The squad descends from their transport, their faces showing neither joy or sadness, only a faint sense of relief. Although the reconnaissance mission ended up only taking them a little more than a week, they feel as if they have been fatigued for months, only wishing for the comforts of their homes.

Kavlina trudges behind everyone, her presence but a lurking shadow even compared to the ghostlike expressions of her comrades. Although Rasu, leading the squad, tries to put up a positive front, inside he is just as blank, just as “dead”, as those villagers who died near Habala. Team Two, led by Bairuel, although only hearing of the massacre through the words of Rasu and the cool-headed Evi, also shares the feeling of sadness, pain, but most importantly, guilt. Compared to the columns of optimistic soldiers passing by on their way to Habala, it is as if Squad Rasu had just returned from a devastating defeat.

“Cheer up,” a passing soldier pats Kavlina on the back, “Your reconnaissance was a huge success. Habala’s as good as conquered. Right, guys?” A small group of soldiers behind him raise their arms and cheer in approval.

“Just let us rest,” Kavlina mutters. Slowly, the squad takes off their combat gear, handing it over to the cleaning crew before changing back into more casual clothing. Soon, they bid each other a cold, bland farewell before going their separate ways.

“Let’s meet sometime to eat something during our break,” Rasu suggests, but the only response is the silence of the squad as they drift further apart. In disappointment, he too turns away, walking back to his dorm, a short distance away from the hangar.

Amidst the festivities of Harorana, the last day of the year, Kavlina and Tarak walk robotically and blindly, bumping into several passing, excited pedestrians. Because Harorana is one of the few festivals not affected much by the ongoing war, the entire city of Thille seems to be celebrating the occasion. Even in the other factions, such as the Confederation, Harorana is an important day of the year, signifying the end of all happiness and tragedy of the year, and the hope for a better new year. In fact, it is not uncommon for factions to have two-day truces so their soldiers can rest and celebrate Harorana. During the sixteen-year war, there were a total of twenty truces between various factions on Harorana, although none of them were between the New Rule and the Confederation. Yet, even in the merry environment of Harorana, Kavlina understands it is but a temporary occurrence. Her past Haroranas weren’t especially interesting, anyways.

It’s already been five years since we fled our home, isn’t it? She takes a longing glance at the ceiling of the subterranean city, so high up and unreachable. Yes, it was that day when she first took up the blade… and slain her father.

Yes, that day. That sudden burst of rebellion. That rapid stab into his stomach. That wretched face as he recoiled in agony, gripping her hand tightly even as she drove the blade deeper into his body.

“Kavlina, w-what is the meaning of this…” he choked.

“I won’t let you sacrifice me and Mother!” she screamed.

“N-No, you’re mistaken… ” He gasped, squeezing her hand tighter.

“Shut up!” She pushed the knife completely into his stomach, the flesh squishing against the blade.

“Kavlina… ” He fell back, his grip released as his widened eyes stared at Kavlina still in shock, “Why… ”

She winces. Why must it remind me now?

“Kavlina, are you alright?” Tarak asks worriedly.

“Just some memory I had from before,” she answers, “Don’t worry.”

They arrive at the dorm, the chatter of the crowds in the distance. Quietly, Tarak pushes open the door, and finds Avalel sitting cross-legged, staring at the Anapadeia in silence.

“Ah, you’re back,” he smiles weakly.

“So you’re discharged, finally,” Kavlina notes blandly before taking a seat on her bed.

“Would you two like some warm water?” Avalel asks.

“Yes. We’re quite tired from the mission,” Tarak replies.

After Avalel pours three cups of water, the three of them sit in a triangle, silent and only slowly taking small sips of the water. It has only been a short while since they separated, yet their distance seems to have grown.

Finally, Tarak sets down his cup in slight impatience. “It’s Harorana, isn’t it? Shouldn't we do something to celebrate?” Even as he finishes the sentence, he could feel his own voice dying down and losing what little enthusiasm it had.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just glad we can be here together in our dorm,” Avalel responds.

“I’m not in the mood to celebrate,” Kavlina says coldly, her hands slightly shivering.

Those two… “Avalel, why are you feeling down?” Tarak suddenly questions.

“No, I’m just deep in thought,” Avalel lies. Then again, didn’t he realize his entire life was a lie?

