A Light Too Far
As dawn slowly crept over the horizon, Norn paced restlessly at the village entrance, his heart heavy with worry.
'He should be back by now...'
Vera had left promising to return before sunset, his demeanor that of a man braced for battle. What if something had gone wrong? Surely not, but the thought gnawed at him anyway.
Logically, it was needless concern. Vera was an Apostle bearing the Stigmata, a warrior far beyond Norn's own capabilities.
Yet the worry persisted. Setting aside his strength, Vera was just an eighteen-year-old youth. To Norn, that age meant immaturity, a time when mistakes outnumbered triumphs. It was only natural for an adult to fret.
'Why hasn't he come back yet...!'
Should he have followed? As anxiety filled Norn's chest with such thoughts—
Rustle—.
A sound of trampled underbrush came from behind him. Norn whipped his head toward the source.
From the bushes burst a figure drenched in blood, staggering out—it was Vera.
"Ah! Vera...!"
Norn rushed forward with joy, only to freeze mid-step, gasping at the sight. Panic spilled from his lips.
"Wh-what is...?"
"It's handled."
Vera's reply was curt, thick with congealed blood and a sunken air.
"...Are you all right, sir?"
"Yes. As you can see, no injuries. But my robes are in this state, so..."
He lifted the hem of his robe as he spoke. Norn's gaze fell to the blood dripping steadily from the fabric.
What kind of fight leaves him soaked like that?
The question rose in his mind, but Norn swallowed it, clenching his fists to dispel the thought. He bowed to Vera and continued.
"...Yes, sir. Come inside first. There's time before the Saint arrives, so you can clean up at your leisure."
"The Draconians will come again. We need to scout their routes ahead—gather rumors from the area."
"Understood."
"I'll be off, then."
Vera said this and brushed past Norn toward the village. As Norn lifted his head, Vera's back imprinted itself in his vision.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood drops trailed in his wake, staining the path. The grim tone of Vera's voice echoed in Norn's ears.
A small worry flickered in Norn's heart.
'What happened to him?'
Something was off about his demeanor.
*
Vera grabbed a spare set of clothes and headed to the riverbank, plunging his blood-soaked body into the stream.
The chill of the water seeped into his skin. He'd submerged himself hoping the cold would sharpen his mind, but the sight at the edge of his vision made it difficult.
His gaze followed the blood washing off him.
A long red trail snaking through the clear water. Staring at it, Vera felt his gut twist again at the thought that this blood, this path, was the one he'd carved.
Thick disgust welled up at his unchanging self.
The negative emotions surged. Vera exhaled deeply and dunked his head into the stream.
Splash—.
The cold pierced his face, sinking into his mind. He steeled himself once more.
'Get it together.'
This wasn't the time for self-pity. So what if he hadn't changed? So what if he still swung a beast's blade?
Rene was here. He had to protect her from this spot. He had to wield this beastly sword.
Nothing blocked him now but his own heart.
Vera held his breath, steadying his resolve, then snapped his eyes wide and yanked his head from the water.
Splash—!
Water sprayed up with the motion. He watched the droplets fly, then gritted his teeth and stood.
'I can do this.'
He had the confidence to repel any number of foes. Rene was starting to open her heart, bit by bit.
All he had to do was suppress this self-loathing. Protect Rene, and when her spark finally ignited, he could change.
That moment would make him not some slum-spawned monster, but human—Vera.
Drip—.
A trickle ran down his cheek, falling from his chin to ripple the riverbank. Vera stared at it, then turned and stepped away.
'I...'
He had to save Rene.
*
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Rene's staff struck the ground in rhythm with Vera's footsteps, creating a steady beat. Vera matched her pace from a step further back than usual.
As always, words were few. Trivial talk of the weather, the breeze, dreams from nights past.
They walked on like any other day—until.
"Is something wrong?"
The question burst suddenly from Rene. Vera flinched, body tensing, then answered swiftly.
"Nothing at all."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
He replied as firmly as possible, hoping to quash any needless concern, then clamped his mouth shut and kept walking.
But perhaps some trace lingered. Perhaps Rene, who knew him in ways others couldn't, sensed it.
Another question followed.
"Did you know?"
"Know what?"
