One was… hers.

Freya stood surrounded by fog.

After placing her right hand on her left shoulder, Freya turned her head around to survey her surroundings. She was inside a world of white, fog prevailing in whichever direction she looked. The atmosphere there was cool; light; and comfortable.

In her left grip was an object. A long cylindrical pole shrouded by the fog. She couldn’t determine the object’s weight or length, but when she swung it—creating a swift cross in the air—it felt as if she had swung a sword.

It’s a sword, Freya was sure.

A gentle breeze came by. The wind did not move the fog, but it carried with it leaves of two different colors: pink and cyan. As the leaves fell in a fluttering manner, it began fading into non-existence once it touched the white ground where Freya stood.

To Freya’s right, the fog cleared up slightly and revealed a tree trunk.

Finding no better way to spend her time, Freya decided that she could practice. After all, she had with her a sword.

She pointed the sword toward the ground and held it beside her waist. Freya then closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. After a time’s passing in that tranquil silence, she could hear the breeze, and opened her eyes. Surrounding her were leaves drifting unpredictably in the wind.

When the leaves were about to touch her, Freya would dodge them with a sway—as if they were blades which she had to avoid. After dodging, if she deemed the position of the leaves to be proper, she would unleash a counter by swinging the sword.

For the pink leaves, she would plant the image of bluntness onto the sword, and when the leaf was slashed it was hit and remained one. For the cyan, sharpness, and the leaf was cut and became two.

Freya felt at peace when doing this training.

Thus, whilst she waited for something to occur, she kept at it.

***

Zrash!

The Stormpiercer resurfaced after its long dive.

Drizzle, the current captain of the Stormpiercer; the man whom people labeled as crazy, immediately gasped for as much air as he could, filling his lungs to its fullest capacity. As tired as he was, he had a duty as a captain to ensure that they were outside the storm; he couldn’t afford to rest despite his fatigue.

Is the ship out? Drizzle’s hands went on the steer and pulled himself up.

With weak legs, Drizzle managed to hoist himself up and stand. The first thing he saw was the deck. The passengers were all lying down, each at their limits. Then, Drizzle turned his head to look toward the sea.

His pupils widened at the sight.

He saw the skystorm’s violent whirlwind and the catastrophic waves it stirred—far away behind the ship. The ship was now in calm waters and had successfully gone through the storm. He had challenged the skystorm and won.

Drizzle shed a tear.

He had challenged the skystorm in his younger days and lost a great many things. Yet, despite his losses and people calling him crazy, he still wanted to challenge the skystorm again.

Someone had believed him; had given to him the Stormpiercer, the best ship he could have gone with. As unbelievable as it was to him, he had done it. He challenged the skystorm and won. He only had Freya to express his gratitude to.

With a teary smile, Drizzle turned his head toward the deck, searching for the violet-haired swordswoman amongst the tired passengers. He saw the guide who had introduced him to the ship, saw the man who had helped him when he drowned before, saw the other white-uniformed people, and saw the enemies who had carried spears. However, no matter how many times he searched, he could not spot Freya anywhere on the deck.

A surge of panic pressed his chest.

Where is she?

With tired and hurried steps, Drizzle descended the stairs toward the deck. He couldn’t have lost her underwater.

On the deck he went around in circles, turning his head left and right to search for the violet-haired young woman. No matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find her.

Drizzle’s knees touched the wood of the deck, despair overwhelming him. One last time, he looked around, but he still couldn’t find her. All he found was… the person who was with her, whose name he could not remember, pointing at a spot with his finger.

Drizzle followed the direction; and his eyes were led to a railing.

He could see a sword being horizontally stuck between the gap of the railing. Gripping on the hilt of the sword was a feminine-looking hand. Drizzle ran there with his remaining strength and finally spotted Freya hanging on the side of the ship, unconscious.

It was too soon to be glad, for he didn’t see any sign of life coming from her.

***

Freya fell to the ground with her bottom. She was running out of breath and her body was soaked wet with sweat.

How long have I been training? she asked herself.

There were no indications for any passage of time in that white world; and Freya couldn’t keep track of time. Perhaps it had been only a while since she trained; perhaps not.

‘Finished training?’ came a voice from the fog. It was neither masculine nor feminine, but Freya distinguished it as female. She had heard this voice before in her dream.

Freya glanced over his shoulder and saw a woman whose distinctions were covered by the fog. Vague, she had named her.

