Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 26 Years

Moira ran.

She ran breathlessly down the corridors, taking a left then a quick right, nearly knocking over servants here and there as the golden-haired girl hurried.

'I don't have much time...' The slim and beautiful girl counted backwards as she recalled how her earlier conversation with Duke Silvan had ended.

Turned out that he was her uncle... Her embarrassment, butterflies in her stomach and, ahem, the hots she had for the handsome man were all just a prank of his...

"Tch..." Moira felt ashamed to be played the fool by him, but also did not yet know how to digest her emotions in her world that was still spinning around. Event after event, turn after turn, the normally level-headed girl was starting to be confused about what to think...

"You want to say goodbye...? Sure! Just, you need to be at the south-west gate by... 8:00 AM. Don't be late." He had spoken gently but firmly, with no room for negotiation. Despite her change in status, apparently, the power structure was still the same - him firmly at the top of the food chain.

"Oh, and remember. Handsome isn't he...?" The dignified man smiled gently while tapping his finger on the arm of the chair he sat on.

Moira nodded, unsure of his intentions.

"I originally wanted to... Dispose of him. But since you said you'll leave him yourself and not see him again, well, I guess I'll let him go. Okay! Hurry on now!" He spoke as if he were discussing what to eat for dinner or exhorting a young child to be careful in school, not snuffing out a human life!

She had left with a numbness and a chill on the back of her neck. Lars. She had to warn him, protect him from coming after her.

With permission granted, she had run as fast as possible, stopping only at her quarters to dig out something special for the boy on this day of their forced parting. A keepsake of sorts, so that... He wouldn't forget her. And so that he had something to hold on to, to remember his promise to not see her for 20 years.

Moira knew that she would not forget him.

The unsure youth stopped in front of the infirmary doors, hesitant, head lowered in anxiety and thought.

As mature and tough as she was, Moira could not help but hem and haw before the final step.

It was just that, how would she speak to Lars...

How should their conversation begin...?

"Hi Lars! I'm actually a Princess and I'm leaving now! Don't come looking for me, but I'll look for you once I'm the one in charge! Okay? Bye!!" The inwardly innocent girl acted out the scene, smiling cheerfully and clasping her hands behind her back as she bowed forward slightly.

Her roleplaying drew questioning gazes from the various stewards and caretakers passing by, and the trainee blushed furiously, coughing to hide her awkwardness at being seen.

'No... That's too bubbly... As if I'm happy that I'm leaving...'

'But... I'm happy, right...? For him, for myself, for us... For a better life...?'

She tried to make a buoyant expression, but it came out as a sorrowful smile. She tried. But couldn't.

Her face fell as her eyes once again stared at the floor, wishing to curl up in a corner, hug her knees to her chest and cry. Something that no assassin in training could ever do, but, Moira wished she could.

'Who am I kidding...' The brave yet pure-hearted girl spoke to herself in self-pity.

'...I wish...'

She looked up, eyes gleaming.

'...Wish we could just be together and forget all these things...'

And saw the doors open.

Lars was standing before her.

She turned even redder than before, frozen in surprise.

"Moira...?"

* * * * *

"Moira...? You... You came... To see me...?" He shook his head. No beating around the bush, he had to get straight to the point.

Lars reached out to grab his lover's wrist firmly but gently, causing her to gasp as if she were startled by his move.

Confused and slightly taken aback at her reaction to his touch, the dark-haired boy felt a pang of unease wondering what that was about. But he quickly pushed it aside.

"Moira. Follow me. Let's leave the Arena. I have a plan and the power to carry it out, I--" He began to speak but was cut off.

In what seemed like just an instant, the girl before him transformed from a meek, melancholic and shy trainee to one full of confidence and decisiveness.

She had to. She had to make Lars let go, for his good and to protect him.

"Lars." Her terse words sliced into his train of thought and derailed the words he had rehearsed.

"...Moira...?" Slightly perturbed and blinking repeatedly, he felt nervous. What had come over her today...? Was she threatened or... Hurt...?

Even as his emotions began to be roiled up and his anger rose, she dropped the bombshell.

"Lars. I'm leaving. I... I'm a Princess of the Kingdom of the Sands. The *only* Princess, and the only one left who can become the Priestess."

Mouth open and blinking quickly in consternation, the shaken boy stammered as he tried to make sense of things.

"W-w-why, what do you--"

"I mean, I'm leaving. I..." She looked down, feeling bad for some reason. And she didn't understand why she was acting like this, not like herself at all. Casting her gaze away from his, she finished her story.

"I've negotiated with the Duke, the--my uncle. In exchange for me coming with him and... And forgetting about you... He'll spare your life, let you free from the Arena and the King's service, and, and give you everything you need. Lars!"

Moira yelled his name at the last word as she could read him like the back of her hand. He was about to explode and do something rash again, just like last time when he confronted Linges, heart-warming though his heroic desire to save her was...

Snapped out of the mist of rage, the boy stood dumb-founded.

She couldn't bear to look him in the face anymore, couldn't bear the hurt her next words would cause him, and how much it would hurt her to be separated.

"Lars..." Her teardrops fell. How could a young girl like her make such a hard choice...? But she had to.

"Don't come after me. D-don't, don't look for me for these, these 20 years... I'll, I'll look for you once I'm the one in charge and can make my own decisions... Al-Alright...?" Pain filled the tearful girl's eyes, as well as remorse, guilt and the unwillingness to part ways with the man of her life.

She darted over to his side, kissed the stunned boy on his lips and pressed a ring into his hands, saying her last words to him for a long time to come.

"Goodbye, the only love of my life. Now, and forever, you will be my only one. And if I, Moira Fenelle Vishnu, should break this solemn oath, may my soul be rent asunder and never ascend to Valhalla's halls!"

Moira opened her closed eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Don't forget me. I... Won't forget you."

His mind a blur from the sudden upheaval in his life, he clutched the ring tightly, not even sparing it a glance.

The ring... It was one so valuable and priceless in its resplendent beauty that it should not even be here in the Arena!

A radiant red ruby, not too large but just the right size to be inlaid as a stone on a ring. Blood red, crimson red, redder than the rays of the sun at dusk - and more glorious.

The ring itself was a perfect yellow band of light-gold but feeling far more solid to the touch than any gold or alloy of it could ever be.

And when it landed in his palm, he heard a ghostly sigh, like a demonic murmur calling out in desire for it.

He shook his head to disperse the spell of confusion he felt in that moment when the ring landed in his palm, then touched his lips.

And he watched the girl run off, crying, speechless and heartbroken.

And fell to his knees, not understanding, his young and naive heart unable to find the words to speak until after she had left.

"I will never forget you, never give up on you... Moira...!" He whispered to himself.

Was he fated to always be separated...? From the ones he loved...?

The still-young boy, young man, legendary mage though he might be, remained quiet, coming to terms with his world that had once more come crashing down around him.

Quiet, his emotions desolate and bleak.

Chapter end