As Yves slowly regains consciousness, a guttural groan escapes her lips, a raw, agonizing sound that seems to emanate from the depths of her being. Her vision is blurry when she opens her eyes, a disorienting cacophony of shapes and colors keeping her from seeing clearly-- worsening the strong headache pronging at her temples tenfold. As the light of the throne room shines down upon her frail body, a feeling of dread roots itself deep on her chest: a palpable, suffocating weight that constricts her chest and squeezes her heart mercilessly. Reality crashes down upon her like a tidal wave, and with each passing second, it becomes more and more agonizingly clear. She has failed her people.

The throne room, a place that once sat as the very heart of the grand castle of Eden. The very room where the King and his loyal Queen would foster a bridge between themselves and their people, a symbol for hope, authority and power. Slumped down against a broken pillar, rubble digging into her back and surely ripping her shirt from its velvet seams, Yves' breath catches in . This room... she could hardly recognize it. As he eyes slowly refocused, she watches transfixed as the room transforms into a grim theater of her shortcomings. Her lungs take in a breath of air charged by the weight of her failure, mixed with dust that fell upon her shoulders from the throne room's destruction. Glancing around her surroundings, she frowns.

The roof above her head, once mosaic, was completely gone-- glass pooling the floor all around her. The various tables, chairs, royal memorabilia, and butterfly sigils were simply eradicated; transformed into pools of fine dust and ash, the aftermath of the overwhelming power unleashed by Jennie's staff. The room around the princess was now nothing more than a haunting memory. The room lay in stark contrast to its former splendor, embodying the sheer destructive force that had swept through it, leaving only remnants of what once was. The very essence of the place had been forever altered, serving as a somber testament to the unimaginable events that had transpired within its walls.

Jennie. Yves' gaze scanned the room with a sense of urgency until they finally settled on the conniving figure before her. In that fleeting moment, a surge of intense, unfiltered anger coursed through Yves, her jaw clenching. There, perched atop her father's throne, Jennie had audaciously assumed the role of Eden's new ruler. The Queen and Princess' thrones, once symbols of power and grace, lay reduced to rubble, their grandeur shattered, leaving only the most imposing throne standing. Her father's once-magnificent throne, a masterpiece adorned with exquisite gold accents and maroon leather, had undergone a startling change-- now entirely black, mirroring the dark essence of the woman who now occupied it. A single glance at the unfamiliar and foreboding throne sent shivers down Yves' spine. And then, her eyes meet a pair of cold browns.

Jennie locked eyes with Yves, her lips curling into a sly, taunting smirk that hinted at a sinister amusement. Her gaze bore down upon the princess, radiating a twisted sense of pride hidden within the icy depths of her stare. She exuded an air of calculated confidence, one leg elegantly crossed over the other while she skillfully twirled her staff between her fingers. As Yves's bewildered gaze shifted downwards, her heart sank with dread. Her limbs were ensnared by an inky mist, coiled around her wrists and ankles, a dark shroud tinged with an unmistakable green glow that mirrored the gem nestled within the heart of Jennie's staff. Panic surged within Yves as she attempted to break free from the ethereal restraints, only to be met with the chilling sound of Jennie's mocking laughter. The Queen shakes her head.

"You've failed, princess." Jennie slurs, her voice darker than usual. "Take a good look around you. At the power in my hands." She accentuates her words with a pat of her staff, the contact sending ripples of green static dancing between her fingertips. "The power I am going to take."

Jennie's presence commands attention as she rises from her seat, exuding an air of composed determination that starkly contrasted the urgency in her words and the ominous energy that surrounded her. Each one of her steps was a carefully measured stride as she stalked around the Throne, Yves watching her every move. It's then Yves realizes they weren't alone, her eyes catching glimpses of a formidable assembly of at least twelve guards strategically positioned throughout the room, protecting their Queen with their unwavering, erted loyalty.  In the midst of this tense atmosphere, Jennie emits a low, eerie hum, her staff's base connecting with the cold floor. The mere motion has the restraints around Yves' wrists and legs tightening, a small wince leaving her lips at the motion. Jennie's smirk widens.

"I waited just to see the look on your face when you realized I have won. When you realized there is nothing you can do. That you are nothing more than a pet. Beneath me." Jennie practically spits her words, he detest for Yves clearer than ever. With a disdainful click of her tongue, she continues, her voice dripping with condescension, "So, do enlighten me, dear princess. How does it feel?"

Despite the situation she sat in now, Yves can't bring herself to give Jennie the satisfaction of knowing she was right. Instead, she snarls. 

"You will not get away with this."

Jennie, undeterred, raises an intrigued brow, her lips curling into an amused smile. "Oh?" she quips, her amusement evident. "Then how do you suppose this will all unfold?"

Instead of answering, Yves opts for silence, clenching her jaw. Truth be told, she didn't know what to say. Here she sat, defenseless. The bodies of her guards were sure to be decorating the many halls of the grand castle, her people enslaved and captured, prepped to be exploited for the gain of the sinister Northern army. Her shoulders deflate, and her eyes drop to the floor. Almost instantly, Jennie's laughter rings out once more, echoing through the room like a chilling prelude to a foreboding future.