‘We need to talk,’ Vague said.

‘About what?’ Freya asked. She was too tired to think of and assume the current situation, so she directly asked.

‘About the girl. Come on.’ Vague beckoned with her hand and began walking away.

Freya stood up and followed her. As Vague walked into the fog, it seemed to clear a path for her to pass through. The white ground became clear enough for Freya to see green grass.

‘What do we do about her?’

Freya wasn’t understanding the context of the conversation; there was barely enough hint for her to figure out. Since she had asked before and nothing odd happened, she thought she could ask again. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘She’s suicidal.’ Didn’t expect that coming. ‘I’ve lost count of how many times she had attempted suicide since she’s been here with us. Something needs to be done about her. Last night she tried poisoning herself, this morning she tried burning herself, and…’ Vague looked toward the distance. ‘It seems now that she’s trying to jump off a cliff.’

At where Vague looked, the fog cleared up, and Freya could see the scenery of a cliff. There, on the edge, was a feminine figure whose distinction was also covered by the fog like Vague.

Freya’s body moved on her own; and she began dashing toward the figure.

***

Vod and Gale helped Drizzle to pull Freya up onto the deck. They might all be tired, but the combined strength of three men was enough to get her up.

‘She’s a sword saint alright,’ Gale remarked with admittance. He saw Freya’s unrelenting grip on the hilt of the sword. Had it loosened, she would have been lost under the sea by now.

A partner… Vod thought as he looked at her sword.

Drizzle was unbuttoning the Zenist uniform Freya was wearing and revealed her chest.

‘What in Zen’s name…’ Gale uttered.

Vod saw what Gale saw, but worse. Under the spot between her collarbones, Vod could see a black-ink drawing plotted into her skin. It had the shape of an incomplete circle, which shared similarity with a clock, and the line almost connected into a whole shape. Surrounding it were ominous symbols which he could not read.

More than that, Vod could see an enshrouding sinister purple-black color creeping at the incomplete circle, moving ever so slowly to complete the shape.

What is that?

Drizzle meanwhile was unfazed, didn’t give any care, and began giving Freya chest compressions.

***

Freya managed to catch the suicidal figure by the wrist before she jumped off; and pulled her away from the edge.

‘No!’ she protested. ‘Let me jump!’

Freya continued dragging her away from the edge.

‘Let me go!’ She tried to free her wrist, but to no avail. In her attempt to struggle, she touched her knees to the ground, refusing to walk. Though her face was obstructed by the fog, Freya could see tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘Kill me. Please.’

This is… that same dream.

She had been here before. This person had asked Freya to kill her. But, unlike the previous encounter, the dream wasn’t as detailed as this; and Freya wasn't able to converse with her. She could now.

I could encourage her to live.

‘Why?’ Freya raised her voice and asked. ‘Why is it that you want death so much?’

No response. Or to be more exact, there was a response, but Freya couldn’t hear her answer. It was as if the fog had stolen the sound.

‘… Kill me.’ Was the only part of her dialogue which she could hear.

Freya let out a curse. That part of the conversation was important, yet it wasn’t conveyed to her. Could it be that she was powerless to change the outcome of this dream?

‘You should just grant her wish,’ Vague said from behind Freya, there were no emotions in her voice. ‘That is what she wants.’

Vague was not there before in her previous dream. If she was, Freya would know; she was now irritated by her words.

Freya couldn’t do anything Vague, save for glaring at her.

***

Freya opened her eyes, saw the peaceful sky, and coughed water out of her lungs.

Where am I now?

Popping into her vision were the heads of Drizzle, who was relieved; Vod, who was expressionless; and a Zenist, who was astonished.

The recollection of passing through the skystorm started coming back to her.

‘Are we… out…?’ Freya asked with a weak voice. She could assume from the peaceful sky, but she wanted confirmation.

‘We are,’ said Drizzle with a wide grin, proud of his accomplishment.

The attack on the Stormpiercer had been sudden and bothersome for Freya, but there was something to gain from it. She now knew that it was possible to go through the skystorm with the Stormpiercer. ‘Up for another… go?’ she asked Drizzle.

He laughed. ‘Once is enough for me, but for you I’ll do it again until you’re satisfied.’

Great. She had gained herself a method to reach Malegonia.

‘Cool tattoo you have,’ Drizzle said, tapping his own chest to refer to Freya's.

Tattoo? Oh.

‘It’s a curse,’ Freya simply said.