Darren’s Secret, and Historia’s Revelation

The field stretched wide just beyond the Academy walls. The area bare of trees dusted in snow. Frost clung to the edges of the grass around the barrier, glittering faintly in the pale sunlight. A circle of runes glowed faintly on the ground where students had already gathered practicing magic with the safety of the runes. Their cloaks and scarves pulled tight because of winter. Breath rose in faint puffs into the cold air, mixing with the hum of anticipation. Even though we breathed puffs of cold air, the barrier that surrounded the area protected us from the bitter cold of winter.

The professor stood in the center, his long coat brushing against the earth. His voice cut across the crowd with sharp clarity. “Magic untested is useless. Magic without control is dangerous. Today you will spar, not for glory, but to show your command and control. And you will do so here, in front of one another. If you falter, then you learn. If you excel, then sharpen your edge further.”

The students shifted, some excited, others visibly nervous. The rune protection circle pulsed once, as though agreeing with his words.

“Estel Misfortuna. Darren Romancio. Step forward.”

Of course. The two entered the safety circle, snow crunching under their boots. Darren’s smirk was already in place. His hands in an eager sway at his sides sparked flames trailed from his fingertips, hot enough to melt some of the snow nearby. Estel’s expression was calm, reserved, his mismatched eyes catching the light as he lifted his chin, the snow nearby turning into transparent crystals. Seemed like Estel decided to polish up on his ice magic this time around…

They were both walking into the story plot I already knew, but seeing it here in the flesh made my chest feel too tight. This was almost similar to the duel they had in ‘Historia’s Ever After, though, that was more or so set in summer than it was in winter. Darren had the advantage then due to Estel getting overheated so quickly, despite the barriers' indifference to temperature. But this time, Estel might have the advantage.

The professor raised his hand. “Begin.”

Darren struck first. Fire surged around his arm, then condensed into a blaze around his sword that roared to life in his hand, gleaming with molten heat. Its edge dripped sparks that hissed as it dribbled over the frozen ground. Estel answered in a calmness, summoning his own weapon. Though where Darren’s burned with fire, Estel’s sword flared with a shifting glow, flames licking along its steel as he passed it through the snow, melting it one moment, then pulling it up as the frost hardened across it the next.

They closed the distance quickly. Darren’s blade swept downward in an arc of searing heat. Estel parried, his weapon gleaming with ice, the clash bursting into a storm of steam and sparks. The barrier pulsed to contain the shock, humming faintly under the strain to contain the gusts of wind caused from the collision. Students gasped as the two collided again, their strikes fast and unrelenting.

Estel pivoted, frost racing across the ground in jagged lines to catch Darren’s boots. Darren frowned, his flames roaring higher as he shattered the ice with a single slash, the heated edge carving through the crystals. The force of his swing rattled the earth, and I had to shield my face from the sparks by instinct.

“Not bad,” Darren muttered, his grin sharp. He pressed harder, his blade whistling through the air with each strike. Estel moved with calm precision, his mismatched eyes locked onto Darren. Every parry cut sparks into the air, every step measured to avoid being overwhelmed. His sword shifted seamlessly from ice to fire, countering whatever Darren threw at him. My heart thrummed watching all the action that I could only read on pages unfold before me, as my favorite character danced around the barrier gracefully.

Then, just for a moment, Darren faltered. He lifted his sword to block a strike, and the fire coating its length flickered. For the briefest heartbeat, the flames died and something darker pulsed along the steel. A faint shadow, like smoke without fire, rippled across the blade before vanishing as quickly as it came.

My chest tightened. I almost thought I had imagined it, but the look on Estel’s face told me otherwise. His eyes flickered in shock before narrowing in suspicion. No one else seemed to notice. The students shouted in awe, their cheers carrying through the winter air as if nothing had happened. Darren recovered instantly, flames roaring back along the edge of his sword as if to mask what we had just seen, pushing Estel back as he had faltered.