Vera's response came. Rene halted.
She turned her face toward him and continued.
"People with worries... especially those trying to hide them... speak with their words all bunched up at the start."
Vera jolted. His reply came a beat late, mindful of her words.
"...Is that so."
"Yes. Like they're swallowing something mid-sentence—the beginning gets muffled, and the end cuts short. Compare it to your usual voice, and it's surprisingly easy to tell. Amazing, right?"
Vera's gaze fixed on her. Damn.
He knew she could discern such things, but his churning emotions had made him overlook it.
"Is it something you can't share with me?"
As he opened his mouth to demur—
She added more, her lips curving in a smile warm as sunlight.
"My ears work just fine, even if my eyes don't. I can't see, but I can listen. You know... you've always heard my troubles, so as thanks, I thought I should..."
Her face seemed a touch bashful, head dipping slightly toward him. Every gesture brimmed with consideration for him.
The kind of care that weakened him utterly, as he'd once realized.
Vera felt his insides ripple at her words and actions, cleared his throat with effort, and spoke.
"...Truly, it was nothing. My sleep was restless last night, so my voice came out a bit low. My apologies."
A smooth string of words, infused with all the calm he could muster. Yet Rene caught the undercurrent.
She gauged his voice and the slightly greater distance between them, pondering.
Suppressed emotion laced his tone. Rage, perhaps. Or sorrow.
If pressed to name the thickest shade, she'd call it hatred.
Rene knew hatred's timbre better than anyone she knew. Why not? Hadn't she wailed in just such a voice the day her lifelong prayers met betrayal?
Of course, she didn't know its target. Or its cause.
She knew it was hatred, but not its full shape. Naturally so—humans scarcely understood even themselves, let alone others.
It might be overstepping. A bother, even.
Yet Rene wanted to hear Vera's worries. She couldn't solve them or fully empathize, but listening—that she could do.
It was the least she owed the man who silently endured her selfishness, bearing her temper.
"Sir Knight, did you know?"
"Know what?"
"You smell of blood right now. Strongly."
Rustle—.
Vera stepped back, grass crunching underfoot. Rene sensed it from the sound and the fading scent—he was retreating.
Cautiously, she advanced to close the gap, speaking as she did.
"I'm blind, not stupid."
"My apologies... "
"Apologies are for when you offer merits."
"I'm sorry... "
"Sorry is for when you've done wrong."
Vera fell silent. Had he shut his mouth?
Rene realized the man who always silenced her was now hushed by her, and a soft chuckle escaped before she continued.
"I think of you as my friend, Sir Knight. You've listened to me, met me like this for over a week now. Um... yeah, I think you're my friend."
"Please take back your—"
"It's my thought. So even if you say no, it doesn't matter."
Vera's mouth shut again.
"Friends help each other. They're the ones who comfort you in your darkest moments. So... won't you tell me? You've comforted me so many times. Now let me do it for you."
Her words flowed long. Vera's gaze turned to her face.
Her eyes... lacked focus. Off by a fraction from him.
Yet he felt her gaze on him all the same. The smile on her lips, her approaching steps, her pure aura—all aimed at him.
The ripples she'd stirred were now a full wave, impossible to dismiss.
In that instant, Vera let out a hollow laugh at his own arrogance and ignorance.
'Save her...?'
Who was saving whom? Who protected whom?
And what basis did he have for thinking her spark hadn't ignited?
His brow furrowed. A long breath hissed through clenched teeth.
Even unwatched, she'd endured his blame with nobility. Amid his own self-neglect, she still shone radiant.
The spark he'd deemed unlit already burned fully in her heart.
His arrogance and ignorance had blinded him to her truth.
At the end of his gaze, Rene spoke again.
"Is that not possible?"
How foolish. Even as he resolved to follow her light, to protect her, he'd let his circumstances distract him into impatience.
Vera felt a wry amusement at the thoughts, then finally answered.
"...What reason would there be to refuse?"
"Ah, so you'll tell me?"
Her voice bloomed bright. Vera felt his expression slip from control, emotions grinding free within, and moved his lips.
What followed was a confession heavy with guilty secrets, like a sinner's absolution.
"...I felt that the light I wish to chase... is too far away."