Ink: Living Life as Serena Gleis

LXX: A Promise.

Silence. 

A deep, deafening silence swallowed the room, thick and oppressive. No one dared to speak, as if the very act of breaking it would shatter something fragile. We were all caught in our own minds, weighed down by the gravity of the moment. The air was tense, heavy with unspoken fear and uncertainty. Everyone was lost, drowning in thoughts too dark to voice. 

I had no idea what to do. None of us did. 

“What’s the plan?” Varka finally asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He sounded uncertain, which caught me off guard. Varka, always sure, always with a solution. And now even he was grasping at straws. 

I stared at him, feeling the weight of the question, but no answers came. We couldn’t just storm in there and expect to come out alive. We couldn’t just grab Cynfael and leave. That wasn’t how this worked. 

He killed Serena. Twice. He killed me in both of the lifetimes that Serena has to live.

And now, here we are again. Trying to figure out how to stop this catastrophe.

“"Is there any way to undo what has been done?" I asked, my voice laced with desperation. The silence that followed felt heavier than ever, and when Varka shook his head, his eyes dropped to the floor. He looked defeated, as if the last flicker of hope had been snuffed out. 

I sighed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on my chest. My gaze drifted across the room and landed on Zion. His guilt was written all over him. He wouldn’t even look at anyone, his head hung low, avoiding the piercing silence that wrapped around us. 

"Are you alright, Zion?" I asked, my voice softer now. 

He hesitated, then glanced up at me with a weak, fleeting smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. I could see the pain in his eyes—the kind that only comes when you’re torn between loyalty and regret. Cynfael was his brother, after all. The one we were all fighting against. 

Before I could say anything else, Azrael's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "We got no time for that," he snapped. "Better think of a solution than pitying yourself." 

He was right. Zion's guilt wouldn’t save Clye, wouldn’t fix what was already broken. We didn’t have the luxury of time or self-pity. 

We had to act. We had to think of something—anything.

"We just have to make sure Cyn won't be killed, right?" I asked, my voice betraying a mix of doubt and hope.

Varka nodded. "Yes, we have to ensure he isn’t harmed at all."

I felt a flicker of relief but pressed on, needing to understand the full scope. "Will this be permanent? Will he always be connected to us as long as he’s alive? What happens when he dies of old age?" 

Varka's face darkened. "There is a way to separate him from the bond," he admitted, "but it’s extremely risky—for both the Emperor and us. The results wouldn't be guaranteed." His voice was low, each word carrying a weight I couldn’t ignore.

I swallowed hard, but at least it wasn’t hopeless. "Alright, so there’s a way. What do we have to do?"

His eyes met mine, steady and grave. "Bring him here, and burn the essence of the ring with Guinevere’s flame."

It sounded simple, but the way he said it made my skin prickle. There was danger in every step, but at least we had a plan.

"Come to think of it, who's after Cynfael?" I asked, the thought suddenly hitting me. It didn’t make sense. He’s the Emperor, protected by countless guards, and Celine—his strongest ally—is always by his side.