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| In the Distant Future |
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(??? POV)
This, thought the young girl, was probably how she was going to die.
In hindsight, she reflected it was something of a minor miracle that it hadn't happened earlier.
Her opponent was hellishly fast, and she only ever had a flickering blur to warn her of the next barrage of attacks. They also far outstripped her in terms of skill. And then, of course, there were other attributes to consider…
Her only advantage lay in her choice of terrain. The girl knew that her adversary typically favoured wide, sweeping attacks, none of which were practical in the relatively cramped space of the ruined old building she had been sheltering within.
Cover was abundant, which had served her well to begin with.
As the fight progressed, however, she had started to realise that, far from dissuading her attacker, it had only emboldened them.
The patterns became less predictable, and instead of the wide, whipping sweeps she was used to, they had instead begun to favour thrusting stabs.
These, too, had been delivered with aggravatingly pinpoint precision, and already she bled from no less than a dozen shallow cuts, whilst her limbs ached with fatigue.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her sweat-soaked clothes clung stiflingly to her slender frame to hang from her like leaden weights.
She's really going to kill me, she thought, and not for the first time.
She swept her battered blade to the side to parry another stab that might well have scored an eye, were she a fraction of a heartbeat slower, and forced her weary body back.
Something overhead cracked, and with a yelp, she turned her dodge into an awkward dive as the ceiling above collapsed, showering the spot she had occupied not a heartbeat earlier in debris.
Granted this briefest of reprieves, the girl darted back and took advantage of the cover and noise to start creeping quietly through the dingy, unkempt interior of the empty building.
She was certain it had, in a better age, been someone's home. None but the desperate might refer to it as such now, with half the roof now collapsed in, and one wall blown out by some catastrophic explosion many, many years prior.
Where wind or rain hadn't swept or washed it away, dust clung to every surface, kicking up in aggravatingly large clouds with each sudden movement.
She could smell mold and damp, and her nose itched, constantly on the edge of a sneeze since almost the moment she had hidden away inside.
Whirling around at a hauntingly familiar giggle, she brought her weapon a modest, and thoroughly chipped short sword up, adopting a defensive crouch to present as small a target as she possibly could.
It wouldn't be long, she knew. Her opponent liked to play games, but rarely allowed for them to carry on for as long. The end to this bout would come—
Instinct screamed at her to duck. The girl threw herself down, feeling as much as hearing the rush of air as something hissed overhead. She heard a hum as her opponent sailed past at an unearthly velocity. Approval? She dismissed the idea as impossible.
But, even as she considered that little nugget, her other thoughts turned to action, for there was a rare opportunity presented by this sudden chain of action and reaction. One that the girl was perhaps uniquely suited to take advantage of.
Drawing upon the talent her parents had taught her was ingrained into her very being, the girl felt the mark along her forearm start to vibrate; a familiar sensation of heat travelling along the entirety of her limb not entirely unlike that of pins and needles.
There was a sudden spark in her open palm; a crackle, like someone had sparked a firecracker in her outstretched hand.
Then came the blast.
BOOM
The noise was deafening in the confines of the ruined house. The girl felt sharp, stinging pain in her ears; all sound momentarily lost to her. There was a rush of air and a flash of light as she triggered the explosion provided by her Forte.
Despite her disorientation, and the brief concern that she may have accidentally deafened herself, the girl felt a quiet surge of pride. The blast had been significantly more powerful than anything she had managed before.
She had all of a fraction of an instant to enjoy the moment, however, for though she knew only too well that her pursuer would never be felled by such an attack, it still came as a shock when the vine lashed out of the smoke to pin her to the wall.
The back of her head slammed against the wall and she blacked out for a heartbeat, dazed. Willing her suddenly slack limbs to work, she tried to force herself upright, but a second vine surged from the smoke and wrapped around her sword arm.
Defeated, her strength left her completely, and the girl collapsed, utterly at the mercy of her opponent, who strode into sight with breezy lackadaisicalness, her poise flawless, her every movement measured and graceful.
Once, a long time ago, she had heard her father muse that she moved like a dancer, and though she was unfamiliar with the style of whatever she might have practiced in the distant past, the girl could quite believe that she might well have been one. Her eyes were alight with dark passion, and the trapped girl felt herself shiver, even familiar as she was with the sight.
