The wind suddenly grew colder. For a moment, it felt like the frigid wind was pressing down on Belgrieve from above, and then all of a sudden, his phantom pain began to act up. Belgrieve had been walking along the forest path when he fell to his knees, startled. It was like his amputated right leg was on fire, and no matter how desperately he clutched at the prosthetic that had come to replace it, it didn’t ease the pain in the slightest. His forehead oozed with sweat; it had been a long time since it had hurt like this. His pulse pounded in his ears, and he was clenching his teeth so tightly that his jaws quickly began to ache.
The cold wind continued to weave between the trees and cast a sinister pressure from on high. There seemed to be some snowflakes in the breeze, as he could feel the icy crystals dancing coldly across his skin.
“Graah...” He groaned, grimacing in anguish. Every second felt like an hour, and despite the cold that assailed him, his body felt like it was on fire.
Eventually, the pain receded. It had only lasted for ten seconds, but it had felt like an eternity to Belgrieve. He finally managed to breathe again once he was released from the episode, though only shallow hyperventilation. With the pain gone, he could feel how cold the wind was, especially now that he was drenched in sweat.
“What was that...?” He looked up to the sky above, densely packed with clouds that had seemingly crossed over the northern mountains and brought the cold air of those climes with them. What had been a smattering of snowflakes was now a flurry. He’d intended to venture a little higher up the mountain, but it didn’t seem like that was possible now. His intuition was telling him that something was wrong and that he needed to descend at once. Belgrieve straightened the basket on his back, which had been knocked askew when he had collapsed.
“This is strange... The weather shouldn’t change this suddenly.” There were no absolutes when it came to Mother Nature, but still, his many years of experience told him that such a sudden turn in this season was downright abnormal.
He looked skyward again and was startled to see something floating in the midst of the grayness—pure white hair, billowing in the breeze.
“Lady Winter...?”
It was none other than the great spirit of winter. Knowing she was here somewhat explained the cold, but he had already met her in the early days of summer, and it was still strange that she had returned so soon. It has to be an abnormal situation after all...
Lady Winter was gazing down at the foothills of the mountain. The noble lady simply traveled the world on the winter winds, but clearly, she had come today with some purpose in mind. Something was happening—either in the village or somewhere nearby.
Belgrieve ignored the impatience threatening to burst from his chest as he began his hasty descent.
○
“That’s the replica of...” Angeline began, but she was startled by her mother’s expression. Satie had gone as pale as a ghost.
“Why... Why do you have that?!”
As Satie closed in on him, Ishmael thrust the tip of the branch against the bridge of her nose. Satie stumbled and retreated a few steps before stiffening.
“Mom?”
“Ange, get back!” Satie called out, still locked in place.
Angeline knew something was wrong. She rushed over to her mother’s side but felt a strange tightness in her chest when she glanced at the apple branch in Ishmael’s hand, and suddenly, her body no longer responded to her will. Is this what’s happening to mom too?
Anessa and Miriam frantically raced over to hold her up before she collapsed.
“Ange?”
“Hey, you look like hell. Are you okay?”
“I don’t understand it,” Ishmael said, his voice gentle. “Thinking back on it now, I haven’t the slightest idea when I came to possess this. Hey, Ms. Angeline. All humans have memories to reflect on, right? But it seems that I have no past.”
“What are you talking about...? What’s gotten into you, Mr. Ishmael?”
“You’re still saying that... You really are a fool, Ms. Angeline. I mean, Mr. Percival said it, and I think it too. And I’m sure you believe it as well, Mrs. Satie. I mean, it would be strange if you didn’t. That goes without saying.”
“Hey, wait... I don’t get it at all...”
“Perhaps it’s a lot easier to have no past. You have no burdens to carry. You threw it all away, I’d imagine. You forged a new past for yourself, I’d imagine. That’s why you can sit there acting like nothing happened. And yet, you’re the only one who gets to act all innocent.”
Angeline was so confused she couldn’t say a word. The tip of the branch was pointed at Satie, and like a frog mesmerized by a serpent’s stare, Satie couldn’t move. Her eyes were locked on Ishmael, and her hands were quivering, poised to unleash her invisible swords at any moment. Anessa and Miriam didn’t know what to do. They had just been in the yard—none of them were armed for combat. Even if they wanted to return to the house to get their weapons, it seemed foolish to turn their backs to Ishmael now. Be that as it may, Anessa positioned her feet so she could rush him the moment she got the chance.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Anessa flinched.
“I assure you, I can cast before you reach me.” Although Ishmael was smiling, there was a note of annoyance in his voice. When he turned his gaze back on Angeline, it was like he was looking at something else entirely. “Didn’t you start having nightmares after you touched this?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I’m sure people you knew came up in your dreams. Mr. Kasim, Mr. Percival, Mrs. Satie. They must have been in pain. After all, you stole away the futures they should have had.”
Angeline shivered. His words were like a bucket of icy water dumped over her head. Why does he know that?
“You see, dreams are about organizing memories. Your own memories, laid bare, with nothing to hide them away. Now, don’t you kind of think the events you saw really did happen? You can’t pretend you’ve forgotten.”
Angeline clutched her head. Her head was filled with a sound like sifting grains of sand as fragmented images flitted through her mind’s eye. Her heart was palpitating, and she felt like she was about to throw up.
“Don’t listen to him, Ange...” Satie said, struggling to speak even that much.
“Of course, I’ve forgotten too. I have no idea when I obtained this. But when I hold it in my hand...gradually, I start to forget who I am anymore. All those small feelings of something being off grow larger and more prominent. It feels like my memories and emotions are all a cheap imitation of someone else.”
“Didn’t you say that was a reproduction of a...”
“I thought so—truly. But it’s not. This is the Key. This is real. And I am not. How about it—do you want to test it out?” With a subtle movement of his hand, the branch swayed, and suddenly the area was filled with burgeoning mana.
Suddenly, Percival rushed out from the house at tremendous speed, and with a fist as tough as steel, he punched Ishmael off his feet. Percival didn’t even know whom he was striking until after he’d struck Ishmael. He stared blankly at his hand as he opened and closed it.
“Ishmael...? Hey, what’s going on here? What was that strange mana...?”
Satie fell to her knees, finally free, and struggled to steady her breath. “I don’t know what’s going on. But that branch... I broke it to bits and used up every last bit of mana contained within... It shouldn’t even exist anymore... Yes, we need to get rid of it.”
Ishmael, who had been blasted all the way to the opposite side of the fence, staggered to his feet. “Ah, dammit... Even the pain is fake. I never existed from the start, so it’s stupid that I should act like I ever did.”
“Mr. Ishmael?” Angeline called out as she approached. But he held up a hand to hold her back.
“It’s quite all right. I... See, I’m already tired. I’ve had enough of being tormented by feelings that don’t exist. All of this, it’s all this thing’s fault. So I...” Ishmael gripped the branch tightly, almost like he was trying to snap it. Satie shot forth, her hand outstretched to snatch it away. But before she could reach him, Ishmael turned the tip of the branch to his own head.
It happened in an instant. A bolt of magic shot from the tip and bored into Ishmael’s skull, spraying blood through the air. Everyone was taken aback save for Satie, who didn’t stop for a second. She continued to reach for the apple branch in Ishmael’s hand even as he fell.
“I must...”