"How long has she been crying?"
The question drifted softly through the endless white silence.
An angel with emerald-green eyes stood upon the broken remains of a marble pillar, his wings unmoving in the stagnant air. Beside him stood another figure clothed in pale gold feathers, long blond hair swaying faintly beneath the summer wind.
The blond angel stared quietly toward the distant tree.
"I do not know anymore," he answered after a long silence. "Perhaps a day passed… perhaps a thousand years… perhaps eight thousand."
His voice sounded hollow.
"As if this place was always like this."
The green-eyed angel lowered his gaze.
"I've begun forgetting what existed before her grief."
Below them, at the center of the ruins, the woman continued to cry.
Her voice was unlike any language born beneath the sky.
Sometimes it resembled prayer.
Sometimes mourning.
Sometimes the desperate sound of an animal dying alone in the dark.
Yet no being alive could understand a single word.
The ruins surrounding her had long since become a landmark for wandering merchants and travelers. Broken roads curved around the sacred land like rivers avoiding a mountain. Caravans changed routes simply to avoid gazing upon the tree for too long.
No one approached it.
Countless angels circled the enormous cherry tree in silence, their white wings filling the sky like drifting snow. Any creature foolish enough to step closer would immediately be stopped.
Not through violence.
Because everyone understood the same truth.
The place beneath that tree no longer belonged to the world.
It belonged to her.
The woman wore a black mantle so long that it swallowed the ground beneath her feet. A translucent veil covered most of her face, yet her crimson eyes remained visible beneath the cloth.
They remained fixed upon the figure trapped within the tree.
As though her entire existence depended upon his presence.
No one remembered the last time she spoke.
No one remembered the last time she ate.
Some believed she no longer needed either.
Others believed she had died long ago and simply refused to accept it.
Even the gods avoided this place.
Not because of the angels.
Not because of the sacred land.
But because the woman herself had become something absolute.
A force too terrifying to measure.
The cherry tree above her was beautiful beyond reason.
Its branches stretched high into the heavens, protecting her from rain and storm alike. During spring its blossoms perfumed the air so sweetly that travelers wept without understanding why.
During autumn, rust-colored leaves danced endlessly through the wind like burning memories.
During winter, snow covered the empty branches in pale silence.
But now…it was summer.
And despite the season, no fruit grew upon its branches.
Except one.
A single apple.
The emerald-eyed angel stared at it uneasily.
Even after all these years, merely looking at it made his soul tremble.
Because the apple did not truly hang from the tree.
It rested within the hand of the man fused into the trunk itself.
The sight was grotesque.
His body had merged with the ancient wood as though eternity itself had sentenced him to imprisonment. Branches pierced through his chest and shoulders like chains, yet there was no blood.No decay.
He looked merely asleep.
As though he would awaken at any moment.
His eyes remained peacefully closed while his right hand stretched toward the heavens, gently holding the crimson apple.
The silence around the tree deepened suddenly.
The woman's crying stopped.
Every angel froze.
The sky itself seemed to tighten.
The angels fell to their knees.
The blond angel whispered shakily,
"She moved…"
The woman slowly rose to her feet.
Her black mantle dragged softly across the ruined stone beneath her. For the first time in centuries, she lifted her hand toward the tree.
Her fingers trembled violently before finally touching the apple resting in his palm.
The instant her skin brushed against it, tears flooded her eyes again.
Pain crossed her face so intensely that even the angels looked away.
She stared at the apple.
Then at the sleeping man.
"I tried once," she whispered softly.
Her voice was gentle.
Beautiful and utterly shattered.
"I tried to bite into it."
Her fingers tightened around the fruit.
"But the moment I did…"
A tear rolled beneath her veil.
"…I realized I could still hear your heartbeat."
The wind itself stopped moving.
The woman lowered her head slightly.
"If this...if this is the happy ending you sacrificed everything for…"
She closed her eyes.
"…then I am not satisfied with it."
The earth trembled faintly.
The angels bowed lower instinctively.
"Until I can touch you again…"
Her hand pressed weakly against the tree.
"Until I can hear your voice…"
"Until I can kiss you once more…"
For the first time, genuine madness appeared within her crimson eyes.
"My greed will never be satisfied."
A terrible pressure spread across the ruins.
The clouds above twisted unnaturally.
The green-eyed angel fell completely to his knees.
"She's going to do it…"
The woman slowly turned away from the tree and faced the endless army of angels surrounding her.
Every single one trembled beneath her gaze.
"If destiny is a river," she said quietly, "that drowns anyone who dares resist it…"
Darkness began spreading beneath her feet.
"…then I choose to drown."
The sky dimmed.
Stars vanished one by one.
"And if the world must burn alongside me…"
Her crimson eyes glowed softly through the veil.
"…then let it burn."
The angels remained frozen in horror.
The woman looked back one final time toward the sleeping figure trapped within the cherry tree.
Her voice softened again.
"He would hate me for this."
A faint laugh escaped her lips.
A fragile sound filled with unbearable love.
"But I refuse to live inside a story written by someone else."
The darkness behind her began swallowing the horizon.
"So I will take the paper."