Liliya, teenage recruit of the Black Shores, quietly debated the merits of one final, albeit meagre act of resistance, sighed, and then relinquished what little grip she still possessed on her weapon, allowing it to clatter to the ground.
The sound was akin to throwing a switch in her opponent's head. The strange lights in her dark eyes disappeared, replaced by muted disappointment, her formerly leering grin shifting into a soft pout.
Camellya exhaled and sheathed her own weapon. Liliya felt the pressure of the two plant-like protrusions that the relentless hunter controlled like their own limbs ease up, allowing her to slip free.
Contrite and embarrassed, she picked up the old, weathered sword she had been lent, and approached.
"I—" she started, but Camellya interrupted her.
"You did better this time," she said. "That's good. Come along, Lily."
"Yes, Camellya," Liliya replied, and wilted at the withering glower the older woman leveled at her.
"Sorry. Mother Camellya," she corrected.
"Better," smiled Camellya, her earlier ire disappearing in a blink, turning neatly around and starting to stride away. Liliya paused for a moment before following, as was expected of her.
Even having lived under her tutelage for so many years of her life, she still found some of the abrupt mood swings of the notorious Bloom Bearer of the Black Shores unnerving.
Not for the first time, Liliya found herself quietly turning over the strange, tangled bond she shared with the woman who had raised her the flighty, carefree, and utterly lethal Resonator known as Camellya.
It had been almost nine years since that dismal, rain-soaked night when the Bloom Bearer had, on a whim, decided to both train and raise her. "Train" being the far more accurate word, Liliya thought with a wry tug at her lips.
The decision had shocked everyone. Even the legendary Commander of Solaris-3 Jeff, her other foster parent, and his main wife The Arbiter had looked utterly dumbfounded when Camellya had breezed into the Black Shores' main hall, her cloak dripping rainwater, and announced with her usual lightness that she was "taking the girl."
No preamble discussion. Just a declaration.
Lily could still see it clearly in her mind: Jeff's wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, his usually calm composure shattered for the first time in his life. For someone who had faced down horrors that would paralyze lesser men, being blindsided by Camellya's decisions was apparently still possible.
A quiet smile ghosted across Lily's lips at the memory. Back then, she had thought legends were beyond surprise. She had been wrong.
What was even more surprising, however, was that Camellya had stayed.
For nine years, through chaos, war, and her own mercurial whims, she had not grown bored nor had she abandoned Liliya on some roadside in a faraway city. For Camellya, whose interests shifted as swiftly as the tides, that was nothing short of miraculous.
Liliya supposed she should feel flattered. To have kept the interest of the famously fickle Bloom Bearer this long was… an honor, in a way.
But flattery was not what she felt.
Instead, a faint ache settled in her chest the kind that came from looking at something beautiful that could never quite be yours.
Jeff had children of his own. Real children. Blood, bond, belonging. Liliya, the eldest among his many fosterlings, had met them only a handful of times. And though she had smiled, laughed, and tried to fit herself into that strange patchwork family, there was always that same cold thought whispering in the back of her mind.
You're not one of them.
It wasn't disliked that she felt. It was envy. Simple, quiet envy. They had a connection something natural, and unshakable that she would never know.
Her relationship with Camellya, by contrast, was… complicated.
Almost as if on cue, Camellya stopped walking. The dirt path was half-swallowed by weeds, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth. The older woman turned, her pale hair glinting silver beneath the broken sunlight filtering through the canopy.
"Why are you slowing down?" she asked, voice lilting, curious like she was examining an insect rather than a person. Her head tilted just slightly, the gesture elegant, feline. "Were you really hurt that badly?"
Liliya straightened immediately, biting back a wince. "No, Mother Camellya," she said softly. "I was just…"
Her voice trailed off.
The words she wanted to say the doubts, the longing, the confusion tangled on her tongue. How could she even begin to explain the storm inside her? That she didn't know whether she was her daughter, her student, or her shadow? That sometimes she wondered if she existed in Camellya's world as anything more than a passing curiosity?
But one look at Camellya's face serene, unreadable and the courage withered.
She couldn't bear that expression again. That look of quiet, disappointed detachment that Camellya wore whenever Liliya failed to meet her impossible expectations. She'd seen it too many times after every failed duel, every stumble, every instance where Liliya had needed saving.
It cut deeper than any blade ever could.
A small sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed absently at her arm, the faint throb of her earlier injuries grounding her. "It's nothing, Mother Camellya," she murmured. "Just a little pain. It will pass."
