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The night should have been quiet.
After battle, after blood, after victory—
there should have been rest.
But the air in the northern camp refused to settle.
It lingered.
Heavy.
Watching.
---
Rosy sat beside the dying fire, her fingers loosely wrapped around the hilt of her sword.
The flames flickered low, casting shadows that stretched unnaturally long… almost like they were reaching.
Her eyes remained fixed on them.
"…This isn't over," she murmured.
Not a feeling.
A certainty.
---
Behind her, the camp moved carefully.
Soldiers whispered instead of speaking.
Armor clinked softly.
No one laughed.
Because everyone felt it—
That something was wrong.
---
"You're thinking again."
His voice broke the silence like it belonged there.
Rosy didn't turn.
"You appear uninvited again."
"And you're still not used to it."
---
A faint scoff escaped her.
"Don't get used to being tolerated."
He stepped closer, stopping just within the edge of the firelight.
"Too late."
---
For a moment—
Neither spoke.
The silence between them wasn't awkward.
It was sharp.
Like a blade waiting to be used.
---
"…Why are you really here?" Rosy asked finally.
Not annoyed.
Not teasing.
Serious.
---
A pause.
Then—
"I told you," he said, voice quieter this time. "I'm watching you."
---
"That's not a reason."
"It is for me."
---
Rosy turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his silhouette.
"…Then give me a better one."
---
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped forward again—
Now fully in the firelight.
And for a moment—
She forgot what she was going to say.
---
Because up close—
He was worse.
More dangerous.
More… real.
---
"…You really don't remember," he murmured.
Not mocking.
Not amused.
Something else.
Something… almost disappointed.
---
Rosy's grip tightened slightly.
"Stop saying that."
---
His eyes met hers.
Dark.
Endless.
---
"Then remember."
---
Silence.
---
"I can't remember something I never experienced," she said, her tone sharper now.
---
His lips curved faintly.
"You're wrong."
---
And just like that—
The air changed.
---
The fire flickered violently.
The wind stilled.
Even the distant sounds of the camp faded—
As if something had pressed pause on the world.
---
Rosy's breath slowed.
"…What did you just—"
---
Pain.
---
Sudden.
Sharp.
Blinding.
---
Her head snapped forward as a wave of dizziness crashed into her.
Images—
Flashes—
Not hers.
---
A battlefield.
Darker than this one.
Covered in bodies.
---
A voice—
Not his.
Not hers.
But familiar.
---
"Isle."
---
Another flash.
---
Blood on her hands.
But she wasn't scared.
---
She was smiling.
---
Rosy gasped, her knees nearly buckling.
"What—what was that—"
---
The moment broke.
Just like that.
---
The fire returned to normal.
The sounds came back.
The world resumed.
---
But Rosy wasn't the same.
---
"…You saw something," he said quietly.
---
She looked up at him, her expression shaken for the first time.
"That wasn't my memory."
---
His gaze didn't waver.
"Yes, it was."
---
"No," she shook her head. "That was Isle—"
---
"You are Isle."
---
The words landed heavily.
Too heavily.
---
Rosy fell silent.
---
Because that was the problem.
---
She didn't feel like Isle.
---
But her body moved like her.
Fought like her.
Remembered like her.
---
"…Then who am I?" she asked softly.
---
A pause.
Then—
He stepped closer.
---
"Both," he said.
---
Her breath hitched slightly.
---
"And neither."
---
---
Before she could respond—
A shout tore through the camp.
---
"INTRUDER!"
---
Rosy's head snapped toward the sound instantly.
Her expression changed.
Completely.
---
Cold.
Focused.
Sharp.
---
"Stay here," she said automatically—
Before she realized what she said.
---
A soft laugh.
"You're giving me orders now?"
---
She didn't respond.
Because she was already moving.
---
---
The camp erupted into chaos.
Torches lit.
Soldiers scrambled.
Weapons drawn.
---
"Where?"
"West side!"
"Someone broke through the perimeter!"
---
Rosy pushed through the crowd, her presence alone creating space.
---
"Report."
---
A soldier rushed forward.
"One intruder spotted—fast, skilled—took down two guards without a sound."
---
Rosy's eyes narrowed.
"…Alive?"
---
"Yes, Milady—but moving."
---
"Good."
---
Her lips curved faintly.
---
"Then let's hunt."
---
---
She moved.
Fast.
Silent.
Deadly.
---
The forest beyond the camp swallowed sound.
Branches cracked faintly under distant movement.
Shadows shifted.
---
Rosy slowed.
Listening.
Feeling.
---
There.
---
A presence.
---
She turned sharply—
Sword already in motion.
---
CLANG—
---
Steel met steel.
---
The intruder blocked her strike.
---
For a moment—
They stood frozen.
---
Then—
The intruder smiled.
---
"…Impressive."
---
Rosy's eyes sharpened.
A man.
Masked.
Fast.
---
"You shouldn't be here," she said coldly.
---
"And you shouldn't exist," he replied casually.
---
A beat.
---
Then—
They moved.
---
Fast.
---
Strike.
Block.
Turn.
Clash.
---
The sound of steel echoed through the forest.
---
But Rosy—
Was faster.
---
Her movements were sharper now.
Cleaner.
More precise than before.
---
Not just instinct.
---
Skill.
---
Memory.
---
---
The intruder stepped back, clearly surprised.
"…So it's true."
---
Rosy stilled.
"What is?"
---
His smile widened beneath the mask.
---
"The Grand Duke… remembers."
---
Her heart skipped.
---
"…What did you say?"
---
Too late.
---
He threw something to the ground.
---
Smoke exploded upward.
---
"Catch him!" soldiers shouted from behind.
---
But when the smoke cleared—
---
He was gone.
---
---
Silence fell again.
---
Rosy stood still, her sword still raised slightly.
---
Her mind wasn't on the fight.
---
It was on his words.
---
You remember.
---
---
Footsteps approached.
---
Of course.
---
"…You let him go."
---
She didn't turn.
"You were watching again."
---
"I always am."
---
A pause.
---
"He wasn't here to kill you," he added.
---
Rosy's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…No."
---
"He was testing."
---
"…Yes."
---
Silence.
---
Then—
"…And confirming something," he finished.
---
Rosy exhaled slowly.
---
"That I'm changing."
---
A soft chuckle.
---
"No."
---
She turned.
---
His eyes met hers.
---
Dark.
Certain.
---
"That you're coming back."
---
Her breath stilled again.
---
"…Back from what?"
---
He stepped closer.
---
"From the truth."
---
---
The wind picked up.
---
The forest whispered.
---
And somewhere deep within her—
---
Something answered.
---
Not Rosy.
---
Not fully Isle.
---
But something in between.
---
Something waking up.
---
Her fingers tightened around her sword.
---
"…Then I'll find it," she said quietly.
---
His smile deepened.
---
"I know you will."
---
---
Far away—
Hidden in the shadows—
---
The masked man watched.
---
Silent.
Still.
---
"…It's beginning," he whispered.
---
And then—
---
He disappeared.
---
---
Back in the camp—
---
Rosy stood alone again.
---
But this time—
---
She wasn't just surviving the story.
---
She was stepping deeper into it.
---
And the deeper she went—
---
The more dangerous it became.
---
---
Because this wasn't just a war.
---
It was a truth waiting to be uncovered.
---
And once it was—
---
Nothing would remain the same.
---
---
End of Chapter 7