The clash resumed, louder and fiercer. Darren’s flames lashed against Estel’s ice, steam curling into the air, the ground beneath them scorched and frozen in equal measure. What little snow remained inside the barrier sizzled out, scorching the grass beneath. Their swords locked again, sparks spitting from the force, fire and frost crackling where the blades met.

Estel’s jaw tightened, his mismatched gaze burning. He held his ground, even as Darren leaned in with all his weight. “What was that?” he muttered low enough for only Darren. Or at least, that's what I could make out from his lip movement. Darren’s grin did not falter. “What was what?” he answered, his expression dripping with feigned innocence as if nothing had happened.

The professor’s hand lifted, the runes glowing. “Stop you two!” His voice broke through the clash, and the circle pulsed, forcing the blades apart. Both swords dissolved into fading sparks, the air left heavy with heat and cold clashing in the aftermath. “This isn’t a playground. Fight to improve and correct one another. Not mock each other.”

Darren stepped back, sweat beading at his brow, his smirk intact as though he had won some private game, although the real match was just about to begin. Estel straightened, calm and steady, but his eyes lingered on Darren’s sword hand, his suspicion clear even if he said nothing more.

Around us, the field erupted into noise. Students argued excitedly, some cheering Darren’s name, others crying Estel’s, all oblivious to the moment that had just passed between them.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling tight at my sides. That flicker. That shadow. It was not fire, not ice, not anything I had seen described in either story. No one else saw it. But I knew. And Estel knew.

Darkness. The very thing that Black Dragon controlled, and knowing those creatures of darkness thrived on that energy. The two began to prepare themselves, this time fighting for real this time, their swords humming with mana.

I shot to my feet, my heart hammering. If Darren had traces of darkness in him, then that changed the entire story. It would be dangerous if Estel continued fighting him! “Estel-!”

But then I saw her.

Historia stood at the edge of the field, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her silver hair tucked beneath a pale hood. To anyone else she looked like an angel watching with sympathy. But I noticed the shimmer in her eyes, the faint ripple in the air around her like heat over stone. She used her power.

Estel shook his head, regaining his stance just in time to block Darren’s next attack. The duel lost its rhythm after that, each movement more sluggish than the one before. Finally the professor cut in, stopping both with a spell that kept them in place. “Enough.”

The rune circle dimmed, and both lowered their arms. Darren grinned in satisfaction, while Estel’s eyes were clouded, unsettled. When the professor dismissed them, I slipped between students until I reached Estel. “What happened?” I asked softly.

His brows pinched. “I don’t- I don’t know. For a moment it was like… I forgot where I was. Like I wasn’t fighting at all. And then it came back.”

My heart twisted. “There’s…. a reason for that,” I whispered.

Before I could say more, a scream tore through the air. Everyone whipped their heads toward the circle where the next students had started sparring. One of the male collapsed, clutching his face, blood spilling bright against the snow. He clutched his face with both hands, but many of us could still see what had happened. His face seared to the soft tissue of his face, many wincing away squeamishly, and I was no different. The professor barked orders, rushing forward, but panic rippled through the field. “Someone call a mage from the general division! We have someone in need of medical attention!”

I raised my hand, trying to maneuver my way through the crowd. “I was formerly in the general magic division professor! I can help!”

Estel helped me get through the crowd, but everyone was in such disarray and panic, like a car crash many wanted to look away from, yet stood there in sheer fear. And then Historia stepped in, rushing towards the injured student, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Please, stay with us! Oh god. Please! Someone help!” she cried, her voice carrying over the chaos as she held the student. Her hands began to glow. Golden light spilling from her palms like tendrils water. The injured boy glowed, his skin grafting itself back together in moments. The Blood vanished. The wound closed as though it had never existed.

Gasps filled the cold air. “The Saintess,” someone whispered.

“She healed him.”

“She saved him.”