Camellya regarded her in silence for a moment, her eyes softening, just barely.
"Good," she said finally, turning back toward the winding path ahead. "Because weakness doesn't suit you, my dear."
The words were half praise, half warning and Liliya couldn't tell which half hurt more.
She followed a step behind, as she always did, her gaze drifting to the older woman's graceful silhouette the effortless sway of her movements, the way sunlight caught on the faint green shimmer of her Resonance blooms.
Nine years.
And still, Fern didn't know whether she should fear her, adore her… or both.
Camellya studied her for a long moment, long enough that Liliya began to fidget beneath her gaze. The older woman's eyes were half-lidded, her lips parting as though she might just this once ask if she was all right.
But before the words could form, Camellya's head snapped sharply to the side. Her expression shifted in an instant soft curiosity hardening into something wild and alert.
The air around her changed.
Her pupils dilated, her entire frame coiling like a bowstring drawn to its limit. Then, without a word, she leapt.
"Mother—?" Liliya's voice barely left her lips before Camellya blurred past, a streak of red and green vanishing around the corner of a half-collapsed ruin.
A clash of steel rang out a sharp, metallic crack that reverberated through the empty streets.
Startled, Liliya darted forward, peering through a gap in the broken wall.
There, standing firm against Camellya's strike, was a man tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair tousled by the wind, his coat brushed with the faint shimmer of Resonance energy. His blade, still sheathed, held her scarlet sword at bay with the ease of someone who knew her rhythm far too well.
He smiled a small, knowing smirk that made Camellya's grin widen into something dazzling.
"Jeff, my love." she breathed, her tone dripping with amusement. "You never change."
Before Liliya could even blink, Camellya bent low, flipping clean over his head in a blur of motion. The twin vines that wound through her hair lashed out mid-air, snapping toward him like striking whips.
Jeff moved just as fast. He brushed the first aside with the back of his hand, side-stepped the second, and turned with effortless precision. By the time Camellya came down, he was already there catching her neatly by the waist before her boots could touch the ground.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
The world around them seemed to still. Camellya's laughter softened into something quieter, gentler. Jeff's usual composure faltered just enough to reveal a flash of warmth in his eyes.
Liliya froze where she stood, uncertain if she was intruding on something sacred or dangerous.
Camellya's fingers traced the line of Jeff's jaw, her grin melting into a soft, wordless smile and gave her foster father a deep kiss. Whatever passed between them in that heartbeat was private, layered with years of understanding and history.
Liliya's chest tightened with a strange, unfamiliar ache. She looked away, pretending to check her blade. Even after all this time, she still didn't know how to feel about them the fierce, unpredictable mother who could cleave mountains, and the calm, grounded man who somehow always met her on even footing.
How could two people so different fit so perfectly together?
It felt impossible.
And yet, as their quiet laughter drifted through the ruin, the young girl couldn't help but think… Perhaps impossible things were exactly what defined them.
"Lily."
The soft call of her name broke through the haze of thought. Liliya turned, her eyes widening as Jeff approached calm as ever, his expression touched by that gentle smile that could somehow steady the chaos around him. In his arms, Camellya still lingered, draped lazily across his hold like she belonged there, her lips curled in that ever-familiar smirk.
"Father Jeff," Liliya greeted, bowing her head politely.
Jeff chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. "You know you can just call me Father," he said. "Or Dad. Or even Jeff, if that's easier."
As his hand came to rest on her hair, broad, steady, yet impossibly gentle Liliya froze for just a moment. The simple motion unraveled something knotted inside her chest. That hand, that touch… it had always carried safety, even when everything else in her world trembled.
But she also knew what came after. The moment he disappeared, the silence would creep in again. The insecurities, the doubts. All those things she tried so hard to bury would start whispering their way back.
"Hmm." Jeff tilted his head slightly, studying her expression. One of his eyebrows lifted, just enough to betray quiet concern.
He carefully set Camellya down.
Camellya landed on her feet with feline grace, pouting up at him like a child denied a sweet. "You're putting me down already? Tragic."
Jeff only smiled faintly before turning back to Liliya. "Lily," he said softly. "It's been a while since we caught up. Anywhere nearby we can talk?"
Something inside her warmed at that. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed moments like this until now.
"The crater at the edge of the village," she said quickly. "There's a spot on the lip it overlooks everything. You can see the whole valley from there."
