2~The Final Memory Shard and the Ultimate Truth
“Hey there, my wandering piece, don’t you think it’s high time you came home?” Aistride stood with an aloof demeanor, her voice serene like a breeze through a mountain valley. As she stepped forward in sharp high heels, each step echoed with a crisp ‘tap tap’ rhythm. Coolly and composed, she approached Ifen.
“Shard? Aistride, what on earth are you talking about?” Tillysha had noticed something amiss with Aistride ever since the last level but figured it was Ruglien’s influence making her quieter than usual.
Could Ruglien have driven Aistride to be more midichlorian-heavy? More emo?
Something felt off to Tillysha, like a switch flicked inside Aistride, changing her fundamentally.
Could she have been body-hijacked?
No, that thought was quickly dismissed.
Body-hijacking implies a soul swap, and elves, being masters of soul sight, would’ve caught on instantly to any hijack. Yet Tillysha hadn’t sensed any anomalies in Aistride’s soul.
Aistride remained silent, not even glancing at Tillysha. Her focus was solely on Ifen, who looked confused and perhaps a bit frightened. Raising her hand, Aistride spoke.
“It seems you’re still lost in the fog. No worries; I’ve just recovered my own sense of self. My memories and perceptions remain fragmented, but yours seem to have vanished entirely.”
“Let me help jog your memory and remind you who you really are.”
A chill light emanated from Aistride’s hand, like the announcement of an icy winter, descending upon Ifen.
For reasons unknown to herself, Ifen felt awed by this seemingly young Moon Elf, whose life likely didn’t surpass a century. Yet when this beam hit her, ancient Elvish phrases flooded her mind.
From resistance, Ifen’s expression shifted through bewilderment, disbelief at the sheer weight of the information, and finally, acceptance.
Looking at her hands, all confusion dissolved from her. The transformation was so stark that even Tillysha, who stood nearby, looked astounded.
What on earth did Aistride do?
Though she trusted Aistride unreservedly, her current behavior was perplexing. Her soul remained unchanged, but something in her essence seemed different.
Could it be mind control?
Unlikely. Aistride was barely two decades old. How could someone so young override a creature four centuries her senior?
Impossible.
“Have you found yourself again? Do you remember who you truly are?” Aistride gently lowered her hand, observing Ifen, noting the remnants of lingering disbelief, though clarity had returned.
“…” After a moment’s pause, Ifen nodded, glancing at Tillysha with eyes filled with unreadable depth.
Age doesn’t always equate to experience. What if a thousand years of sheer determination and memories overwhelmed mere centuries?
In the face of such vast knowledge and resolve, the centuries of Ifen’s experience were scattered like grains of sand, assimilating into a single consciousness.
Imagine a teenager suddenly invaded by over a millennium’s worth of memories. Who wouldn’t be completely overtaken, their mind warped, thinking themselves the rightful owner of those memories, dismissing their earlier years as a period of forgotten existence?
This is exactly what Ifen was experiencing. The memories weren’t imposed by Aistride but rather awakened, brought forth from deep within herself.
The transition felt seamless, without a hint of conflict.
“I need your power now, and we have no time to waste.” Extending her hand to Ifen, Aistride’s tone commanded authority—a request Ifen couldn’t refuse. For the truth she had just uncovered was this: both she and Aistride were merely fragments of a greater whole.
Fragments each with their designated roles. The Moon Elf before her carried the consciousness of this whole and was the last to awaken.
“Will I cease to exist after we merge?” Ifen, despite her centuries of existence as the ‘Demon King,’ nodded compliantly to the twenty-year-old elf, a contrast jarring to the core.
“Are you even suggesting that either of us will vanish?” Aistride replied matter-of-factly. “We are one entity, and our reunion is simply destiny. Everyone will resume their respective roles, and none shall be lost.”
Ifen remained silent, gazing deeply at Tillysha, her eyes betraying a depth Tillysha couldn’t fully grasp.
“Never in my imaginings did I foresee other fragments developing such profound human attachments,” Aistride mused.
“If you would, could you kindly protect her on my behalf?” Ifen asked in a slightly pleading tone.
“As much as I’m able. But you understand, if she stands in my way… I can’t promise anything.” Aistride sighed.
Tillysha frowned deeply, sensing a profound shift within Aistride. Her devotion to Tillysha was still there, but now overshadowed by an even greater resolve and purpose.
“I hope you understand. This isn’t just about me or you—it’s a millennia-old longing shared by both fragments. We have no choice but to see this through.”
“Everything originates from a strong desire. This held true for that person, and it holds true for us.”
“I have no other option,” Aistride declared stoically.
“Surely, you can grasp this, yes?”
“… I understand.” The heavy nod from Ifen carried finality. She closed her eyes as a soft glow began emanating from her body. Her injuries visibly healed under the radiant light.
This was just the beginning. Under Tillysha and Aistride’s watch, Ifen started shrinking—more accurately, condensing.
Her physical form transformed into a silvery glow, condensing further until only a shard of light remained.
Drawn to Aistride, the shard entered her.
“IFEN??” Tillysha, shocked to the core, watched in horror, as a hidden golden shard flew into her mind before Ifen fully vanished.
Instantly, Tillysha’s head throbbed in agony, overwhelmed by a flood of intense emotions and memories.
Familiar yet utterly foreign, pieces of memories started to coalesce in her mind.
Recollections resurfaced with vivid clarity.
“IFEN, let our battle stay far from the innocent.”
“… Alright, I agree.”
This conversation took place beneath the Elf Sacred Tree. But even this was preceded by a chain of events.