“Let’s just sit quietly until the new year,” Kavlina suggests, “I need to calm down.”

“Kavlina, don’t put all the blame to yourself,” Tarak attempts to comfort, “If it weren’t for me pushing you to take action, maybe the tragedy would’ve been avoided.”

“I still killed them, did I not?” She lowers her head, supporting it with her palms.

“Just what… happened?” Avalel asks, unable to hold in his curiosity any longer.

“Kavlina… No, I’m in no position to explain.” Tarak fully knows it is not within his bounds to reveal what had happened at the village. He doesn’t have the right.

“I killed innocents and defenseless children,” Kavlina says quietly, “I killed them. Calmly, heartlessly, with my blade.”

“Kavlina, it’s not…” Tarak desperately tries to comfort.

“The older one’s name was Rehlen. The younger one, Sehlen,” Kavlina continues, ignoring Tarak, “Rehlen was very protective of his brother, but he was still very friendly. Sehlen had large eyes, always loyally following his brother. They both were young boys brimming with potential, largely ignorant of the war around them. Just like how you were, Lel. Yet I killed them. I slaughtered them like animals, like those soldiers. I slaughtered them without a second thought… ”

She suddenly stops, feeling her hair being gently tugged at. She turns and finds Avalel patiently tying a braid, the same one from their cadet days.

“Kavlina, calm down. It's Harorana, isn't it?” He says lightly, masking his own inner pain. “Now don’t move your head, the braid is nearly finished.”

“Just hear the people laughing, celebrating outside,” Tarak adds, “These people all have their moments of sadness and regret, but this is precisely what Harorana is for: to leave behind your sadness, your anger, your regret as you greet the new year. Why not remember the little moments you enjoyed with the children rather than drowning yourself in reliving their deaths?”

“Kavlina,” Avalel finishes, “I don’t understand what you experienced, but if you want, you don’t have to put up a front with me or Tarak. I broke down and wept like a child to you a while ago, didn’t I? Just… cry your sadness out if you need to. Don’t hold it back.” He releases his hands, letting the thin braid drape over Kavlina’s shoulders.

Rehlen, Sehlen… Kavlina breaks, collapsing onto Avalel and Tarak’s shoulders as she wails and weeps, wrapping her arms around them and squeezing them tight, tears soaking their clothing. Forgive me.

“There, there,” Tarak smiles a little as he gently strokes her hair, “Like Avalel said, cry it all out.”

“You held your emotions in for too long,” Avalel whispers softly, “Let them out once in a while.”

We forgive you, Kavi-lai, a pair of voices whisper.

Rehlen? Sehlen? Yet the only response is her own rapid breathing and the sniffing of her running nose.

Thank you.

As she lifts her head again, she beckons for Avalel and Tarak to sit by her side instead of across her. “Let’s just sit quietly until the new year,” she repeats, “But together.”

Just then, spontaneous cheers erupt from the outside, the cries of joy and hope reaching into every corner of the city.

“Seems like it’s the new year already,” Avalel says. So fast, so soon...

“Let’s head out,” Tarak suggests.

“Why?” Kavlina wonders.

“Although Thille is a subterranean city, we have a tradition: a wish to the Elyfesta at the first moments of the new year,” Tarak explains, “Everyone will leave their homes for a brief while and offer their wishes. When they step back inside, it will truly mean the beginning of a new year for them, with their wishes ‘residing’ inside the Elyfesta, even if they cannot see it.” He boldly opens the door, receiving the freezing air, reminding Avalel of the past cadet mornings.

“Come,” he motions, “I had to make my wish alone when I first came. It would be nice to have more companions with me for once.”

Shivering a little, they follow Tarak to a wide avenue, where civilians and soldiers alike stare longingly at a bright sphere of light hovering just above their heads. At the top stands the President, his presence calm and elegant.

“Citizens of the New Rule,” he announces, “The new year has arrived. May our wishes be accepted by the Elyfesta.”

“May our wishes be accepted by the Elyfesta,” the people chant. Spontaneously, they close their eyes, the light reflecting off their faces.

Following suit, Avalel and Kavlina close their eyes. May peace return once more to this world. Strangely enough, their wishes are identical, their mouths mumbling the same phrase.

Let us be together as comrades for longer, Tarak wishes.

