Sorelia's eyes lit up as she took sight of the old man, his face full of white scruffy beard that seemed like it was grown with enough time. Sora glanced at him, her face etched with mystery and confusion, the same feeling she had about her surroundings.
Before Sora could react, Sorelia rushed forward. "Father," she murmured. Sora stiffened at the unexpected address. "What a pleasant surprise!"
The priest's gnarled hand trembled slightly as Sorelia clasped it, bowing until her forehead brushed his weathered knuckles.
"Bless you my child," the man spoke, acknowledging her greeting as she rose her head afterwards. The man scanned his daughter from head to toe, "You seem well after your journey from TitanForge"
Sorelia nodded in response, a joyous smile on her face.
The old man tilted his head, his cold blue eyes meeting Sora's eyes, "You there," he spoke out, startling her, "Well don't stand there and linger in your thoughts all day. Come forth"
The old man forwarded his hand calmly. Sora slowly walked towards the man, her gaze still locked unto his.
Sorelia's eyes followed her movements as she made her way towards the old man, and as soon as she reached there she spoke, "Sora, this is my father and high priest of the Bureau of Knights. You may address him as Vinefather Bryndal," she announced.
Sora smiled slightly in an awkward manner.
"You may recieve his blessings," Sorelia added as Bryndal brought forth his hands.
Sora hesitated, mimicking Sorelia's gesture halfheartedly, Bryndal's breath hitched. Her fingers were colder than mountain snow and as hard as rock.
Bryndal watched as the young lady did this, his relaxed expression turning to a terrified one. He could feel something strange emanating from Sora, from his perspective he could see a vortex of black swirling tendrils writhing all around her.
'What is this dark energy?' Bryndal said to himself inwardly.
As he glanced into those burning yellow eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread he felt at that point. His eyes were wide open as he stood quiet, till Sora raised her head, letting go of his hand prompting him to return back to the world he had been lost from.
Sorelia's sharp gaze took notice of Bryndal's expression, the lines of worry etched on Bryndal's weathered face—the way his brow knitted together, the tension pressing his lips into a bloodless line. Every crease spoke of silent distress. Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong and of course, Sorelia knew about it but inquiring about her father's well-being was important.
"Father," she said, her voice measured yet layered with unspoken concern, "Its an honor seeing you again. Are you doing well?"
Bryndal exhaled slowly, fingers massaging his temple as if dispelling an invisible weight. He offered her a thin, practiced smile. "Yes, I am, my child," he muttered weakly. The words were meant to reassure, but the faint tremor in his voice betrayed him. His gaze flickered—just for an instant—toward the young woman standing beside them.
Sora.
The girl's expression mirrored Bryndal's subtle unease. Her wide eyes held a lost, uncertain glint, her posture stiff, as though she stood on ground that might crumble beneath her.
Sorelia noticed. Of course she did. A flicker of understanding passed through her, but she softened it with a gentle smile, her eyes warm, as if to dissolve the unspoken tension thickening the air.
Bryndal straightened, turning fully toward Sora. His voice, though calm, carried an undercurrent of something heavier. "Your name is Sora, if I'm not mistaken?" A pause. "Sorelia has spoken of you often since her return from Titan Forge." He inclined his head slightly, the gesture formal yet not unkind. "Welcome to the Bureau of Knights, Sora, my dear."
Sora blinked, caught off guard by the courtesy. "Oh—thank you," she managed, her voice steadier now, though hesitation lingered at its edges.
Bryndal's smile deepened, genuine warmth reaching his eyes. For a fleeting moment, the weight between them lessened.
But Sorelia's thoughts had already sharpened, slicing through the pleasantries. The true reason for her return to Eldermere surged forward, urgent and unignorable. Her expression darkened as she faced her father.
"Father," she pressed, the word edged with quiet intensity, "I need to see one of my students."
Bryndal studied her for a long, silent heartbeat before nodding. "Ah. Yes, I nearly forgot." Without further explanation, he turned, his cloak whispering against the stone floor as he led her toward an adjoining chamber.
Sorelia cast an apologetic glance at Sora. "Bear with me," she murmured. "Feel free to explore the citadel—it's worth seeing." With a faint wave, she followed Bryndal, leaving Sora alone in the vast, echoing hall.
Sora exhaled, flexing her fingers at her sides. After a moment, she summoned the system. A translucent screen flickered to life before her, displaying rows of inventory—weapons, materials, enhancements, all taunting her with their locked requirements.
[Chaos Daggers]
• Requirement: Level 20
Her thumb brushed the holographic text. *Chaos Daggers.* The name alone promised lethality. But she was leagues away from wielding them.
A bitter sigh escaped her. She needed to level up. Now.
The memory of the Tier Four Mythic coiled in her mind like a venomous serpent. Sorelia's warning echoed: It will grow stronger. More ravenous. The thought of facing it again—of being just as powerless—sent ice through her veins.
She clenched her fists. No. She couldn't afford to remain weak. She needed to grow stronger.
But for now, she needed rest. Perhaps a walk around the citadel would do her some good.