Historia lowered her hands, her lips curving into the smallest smile, delicate as glass. I could see it, hints of that inhumane smile from before, sending me into shivers once again. She bowed her head as if embarrassed by the flood of praise pouring over her. Students swarmed her with admiration, their voices a chorus of awe.

But my stomach dropped into ice. She did it again. The saintess, they say. No… If things go any further… Estel…

I pushed through the crowd, catching Estel’s wrist before he could be pulled away with the others. Or pulled towards Historia for that matter. His eyes widened, startled, but I held firm, dragging him toward the edge of the field. The cheers for Historia thundered behind us, but I only cared that he heard me now, before her lies swallowed him whole.

“Estel,” I whispered urgently, my throat raw. “That moment you froze against Darren. That wasn’t your imagination. Historia did that. She used her power on you. You saw her use her powers just now… That's not the saintess powers… that reverses time.”

He blinked at me, confusion tightening his gaze. The wind cut across us, stinging my cheeks, but I kept my grip on him, desperate. He had to understand. Before I lost him again..

“And how would you know this, Rosaria? Are you the saintess then? Weren’t you so adamant in hiding the incident that happened in the forest not too long ago?”

My chest constricted. “That… was different.”

“Different how?” His tone sharpened. “I saw you cast a spell only the saintess should be able to use. Light that could wipe out an entire hoard of shadows. You said you didn’t know what it was, but now you’re talking like you understand powers even I haven’t seen. And now you accuse her, after everything she has done for you. She’s treated you like a sister since we were children, Rosaria. We were all together. And not only do you accuse her, you also abandoned her once you found new friends.”

“That was an act on her part!” I hissed, my voice breaking. “She’s not what she seems. She's not the old Historia! You must have suspected something since Darren came into the picture!”

He drew his hand back, but I refused to let go. “You’ve changed so much, Rosaria.” he said, softer now, but sharp no less. “You speak like you’re someone who knows the future. Or just delusional. Saintess or not, why would Historia even use that power on me to purposely lose anyways? You want me to turn against the one person who has been our light for years?”

My throat closed around the pain clawing up from my chest. “Because she blinds you, Estel. She makes you forget. She twists everything. And all I have ever done is be here for you. Always.”

He stared at me, his mismatched eyes searching mine, and something inside me cracked open. The fear and rampant parallels of losing someone again to someone else that only sees them as a second option tore through me.

“I have always loved you. Since we were young. Since we joined the academy. I always had you on my mind Estel… Please believe me…” The words spilled out, ragged and trembling. As if both me as Rose, and Rosaria were melding into one. Afraid to lose the one we wanted to protect so badly. “Even when you never noticed me. Even when you only looked at her. I was there. In the shadows, supporting you when you fell. Cheering for you even when you never saw me. Rosaria- I… have always loved you. Those feelings are the same now. I can’t hide it anymore.”

His lips parted, but I pressed on, every word tumbling out like my heart was breaking itself open. “You think Historia is your light, but she is only going to lead you into darkness. I know because I have seen it happen before. I can’t tell you how. Not yet…. Because if I do, something far more dangerous will come for us both. But please, Estel. Open your eyes. Look at me. Just once. Not as Rosaria, not as someone in Historia’s shadow. Look at me.”

He stood there, silent, snow swirling faintly between us. His expression flickered. For one fragile heartbeat I thought he might reach for me, might close the distance.

But then he exhaled, and the sound of it felt like the end of something. “You’re not yourself,” he said quietly. “This… whatever this is, I don’t understand it. And I can’t give you what you are asking if you can’t give me answers on why I should doubt Historia.”

His brows furrowed, letting out a breath. “Rosaria. I’m sorry. But… I can’t give you my heart. I think we all know that I only want to give my heart to Historia..”

