Juliet Diekman is the daughter of a well-respected Marleyan scientist who works alongside the military.
In a new proposal, he is asked to go on an expedition to Paradis for research purposes before planning their big attack. He agrees, only if his b...
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LOVE, a force as boundless as the horizon and as deep as the sea itself, defies all boundaries. It is a language that knows no borders, a fire that ignites in hearts that, by all logic, should remain separate. Even across the chasms of war, between soldiers and enemies, love can bloom—a quiet, rebellious flame born not from reason, but from understanding. It is a gift of empathy, a silent recognition of shared humanity, where once there were only barriers and the echo of guns and blades clashing.
To love is to fight for another's survival with the ferocity one would bring to defend one's own. It is to cherish and protect, to feel the weight of another's well-being as intensely as the burdens carried within one's own heart. Love is the gentle desire to hold and be held, to soothe and be soothed.
To see another's soul and call it precious, even when the world insists you should turn away.
But love is most sacred when it is returned. There is something untouchable in the way two souls meet in mutual admiration, in shared joys and sorrows, in the quiet moments that need no words. It is a refuge that grows from the harmony of two hearts, a bond so true it can make the most harrowing battles seem distant, and the harshest of nights a little brighter.
In its purest form, love holds no restrictions, no mandates, no limits. It is a promise made by the universe, whispered in hearts as it has been for centuries, that there exists a beauty which, once recognized and shared, needs no further justification.
Love is as unyielding as it is tender, built from admiration and sustained by the knowledge that in another's gaze, one has found not just acceptance, but something far deeper—a mirror of one's own soul, steadfast and bright.
The beach lies cloaked in silence, save for the soft, rhythmic whisper of the waves kissing the shore. Juliet's still form rests on the sand, though now it seems the beach itself is claiming her. The grains have crept higher, curling like a cocoon around her body, leaving only her serene face, framed by locks of sand-dusted hair, visible beneath the glittering stretch of stars.
Her breaths come slow and steady, a gentle rise and fall that mirrors the ocean's cadence. The twinkling starlight dances upon her cheeks, casting her in a fragile glow, as if the heavens themselves seek to cradle her in their gaze.
A few feet away, Ymir stands in quiet observation, her figure ghostly beneath the night sky. The Founder's eyes hold no malice, only an inscrutable melancholy, as she watches the sleeping girl—a tableau of peace in a world wrought with disorder, the disorder that the Founder herself wanted to happen. Here, in this dream she has woven, Juliet is utterly alone, left behind in the cradle of Ymir's eternal Paths.
Yet, her face betrays no fear, no sorrow—only the tranquility of one who has slipped into a deeper rest, untouched by the weight of the waking world.
The stars above shimmer brighter, their reflection caught in the ocean's surface, as though they too mourn the isolation of this moment. And yet, amidst the vast loneliness, Juliet's peaceful visage seems to whisper silent defiance, as if love's memory—distant and untouchable—still lingers in her slumber.
