Chapter 108: Anya
The road was long.
Lily and Anya walked for what felt like an eternity, hand-in-hand, trailing behind the seemingly endless line of refugees.
Lily's stomach let out another roar. "Anya... I'm hungry."
Lily rubbed her tummy, her steps slowing. Anya didn't speak; she simply tightened her grip on Lily's hand, her own palm cold and clammy.
A few more miles passed. "Anya," Lily whispered. "I really miss Hans-nii."
Anya stopped walking. She turned to look at Lily. Her lips were as bloodless as her face. "Lily... in this world... there might not be a man like the 'Hans' you speak of."
"There is!" Lily insisted with the stubborn certainty of a child. "Hans-nii is the hero of Sunflower House! He's our father!"
Anya fell silent. She assumed Lily was simply so starved that she had begun to hallucinate a better life.
Over the past few days, Lily had taught Anya many things. She taught her the songs of Sunflower House.
"Mister Sun is grinning wide, flowers bow from side to side..."
Lily would sing and spin Anya around by the hands. Anya was a slow learner; her voice was a tiny, frail thing that couldn't keep up with Lily's tempo. But she sang along anyway.
Lily also taught her how to write more words. Using a twig in the dirt, she scrawled: [HANS], [MIGUEL], [SUNFLOWER HOUSE].
"See? This is Hans-nii, this is Big Brother Miguel, and this is our home."
Anya would crouch in the dirt, tracing over Lily's strokes with her finger, stroke by stroke, as if trying to memorize the shape of a dream.
At night, they slept in the tall grass by the roadside like all the others. Anya pulled a crumpled scrap of parchment and a tiny nub of charcoal from her pocket. By the silver light of the moon, she began to write.
Lily leaned in to peek. "Anya, what are you writing?"
Anya immediately hid the paper behind her back. "I won't show you."
"Why not? We're best friends!" Lily pouted.
"Because we are best friends," Anya whispered, tucking the paper carefully back into her pocket. "You can't see it yet."
"Is it a letter?"
"Yes. To someone very important."
Lily wanted to ask more, but Anya had already closed her eyes, feigning a deep sleep.
They had run out of things to eat. The half-cracker Anya had shared was a distant memory. The people around them had no food to spare; every refugee clutched their bags to their chests with the territorial desperation of the dying.
Lily felt the hollow ache in her gut, a hunger so deep she no longer had the energy to sing.
But Anya was worse.
Anya's gait became a staggering wobble. One afternoon, as they walked through the biting wind, Anya simply... collapsed.
Lily let out a shriek. "Anya! Anya, what's wrong?!" She shook Anya's shoulders frantically.
Anya's eyes fluttered open. Her breathing was so shallow it barely stirred the air. "Lily... I'm so tired..."
"You're just sleepy, right? It's okay! We'll rest right here!"
Anya didn't reply.
Lily scrambled to her feet. She saw a woman walking toward them carrying a waterskin. Lily ran over, reaching out to grab the woman's skirt, but her hand passed through the fabric as if it were a mist.
"Ma'am! Please! my friend can't walk anymore! Can you just give her a sip of water?"
The woman paused, looking toward the spot where Anya lay on the ground. In the woman's eyes was an expression Lily couldn't comprehend—a mixture of exhaustion and a cold, hollow pity. After a heartbeat, the woman shook her head and quickened her pace, walking away.
Lily didn't give up. She ran toward a man driving an ox-cart. "Mister! Mister! My friend is sick! Can she just sit in the back for a little while?"
The man didn't even look at her. He cracked his whip, and the cart rattled past.
Lily stood in the middle of the road as refugee after refugee shuffled past her. No one stopped. Occasionally, a traveler would glance at the small girl lying in the dirt, only to lower their head and walk faster.
Lily ran back to Anya's side. She tried to pull her up, but she was too small, and Anya's body felt like a heavy weight. Lily began to cry, the tears hot against the freezing wind.
"Why won't they help us... why...?"
Lily's tears splashed onto Anya's face. Anya slowly opened her eyes.
"Lily... don't cry..."
"But you're sick! And they're all being mean!"
Anya reached up, intending to wipe Lily's eyes, but her hand fell back to the dirt halfway through the gesture. Her voice was no louder than a mosquito's hum.
"I'm just... so hungry..."
