Chapter 18: Until We Meet Again
Two weeks had passed since that night of firelight and battle, of feasts and cheers, of bloodied hands and unwavering resolve. The village had returned to its quiet rhythm, but something had changed—something invisible yet deeply felt. The wind felt lighter, the sun a little kinder, and the people... stronger.
In that time, the bond between Lina and Cilia had only grown deeper.
Wherever one went, the other followed. They'd spend entire afternoons beside the stream, dipping their feet into the cool water and weaving flower crowns, giggling over old stories and ridiculous hypotheticals. Cilia had begun to smile more openly, her eyes no longer clouded with that familiar loneliness. And Lina—her laughter had softened, more real, less guarded. They braided each other's hair, shared stolen sweets, and sat on the porch trading dreams under the starlight.
Meanwhile, the MC—quiet, observant—had taken on a new role: teacher. Along with Lina, he'd trained the security guards in the art of fighting, offering them the basics of stance, timing, and reaction. The sessions were light-hearted but rigorous. There were bruises and breathless chuckles, blunted sticks and broken egos, but the results were visible. Those once meek and uncertain men now held their weapons with steadier hands, their stances more grounded, their eyes more assured.
One afternoon, the sun mellow and soft in the sky, the MC made his way toward the village chief's home. Birds chirped idly overhead, and the scent of cooking herbs drifted lazily in the air.
He opened the wooden door without knocking—it creaked softly on its hinges—and wasn't surprised in the least to find Lina already there, perched cross-legged on the floor with Cilia between her and Cilia's mother, all three of them laughing over something he didn't catch.
The chief raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it's very surprising to see you here," he said, tone thick with sarcasm. "What do you need?"
"Nothing much really," the MC replied. He hesitated for a second before speaking again. "We'll soon be setting out."
The air seemed to thin.
Silence fell.
Cilia froze.
"No... tell me it's a lie." Her voice cracked. She turned sharply to Lina, searching her face, desperate.
But Lina said nothing.
That silence—it was an answer.
Cilia's face crumpled as though the weight of her heart had collapsed inward. Her breaths grew short, trembling. "You're going to leave me?" Her voice was rising, choked with tears. "You're actually going to leave? After all this? After becoming my friend—my first friend?!"
And then she ran.
"Wait!" Lina shouted, rushing out after her, boots thudding against the wooden floor.
The MC watched them go, then bowed his head. "I'm sorry."
The village chief sighed, leaning back into his chair. "Why are you apologizing, boy? We never expected you to stay forever. It was only a matter of time. Except Cilia, of course... she dared to hope."
Cilia's mother offered a gentle smile, her hands folded in her lap. "She just didn't want to lose someone again. But she'll understand. You gave her something no one else ever did."
"What day are you both leaving?" the chief asked.
"Tomorrow, sir. I just came to say goodbye to you both."
As the MC turned to leave, the old man chuckled under his breath. "What a weird kid."
"But he's good at heart," the mother whispered, stepping behind her husband and embracing him tenderly, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "So good."
Lina caught up to Cilia near the stream, where their footprints were still fresh in the soil from days spent together.
Cilia had stopped running. She stood with her back to Lina, fists clenched, shoulders shaking.
"What?" Her voice broke again as she turned around. Her eyes were red, cheeks streaked with tears.
"Why are you crying?"
"W-What do you mean why?! You're going away! I don't even know when I'll see you again! You're my first friend and it—" her voice faltered, swallowed by sobs, "—it hurts."
Lina walked forward, arms folded, looking down for a second. She took a breath, then raised her head, her eyes tender.
"Cilia... I'm leaving, yeah. But leaving doesn't mean forgetting. Doesn't mean I won't think about you, miss you."
Cilia sniffled. "But—"
"You're my friend, Cilia. My first real one too. And that doesn't end just because there's distance."
"But I don't want you to go."
Lina stepped forward and hugged her tightly. Cilia didn't resist. She clung to Lina like a lifeline.
"We're still friends," Lina whispered. "No matter what. Even if I'm far away, even if months pass, I'll still be your friend. You brought something out of me, Cilia. I didn't even know I needed it."
The breeze danced around them, leaves rustling softly above.
Cilia buried her face in Lina's shoulder. "Then... will you walk with me? One last time?"
Lina smiled. "Yeah. One last time."
They walked until the sun dipped low, their hands occasionally brushing, their steps unhurried. Neither spoke much. They didn't need to. The silence was sacred.
The next morning, dawn broke like a sigh over the village. The horizon blushed gold and pink, and the villagers had already gathered outside. The path out of the village was lined with smiling faces and grateful eyes.
Baskets of dried fruits and handmade trinkets were placed by the road as parting gifts. Children waved goodbye with tiny hands.
Cilia stood among them, her hair braided with white flowers by Lina's hand the night before. Her eyes were still damp but clear now, and she managed a smile as she stepped forward and hugged Lina tightly.
"I'll be okay," she whispered.
"You better be," Lina replied, eyes shining.
Cilia stepped back and turned to the MC. "You take care of her, okay? She's a handful."
"I know," he said, smirking gently.
But then—
"Wait." Her father stepped forward, holding a leather bag. "This is for you."
Cilia blinked. "What... what is this?"
"Clothes. Food. Essentials."
She opened her mouth to protest but her father raised a hand.
"To be honest," he said softly, voice thick with emotion, "I always wanted you to stop being so gloomy. You were always so distant, even to us. But now... you have light in your eyes again. You found someone who brings it out of you. So who am I to stop you?"
Cilia's breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes as she hugged her parents tightly, sobbing into their embrace. Her mother stroked her hair, whispering gently, and her father's strong arms held her close.
"Thank you," she said, voice cracking.
"Go," her father said. "Go chase your light."
And so they did.
With hearts heavy but full, the trio stepped onto the road, their silhouettes framed by the rising sun.
The villagers watched until they were just specks on the horizon.
And even then, the echo of their presence lingered, like a story that would be retold for generations.
Their journey had ended there—but another one had just begun.
Together.