The sun hung low over the ruins of Fallcry, casting long, broken shadows across the derelict buildings. Wind howled through shattered windows, carrying the distant echo of gunfire and collapsing stone. Inside one of these buildings—an abandoned warehouse at the city's edge—a girl stood still amid the ghosts of war.
Shina Mariposa was only ten years old, but her presence held a stillness that unsettled the soldiers who circled her. Dressed in a tattered coat far too big for her small frame, she had been dragged here from her village only hours ago. Dirt smudged her cheeks, but her Crimson eyes burned with clarity.
Across from her, a man in his late fifties sat on an overturned crate. His uniform was frayed and battle-stained, but bore the insignia of leadership. A Sword rested lazily in his lap, though he didn't seem to need it.
"You're not shaking," he said after a long silence, voice gravelly from years of smoke and command. "Most kids cry by now. Hell, most adults do."
Shina didn't respond. She watched him with the same unwavering gaze she had held since being brought here. It was not defiance—it was calculation.
The man chuckled softly. "You've got a spine, I'll give you that."
"What do you want, Old man?" she asked coldly. "You didn't drag me across the wasteland for nothing."
That earned a few surprised chuckles from the guards. The man rubbed the back of his head and grinned.
"You're right. Straight to business, huh?" He stood up slowly, stretching out old joints. "Name's Mesh. I lead the Northwestern Liberation Front. What's yours, kid?"
She hesitated, not out of fear, but consideration.
"…Shina Mariposa."
Mesh's smile faded slightly, replaced by something harder to read. "Alright."
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Tell me, Shina. Do you know what flows in your blood?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Blood is just blood."
He laughed. "Maybe for most people. But not you."
He began to pace slowly, his boots crunching on broken glass.
"There are stories… Legends, passed down through families, whispered in secret when the World isn't listening. They speak of ancient clans—people whose power came not from sword or spell, but from something older. Something forgotten."
Shina's face didn't change, but she was listening now.
"One of those clans was called Lavender."
The name hung in the air like smoke. Shina felt it sink into her.
"They were feared," Mesh continued. "Not because they were monsters, but because they weren't like the rest of us. It's said they stood beside beings others called 'demons.'"
He paused, watching her expression. "But 'demon' is just a word used by frightened men. What they really meant… was the Foniks."
Her brows furrowed. "Foniks?"
"A clan of fire and rebirth. The World calls them traitors. History calls them legends. But the Lavender were their allies—maybe even their anchor to this world."
Shina clenched her fists. "Why are you telling me this? I don't understand"
"Because your eyes, Kid," Mesh said, pointing to her. "Just for a moment back in the village… they changed. That violet shimmer, the spiral pattern… it's a signature. I've only seen it once before. And the man who had them changed the course of a whole campaign."
Silence filled the space between them, heavy and cold.
"I don't want to be some old clan's legacy," Shina muttered. "And I don't want to be part of your war."
Mesh didn't seem surprised. He simply nodded, folding his arms.
"You think you have a choice. Maybe you do—for now. But the world doesn't wait, Shina. Sooner or later, it'll come knocking. And when it does, if you haven't chosen who you are…"
He let the sentence trail off.
She looked away, lips pressed tight.
Mesh stepped to the boarded-up window, where rays of dying sunlight streamed through.
"The war in Fallcry has eaten everything. It's been going on longer than you've been alive. Cities have vanished, generals have risen and fallen, and still the Empire does not care. We tried to change that—we are trying. But soldiers alone won't win this. We need something different. Someone different."
He turned to her again.
"I believe you're that someone. Not because of your blood—but because you're still standing."
Shina swallowed, throat dry. "You want to use me."
"I want to teach you to use what's already inside you," Mesh said gently. "Before someone else takes it and turns you into a weapon without your say."
He walked past her, to the doorway behind.
"When you're ready, come find me. I'm not your enemy, Shina. I won't force your path. But paths don't stay open forever."
He paused before stepping out into the fading day.
"Shina Mariposa," he said over his shoulder, "you can't run from what you are. But maybe—just maybe—you can choose how you become it."
And with that, he was gone.
She stood there alone, in a room full of dust, ghosts, and unspoken history—her fists trembling ever so slightly, but her feet still rooted in place.
{Chapter 45 end}