. Regret. Something unnameable tightening in his chest.
Silence settled between them like fog.
Heavy.
Loaded.
So many things unsaid—And still, no space for a real conversation.
But he broke the silence anyway.
"I won't hurt you, Spring."
She scoffed. Sharp. Bitter.
"Mhm."
"Why did you drag me here, then? To whisper sweet little things about Academy days?"
Her voice cut, tight and furious.
"How are we supposed to find Tharion now? How did you even think about this?"
A pause.
"Why are you here, Fall? How are you here?"
His voice dropped. Low. Almost a whisper.
"I was there."
She froze.
His eyes didn't leave her.
"…When you trained in the Arcane Tower."
Her breath caught. A spike of ice through her lungs.
"You—"
"You can't use your powers, can you?"
It hit her like a slap.
At first, it was the shock—
He found out.
But then something darker unfurled inside her.
He didn't even know.
It was the effect of Summer's curse, undoubtedly, but…
All that pain.
The breaking.
The loss.
He hadn't been aware of any of it.
She said nothing.
"Face it, Spring. You can't do this alone," he pressed.
"You'll die here. Let me—"
"You?"
Her eyes were frozen solid.
Dead calm.
"Let you help me?" she said slowly.
"Trust you?"
He didn't flinch.
He just stood there. Still.
Quiet.
Serious.
"What other choice do you have?" he said softly.
"You want to see them again, don't you?"
Her heart twisted.
Damn him.
He was right.
And she hated that he was right.
She did want to see them again.
She wanted to help Dante.
To fight beside Summer.
To look Winter in the eyes again.
She didn't want them to carry this alone.
She cared about them too much.
She turned away from him.
Didn't say a word.
Just started walking.
He followed.
They kept walking.
And walking.
He kept his distance from her, as if she was ready to explode at any time.
That was not entirely false. She was tense.
Spring tried her best to ignore it, but she simply couldn't.
There he was, the man who destroyed her, just a few steps behind. It made her blood boil.
She would have killed him but just so it happens… she couldn't.
She tried so hard to keep her calm.
She couldn't even hear him, but oh, she was well aware he was looking at her. She could feel that without the need of any magic.
"Stop it."
He was taken aback by her breaking the silence. He just started getting used to it.
"What?"
"You know what. Stop looking at me."
He smiled.
"I wasn't looking at you, but now that you mention it…"
"You- "
They were interrupted by a massive shockwave. It surrounded them in dust.
Something crashed not too far from them, something massive.
The ground was still trembling when they saw it rise.
A gargantuan mass of legs, thick, root-like limbs anchoring deep into the earth. Each leg was bark-skinned, and ancient, creaking as it moved. They were tethered, all of them bound to a singular surface high above: a colossal flower, its petals wide as rooftops and dark as bruises. The contrast was striking.
And above the flower, hovering in eerie stillness, was the orb, its eye. It pulsed once.
That was the shockwave.
A warning.
A hunting bell.
Then it saw them.
Without a sound, the air above them ignited. Fiery arrows of magic began to rain from the sky, conjured not from a bow, but from the eye itself.
Where the arrows struck the earth, a glowing array formed made of ancient words. It was creating a caging spell wherever touched.
Spring was fast, very fast. She moved with the speed of air.
Until she wasn't. A misstep. A miscalculation. One arrow struck too close, and the cage triggered around her like a glass wall. Thin, but extremely potent. She tried to push through it, but her powers fizzled against the trap.
Fall appeared in a blur of shadows, his body barely holding its human shape. One hand twisted mid-motion, shifting into something monstrous—clawed, scaled, pulsing with raw, unholy strength.
He didn't hesitate. He plunged the demon hand into the magical cage, tearing through the spell's bars like they were paper.
Another shockwave.
But this time, it was memory.
The moment struck them like a scream underwater. Visions of that night clawed their way into their minds. Spring saw him with someone else. Fall saw her eyes when she found them out. The pain was fresh.
But they didn't falter.
They knew the eye was the source. The flower was only a shell. So they made a plan. No words, just instinct.
Fall moved first. He charged the creature with reckless precision, drawing its attacks.
The eye followed him. Tracked him. Focused only on him.
Exactly what Spring needed.
She jumped into the air as high as she could. Enough to let her land just in the right position behind the creatures eye.
Spring didn't hesitate, either. She had to take the creature down so she mustered the tinies bit of magic.
Something that would not kill her… Maybe.
Just a flicker. Just a thread. Enough to cut through the noise. Enough to reach.
The spark of her magic turned into a spear and sliced through the air—sharp, bright, and unforgiving—and struck the orb dead center.
It shattered.
A soundless crack split the battlefield. The legs convulsed. The flower withered. The monster crumbled from the inside, and its body sank into itself like a mountain collapsing inward.
Spring was falling.
There was no doubt about it. She couldn't do it anymore. Every bit was too much.
Blood ran from her nose and ears, thin streams down her face, her skin pale as ash.
Fall was there before her body finished dropping.
He caught her.
He carried her. Took her far, far from the battlefield until the remnants of the eye were nothing but fading lights behind them.
He laid her down gently, his arms shaking.
And now, alone once more, they sat beneath the trees.