Yves' shoulders slump, her body impossibly heavy as she struggles to push herself upright. She watches Jennie move through her peripheral, her dark boots gliding purposefully across the cracked marble floor. Yves' breath hitches in when she watches Jennie approach a familiar podium, intricately carved in arcane symbols Yves could not read. The podium, once secured with numerous locks and bolts, now stood vulnerable to the outside world. At its pinnacle rested the very object responsible for the chaos they found themselves in: the sphere. Exposed to the elements, the sphere crackled with electric sparks, emitting a mesmerizing display of vibrant colors that danced and shifted across its spherical surface. It exuded an untamed, pure power that sent a shiver down Yves' spine. She swallows hard, unable to tear her eyes away, as Jennie raises her staff and hovers it over the sphere, the two objects interacting like opposing magnets. 

But then, against Yves' expectations, Jennie lowers her staff and retreats to her throne. Yves can do nothing but watch, perplexed, as the woman stands with her back her-- whatever thoughts dawning on her mind unknown to the prying, confused eyes of Yves. With a newfound sense of confidence, Yves spits.

"If you are so sure you will succeed, then what are you waiting for? Do not tell me you doubt yourself, Jennie Kim. Do not tell me you feel as weak as I see you."

Jennie then spins, a large, venomous snarl crossing her lips. Her eyes narrow down at the princess, the word 'weak' slowly engulfing her mind like a growing wound. Her eyes zero in on the seated princess, her words cold. 

"I want to see the look on her face when I slaughter you before her eyes. I want her to hurt. I want you to suffer." 

Yves can't stop the shiver that runs down her spine. Her brows furrow, her thoughts running rampant in confusion. Then, within a moment, it registers. Y/N.

The mere thought of the girl has Yves' heart clenching in her chest. Y/N, the most confusing enigma Yves had ever come to know within the time of her very short life. Y/N, the girl she was expected to trust her life to, the girl who was supposed to save her and all the good she stood for. Y/N, the girl who made her feel. 

Y/N, the girl who was nowhere to be seen.

When Jennie turns on her heel, Yves deflates impossibly further. There was nothing she could do, and she knew it. With a heavy heart, she closes her eyes, seeking solace in the sudden, suffocating silence that has overtaken the frigid room. But, she can't. She can't shake the unsettling sensation lingering in the pit of her stomach, refusing to be ignored. A feeling of bottled emotions completely alien to her, begging to resurface. A mixture of grief, desire, and despair, emotions she's never encountered in such intensity before. At the epicenter of it all lies the memory of Y/N, a presence that sent ripples through the depths of her soul. The very thought of the girl had a frown pulling strongly at her face. These emotions, she was sure they were hers-- and yet it almost felt as as if they belonged to a completely different person. 

Yves shakes her head, excusing the wrenching pain in her chest to the relentless worry that had haunted her since she first opened her eyes, scared for the wellbeing of her kingdom, her people. Yet, deep down, she can't ignore the voice in her mind, or the throb in her chest that insisted there was more to it than that—a storm of emotions, hidden beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to resurface and confront her.

For now, she would wait. She had to believe that Y/N would set things right.  

It wasn't too late.

"It is not too late, Y/N."

Anxiety coursed through me, a relentless itch in my every nerve, as my impatience gnawed at my very core. Each passing second devoted to dissecting and debating our impending plan felt like stolen time slipping away. The weight of responsibility pressed upon me, a stark realization that the fate of those around me rested solely in the choices I would soon make, in the words poised to escape my lips. The sheer magnitude of it all sent shivers down my spine. 

A single mistake, and I would condemn an entire kingdom to suffering. How does one grapple with the crushing awareness that the destiny of countless lives lies in the delicate balance of their choices? I hadn't known the answer to that question before, and I certainly didn't have it now. In fact, with the full realization of what hung in the balance, with the acute awareness of the loss awaiting me in the event of failure, the burden weighed even heavier upon my soul. The excruciating burden of expectation pressed down on me like an anvil, while the relentless specter of past failure loomed over my every thought. I understood, all too keenly, that this was my final opportunity to set things right. The fear that gripped me was profound and paralyzing.

I was scared.

My mind darts back and forth through my reclaimed memories, a desperate search for even the slightest glimmer of hope, a fragile straw to grasp onto in the pursuit of a better outcome. But, no matter how hard I tried to stop it, my mind always drifts back to death: the haunting figures of lifeless bodies strewn across the kingdom, their crimson blood staining my hands, both literally and metaphorically. 

The memory of Yves, her lifeless form frozen in time, her eyes locked in a silent plea for survival. It was a scar. I could still feel the weight of her lifeless body in my trembling hands as it slipped through my grasp, crashing unceremoniously to the unforgiving floor. With a clench of my jaw, i shake my head. No. I won't go through that again. I refuse.

Several seconds pass before I shake my head and turn to face Jungeun, the girls words registering in my mind. I can't stop the disbelieving sigh that slips from my lips.

"How can you be so sure?"

