"I'm not that little girl from Bellita Village anymore," Monica Dunston said, her gaze unfocused, expression somber. "You, me, Patrick--none of us are the same anymore."

  "Yeah, you've all grown up. No longer needing me hovering nearby..." Deborah sighed, her energy fading. "I know you harbor misunderstandings about the past, about me, but I..."

  "You don't mean to hurt me, Deborah. I know." The redhead lifted her gaze. "Some things are innate—unchangeable even when forced."

  "I nearly hanged for my orientation back then. And sadly, the plight of people like us seems eternal."

  Monica moved to the edge of the bed, gently taking Deborah's hand resting on her knee. "Let's leave the past behind, Deborah. Those memories still wake me in the night." A sudden flash of pain crossed her mind. "I feel... dizzy, and my head throbs. Last night, did I...?"

  "Yes, you were quite drunk, little one." Deborah stroked Monica's deep red hair. "Clutching wine bottles, one after another, unstoppable. Had I not found you, my little glutton, I suspect the entire royal cellar would be empty. Tell me, is Aqua Vitae truly that irresistible?"

  "I'd never tasted it before," the girl blushed.

  The brunette sorceress shook her head. "What happened to the good little Academy student I used to know? We agreed—I'd show you Brigar's royal cellar. Look only, not touch, certainly not sample!" Deborah rolled her eyes dramatically. "Three barrels, child. These wines are royal treasures, each bottle worth a fortune. Yet you managed three barrels in mere hours. By all the gods!" She sighed deeply. "Pray your teleportation magic left no trace, or I won't intercede with King Royce on your behalf."

  Monica stuck out her tongue playfully and rested her head against Deborah's shoulder. "You will, Deborah. You would never let me get hurt, not even a little bit."

  They enjoyed the silence until the redhead finally spoke. "So last night..."

  "I carried you back and helped you undress," the brunette sorceress said carefully. "Nothing beyond that..."

  "I believe you," Monica affirmed. "You'd never force anyone, least of all take advantage."

  (Ah... that's debatable.) she thought. "I came here not just to see if you were still sleeping, but to get you ready. Tonight, we're going to a banquet in Akazte, the capital of Brigar, hosted by King Royce. So go wash your face, put on your best makeup, and pick out your most dazzling dress. Make yourself into a woman who can turn every man's head... Oh, but for you, I guess Patrick's the only one who matters." Deborah's lips curved into a subtle smile.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "A banquet?" Monica looked surprised. "You never mentioned this. I thought I'd be returning soon."

  "Returning?! Where to?" The typically composed Deborah leapt up in alarm. "Cynthia? No! No... it's consumed by war now... You can't go back..." Recognizing her outburst, she resumed her seat. "I mean, we can still spend time together. Brigar has many unexplored wonders."

  "I believe I've seen everything worth seeing," the redhead stated firmly. "Grosseport, Sunpeak Hills, the Long Faka—we've even visited the Aethel Ruins twice. I can't think of any place I'd regret missing, nor do I desire more travel. I've been away from Cynthia too long. It's time to return."

  "No! You can't leave yet, Monica." She grasped the girl's hands pleadingly. "We haven't properly explored Valleford. And there's Goldntown, Highsea-Farlong—places we've barely glimpsed. We could enjoy so much more time together."

  Monica yanked her hand away and stood. "I think our time for enjoyment has concluded." Her tone was cutting. "I don't know why you want me stranded in Brigar, but since Bella and Patrick share your sentiment, there must be deeper motives. Regardless," she clenched her fists, "none of you can stop me."

  "Bella? That little bird who spoke with you earlier?"

  "Don't try to change the subject."

  "Yes, we have reasons we can't easily disclose," Deborah finally admitted.

  "I knew it! You've been concealing things!" Monica's eyes flashed with fury, her body trembling. "You should tell me everything, Deborah. Right now."

  "I... cannot explain fully at present."

  "You've gone too far!" The redhead's features contorted with rage. "Why are you stopping me from going back to Cynthia?! Look at me, Deborah, stop avoiding the question!" She seized the brunette's shoulders. "Remember, you're Cynthian!"

  "...Was Cynthian," Deborah corrected softly, rising and gently removing Monica's hands. "Grant me one chance, Monica. After tonight, all your questions will be answered. Please trust me. Everything Patrick and I have done is for your benefit."

  "At tonight's banquet?"

  "Yes, little one. King Royce will reveal everything." (At least, everything I know.)

  Monica walked slowly toward the bathroom, dejected. "Leave me alone," she finally conceded.

  Deborah moved wordlessly toward the door, her emotions conflicted. (If all goes well, I'll remain by your side always.)

  She closed the wooden door behind her.

  The sunset's dying flames engulfed the forest, its radiance spreading across the land without dispelling the shadows cast by the trees. Wooden carriage wheels rolled through the crimson and darkness, while mounted riders rose and fell between light and shadow. "This should be it," Walin Barklo Vaslov pointed toward a western clearing. "Brothers, we've arrived."

  The birch trees stood short and widely spaced, offering little hindrance. "You're certain this is the place?" Jim Harad questioned doubtfully. "Something about it unsettles me, though I can't explain why."

  "Perhaps it's the sunset making the trees appear aflame," Fendi Firshield suggested, gazing upward at the leaves before accidentally bumping his head against the bosom of the woman behind him, eliciting a brief gasp. "Especially those birch leaves—unnaturally red."

  "Those leaves are indeed red," Walin confirmed, halting his horse. "From here onward, a small section of birch trees in this area grows red foliage. This is what people call the Sunblaze Forest."

  "Or the Rubescent Forest," Caroline Tobias added softly. "That's what we call it back home."