As she took a step forward, something caught her eye. The door to the room Sorelia and Bryndal had entered was left slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of the interior. Her curiosity got the best of her. Carefully, she peered inside.
Sorelia was seated on the edge of a bed where a man lay motionless, his body wrapped in layers of bandages, some of which were partially soaked with a strange purple liquid. The sight made Sora's breath hitch. What had happened to him?
Bryndal stood beside the bed, speaking in a hushed yet urgent tone, his words carrying a weight that sent a shiver down Sora's spine.
"This… this is truly terrifying," he admitted grimly. "In just a few weeks, if the right ingredients are not procured, he will not survive."
Sorelia let out a sigh, her expression darkening with sorrow. Bryndal turned to his daughter, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"Do not lose hope, my child," he said gently. "The other knights are already searching for the final ingredient. I promise you, Lucan will recover."
Lucan.
Sora whispered the name under her breath. A knight in peril. It should not have mattered to her, and yet she found herself listening more intently.
Sorelia straightened, her voice firmer now. "Father, what ingredient do we need?"
Bryndal hesitated before exhaling heavily. "It is not an easy thing to acquire," he admitted, his tone somber. "But if you truly wish to know… then I have no choice but to tell you." He looked down briefly before raising his gaze once more, his eyes filled with grim resolve.
"The knights are searching for a Scourge's heart."
Sora's eyes widened in shock. The name alone sent a jolt through her. It was… familiar.
Memories stirred within her—memories of her mother.
She could recall the stories her mother had once told her, tales of the Scourge and its deadly presence. Her mother had been a skilled healer, a woman who had dedicated her life to treating knights afflicted by poisons and rare ailments. Sora had admired her, had looked up to her with boundless respect.
Even as a child, she had hung onto her mother's every word. The stories. The warnings. The maps her mother had shared with her, pinpointing every location she had traveled to in search of remedies.
A sudden notification interrupted her thoughts. The system's interface appeared once more, but this time, something was different.
[Crafter Memory Module Activated]
Sora's heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the words, her mind racing.
Memory?
The screen glitched briefly before stabilizing, revealing a new display—a map unlike any she had ever seen before. At its center, a red blinking dot emerged, marking a precise location. A location she recognized immediately.
[Scourge Lake]
Realization struck her like lightning. She knew this place.
Without hesitation, she barged into the room, her eyes alight with a mix of joy and astonishment.
Sorelia barely had time to react before Sora spoke, her voice filled with conviction, "I know where I can find the last ingredient" she announced.
Sorelia stood to her feet, overwhelmed by such news, "What… what are you talking about?"
Sora's hands shook, breathing in and out in the process. "My mother… She treated knights who were exposed to poison. She told me how one could obtain the Scourge's heart."
Bryndal's piercing gaze lingered on Sora, his voice measured but edged with caution. "Are you certain of this, my dear?"
She met his eyes without flinching, her resolve unwavering. "So certain," she said, pressing a hand to her chest, "that I'll retrieve the heart myself if I must."
A low groan escaped Bryndal as he turned to Sorelia. The knight stood motionless, her hands clasped tightly over her abdomen—knuckles whitening, then loosening, as if caught between desperation and disbelief. Tears glistened unshed in her eyes.
Then, without warning, she crossed the room and pulled Sora into an embrace.
"Thank you."
The words trembled against Sora's shoulder, raw with gratitude. Sora stiffened, shocked—not just by the suddenness of the gesture, but by the warmth radiating from Sorelia's body. It was an unfamiliar yet *achingly* familiar heat, like sunlight after years of winter. Like her mother's arms around her.
Her heartbeat stuttered, then raced.
When Sorelia finally released her, the moment lingered in the air between them—unspoken, fragile. Wordlessly, Sorelia guided Sora down the hall, stopping before a carved oak door.
"This will be yours," she said, pushing it open.
Sora stepped inside—and froze.
The room was immaculate. Polished mahogany furniture gleamed in the candlelight; fresh linens, crisp and inviting, draped over the four-poster bed. But it was the scent that struck her hardest—lavender, faint but unmistakable, weaving through the air like a ghost.
Just like her mother's hands. Just like the sheets they'd wrapped her body in.
For a heartbeat, she was a child again, standing in the doorway of their cottage, watching her mother hum as she tucked sprigs of dried lavender between folded clothes.
Home.
Her throat tightened.
Sorelia had already turned to leave when Sora suddenly lurched forward, catching her wrist. The knight paused, glancing back in surprise—but her expression softened as she took in Sora's face.
"Thank you," Sora whispered.
Sorelia's smile was gentle, understanding. A silent nod, and then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
Alone, Sora sank onto the bed, curling into herself. The mattress embraced her, the lavender-scented sheets cool against her skin. For the first time in years, she let her muscles unwind, her breath steadying as a long-forgotten comfort settled over her.
She closed her eyes.
And for just a moment, she wasn't a warrior, or a survivor, or a stranger in a foreign citadel.
She was safe. And she was ready to face what was in store for her the next day.
(Note: I highly dedicate this chapter to my lovely mother who brought me to this world. Happy Mother's Day, I love you mom)