The Darkened War

Ch.40

In the next few days following her conversation with Calix, Analia spent her time away from her tent, and instead, by the cherry blossom trees. Well, what was left of them. The spring had passed, and with it the seasonal pedals had fallen leaving the trees bare. Already, her world was losing color. Everything that had once been perfect was falling to pieces at a speed her past self wouldn't have believed possible. The eye wall had struck, and was continuously growing worse. The world was losing its life, spring was long gone, and even summer was coming to an end. Analia hugged herself as a breeze blew past her, carrying with it the reminder fall was coming. After the seasons of life, she knew every year, the ones of death followed. Soon her world would be filled with new colors, all the same beautiful, but changing. Everything was changing. Her world was growing colder, dying . . . and she knew that in days, she just might be joining it. Not even the cherry blossom trees could help her relax—instead, their lack of peddles was like a stinging reminder of what little time she had.

She hadn't mentioned the spell to anyone besides Calix yet, who surprisingly, hadn't been seen or heard ever since. She had never seen him quite the way he had been that night. Only then had she realized he was just as scared as she was, even if it was buried deep down. No matter how he faced the day; with his smirk, the non-stop movement of his tongue, or his terrible sly grin . . . underneath it all, his eyes were wide, his boyish face holding as much fear as Analia's heart. It was funny, how being brave never really stopped you from being scared. It only allowed you to face those fears, and soon, she realized, she would be facing the most terrifying thing of all. But if it would stop Akuma finally for good, and if it would protect everyone she was born to protect and had grown to care for, she could face what the leaves on the trees faced every time autumn rolled around. She'd celebrated the season at festivals so many times—and yet, Aira was right—it was rather sad. This year, they wouldn't make it to the autumn festival after all. Ah well. The usual smell of autumn now had a darker tint to it anyway.

Analia blinked, and found her eyes wet as the chilly wind blew past and through the long grass surrounding her. A teardrop rolled down her cheek, and when she brushed it away, another one came down the other side. Like a flowing river, she couldn't keep them from coming. No matter how many times she reasoned with herself that it was silly to cry, that as a cult leader this was just a part of her responsibilities. No matter how many times it tried to promise herself that death was normal, and that it wasn't truly that sad—they came anyway. They washed away her logical thinking, her responsibility, and the part of her that believed three lives meant nothing if it meant saving an entire cult of others. However, one thing that her tears didn't wash away was her hope. If anything, they poured hope into her. The hope of defeating the Akuma, something no one else had ever succeeded in, and by it saving not only her cult but also the other people that had entered her life. It had always been said that cults came before kingdoms, but Analia couldn't help but smile at the thought of safety for those she'd met in Effulgence. Adrien, Alyssa . . . they weren't so different after all. Her heart warmed as she thought of them. The fire in Alyssa's eyes had always matched her own.

At the sound of footsteps, Analia quickly wiped her tears and looked up to see Aira standing above her. The wind blew through her long dark brown hair, grazing it the same way it did the grass. The symbols on her arms shone at the sun's kiss, and Aira smiled, sitting beside her friend.

"Why were you crying?" So Aira had seen—or known; ah well, Analia should have known there wasn't much you could keep from someone who spoke with the wind.

Even so, Analia looked away from her out into the sky and responded simply, "I wasn't."

"Of course you weren't." It wasn't just the symbols; Aira's entire being was glowing, looking at Analia as if she could see right through her—right through everything.