Jeff's eyes softened. "That sounds perfect." Then, glancing toward his lover, he added, "Camellya? Would you mind waiting here while Lily and I—?"
Camellya's gaze flicked between the two of them, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. She pressed one slender finger to her lips and hummed theatrically. "Hmm… should I?"
Jeff sighed, shoulders drooping in mock surrender. "All right. I owe you a dance."
That did it. Camellya's entire face lit up with a grin so bright it was almost disarming. "A dance, huh?" she purred, her tone a mixture of delight and promise. "Then you'd better make it worth the wait."
With a playful flick of her vine-like hair ornaments, she turned and sauntered off, the ruins swallowing her silhouette.
"Don't keep me waiting too long, either of you!" she called over her shoulder, her voice lilting, teasing, but threaded with something softer beneath.
Jeff exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watched her go. Liliya caught the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, one that was both exasperated and hopelessly fond.
And though she wouldn't admit it aloud, she found herself smiling too.
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| Crater Overlooking the Plains |
One of the many rumours she'd heard about her father of which there were almost as many as the stars scattered across the night sky was that he could read minds. Liliya had always brushed it off with a scoff. But when he asked her what was wrong, the very moment they sat down on the lip of the crater, she began to wonder if maybe that old rumour wasn't entirely wrong.
The crater stretched before them, an ancient wound in the earth jagged, solemn, beautiful in its ruin. Wind brushed past, carrying the faint scent of rain and iron. Below them, the grass bowed to the rhythm of the breeze, whispering against the stone.
Why she suddenly began to speak, she couldn't quite explain. Maybe it had been building for years the unspoken words, the quiet ache of never asking what she truly wanted to know. Or maybe it was just the look in his eyes, calm but full of understanding, that loosened something deep within her chest.
When the floodgates opened, it all came out. Her fears. Her doubts. Her shameful insecurities the ones she thought she'd buried beneath strength and bravado.
Jeff didn't interrupt. He didn't frown or scold. He just sat beside her, his expression quiet and unreadable, his gaze fixed on the horizon the rolling hills, the silver outlines of Jinzhou far in the distance, and the lone spire of the mountain standing sentinel behind it.
For a moment, the silence stretched too long. Panic clawed up her throat. I've said too much. He thinks I'm weak. He'll tell her I'm a failure—
Then, warmth. His hand found hers, large and steady, fingers wrapping gently around her trembling ones.
"Thank you, Lily," he said softly, finally turning toward her. His voice was calm, even, yet tinged with something heavy. "For telling me this. I know it wasn't easy."
Her chest hitched. Relief and fear battled for space inside her. "I just…" Her voice cracked. "I don't feel like I'm good enough. All the training, all the fighting. I don't even know what it's for. And I'm afraid to ask because—because—"
"Because you're afraid of the answer," Jeff murmured. His tone was gentle, but the truth in it stung. "That she's raising you only so she can have someone to fight."
Liliya's throat tightened. She nodded, eyes fixed on the shallow drop before her feet. It wasn't far just a few feet of stone but to her, it looked endless.
Jeff shifted closer, the faint brush of his shoulder grounding her. Then his arm came around her back, pulling her gently against him. She didn't resist. Resting her head on his shoulder, she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"I've known Camellya longer than anyone," he said quietly. "I could tell you what you want to hear—something comforting, simple but that wouldn't be honest."
He paused, his breath steady and thoughtful. "There's some truth to what you said."
Her heart sank like a stone.
"But," he continued, voice softer now, "it's not the whole truth, Lily. Camellya's… complicated. I know her better than anyone. She may not show it the way others do, but she does care for you. More than you think."
Liliya gave a shaky, disbelieving laugh. "It's hard to believe that sometimes. A lot of times."
Jeff sighed, looking down at his hands. "She's had a hard life. That doesn't excuse every mistake she makes as your guardian, but it explains some of it. And—" his lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile "—I know I haven't been perfect either."
She smiled back, soft and small. "You do all right. I like it when you come to visit."
"I like visiting," he said honestly, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. "I wish I could do it more. You mean a lot to me, Lily. All of you do."
Her heart fluttered. "I know, Je—dad."
He smiled fully this time, warm, genuine, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. Liliya felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment, and she looked away quickly.
Jeff laughed quietly, a sound like sunlight through clouds. He squeezed her hand one last time before letting go, leaving a lingering warmth behind.
