A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 530 - 518: A storm behind the calm

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Verdantis]

[Capital City]

"To think they simply sell these pastries to anyone." Alyssia stared down at the small slice of cake with what could only be described as genuine wonder. The observation might have sounded ridiculous coming from anyone else; for her, it was entirely sincere.

She carefully cut off another piece with the small utensil in her hand before bringing it to her mouth. The vanilla cake rested atop an antique plate, decorated with layers of cream and small flourishes that would have been considered extravagant in another era.

Alyssia took another bite.

A pleased hum immediately followed, not a particularly dignified sound, but it was an honest one.

Lucinda noticed and, despite herself, found a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. The two of them had spent much of the morning wandering through the capital.

At first the exploration had been interesting.

The city was vast in ways Alyssia had not expected. Eventually, however, aimless walking had begun to lose its novelty.

For now, they were waiting.

Waiting for word from Lyra regarding when the training should begin.

And so they had found themselves here, a small pastry shop tucked between larger buildings. Its pale walls were dusted with snow. A wooden sign stood near the entrance, displaying what was available for purchase, while a front window showcased rows of pastries arranged neatly.

The interior appeared warm, the exterior seating less so.

Yet neither seemed particularly bothered by the cold.

Lucinda sat with a cup of tea warming her hands.

Across from her, Alyssia was entirely focused on her cake.

"Was something like cake truly that rare back then?" Lucinda finally asked; the question had been bothering her for several seconds.

Alyssia tilted her head.

"Hm." She considered the question, then shook her head slightly. "No. Not rare." Another small bite disappeared. "Merely restricted." Her gaze lowered briefly toward the dessert. "Pastries like this were generally reserved for nobility and royalty."

A small smile appeared, though it carried more reflection than amusement.

"Even then, most weren’t nearly this elaborate," her utensil gestured vaguely toward the decorative icing. "Nor this good." The compliment seemed genuine. "You certainly couldn’t walk into a shop and purchase one whenever you pleased."

Alyssia leaned back slightly.

"The very idea would have sounded absurd."

Lucinda considered that, when phrased that way, the difference did seem remarkable.

Alyssia looked down at the cake again.

"Though, truthfully, this is one of the smaller changes I’ve had to adjust to." The words carried a different tone than the discussion about pastries. A cake was simple by comparison to many of the other changes she’s experienced.

"A pleasant change, though."

Lucinda lifted her tea.

"A rather nice one." She took a small sip before setting the cup back down. Alyssia hummed in agreement.

Then her eyes wandered beyond the small table, beyond the shop and the snow-covered streets.

Her expression dimmed slightly.

"Even so..." The satisfaction from moments ago faded. "It would be considerably easier to appreciate all of this if the atmosphere weren’t so terribly dull." A quiet sigh escaped her as Lucinda followed her gaze.

The meaning became immediately obvious; the pastry shop was almost empty. Aside from the two of them, only a handful of customers could be seen. Beyond the railing surrounding the outdoor seating area, people moved through the streets.

But something was different; everyone seemed tense, and conversations were quieter, smiles rarer. Eyes frequently drifted toward the dark sky overhead. Even those attempting to carry on normally seemed distracted and uneasy.

Verdantis was a nation of faith, perhaps one of the most faithful in the world.

Yet faith did not erase fear, not when the heavens themselves appeared wounded.

"With the sky looking the way it does..." Lucinda’s gaze lifted briefly. "...I think that’s unavoidable."

A small frown formed.

"Most people still don’t understand the nature of this calamity." She watched a family pass by on the opposite side of the street. The parents looked calm, the child less so. "Naturally they’re frightened."

How could they not be?

The world had changed.

The sky had changed.

Lucinda slowly raised a gauntleted hand; the silver armor caught what little light managed to penetrate the clouds.

Her eyes settled on it, then her fingers slowly curled inward, forming a fist.

"Even so..." Her voice softened. "These are the people we’re supposed to protect." The words came naturally and without hesitation. "They shouldn’t have to carry the burden of understanding everything."

Her grip tightened slightly.

"That’s our responsibility."

Alyssia stopped eating, not immediately because of the words, but rather because of the expression accompanying them.

She found herself studying Lucinda.

The conviction was familiar, yet not quite determination.

Not in the way soldiers often possessed determination or the way kings spoke about duty. There was something different about it.

Something almost troubling.

("There she goes again...") Alyssia watched quietly. ("Can that expression even be called determination?")

The question sat idly in her mind.

Determination usually involved resolve, effort, or willpower. Lucinda’s expression looked less like determination and more like a damaging emotion. As though protecting others wasn’t a choice she continuously made but simply part of who she was.

Eventually Alyssia set down her utensil; the small clink against the plate drew Lucinda’s attention.

The former spawn leaned back in her chair; her eyes remained fixed on Lucinda.

"You’re remarkably diligent." The statement was straightforward, and Alyssia continued before she could respond. "Lyra told me quite a bit about Angels." A smile touched her lips. "According to her, they were guardians first and warriors second."

Her gaze lingered on Lucinda’s armored form.

"Beings entrusted with standing between others and whatever sought to harm them." The smile faded ever so slightly. "If even half of what she told me is true..." Alyssia paused briefly before continuing. "...then I’d say you do your lineage proud."

