What Was Left Unsaid

Peruere held Xingsu and sat silently in the faint chill of dawn for a very, very long time.

She gently released her embrace, tenderly straightened his stiff body, brushed the rubble and blood from his clothes, and carefully smoothed his tousled hair.

"I'm going back to pack your things."

She spoke softly to the silent boy, her voice hoarse and dry.

"Wait for me."

She took one last, long look at Xingsu, engraving the sight of his body in her heart forever, then slowly rose, turned, and left.

Day broke fully, and morning light spread through the cold corridors of the House of the Hearth. The hallways, once filled with harshness and oppression, stood empty. No children remained, only a breeze passing through, carrying away the lingering scent of blood and frosty chill.

Peruere walked alone along the familiar path, covered in wounds and utterly exhausted, her eyes filled with lifeless stillness and confusion after all the killing.

She gently pushed open Xingsu's door. His room was almost excessively tidy. There were no unnecessary ornaments; on the desk sat the gift she had given him-a jar of folded stars.

Peruere looked toward the gift. Beneath the jar lay a neatly folded sheet of letter paper.

She sat down and carefully unfolded it. The boy's unpracticed yet sincere handwriting lay quietly across the page.

Dear Peruere,

Ever since the night we resolved to assassinate Crucabena, I had been planning to write this letter.

If you're reading this, it means I didn't make it out of the fight with Crucabena alive.

A long time ago, Clervie asked me a question. She asked, "Do you like Peruere?"

I didn't answer her, because back then, I didn't fully understand what I felt for you.

But as our lives became intertwined, as we played together, trained together, and held tea parties together, unfamiliar feelings began to stir in my heart.

I, who had come into this world with nothing, began to fear loss.

I feared that one day you would die in battle, that one day Crucabena would force us to draw our swords against each other.

So I began to want to overthrow the injustice here, to stop accepting the kingship and future "Mother" promised.

Fortunately, you felt the same.

So now, it seems I can answer Clervie's question openly.

Peruere, I like you.

We grew up together in the House of the Hearth, a cage that never saw daylight. Trials day after day, fighting that never ended-everyone was forced to strip the kindness from their souls and learn to regard each other as enemies, to hurt one another.

Many people here saw only survival, only killing, only cold rules. You alone were the tenderness that remained in my bleak years.

I kept these feelings hidden for a long time, never daring to tell you. To Crucabena, the lives of children like us were worth no more than weeds. We could fall upon the cold ground at any moment. I dared not promise to stay by your side, nor dream of escaping this purgatory with you. Silently protecting you at your side was already all I dared ask for.

I knew everything you carried on your shoulders: the pain of worrying about Clervie, the unknown curse upon you, the burden of overthrowing Crucabena's twisted rule. Yet you never spoke of these things to anyone.

You were always used to swallowing every hardship alone, facing every danger on your own. Everyone else feared only your sharp swordsmanship and your unknown curse, but I could clearly see the soft side of your heart, the side that feared loss.

You needn't blame yourself at all for my departure. This wasn't your fault. It was this man-eating furnace, these cruel rules that extinguished all warmth, that took me away.

If I died by Crucabena's sword, I had not a single regret. Fighting for you, for Clervie, for the freedom of all the children was the firmest, most willing choice of my short life.

Dawn is nearly here as I write this. How I wish I could stay with you until daybreak had fully come, escape this place with you, and see the sunrise outside the House of the Hearth.

You will surely tear apart every cruel rule Crucabena laid down, destroy the cage that trapped us all, and gain true freedom.

Afterward, there will be no endless killing, no battles we are forced to fight against each other. You will no longer need to keep your hard armor raised at every moment to protect yourself. Go see the Lumidouce Bells blooming in the breeze, wait for each sunrise to unfold in full, watch Snezhnaya's beautiful auroras, admire the brilliant starry sky, and feel all the peace and tenderness we once dared not hope for.

I like you. From the day we began relying on each other, this love remained hidden in my heart throughout my short life. Even at its end, I never managed to tell you in person.

Don't linger in sorrow for too long. Don't stop moving forward for my sake, and you needn't remember me forever. Please carry the hopes I never managed to bring into the dawn, and live well.

The long night ends; the dawn is yours.

And I, who love you and willingly protect you, will forever stand watch before your dawn.

Xingsu

My final words

Drip, drip. A few tears fell onto the paper.

"You fool..."

Peruere carefully tucked the final letter against her body, over her heart. The paper was light, yet held against her chest, it felt so heavy that her heart ached beneath its weight.

Taking the jar of stars with her, Peruere wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and stood. She cast one last, reluctant look around the room, then turned and left.

"And Clervie..."

She gently pushed open Clervie's door and stepped into the little room where Clervie had once lived. Everything remained as it had been; no one had touched anything. A small pot of Lumidouce Bells sat quietly on the windowsill. On the bed lay the dolls Clervie had made herself: one for herself, and a little rabbit modeled after Pepe.

There was another unfinished doll on the desk. Judging by its distinctive star-shaped eyes, it must have been modeled after Xingsu. She wondered what form Xingsu would have taken in Clervie's eyes.

Sadly, she would probably never know.

The gentle, clear light of dawn quietly filled the deserted House of the Hearth.

Peruere returned alone.

She returned to the bloodstained ruins where the long night's slaughter had ended. The fires of last night's battle had long since cooled. The stone ground was pale, and even the wind had quieted, as though the whole world were silently awaiting a belated farewell.

She slowly walked to Xingsu's side, crouched down, and carefully lifted him into her arms.

The boy's body had grown completely cold, without even the faintest rise or fall. The face that had once been so stubborn and unyielding, fighting with all he had in the depths of despair, was now peaceful and calm, as though he were sleeping soundly.

Peruere carried him to a seldom-visited place in the wilderness and gently laid him flat on the ground.

Then she buried the jar full of stars she had given him in front of his body.

Here lay buried all their struggles, all they had silently endured, and every promise left unfulfilled.

Peruere slowly raised her hand.

In her palm burned warm, pure cinderfire.

Today, it would serve only to bid farewell to her dearest loved one, her beloved.

The flames tenderly enveloped the boy's frail body, burning away the grime and bloodstains little by little, washing away his lifetime of fighting, pain, and wretchedness. The firelight flickered gently, as though softly embracing the boy who had given everything to reach her.

She stood silently, her gaze calm and deep, her voice as soft as the wind:

"Xingsu."

"I killed Crucabena."

"I survived."

"You can sleep in peace now."

Ashes returned to the wind, the departed to dust.

Leaving her alone to keep watch over the dawn.