Among the sprawling fields of Lenora's estate, many species flourished, including varieties of the mageia rose. Seraph recalled walking with her through the beds of Pink Rose Anastasia, where the girl had proudly displayed her work, confiding her attempts to master the cultivation of such plants.
This particular Pink Rose Anastasia was the sole mageia flower she had managed to rear just a few days prior. In all her life, this marked only the second time Lenora had successfully brought a mageia flower to bloom; the first had been a four-leaf clover.
The four-leaf clover had been a stroke of unintended fortune, one she could never replicate regardless of her efforts; thus, the Pink Rose Anastasia stood as the first mageia species she'd truly cultivated with her own two hands.
The girl had been so overcome with joy she could scarcely maintain her composure, wishing only to preserve the bloom for eternity. Yet, after meeting the young man, her heart followed a different path. It no longer belonged to her.
Thus, Lenora had bestowed this Pink Rose Anastasia upon Seraph, resolving that the next time they met, she'd lead him to the other mageia flowers flourishing within her garden beds.
Seraph cradled the Pink Rose Anastasia tenderly within his palm, lifting it until it nearly brushed his eyes.
"And what of you, little friend... does this sweet perfume truly belong to you?" Seraph whispered to the bloom.
He teased the petals with a playful flick of his finger before setting the Pink Rose Anastasia beside his pillow. Only then did he unfurl the latest missive from Lenora.
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'To my dear Seraph,
The intruder who haunts the depths of my longing every night.
.....
I hope this letter reaches you safely, unyielding against the frost of a cold winter. I hope it carries my heart and my devotion to you, so that you might finally feel them!
And I hope most fervently that you remain well... even though, through all these passing months, you've never once consented to return to me!
From the very moment we parted, I've found myself doing nothing but staring at the heavens—by dawn and by dusk. Even the clouds have taken on the hue of your eyes. How strange it is that lately, I've begun to resent them for it!'
For what reason, I cannot say; I know only that this yearning weighs heavier upon my heart than the iron plate of a Balyon sentry.
When the news reached me that you intend to join this year's Bloody Hunting—my heart constricted with such trepidation that its very rhythm faltered. For I am afraid. I am anxious. And... because I know I've no right to curb your resolve in the slightest.
I've every faith that you're far more formidable than the majority of magis and demon hunters of your years... But the Bloody Hunting—as you well know—is not merely a crucible of skill. It's a place where countless challengers venture, "certain" they'll return draped in grand honour—yet most never emerge at all.
I've looked upon the vast array of inscriptions marking the headstones of hunters from years past; the sprawling green hillside of the fallen caused my hands to tremble for a long while.
The rumours surrounding this year's Bloody Hunting have left my heart in turmoil. There are whispers of a great host of demons surfacing from the abyss, and word of a mysterious demon, the likes of which have scarcely been encountered before...
The more I dwell upon you... the more I'm conflicted... I'm angry... I'm resentful... I'm ill at ease... I fear for you...
Even as my hand grips this mageia quill, the city of Balyon readies itself for the season of the hunt, much like the Bloody Hunting. As I've recounted to you many times before—and as you so solemnly promised! Though perhaps you've cruelly chanced to forget our appointed date!
The armament of Balyon, weathered and aged, demands desperate maintenance. The city walls, the sentry towers, and the fortresses must be surveyed again and again. Every stone... every breach... every fissure... must be reinforced with haste.
For the demonic horde will breach human territories with singular ferocity during this season. In years past, I've seen the soldiers of Balyon and the demon hunters return from the fell battlefields with grievous wounds and a lingering tremor in their gaze.
Some were mangled beyond repair...
Some were left broken and infirm...
Some returned only as silent forms upon the wagons...
Some never returned at all...
The townsfolk are gripped by terror, forced to flee toward the inner city to escape the encroaching demon war. During this hour... I've gone to provide aid within the infirmary halls and military camps daily, ensuring all is secure and that nothing is lacking for the struggle against the great wave of demons soon to break upon us.
Yet, no matter how I strive to cast certain thoughts aside... my dread for you doesn't wane; it only swells until it becomes a torment.
Seraph... I know you loathe retreat. Whatever your reasons may be. But I implore you, will you listen to me just this once?
I wish for you to consider returning to defend Balyon instead of joining the Bloody Hunting this year! Return here as you so solemnly promised from the start!
I know this plea may ring with selfishness—I confess it's an overreaching request—but I cannot remain silent knowing that those who challenge the demon-hunting mission each year face odds where more than half will perish.
And I... I cannot bear to see your name etched upon a cold Inscription of Honour! I cannot endure the sight of your memorial shield hung against the historical walls of Arkflame! I cannot suffer you becoming nothing but a star upon a headstone; I long only to see you draw breath, standing ever at my side.
However stubborn you may be... I still choose to believe you possess the reason to chart your own path... to choose a life beside Balyon... beside me.
If you'd only come to Balyon—I swear to bestow the highest honour and yield that which is most precious to me, to you alone. I would tend to every exhaustion you bear. And then... I'd be so overcome that I could scarcely restrain my tears, if you'd only choose me over the Bloody Hunting... if only this once!
Returning to a matter of gravity, I must ask you once more—do you still keep the four-leaf clover locket I gave you?
I entreat you most earnestly... I beg you to carry it each time you venture onto the field of slaughter, whether it be the arenas of the Bloody Hunting or any demon war you face.
I may not possess great mageia; I cannot stand beside you through every stride of combat. Yet, so long as that locket remains with you... I hope it serves to remind you of a girl who desires nothing from you—save for the wish that you live in happiness for all eternity.
I pen these lines with a heart thrumming with trepidation—I know how shameful it must seem. Yet I won't strike out these mortifying words; let them stand as an everlasting witness to my sincerity.
You're a magis... my gallant hero...
And I wish only for you... to return to this, our home.
Return to Balyon...
Return to me...
Whether you're prepared to heed my plea or no...
.....
With a devotion too profound for mere words,
Lenora Florencia'
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