The earth cracked apart beneath her feet.
"I will take the ink."
"And I will begin everything again…"
She gently held the apple against her chest.
"…from zero."
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
The wind blew softly through the
branches of the old oak tree at the edge of the capital city of Mahoken. The leaves rustled lazily, and the petals of a nearby cherry tree danced in the air like a melancholic waltz. The young man stood leaning against the trunk of the tree, his back straight, but his gaze fallen. He was thinking about his latest failure. Another one. Although he had trained for months, he still couldn't control even the simplest spells.
The last time he had tried, alongside his former master, the generated explosion had almost killed them both. He smiled bitterly. He remembered the old man's words: — "You're a public menace with that wild mana of yours. You'd better stick to the sword... or, even better, to gardening." That's how he had come to focus all his will on physical training. But the truth was, he didn't shine there either. His body was weak, his hands trembled slightly, and the sword always felt too heavy for him
. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He raised his gaze to the blue and infinite sky, perhaps searching for an explanation. Or perhaps just a moment of peace. Then he heard the voice
. — "Excuse me... is the city of Mahoken near?" A feminine voice, gentle and clear, like a breeze on a summer day. He startled. He turned his head with a slight irritation in his eyes, annoyed by the interruption of his thoughts. But his expression changed abruptly. Standing before him was a girl with silver hair and pink eyes, as intense as the cherry blossoms that fell around them. She smiled delicately, and the green cloak that covered her gave the impression that she was part of the landscape. Under the cloak, a light, pink lace dress was visible, perfect for the summer heat.
The young man swallowed hard. — "You still have about... seven kilometers. But I don't recommend it." — "Why?" she asked, approaching slightly. "Is something wrong?" He avoided her gaze, his tone heavy. — "It's a city like any other. Disappointing. If you're looking for something special... you won't find it there." The girl looked at him for a few seconds.
His gloomy face caught her attention. And his voice... full of resignation. — "What happened to you?" she asked gently. — "I failed. Too many times. I can't even control simple spells... and with the sword... I trip over my own shadow." — "...My body is weak. Maybe I wasn't born for this." Ashamed, he lowered his gaze to his hands. She giggled softly. — "You have a strong mana. I can feel it... it floats around you, moves the air, the petals..." — "It's just chaotic. You haven't learned to listen to it." The young man frowned. — "What do you mean, listen to it?" — "Mana flows through you like water. If you agitate yourself, it gets murky. If you are calm... you can guide it. Try. Close your eyes. Choose a point in your palm and imagine the mana flowing through that spot, gently, like a smooth stream."
Hesitantly, the young man held out his hand. He took a deep breath. He concentrated. A short hiss. Then — ZAAAM! An invisible blade of air sliced through the space, severing the trunk of a tree ten meters away. Both froze. — "That... wasn't intentional," he whispered. — "Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. But... you did it. Now you know you can."
She looked at him with a mixture of respect and curiosity. She approached him, searching his eyes. — "Why did you choose the sword?" — "I want to become a knight. To become worthy." — "Why do you want to be strong?" He was silent for a moment. Then: — "Because I don't want to be weak anymore. I've lived with regrets, with the feeling that I'm useless. I want to protect. To be someone who can make a difference." — "Someone once told me: true strength only appears when you choose to protect the weaknesses of others... That has stayed with me." His gaze was lost, but in his eyes something was burning: a silent, stubborn flame. She smiled again. — "Then don't stop. Continue your path. Build that future." They both laughed, as if they had known each other for a lifetime
. — "But tell me, why are you wearing such a thick cloak in this weather?" — "It's just a precaution," she replied, pulling the hood slightly over her head. "Some people get scared of... the way I look." — "I'm sure they're just jealous." — "Heh... maybe." She waved at him and started on her way. He watched her for a long time. — Maybe we'll meet again... and then I'll ask for your name. A few hours later, in the heart of the capital, the young man was walking towards the center, hoping he would see the girl from under the cherry tree again. But his steps were stopped by loud noises coming from a dark alley.
Approaching, he saw a massive man, with a hideous smile, dragging two girls into the darkness. He was speaking filthily to them. He had terrible intentions. — "Stop," said the young man, his voice trembling. "Leave them alone." — "What did you say, you little mosquito?" asked the man, turning around with heavy and threatening steps
. The young man was terrified. But the memory of the promise made under the cherry tree came back to him. He took a deep breath. From fear, determination was born. ZACK — his sword severed the attacker's Achilles tendon, then a lightning-fast punch knocked him to the ground. The massive body collapsed inert. One of the girls clung to him, crying. She had hair the color of the sunset. He gently stroked her, wiping her tears with his dusty cloak. — "It's okay now..." But the other one... Looking up, he saw something he would never forget. The second girl, with empty eyes, was hitting the man's head with a stone. Without stopping.
Without emotion. When he approached, it was too late. She had disappeared into the night, leaving behind only a mutilated corpse and a dark stain on his soul. He covered the eyes of the girl who was still clinging to him. His gaze was lost in the darkness. — So ends my first day as a future knight... I wonder... what would you have done, girl from under the cherry tree?