“Stretch your arm towards the light, as if you are handing your wishes to the Elyfesta itself,” the President recites. Hundreds of arms reach out, the outstretched fingers pointing towards the light. As if the wishes are actually absorbed into it, the light begins to brighten, blinding even, as it turns all of the people into dark silhouettes. Then, it suddenly shuts off, like the dying breath of a supernova before it collapses into a black hole, darker than the void around it.

“The Annual Wish is completed,” loudspeakers announce, “Please return to your homes in an orderly fashion. Traffic will be particularly busy so please be patient. Lastly, have a good night, and may the Elyfesta answer your wishes.”

As they shuffle along with the crowd, Kavlina stares at the dark ceiling of the city. “Let’s hope this year will be better,” she mutters to herself. For us all.

Lexial enters the study in the Paladeia. Although named after one of the greatest kings in the Achien Empire’s history, he takes no pride in such a name. After all, this only reminded him and the others of the failure that was the Empire. Still, this is the precise reason why he served the Common Leader so loyally, so doggedly: to prove that even having such a shameful name would not stop his mission to serve the Confederation.

“The Harorana has passed, Common Leader,” a robotic voice states just as he approaches Nasition.

“How did our negotiations go with the factions of Yail, Narien, and Trelven go?” Nasition asks Lexial, completely ignoring the robot.

“The diplomatic missions were a success,” he reports, “We managed to extend our truces by another month.”

“Good,” he smiles, clutching the locket, “Our south and west are safe for now, thanks to the work of the Confederation's finest diplomat and strategist.”

He praised me. A sense of pride wells up inside Lexial, yet he did not let that distract him. “What do you plan to do next, Common Leader?”

“It’s simple. Gather all our forces in the vicinity of the Pass, including a fleet of our Voidal Forces. Oh, and gather all of the Battalion Elethien members.”

“Surely you don't mean…”

If a quick killing cannot be achieved, then this is our only choice. “Prepare to storm the territory of our greatest enemy, the New Rule.”

This is it. The moment Lexial was awaiting for. The day when the Confederation shall take a bold gamble. The day when they shall defeat the New Rule. They day when they begin the steps to their eventual victory, no longer hiding behind a stalemate. “I shall relay your message to the generals quickly!” Excitedly, he dashes out of the study, just as Tevlaia marches in, shoving him aside.

“Nasition,” she roars, “Have you gone mad?”

“No, I am perfectly sane,” he replies calmly.

“Whatever happened to the autonomy you gave the Battalion? We may be receiving income from the coffers of the Confederation, but we are not your servants, to answer at your every beck and call!”

“The Battalion has become complacent. Isn't it better if we weed out the weak in this campaign?”

“This isn't about the ‘campaign’... It's regarding that boy Avalel, isn't it?”

Nasition brings his head closer to Tevlaia. “So you deduced. I'm impressed.”

“Your obsession with that boy has gone too far! How many do you intend to sacrifice until you reach your goal? Is the death of Teritav not enough to warn you from pursuing him any further?”

“Thousands. Millions, if needed. I cannot sleep in peace until that boy is killed. You should know first-hand the tyranny of the Empire.”

“I see no difference between your fraudulent democracy and the Achien Empire!” Tevlaia accuses.

“You may resign from your position if you insist on going against my orders. This is an emergency. I cannot afford to have any obstacles in my way, especially not among my elite units.”

“You… Am I that disposable?”

“Not now, but soon.”

“And what if I resign now?”

Nasition points at the door. “I’ve learnt my lesson from Lazairu. I do not need to rely on the Battalion any more, no matter how strong you may be. Outside I have a small guard under my complete command. Yes, you can resign. Just prepare to beg for mercy under a multitude of blades and guns.”

“As if those pawns can stop me.”

“They cannot, at least not now. But what is the difference when you kill them? That is merely a few more corpses on the tally. Eventually you’ll be forced to give in, prostrating yourself at my feet, begging for forgiveness. Now, what do you say? Follow my commands without question in the upcoming campaign, or resign from your post?”

Tevlaia clenches her fists. “You truly have gone insane.” She marches out, kicking open the door as Nasition quietly resumes reading the antique books of old. Stasibel, thank you. Thank you for teaching me the ways of a tyrant.