Lily sat on the ground, pulling Anya's head into her lap. "Anya, don't sleep! I'll tell you a story! The story about the Goblins that Hans-nii told us!"
At the mention of Goblins, Anya offered a weak, strange smile. "The Skeleton Teacher... does he... does he really wave at you?"
"He does!" Lily sobbed. "He even gives us star-candies when we're good!"
Anya's smile widened, though it lacked any strength. "That sounds nice... the Iron Fortress you know..."
Night fell. The crowd had mostly thinned out, leaving the road desolate and cold. Anya's breathing grew fainter with every passing second.
She reached into her pocket and withdrew the letter she had refused to show Lily. She touched her own head, searching for something.
"My flower crown... it's gone..."
Lily quickly removed the crown from her own head. It was wilted and brown, most of the petals having fallen off. "It's here, Anya! Right here!"
Anya looked at the crown. Using the very last of her strength, she tore the woven circle in half. She pressed one half into Lily's palm. Then, she pressed the letter into Lily's other hand.
"This... for you too..."
As Anya's life flickered at the edge of the void, a sudden clarity seemed to fill her eyes.
"So... it was you..." Anya whispered, her voice carrying a strange sense of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted. "It's time... for you to go back..."
"My... friend..."
Lily didn't hear her. She was screaming into the night: "HANS-NII!!"
Anya didn't speak again. Her hand went limp.
Lily watched in horror as her own body began to turn translucent.
"No!" Lily screamed. She tried to grab Anya's hand, but her fingers passed through the girl's skin. She tried to hug her, but she was embracing nothing but cold air.
"No! I don't want to go! Anya! Anya, wake up!"
The world began to spin and blur. Anya's face, the muddy road, the distant silhouette of the city—it all merged into a chaotic vortex of color.
Lily cried and screamed, but it was futile. Her world went black.
The Real World.
Hans's heart was hammering so hard it felt like it would burst through his ribs.
"Have you found her?!"
"Not yet, Chairman!"
A guild associate ran up, gasping for air. "We've scoured the south city! Nothing!"
"Keep looking! Check the sewers! Tear the city apart if you have to!" Hans's voice was ragged and hoarse.
Miguel was right beside him, his eyes bloodshot. It's my fault. If I had just believed her... if I hadn't let go of her hand...
The entire Evernight Academy, and half of Iron Fortress, was in motion. The City Guard had sealed the gates, inspecting every outgoing carriage. Merchants, Skeleton Soldiers, and students were spread across the city like a vast net.
"Hans! Over here!"
A voice rang out from the direction of the Academy's side gate. It was Scarlett.
Hans and Miguel sprinted toward her. She was standing near the secluded garden. She looked bewildered—she had just checked this spot minutes ago and seen nothing.
But now, beneath the ancient oak tree, a Skeleton Knight in full-plate armor was kneeling on one knee, perfectly motionless.
And before him, a tiny figure lay curled against the trunk of the tree.
"LILY!"
Miguel was the first to reach her. Hans was a heartbeat behind.
Lily lay there as if in a deep slumber. Tear tracks were still visible on her cheeks, and her small brow was furrowed in distress. Hans knelt, his hand shaking as he checked her breathing.
She's alive.
The strength left Hans's body, and he slumped onto the grass. "Thank the Spirits... thank the Spirits..."
Miguel carefully lifted Lily into his arms. "Hans... look at her hands..."
Hans looked. In Lily's small, tight fists, she clutched two things.
One was half of a wilted, dried flower crown.
The other was a crumpled, yellowed piece of parchment.
A letter.
Hans took the paper, slowly and delicately smoothing it out. The writing was shaky and done in charcoal, pressed so hard it had nearly torn the surface. It was the handwriting of a child.
[THANK YOU FOR FINDING ME.]
[IF LIFE HAS A CYCLE, LET US BE BEST FRIENDS IN THE NEXT ONE.]
There was no signature at the bottom.
Hans stared at the words, then at the half-crown in Lily's hand. He lifted his head, looking at the trunk of the tree.
There, etched into the bark with a sharp stone, the words remained:
[LILY AND ANYA, BEST FRIENDS]
The wind sighed through the garden, the leaves whispering a dry, hollow secret. Hans stood up, taking Lily from Miguel's arms. He held the small, sobbing girl tight against his chest.
"Let's go home," he whispered.
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