CHAPTER 64: CYNTHIA’S PAST

Cynthia walked down the dim hallway. Ahead of her was a figure in a dark robe, silently guiding her toward Sir Kelar’s chambers. She had never known the figure’s identity, or even their gender. The voice was always muffled when they spoke, but Cynthia had never cared to ask.

It had been her routine for the past ten years, ever since the tragedy. Coming here was just another part of her life now.

After several minutes of quiet walking, they arrived at a door made of blackwood. The robed figure pushed it open and spoke in a low, muffled voice.

"Please enter, Lady Cynthia. Sir Kelar is waiting."

Cynthia stepped inside. For the thousandth time, she entered the room filled with strange specimens. No matter how often she came here, the discomfort never faded.

Large containers lined the walls, filled with murky fluid, each holding odd, lifeless creatures suspended within. Smaller jars sat on shelves, holding things even more grotesque in size.

She walked forward, passing hundreds of eerie displays, until she saw him.

A man in a black robe stood at one of the tables, carefully placing a long, black creature into a tall glass jar.

Sir Kelar.

"Good evening, lovely," Kelar greeted, his eyes still focused on his task. "How was your day today?"

His tone was casual, as if the room around them was not a horror gallery. His long, oiled black hair hung straight down his back, not a strand out of place.

Cynthia remained silent.

Once he secured the lid on the jar, he turned to face her. A slight smile curved on his lips.

"Sometimes, you really should speak, Lady Cynthia. Even after these ten years, I still can’t read your mind."

Cynthia finally opened her mouth.

"Same as before. Nothing new," she said flatly. Her eyes were dull, void of motivation and her expression bleak.

Kelar sighed.

He already knew. Everyone in the city despised the girl standing before him. Sooner or later, he feared, their hatred would crush her spirit. And that was what he could not allow.

She was far too valuable.

Cynthia’s gaze drifted to the creature Kelar had just sealed in the jar. Something about it intrigued her.

"You’re interested?" Kelar noted, raising a brow. "This one just arrived today. Came from a very distant place, crossed two seas to get here."

He gestured to the long, dark form inside the fluid.

"It’s a Darktouch Eel. Useful in small doses. It helps heal hemorrhagic coughing. But in large quantities..." he smirked, "Well, no one really knows what happens."

He clapped his hands once.

"Now then, let’s begin today’s session. Daria! Prepare the set."

From the shadows, a figure in robe emerged pushing a small trolley. On it sat a large glass bowl filled with clear water. At the center of the bowl rested a small white orb, glowing faintly.

Kelar walked to a nearby sink, washed his hands, and dried them with a crisp white cloth. Then, he approached the trolley and positioned himself opposite Cynthia.

"Shall we begin?" he asked calmly.

Cynthia stepped forward and placed her left hand gently on the orb. Her eyes closed.

"Tell me about the symptoms. How have they been lately?" Kelar asked.

"The vision... it’s becoming more vivid," she murmured. "I can feel the blood. Smell it. See it...so clearly."

Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes remained shut.

"Hm... So it’s intensifying," Kelar muttered.

"But don’t worry. There’s always a rebound before the cure. That’s normal," he added. "Now, are you ready, Lady Cynthia?"

Cynthia nodded, her brow furrowing, bracing herself.

Kelar lifted his right hand, hovering it just above her face. A dark, purplish mist began to swirl from his palm. Slowly, it floated downward. Cynthia inhaled it fully through her nose.

Then it happened.

Her head snapped upward. Her eyes shot open and wide.

No pupils.

Only swirling black and violet.

---

"Darling, you’ll be late for work. The carriage is already waiting," said a woman with flowing black hair, placing plates of food on the table.

"It’s fine, Lisa. I’m the manager, no one can sack me," a brown-haired man replied with a grin. He looked to be in his forties.

He grabbed his food and took a big bite. Then, leaning in, he kissed the woman on the cheek before turning toward someone off to the side.

"Study hard, Cynthia. If you do well, we’ll go on vacation next month."

"Yeaahhh!" a little girl with black hair squealed as she ran over and hugged both the man and woman tightly.

I’m back here again, Cynthia thought.

She stood in her current form, watching the memory unfold before her. Watching them. Her family.

This is what she had been doing for ten years under Kelar’s guidance, revisiting her memories again and again, hoping that repetition would dull the pain. Numb the trauma.

But no matter how many times she returned, the feeling never faded.

It always hurt the same.