Tillysha had earlier sensed the corruption and rebellion among the Grey Elves, prompting her to investigate.
Her findings revealed someone undermining the decrees of the Gold Elf Royalty, secretly altering them.
After all, the execution of laws couldn’t depend solely on elves themselves but needed to pass through bureaucratic ranks, eventually reaching the grassroots level.
Somewhere along this chain, a critical decree intended to be shared among all elf tribes morphed into a crushing burden solely for the Grey Elves.
Tasks like ‘maintenance of the Holy Tree,’ ‘repair of sacred barriers,’ and ‘filling the frontlines’ which had never been acknowledged by Gold Elf high society.
“Grey Elves are like bricks, moved wherever needed” didn’t even begin to describe their plight.
Worst of all, documents revealed an enforced population control among the Grey Elves. Extra newborns were taken to a basement and never seen again.
Oppressed beyond endurable limits, the Grey Elves became tainted with dark magic and rebelled. However, they didn’t fully succumb to malice, never opening the gates for the Demon King to massacre their kin.
Tillysha, pursuing this covertly, found an unsettling truth: the one altering high council orders and secretly aiding the Demon Race was the same entity lurking within the Elven ranks.
After cross-verifying information, she identified a prime suspect—a Moon Elf elder.
But just as she prepared to act, the Grey Elves’ rebellion reached the Sacred Tree, forcing her into negotiations with Ifen.
Amid reasoned discourse that calmed Ifen and her followers, a rogue black spear hurtled toward Ifen. Instinctively, Tillysha blocked it, protecting Ifen…
No entity could defeat an Elf Divine Warrior, yet her d*ath at the hands of that spear was fittingly logical.
Indeed, the very spear that killed her was the one she often wielded—the “Holy Oblivion.”
Tillysha stared in abject fear at her own hands. For the first time, expressions of utter shock crossed her face.
As memories flowed back, she recalled unsettling truths about “Holy Oblivion.”
Without realizing, she’d wielded this perilous divine artifact numerous times!
Finally, it all came back—she remembered the primary suspect behind these heinous crimes.
“Snap!” Before she could dwell further, a silver light chain latched onto her neck.
“Ah, so you’ve recalled everything. Should I address you as Tillysha, or perhaps, Lord Divine Warrior?” Aistride held the end of the chain in hand, expression cold as stone.
“Are… Are you another of his henchmen then?” Tillysha’s face chilled.
“I believe you’ve misunderstood, Divine Warrior. This was solely to protect you and keep you out of future conflicts,” Aistride spoke calmly. “You’ve been important, whether to the past me or my fragments. Thus, if anything were to happen to you, it’d be heart-wrenching, even emotionally.”
“So, to prevent you from doing something rash, forgive me, but I act preemptively.”
“This is none of your concern now. You’ve fought long enough. Rest assured, as long as you cooperate, I will ensure your survival.”
“What about the other elves? Don’t you care about their lives?” Tillysha’s fists clenched.
“That cursed traitor… that vile scoundrel…” Tillysha’s curses were venomous, a first-ever for her.
“Through his machinations, countless elves have suffered. He’s sacrificed his own kin for experiments, betrayed the Elf Forest by welcoming the Demon Race, causing our people to wander homeless while the Holy Tree has been left in shambles!”
“Each drop of their bl**d is a debt owed!”
“No matter what, that beast-hearted demon must pay!”
“Didelai…” Each word Tillysha spoke through gritted teeth carried tangible rage.
“Sometimes, knowing too much can be a curse,” Aistride sighed. “Had I not followed you, perhaps this confrontation wouldn’t have occurred.”
“Hence why I warned you: once the truth is known, there’s no going back.”
“And you? Who ARE you?” Tillysha’s gaze was piercing.
“To this life, I am Aistride, as you know,” she replied softly.
“Why, Aistride, do you side with him—abet his atrocities?”
“Wrong, my princess. Allow me to clarify: though Didelai and I have been at odds for millennia, we’re not allies now.”
“Thousands of years you say? Living for a millennium? Nonsense! Didelai hasn’t yet reached that age.”
“Indeed, not in THIS life span. Fact is, you, him, and I… we’ve all reincarnated.”
“Reincarnation? You think yourself so unique? Surely not—this isn’t your domain alone,” Aistride rebutted.
“I care not for your schemes or Didelai’s. But if you’re a conscientious elf you should prevent his machinations.”
“Conscience?…” Aistride’s gaze dimmed for a moment before reopening. “Even if you rushed now, it’s unlikely you could stop Didelai.”
“And you? Are you letting him move forward unchecked?”
“Why should I hinder him? His path and tactics may not align with mine, but to my goal, they serve.”
“To confine you here ensures you can’t interfere…”
“Princess Tillysha, do you know what drives Didelai despite his horrifying actions?”
“I don’t care to know.”
“You’ll never best him,” Aistride declared firmly.
“Since your awakening in this life, your memory has been incomplete. You never questioned who the real mastermind was. You uncovered a mighty blade within you, and though you suspected its origin, you let it slide, assuming it was all prearranged.”
“Have you ever considered this could be HIS doing?”
“He encouraged your exploration of Ruglien, and driven by desire to reunite with your deceased friend, you embarked on this path. Inadvertently, he used you to accomplish two goals.”
“First, you removed barriers between Demon realms, escalating their chaos. Second, the weapon in your possession—one too dangerous to wield—has since tainted you.”
“Repeated usage of this weapon has left stains on your soul. In the intensity of battle, this taint will soon spread throughout your entire being. Soon you’ll succumb to the same fate as Ifen.”
“Dark transformation awaits you.”
