Chapter Text
Silence. Pure, absolute silence.
Nekoette blinked once. Then again. The color drained from her face as if it was pulled away all at once. Her tail lashed sharply behind her before falling limp at her side.
“You’re lying.”
The words were thin, brittle—like glass stretched too far.
Valerie didn’t react. Her face remained smooth, unreadable as slate. But her eyes betrayed her—fear, sorrow, and a fragile, aching hope all tangled together. This was the moment she had dreamed of and dreaded in equal measure. Everything she had wished for could be taken from her with a single word.
“I wish I was.”
Her breath hitched, barely audible.
“It would make everything easier. Our place in this. Mom’s place.” A pause. Then, quieter still, “My existence…”
The last word trembled, as though saying it aloud made it more real—more fragile. As though admitting she shouldn’t exist would hurt less than finding out she wasn’t wanted.
Her gaze dropped for a heartbeat, lashes fluttering as she fought for control. When she looked back up, she met Nekoette’s eyes head-on.
“You think I wanted to walk into your life like this?” Valerie whispered. “I thought—one day, when Grandfather was better—Mom could introduce us. That we could meet the right way.”
The clearing felt smaller, tighter. Even the trees seemed to lean closer, holding their breath.
Valerie swallowed hard.
“I didn’t come here to take anything from you,” she said, voice cracking despite her best effort. “I’m not here to take her from you.”
Her shoulders sagged, just a fraction—the general giving way to the daughter.
Nekoette’s face gave her nothing.
No anger. No disbelief. No softening, no rejection—just stillness. The same was true of the others. Garroth stood rigid, jaw locked. Aphmau’s hand hovered near her chest as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. Dimitri looked away entirely. Even Malachi, steady at Valerie’s side, had gone quiet.
They were all strangers.
That realization hit Valerie harder than any blade ever had.
She had walked into this clearing carrying years of stories—of the dried ink of her mother’s few letters, of names whispered with reverence, of a sister she imagined would feel familiar the moment they met. She had convinced herself blood would bridge the distance. That shared lineage would mean shared understanding.
But blood didn’t erase history.
And it didn’t grant her a place among them.
She became painfully aware of how she stood—how straight her back was, how carefully she held herself. The general. The princess. Armor she’d worn so long she forgot it was there. Now it felt heavy. Suffocating.
They don’t know me, she thought.
And worse—they didn’t choose to.
Her chest tightened. She had crossed borders, dragged herself through memory and blood and illusion for the truth… only to find herself standing in the middle of a family that wasn’t hers.
Then Dante stepped forward.
The sound of his boots against the grass felt too loud.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he said, voice tight—not cruel, but sharp enough to cut. His gaze locked on Valerie, assessing in a way she knew well. The way commanders looked at unexpected variables. Problems to be solved.
“Kawaii~chan never mentioned being married,” he continued. “Never once brought up Zane. Never once mentioned a child, even when Dimitri came into our lives.”
Valerie flinched despite herself.
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t exist,” Dante went on, pacing once before stopping. “But it does mean there are… questions.” He glanced briefly at Nekoette, then back to Valerie. “Big ones.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
“I’m not asking you to believe me on faith,” Valerie said quietly. “In the memory, Mom confirmed she was married to Zane.”
“A memory illusion,” Dante countered. “For all we know this could be a Trap from Tu’la”
The words landed like a slap.
Malachi shifted beside her, protective, but Valerie barely noticed. Her eyes stayed on Dante.
“I didn’t come here to deceive you,” she said. “If I wanted power, I wouldn’t have come to your gate with words but with soldiers.”
Dante’s expression hardened—not in anger, but in something worse.
Regret.
“You need to understand,” he said, lowering his voice as if that softened the blow. “You’ve just dropped a truth that fractures everything my children thought they knew about Kawaii~chan. About My wife. About our family.”
Our family.
The word stung more than anything else.
Nekoette still hadn’t spoken.
Valerie swallowed, forcing the ache back down.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I waited. That’s why I said nothing until now.” Her voice trembled despite her control. “But whether you accept me or not… I exist. And I deserve to see my parents.”
Silence fell again—thicker this time.
Then
“I believe you.”
—-------
“We should keep moving.”
Zane’s voice was rough, scraped raw by the dirt pressed into his back and the lingering weight of Laurance’s blade at his throat. He shifted, testing the invisible chains Nana had wrapped around his spirit. They held firm.
“Not yet.” Nana didn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the treeline where Laurance had disappeared, shadows still stirring where his presence had torn through the forest. “Not until Laurance comes back. He needs time to process.”
Zane let out a short, humorless breath. “He’s a shadowknight, Nana. We don’t process.” His eyes flicked toward the dark between the trees. “We drown in it. We let it rot us from the inside until it turns into rage.”
Nana finally turned to him then.
“And you think I don’t know that?” she snapped quietly. “I’ve seen what that curse does to the people it claims. I’ve only ever known laurance as a shadow knight. We used to be semi close before the Irene dimension. I know what he needs.”
Zane’s jaw tightened. “Space doesn’t save us.”
“No,” she said, softer now. “But neither does running.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The forest felt too still, like it was holding its breath.
“You’re afraid he’ll come back changed,” Zane said at last.
Nana’s fingers curled at her side. “I’m afraid he’ll come back convinced there’s only one way this ends.”
Zane’s gaze dropped to the dirt, to the faint impression where Laurance’s boots had dug in. “That’s the thing about shadowknights,” he murmured. “Once we decide something deserves to die… it’s hard to let go.”
Nana’s voice was steady when she replied, but there was iron beneath it.
“Then he’ll have to fight me first.”
She quickly tacked on, maybe a bit too quickly, “Right now you’re needed alive.”
The words lingered between them, sharp and awkward, like a poorly placed stitch.
Zane’s mouth twitched—not quite a smile. He looked away, eyes tracing the dirt, the roots breaking through the forest floor. “Right. Alive.” ”
Another stretch of silence followed, thicker than the last. The forest creaked somewhere overhead.
“…Valerie,” Zane said at last.
Nana stiffened.
He didn’t look at her when he spoke again. “Will you tell me about her?” His voice was hoarse, stripped of armor and arrogance alike. “I went her entire life without being in it.”
Nana’s breath caught. For a moment she said nothing, weighing him—this man who had once been everything, who had also been the reason she fled.
“She’s… infuriatingly disciplined,” Nana began, eyes fixed ahead. “Too serious for her age. She carries herself like the world is already on her shoulders. Sound familiar?”
Zane huffed softly.
“She hates being underestimated,” Nana continued. “She trains until her hands bleed and then pretends she didn’t notice. And she listens—really listens—even when she shouldn’t.”
Zane’s fingers curled slowly into the dirt.
“She’s kind,” Nana said, her voice tightening despite herself. “Not loud about it. She’ll give away her cloak and freeze before admitting she’s cold. They call her Valerie the mercy. Even with the state of Tu’la is in. ”
Zane swallowed. “Does she… hate me?”
Nana didn’t answer right away.
“She asked about you,” she said instead. “Not with anger. With curiosity. Like you were a story she’d been told her whole life but never allowed to finish.”
Zane shut his eyes.
“I don’t deserve that,” he murmured.
“No,” Nana agreed quietly.
Another pause—this one fragile.
“But she still wants to meet you,” Nana added. “That’s why you’re breathing right now.”
Zane opened his eyes again, something dangerously close to reverence flickering there. A silent promise to himself and to his family, to his daughter.