The landscape began to shift.

Now she stood within the grand manor of the Devan family.

"Congratulations, Damon! Your daughter is truly gifted. I’m proud to have a granddaughter of the same rank as me, hahaha!" an old man laughed heartily.

Cynthia recognized him immediately. Her grandfather.

He patted a small girl sitting on his lap, the same girl who just hugged her parents. Her younger self. The girl beamed with joy, utterly unaware of what the future held.

"But Father, her mother isn’t a noble. How can you be so happy about this?" asked an overweight man, his tone laced with disdain.

"So what? As long as she has my blood, I don’t care!" the old man snorted. He looked down at the girl on his lap and smiled warmly.

"Please, Cynthia-chan... grow up strong and healthy. Your grandfather can’t wait to see you all grown up."

Her parents stood beside them, smiling proudly.

But from her place in the memory, the older Cynthia could see it, those stares.

The eyes of the other family members.

Filled with envy. With jealousy.

The scene shifted again...

Now, the setting was a cozy bedroom. A bed under warm blankets. The little girl was nestled in the middle, with her mother and father on either side. A candle on the nightstand flickered gently, casting a soft glow.

"Cynthia, when you grow up... don’t be afraid to make friends, alright?" Lisa said softly.

"But... the kids at the academy always make fun of me. They say I’m weird... and call me ’a strong man.’ I’m a girl! I hate this power!" the young Cynthia said, her voice cracking.

"Just ignore them, Cynthia," Damon replied. "When someone is given something special, others often get jealous. That’s just how people are. Some will even pretend to be your friend just to use you. And that’s far more dangerous."

"But I already have Father and Mother. I don’t need anyone else!" the girl cried, burying her face in her mother’s chest.

Lisa gently stroked her daughter’s hair, her eyes soft with love.

"We know, sweetheart. But someday... we might won’t be here anymore. And when that day comes, if you don’t have anyone to turn to, you’ll feel alone."

Well, Mother...

I still don’t have anyone I can call a friend. And I don’t plan to look for one, either. They’re all just hypocrites.

The older Cynthia’s hand clenched tightly.

Then the vision changed again.

This time, the current Cynthia squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears. She sat curled up, knees pulled tightly to her chest.

Because this was that scene.

"Cynthia... kill us. Please..."

Damon lay on the floor, his body broken and bleeding. Jagged crystal protrusions jutted from his skin, from his arms, his legs, his chest. Even his left eye had been overtaken, a glistening shard forcing its way outward.

Beside him, a woman with black hair hung upside down. Hundreds of crystals had pierced her body. A massive one had emerged from her mouth, skewering her to the floor, running clean through her torso.

Her mother.

It was horrific. Too brutal to be real. But it was.

"I... I can’t do it, Father!" cried a teenage Cynthia. Tears streamed down her face as she trembled. "Why do you want me to do this?!"

"If you don’t... more people will die!" Damon shouted through ragged breaths. "Please... my beloved daughter... help your father and mother... free us from this suffering..."

He wept tears of blood streaming down his face.

The young Cynthia took a shaky step forward. Her whole body trembled as her sobs turned into screams.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry!!"

Damon looked at her one last time, his voice weakening.

"I’m sorry too, Cynthia... We made you suffer... But please... don’t carry this pain alone... Find someone to share your burden... Find someone..."

But before he could finish, a massive crystal burst through his skull, ending everything. Silencing him forever.

"FATHER!! MOTHER!!"

The girl screamed, her voice tearing from the depths of her soul. She raised her sword and charged, her cry echoing into the void...

"AAAAAARRGHHH!!"

---

The present-day Cynthia collapsed backward, falling out of the vision, caught just in time by Kelar, who stepped in and gently steadied her.

"Oops...got you," he said softly, guiding her to lie down on a nearby bed.

Her eyes fluttered open. She was back.

Her hair clung to her face, drenched in sweat. Her clothes were soaked through. Her breathing was rapid as if she just awoken from the worst nightmare.

"You’re safe now, Cynthia," Kelar whispered. "You did well. Now rest."

He gently tapped her shoulder. And slowly, exhausted from the process, Cynthia closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

Kelar stood up and turned his attention to the bowl atop the trolley. The water inside was no longer clear, it was now a deep, inky black.

The orb in the center had darkened completely. Thin trails of mist curled outward from its surface.

A wide smile stretched across Kelar’s face.

"Everything will be just fine," he whispered.