"Your mother is a complicated individual," Jeff said at last, breaking the comfortable silence between them. His tone was patient, the kind of warmth that wrapped around Liliya like a blanket after the rain. "I can't deny that you've had it tougher than most under her wing. But believe me when I tell you—you've impressed her more than she lets on. And I know, in her own strange way, she loves you as I do."
Liliya turned her face toward him, eyes uncertain. "You really believe that?"
"Didn't I just say I know it?" Jeff laughed softly, the sound rich and genuine. "If all she wanted was a sparring partner, she would've left you where she found you. Catching her interest isn't the hard part, Lily. Keeping it? Only three people have ever managed that."
He cut her a sidelong grin, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. "Care to guess who they are?"
Warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading down to her fingertips. She didn't need to guess to know the answer.
"I'll talk to her," Jeff said, his voice dipping low, serious now. "About the way she's been treating you. And I'll try to drop by the Black Shores a little more often."
"I'd like that," she said, smiling. It came easily now, light and sincere.
"Me too, Lily." He smiled back—that smile, the one that always made her feel safe, even when everything else in her world felt uncertain. "Now, I'd ask how your Forte's coming along, but… I can tell that's the last thing you want to talk about."
She snorted and rolled her eyes. "You think?"
Jeff chuckled and patted her on the back. "That's what I figured. Go on rejoin your mother. I'll follow you in a bit. Maybe we can all head back together, stop by Jinzhou. Your Aunt Rover's been asking about you."
At that, her eyes brightened. "Really?"
Jeff nodded, his smile widening at her enthusiasm.
Liliya could never quite explain it, but of all the women in her father's orbit, she adored the Legendary Arbiter Rover, the main wife of her foster father the most. There was something magnetic about her, and she finds her so cool because of her countless exploits most notably taming her foster father. Even the way she carried herself felt inspiring. And her youngest child, barely four, was a bright little spark that never failed to make Lily's heart melt.
"Attagirl," Jeff said fondly as she got to her feet. He watched her descend the crater path, her steps light, her ponytail catching glints of the late afternoon sun.
He waited until she vanished beyond the broken arches of the ruined village before speaking.
"Food for thought?"
No answer.
Then a weight. So familiar and gentle. Camellya's arms folded atop his head as she leaned into him from behind, resting her chin on his hair. Her presence always carried the same faint scent of wildflowers and danger and for a moment, Jeff thought he could actually smell the ghost of camellia petals in it. The thought made him smile to himself. She would probably smack him if he said so aloud.
Neither spoke for a long while. Her breathing was soft, steady; the kind of calm that came after the storm. Jeff didn't ask how much she'd overheard he didn't need to. Camellya was too sharp, too attuned to him not to have caught every word that mattered.
He wanted to speak to tell her how proud he was of Lily, of her, of the fragile thread of family they were somehow weaving from the chaos but he didn't. He'd learned long ago that Camellya didn't need fixing. She needed space.
So he sat there, still, letting her lean on him, her warmth bleeding through his clothes, her heartbeat faint against his back. His heart ached for them both. How badly he wanted to teach them an easier way to reach each other, to patch the cracks that ran between their hearts. But wisdom told him that some things couldn't be mended by words alone.
Camellya made a low, thoughtful hum. Jeff could almost see her expression without turning the way her eyes would half-close when she was lost in thought, the subtle pout at her lips.
Then she pushed herself upright, slow and deliberate, her light weight leaving him a little colder in its absence. Without a word, she started toward the village, her steps graceful and unhurried, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.
Halfway there, she paused.
For a moment, she looked not at him, but toward the direction Liliya had gone. The faint breeze tugged strands of her silvery hair free, catching the dying light of the sun.
Ten heartbeats passed in silence. Then Camellya sighed softly, her shoulders dipping, and resumed her walk.
Jeff smiled faintly as he rose to follow her, brushing the dust from his coat.
No one watching the Bloom Bearer would have noticed any change to her face as serene and unreadable as ever but Jeff saw it. He always did. The tiny shift in her eyes, the minute softening of her expression, the unspoken worry she'd never admit to.
Perhaps, he thought as he followed her down the path, they really would be all right after all.
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Author's note:
Hello everyone, feel free to leave your collections, powers, reviews, and comments as you see fit. I have my smut chapter ready when this fic reaches the 1k collection milestone. That's all; thank you for reading this fanfic, and I hope you have a good day.