The words lacked sarcasm; the compliment was entirely genuine.

Lucinda looked at her.

A questioning expression immediately appearing, she was not really sure if that was a compliment.

"I’m still not entirely sure what to make of the Angels."

Lucinda’s voice was quieter than before; her thoughts had remained elsewhere.

Alyssia glanced toward her.

"I suppose that makes sense." There was no judgment in her voice. "There’s very little actual lore surrounding them." Her gaze drifted toward the distant mountain overlooking the city. "And unlike me, you haven’t even discovered who the Angel was that you used to be."

The distinction was important.

Alyssia at least possessed a name, a face, and memories.

Lucinda had none of that, only questions, and sometimes it felt like too many questions.

"I can’t imagine it’s normal to experience a previous version of yourself." Lucinda looked upward, toward the wounded sky.

The statement sounded almost absurd when spoken aloud, a previous version of yourself. A life before your life with memories that belonged to someone else and yet somehow belonged to you.

Nothing about it felt natural.

Alyssia hummed quietly.

"No, normal is probably the wrong word." She folded her arms lightly. "It’s surreal." Her gaze lowered slightly. "I see Uriel’s memories." The words came more slowly. "As clearly as I see my own." She frowned ever so slightly. "Yet at the same time, it never feels like I’m actually there."

Alyssia searched for the wording, trying to explain something that did not fit neatly into language.

"It’s more like watching someone else’s life unfold." Her expression grew distant. "Not a stranger’s life and not entirely my own either." She shook her head slightly. "I stand somewhere in between."

Lucinda listened carefully; the explanation somehow raised as many questions as it answered.

"I see." She genuinely tried to imagine it but failed. "I’ve never experienced anything remotely similar." The admission came easily. "Our situations are clearly very different."

Lucinda’s eyes shifted toward Alyssia; curiosity lingered there. It was the desire to understand someone.

"But what does it actually feel like?" Lucinda could not help but ask.

Alyssia frowned slightly, not because she disliked the question. It was quite the opposite; it was simply difficult to answer.

"Familiar." The word eventually came; her eyes drifted toward the passing crowds. People moved through the streets around them. Faces she did not know, lives she would never learn about.

The sight somehow made the memory easier to discuss.

"When I see those memories..." Her voice softened. "I feel as though I’ve already lived them."

Alyssia’s fingers tightened slightly against her arm.

"When Uriel speaks..." she hesitated. "...it doesn’t feel like I’m listening to someone else." Lucinda’s attention sharpened. "It’s as though the words are coming from me."

The words sounded almost uncomfortable. As though she still wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about it herself.

"I know they aren’t mine." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I know the memories belong to someone who existed long before I was born." Another pause followed. "But sometimes the line separating us becomes difficult to see."

Snow drifted between them, and the city continued moving around them. Yet neither paid much attention.

"It becomes hard to explain where Uriel ends and where I begin."

Lucinda found herself considering that carefully, and then she lowered her gaze.

"Hearing you describe it like that..." Her voice carried a thoughtful note. "...I can’t help wondering about the Angel I used to be."

There was no excitement in the statement, only contemplation.

Questions, their name, their purpose, and the life they lived. Whether they had once looked upon the same world. Whether they would have been someone Lucinda respected, feared, or pitied.

"Their role." She shook her head slightly. "I suppose I have nothing but speculation."

Alyssia glanced toward her as Lucinda continued.

"But what you’re describing sounds incredibly complicated." That felt like an understatement; identity was already difficult enough. Adding another existence atop your own seemed exhausting.

Alyssia immediately nodded.

"Oh, it absolutely is." The answer came without hesitation. More certainty than she had shown during most of the conversation. "Complicated barely begins to cover it." Her gaze lowered as her eyes lit up in a thoughtful look. "You may find yourself influenced by that previous version of yourself."

The statement was delivered matter-of-factly.

For a brief moment her eyes shifted.

Settling upon a half-eaten piece of cake resting on a plate they had passed, sitting upon an outdoor table beside a café.

The sight seemed to pull her attention elsewhere.

"I wouldn’t even call it unpleasant." Her voice softened. "It isn’t like losing yourself," Alyssia thought for a moment, searching for the correct words. "It’s more like slipping into an old habit. Like something you didn’t realize you still remembered."

Her expression became strangely distant.

"As though a part of you already knows how to think, how to feel, and how to respond."

The snow continued falling.

"And honestly..." The words escaped before she could stop them; her gaze remained fixed ahead. "I would rather be that than this."

The statement seemed serious, far too serious for the casual tone she attempted to give it.

Lucinda immediately noticed the words themselves were vague, yet the feeling behind them wasn’t.

Not at all.

There was sadness there, not fresh pain or merely open grief. It was something that had settled deep enough to become part of a person.

Alyssia’s eyes remained distant, focused somewhere far beyond the city streets.

Far beyond Verdantis and the present.

Lucinda opened her mouth, wanting to say something.

Anything.

Because despite not fully understanding, she could tell that statement mattered most. More than Alyssia intended and more than she likely wanted anyone to notice.

But before she could speak—

A third voice suddenly interrupted.

"Ah, there you are."