Lunafreya paused, then added, “But still, I must confess I am frightened. I know I should not fear, but I find this power entrusted to me quite unnerving. What if my humanity should slip away?”
After another pause, Lunafreya realized something was amiss. She had carried on the entire conversation by herself. Gentiana had not spoken a word. At first, Lunafreya had assumed it was because she was in a dream. But now she was not so certain.
As she watched, Gentiana’s lips moved, ever so slightly.
“Gentiana?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
Before, the Messenger had been smiling. Now she seemed to be in pain. Her features were twisted with effort, as if she were desperately trying to relay something.
“What is it? Do you have a message for me?”
The Bladekeeper, she seemed to mouth. But Lunafreya was not certain. Again she tried to draw near, peering closely at the Messenger’s face. Just then, several towering blades flew down before her eyes, forming a wall between Lunafreya and the Messenger.
“Gentiana!” she shouted with all her might, but all went black and silent.
Lunafreya wasn’t sure which came first: the end of the dream, or the opening of her own eyes onto darkness as she returned to the waking world. When her mind was focused once again, she found herself in the cramped control room of the tiny signal cabin. She pulled her blanket more tightly around her body and shivered.
“What a peculiar dream,” she said to herself.
She had long grown used to accepting the dreams for what they were; she could no better govern her dreams than her fate. Still, she had to wonder about her earlier visitation from the Bladekeeper. She hadn’t thought to dismiss that first encounter as a mere dream.
The difference, she decided, was one of intimacy. The Draconian was not a being well known to her, but Gentiana she’d come to know more closely than perhaps anyone else in the world. That was why the encounter had felt unnatural and she’d been able to sense something amiss.
So perhaps it was not a dream. What if Gentiana had visited to relay some message, as the Draconian had before? Something might be preventing her from sharing that message.
Lunafreya tried to think. What could have happened to Gentiana? But just then, Sol interrupted her thoughts.
“Luna!”
The door of the control room flew open with a bang.
“Get yourself ready. And step on it. We’re leaving.”
“Has something happened?” Lunafreya asked. She rose and began to fold the blanket in haste, watching Sol’s expression as she did so. The other woman appeared uncharacteristically anxious.
“It’s nothing. Just hurry, okay?”
Lunafreya had yet to spend much time with Sol, but she had learned one thing about her companion: she had an occasional tendency to lie. And when she did, she did so poorly.
After a breakfast all but shoveled down their throats, they departed.
They continued to follow the railway tracks. Sol was silent. Lunafreya wanted to ask what had happened, but Sol’s entire demeanor warned her not to broach the subject.
Moreover, Sol appeared distracted. She was not focused on her driving, allowing Regina to bump over rocks and debris, and on several occasions she nearly ran the front wheel into a pothole, swerving only at the last second. Lunafreya was grateful that they had thus far avoided encountering any daemons, but she was nervous about what might transpire when they inevitably did. If Sol went into a fight as distracted as she was now, it would not go well for them.
Lunafreya did not know precisely how long they’d been on the road, but after a while, she waited for an opportune moment and ventured, “Perhaps we should take a break?”
As she’d feared, Sol seemed annoyed and replied curtly, “What? You need a break already?”
“I can continue. But mustn’t we bear in mind the needs of the slowest member of the group?”
A flash of realization came to Sol’s face, and Lunafreya was glad she’d managed to voice her concern effectively. Apparently, she had been right―Regina had nearly reached its limit.
The moment the motorcycle stopped, Sol hopped off and busied herself with a thorough check of its components. The process was accompanied by occasional clicks of Sol’s tongue, as well as a few small sighs of relief.
Lunafreya did not know much about motorcycles, having just begun learning how to ride one. Still, the great care Sol paid to Regina was quite apparent, so whatever pressing matter was occupying Sol’s mind, it was significant enough to cause her beloved Regina to slip from her mind.
The checkup seemed to have ended, but since Sol did not yet announce that it was time to depart, Lunafreya assumed that meant they’d be giving Regina some time to cool down.
They spent a few awkward moments in silence, neither having anything particular to do. Then Sol appeared to grow tired of the quiet and spoke, perhaps hoping merely to stave off boredom.
“Can I ask you something?” she began. “Your belief in the gods. Do you get anything out of it? Does it do you any good?”
Lunafreya had grown somewhat accustomed to these unexpected and unusual questions from her companion. Today, however, they seemed to include a touch of venom.
In fact, Sol did not even wait for Lunafreya to respond. “Is that what brought you back to life?” she spat. “Your faith in them?”
“No,” Lunafreya replied. “I was bestowed life again that I might fulfill a new calling.”
“And what calling is that?”
“To stop Ardyn Izunia. To drive the darkness from our world.”
“Isn’t that the king’s job?”
“It was meant to be, yes. But it seems Ardyn has grown too powerful, and the intended fate of the world has gone off course.”
“And you’re the one they picked to fix the mess.” Sol let out a small snort.
She continued, “So you’re just gonna go along with whatever the gods say, huh? And you’ll save the world all by yourself. I gotta say, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no way. If the gods could send one person waltzing into Insomnia to put an end to all this, don’t you think they’d have done it already? There’ve been a helluva lot of other people for the gods to choose from, all way stronger than you.”
Sol capped off her outburst with, “If the gods planned to fix the world, why’d they let it end up like this in the first place?”
It was the anger behind the words that was the biggest surprise. It felt as if Sol were letting out some long pent-up frustration. Her tone was merciless, interrogating, and yet it also came across like a small child’s tantrum.