The sword, to her, was a partner.

How many times had Freya been here now?

Here, in this world of white, thick fogs prevailing at whichever direction she glanced toward. An isolated space currently full of nothingness, where the comfortable, lightweight atmosphere instilled an odd quality of calmness.

…

How do I get out from here? Freya wondered.

She knew what this place was: a place conjured by her mind, of her memories before she was Freya. An important place where she could gain hints of her identity and figure who she was. She wanted to stay, but she knew she had to leave; someone had to stop the Formulae Magic that the immortal had written.

She had read what it would do, a Formulae Magic of two parts: strengthening the skystorm and converting that violent force of nature as an energy source.

There was no telling what the skystorm would be used for, but that would be concern for another time. As it stood now, if the Formulae Magic was allowed to be continued, the part where it would strengthen the skystorm would destroy the whole of Lune and kill everyone.

I have to get out. Then I’ll have to… defeat her…

Unfortunately, that line of thinking was flawed. Suppose she were to get out from this place, to wake up and to return to reality, then she would have to unwillingly accept that she would be weaponless. Celeste’s blade had shattered into pieces; without a sword her chances of defeating Kokuri was zero.

Curses…

Even if she were to get out, even if her will to fight remained, there would be nothing that she could do.

‘Troubled?’

The voice that sprung from within the fog had a tone absent of masculinity and femineity, but Freya was sure it belonged to a female. She looked to the source of the voice, toward the left, and a figure emerged from the fog. Every part of her details, save for her folded arms, was obscured by the fog. She was none other than this unknown, whom Freya had thus referred to as Vague.

‘How do I know?’ She unfolded her arms and pointed. ‘Don’t you realize that you’ve placed a hand on your shoulder?’

Now that she mentioned it, Freya did have a hand on her shoulder.

‘It’s always like that with you, a habit you have since ages. You would feel a weight on your shoulder when something is troubling you, and to check whether the weight is real you would place a hand on your shoulder. Though, if you’re smiling, it’s a challenging trouble; if not, it’s an annoying trouble.

‘From the looks of it, you’re facing the annoying trouble.

‘I bet you’re thinking about @@@, right?’ Vague seated herself beside Freya.

Freya understood that Vague had mentioned a name, but she couldn’t hear it. It seemed that was just the way this place worked: every name mentioned would be obscured by the fog.

‘It’s the girl. The suicidal girl. I named her @@@. A good name, isn’t it? People say it’s a bad name, but I’m proud of it! I gave her that name with the hope that she would listen more often to what people have to say!

‘… Anyway, I digressed.

‘Listen, there’s something you need to know about her. I had finally found out why she wishes for death.’

Honestly, with the matters regarding the Formulae Magic pressing the back of her mind, Freya could hardly get herself involved in this conversation. However, considering that there would be nothing Freya could do about it—which she cursed greatly—she figured it was best to engage with Vague.

‘It seems that she’s lonely.’

‘Lonely?’ Freya asked. Not that her response mattered; Vague was an unresponsive character conjured by her memory. Freya couldn’t interact with Vague, but this helped take her mind off from the Formulae Magic, from Kokuri.

‘Everyone she cherished are now dead,’ Vague explained. ‘It’s not survivor’s guilt that she’s experiencing, but the unbearable loneliness of being alone. To her, living with this hollow in her heart is so painful that she’d rather die.

‘It’s… difficult to relate, but I think I can… understand…’

Freya could… relate to loneliness.

She might not have lost the ones she cherished, but, in a sense, she had experienced her fair share of loneliness. Of having to wake up as someone else, of needing to fake herself to maintain relationships not hers, and of creating new connections only to feel the painful truth deep inside that they didn’t know who she truly was.

A loneliness that felt as if there was a hollow in her heart.

Vague leaned toward Freya and held her hands with a kind warmth. ‘@@@ asks for you to kill her,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave that decision solely to you.

‘I want you to know that whether you choose to kill her or to let her live, I will always be by your side. Because,’ Freya could see Vague’s kind smile, ‘knowing you, I know that you’ll make the right choice.’

Her hands glowed a soft, warm light. Brighter ever so slowly, ever so gently, until it enveloped them both in a different world of white.

‘I trust you.’

***

The hand that held Celeste twitched.

The violet haired swordswoman opened her amethyst eyes.

Reflected in her sight was the scene of a kimonoed woman, standing below the three statues, all alone by herself. Seeing the scene presented before her eyes, Freya understood.

You’re…

Freya glanced down, saw a bladeless Celeste in her left hand’s grip. Her partner had been broken by none other than her, all because she couldn’t figure another approach to win. Respectfully, she placed Celeste, her partner, gently on the ground.

Then, weakly, amethyst eyes set on the immortal, she used the wall for support and stood up.