Jungeun scans my face, humming thoughtfully. She gestures around the room.

"Take a look around you. We all know what is at stake. You have ignited a hope in everyone in this room to not give up. To believe that all is not yet lost, that we can save our kingdom from Jennie's iron fist. You must let go of your worries, less they control the outcome. Be confident in your ability to succeed, and you will."

Before I can stop myself, I laugh. Knowing what I know now about my past life in Eden and the relationship I held with this girl, I couldn't help but see the humor in the irony behind her words. Not that she'd remember, but I do.

"When did you become so thoughtful, Jungeun?"

If she's taken aback by my sudden laughter, she doesn't show it. Instead a small smile crosses her lips, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "War can change you, Y/N. Let us hope it is for the better."

This time I hum, agreeing halfheartedly as I scan my eyes across the room. She was right. The atmosphere of the room had changed drastically in comparison to the crestfallen silence I walked in on, hope renewed. Frowning, my shoulders deflate as a question dawns on me. 

"If Jennie destroys the sphere, if she were to syphon its power... what will happen?"

"We will die." Jungeun answers simply. "The kingdom will collapse, and house Eden will be lost." She pauses momentarily, opening and closing several times as she carefully digs through her thoughts for the correct words. She nods, this time more firm. "That is exactly why you must have faith, Y/N. We must not let that happen."

My breath catches in my throat almost involuntarily. The kingdom will collapse... house Eden will be lost... The familiarity of the words made me feel sick. The image of my weary mother, her tired eyes etched in my memory, resurfaces with haunting clarity. The very same words she uttered just moments before she sent me away played on my conscience, rendering me numb. I couldn't fail her. Not when she gave me this chance to try again. After a beat, I nod firmly, acknowledging Jungeun's words. 

As a familiar figure approached us with unwavering purpose, a hush descended upon us, the gravity of the moment sinking in. Chanyeol's expression conveyed more than words ever could as he motions behind himself, prompting me to follow his gaze. My eyes settle upon his troops, their preparations for the impending battle filling the air with an electric tension.

"We are ready. Are you?" Chanyeol's question hung in the air, though it was clear his gaze was directed squarely at me. It felt as though the weight of the entire plan rested upon my response, and to be fair-- it did. 

Under the weight of their collective scrutiny, I felt a surge of responsibility.  As their eyes collectively converged on my face, I nod my head.

This simple yet decisive gesture seized the attention of everyone in the room,  their attentiveness to the plan putting me more at ease of our competence to succeed. Meeting each one of their faces, I stand tall, a surge of determination coursing through my veins.

"Let's go save our people."

In the blink of an eye, a seamless ballet of motion unfolded before me. Chanyeol turns to his men and collectively they bounce into action, moving with such purpose and grace I couldn't help but watch in awe. As we make our way to the door of the room, moments away from charging down the halls-- half of Chanyeol's men surged forward to secure the front, while the other half fanned out to safeguard our rear. Looking upon the faces of the people within the room, I almost smile. Despite our differences, despite coming from all walks of life, everyone moves as a unit: those capable of combat took up arms, clutching onto various objects they'd found scattered around the room, while others stood ready to provide assistance to the injured. Among the faces were people I recognized as noble-folk, people I previously never would've thought I'd see so eager to defend their home. As a united front, we were resolute in our mission: to carve a path through the many halls to get to the throne room, Jungeun, Olivia, and myself at the heart of the action. Despite everything unfolding around me, my mind remains focused.

I need to get to her.

Every individual, like cogs in a finely tuned machine, seamlessly assumed their designated positions, each gesture and movement a testament to our meticulous planning. That is, everyone but Olivia.

 Among the bustling bodies, I can't help but realize she was missing. Scanning my gaze over the many heads, my eyes eventually fell upon a mass of raven-black hair. There she stood  a silent observer amidst the bustling chaos, her eyes locked onto the intricate dance of preparation surrounding her. The girl watches everyone move, and it's then a realization dawns on me. She was scared, too. 

Despite all we'd gone through, all the tumultuous emotions I felt for her, I can't stop the way my heart clenches in my chest at the sight of her--  the way she stuck out like a sore thumb, out of place. They didn't trust her. From the looks of things, she didn't trust herself either.

With a deep, steadying breath, I pursed my lips. I moved through the crowd, determined to bridge the gap between us. Finding a brief respite in the flurry of activity, I gently placed my hand on her shoulder, guiding her in the right direction. Despite the simplicity of the gesture and the silence that followed, I didn't miss the look of astonishment, swiftly replaced by gratitude, that crossed her face.

You must have faith, Jungeun's words echoed through my mind momentarily. Meeting her gaze, she levels me with a small smile. 

Olivia has made mistakes, but she is here, fighting with us. I will have faith. Even if other's don't.

A silence consumes the room for the briefest of seconds before I nod once again, my signal being all it took for Chanyeol to swing the doors open. I could feel my heart beating in tandem with the pulsating adrenaline that surged through my veins as, one by one, we swiftly leave the room, moving with precision down the hallways. Every step was a symphony of urgency, Chanyeol's calculated strides guiding us towards