I shook my head, tears pricking hot at the corners of my eyes. I could feel my heart practically weigh like a rock pressing against my ribcage. My body trembling as I saw yet again, someone whom I grew to love, to cherish.. Surrender themselves to an inevitable fate of ruin. “No…. No Estel! Just listen! Just believe me! Please, Estel! Please…”

His gaze shifted past me, toward the crowd where Historia’s silver hair gleamed like a beacon. “They’re waiting for me,” he murmured. “Darren, Historia. I should be with them.”

“Estel…” My voice cracked, but he stepped back.

“You cast light only a Saintess should know,” he said, more to himself than to me. “You hide things from me and then demand I turn against her. I don’t know who you are anymore, Rosaria. I don’t know what happened to you since the boat incident, But something changed.. And I thought it was for the better… But it’s clearly taking a toll on everyone.”

And then he turned.

“Estel! No! Please!”

I watched him walk away, his figure moving back across the snowy field toward Historia and Darren. Historia looked up at him as he approached, her smile soft and radiant, her hands folding delicately in front of her as if she were shy of all the praise still pouring over her. She touched his sleeve gently, guiding him closer, and he let her.

The sight tore something inside me clean in two, if his rejection hadn’t already.

My breath left me in a soundless sob. My hands pressed to my mouth, tears spilling hot against the cold. Around me the cheers for Historia rose higher, but they were distant, like echoes from another world… They were from another world. A world I didn’t belong to. A world where, even with Amanda and Sylvia were here with me, it meant nothing if fate was inevitable.. All I could see was Estel’s back as he walked away. And soon… I might only see a husk of him, before he meets his demise. Just like Edward. Just like every other version of Estel there had ever been.

I had confessed. I had given him everything. And he still left. There would be no happy end for either of us. Just like in ‘His Amour’, Estel would die. And like Rosaria, I would only await his passing, sobbing for the man who never deserved such misery to begin with. I, had failed.

“Rose!” Amanda’s voice cut through the haze. She and Sylvia were running toward me, their cloaks snapping behind them. Amanda caught me first, pulling me into her arms without hesitation.

Sylvia knelt beside us, her hand firm on my shoulder, her silver-blue eyes fierce with worry. “What happened? What did he say?”

I tried to speak, but the words came out broken, swallowed by tears. “He… he left. He chose her. Again. No matter what I do, he always goes back to her. There's no breaking the cycle.”

Amanda’s arms tightened around me, her freckles stark against her pale, stricken face. “That bastard. He doesn’t see what is right in front of him… Sorry Rose… I know he’s your favorite character and all because of ….”

I shook my head, sensing her hesitation. I knew they never finished that sentence. But I felt too broken to even care anymore. “Say it…”

Sylvia’s expression softened, her voice low but steady. “He’s your favorite…. Because he resembles Edward. His relationship with Historia, reminds you of Edward. And I know you got attached to him as a coping mechanism..”

She wasn’t lying. Since I read ‘Historia’s Ever After’, that's all I've seen Estel as… at least at first. The more I got to know about him through the book, through concept art and posts on social media from Amor, I grew attached to him as a fictional character… More than I wanted to admit. To love, and to be loved. A connection and adoration that made me cry countless times every time I managed to get merchandise of him, only to remember my love for Estel was one sided, and would cry myself to sleep.

Sometimes it was at the point of being unbearable. And I would read ‘Historia’s Ever After’ just to be with him a little bit longer.

“Rose… listen to me. Estel may not understand now, but you told him the truth. That’s what matters. You’re not hiding anymore. And we won’t let Historia win. Not this time.” Amanda said.

Their voices wrapped around me like a fragile shield, but the hollow ache in my chest remained. I clung to Amanda, my tears soaking her coat, Sylvia’s hand steady against my back.

For the first time since I woke up in this world, I felt truly, utterly heartbroken. Because no matter how much I tried to change the story, the boy I loved still walked away with the girl who would only lead him to ruin. And I don’t know how much longer I could bear it.

…

…

…

Especially since behind Amanda’s hug, and Sylvia's warm hand soothing my back, I could see it again, my hand turning transparent, phasing through Amanda’s coat…