Chapter Fifteen

I went mad. Reason slipped through my fingers like sand. The orphanage, the city – they faded into insignificance. My legs gave way, folding beneath me as I crumbled against the city's weathered wall, allowing my anguish to spill forth unchecked.

Abandoned. Numb. My sister Irina, the makeshift family I clung to, all of them were somewhere out there, confronting perils unknown. And here I remained, stranded and forsaken. Dawnlight, my supposed protectors, had cast me adrift in an alien world, surrounded by three armored women whose disdain radiated like a poisonous miasma.

The silken memory of Irina's clothing danced away on the wind, a fleeting wisp I didn't bother to chase. Every trace of those I held dear had vanished, swept away by the cosmic currents. Stranded, I felt crushed beneath the weight of an insurmountable emptiness, my cries echoing for those lost in the expanse of the stars.

It's impossible to say how long it took for me to remember how to draw breath. The sand beneath me soaked up my tears, transforming into a muddy quagmire. My sobs carried no sound, no violence – they were a void, as if the warrior had extracted every ounce of me and cast it into the abyss.

Agony seared through me. My chest caved in, my throat raw from the inside out. The pain coiled into knots, a labyrinthine agony that wound its way down my spine. I wept like a forsaken child, adrift in a sea of abandonment as if we had been more than mere acquaintances.

Losing him was a hurt I had never known. And I wept, not for what we were, but for the intensity of heartbreak, I was too young to truly grasp.

"You were right," I murmured to the wind, my voice fragile as glass. "I'm too young for this."

I have no right to be angry. Still, I wept as though a marriage had been sundered, as though we had shared years rather than stolen moments. He had become an escape, a chance to free myself from Irina's shadow, to forge a future in my own image. He symbolized a choice I had never been afforded, a life carved by my own hand.

Restlessness seized me. I wanted to storm back to the camp of golden-armored women, to scream in their faces, steal their ship, and hunt down the elusive Kaimari warrior. Another part of me yearned to contact Dawnlight, to demand they rescue me immediately. But the core of me, the most authentic part, wanted to stay put. Here, in this mixture of mud and heartache, until the moment he landed again, and I could finally go home.

All of me is heartbroken. Every atom and inch in between. His words were a curse. Beloved, beloved angel. Who abandons their angel? Their guiding light? It hurts. And I am pretty sure I’ve turned invisible, that everything in the whole galaxy had united to tear me to shreds.

My heart burns. I want to throw a fit. The urge to throw a tantrum surged within me, to bury myself in the sand and refuse to emerge without him. But where could I go? What action could summon him back? I was only a girl, a vessel of skin and fleeting time. I am only my skin and time, I cannot ever be him. I cannot make him here.

Coming to this realization was shattering. A lifetime of logic and reason seemed futile. I felt like a child once more, realizing that despite all my wishes, my parents would never return. My tears blended with the dirt, and I suddenly laughed at the cruel irony of it all. He was twenty-eight, nearly old enough to be my father. I wasn't naive, I understood the chasm between us. It could never have been. It could never be.

After what felt like an eternity, I stood with the dawn. "We're not babysitters," the golden-armored women had declared, but as morning broke, I wished they were. I wanted nothing more than my sister's presence. Aelia, Saija, Amaya, for fucks sake, even Irina in this moment. We had been raised to live and breathe as one, and I wanted nothing more than for one of my chosen sisters to come and braid my hair.

I half drag my body towards the orphanage. His orphanage, where he stayed. I wanted to kill him for it. For this final act of strange kindness.

"Thank you for abandoning me where you were once abandoned," I muttered to the empty air. "Real kind of you."

I should have wept to him I was raised in an orphanage. I should have told him the truth, that I wasn’t the princess, that I was nothing, raised on some dirt planet much crappier than this, and taken in by the wealth he resented of Astraues into some fancy orphanage. Plucked and bred to be a war dog, a killing machine. Maybe if I had told him the truth he would have stayed.

As I approached the orphanage, I was a wreck – dirtied clothes, a tear-streaked face. The woman who met my gaze wore pale yellow robes, an air of concern etched on her youthful features. "My dear," she said, her voice carrying a note of alarm, "are you alright?"

A crack ran through my veneer. "N-no," I stammered, my voice small and fragile, like that of a child. "I-I need a place to stay."
—-----
The thing about heartbreak is that it passes. The anxiety, the panic attacks—they sweep over you unexpectedly, a deluge that threatens to drown you. In the midst of it, the world feels like it is fracturing, and I swear, it felt like I was dying. I beseeched the gods for relief, but time and breath were the only remedies. Time without the warrior.

The orphanage, despite my initial apprehension, was the sanctuary I needed. A reprieve from the royal court, a respite from him. However, the anxiety and hollowness that accompanied me were unlike any I had ever endured. Eating became a struggle, and I feared I was withering away. It was a twisted game with myself—would I choke or vomit today?

Then came the hours of self-loathing, self-doubt. What was wrong with me? Was this brokenness the cause of his departure? Was I too feeble, too insufficient? And the thoughts that weren't about him—why couldn't I gather myself? Why couldn't I be strong?

The children were what kept me going. They were extraordinary, these little beings from across the galaxy. The funniest, smartest, purest creatures I had ever met. They were diverse, but most of them had strange pointed ears, like the people of their homeland. On the second day, I made the mistake of mentioning that I had worked in a castle.

"A castle?!" They practically shouted. "You were a handmaiden to a queen?"

I had kept details sparse, assuring them I had only worked in the kitchens, describing a planet disconnected from Irina. But still, you should have seen their faces. “You mean you lived in a castle?!”

The young woman from the first day was Sereia. She was beautiful and devoted to the church. She was beautiful and devout, revealing over stolen sips of wine that she had grown up in a brothel on Yeonho-3, an Empire planet. The landscape there was dominated by towering buildings and endless high rises. It made me appreciate my upbringing in Astreaus, with its oceans and forests, and no need for artificial oxygen. It made me feel guilty.

Sereia checked on me often, despite being one of the older kids. She inquired about my family, my health, my origins, and whether my nightmares had abated. I always maintained a facade of detachment, I hated lying to her. I held her at arm's length, at least initially.

“You’re very strong,” she would always say, softly, and I’d smile against her complement. I embraced every task, every odd job, allowing my strength to flow forth. Memories of my training on Astreaus resurfaced, my instructor's insistence that my fortitude exceeded my estimation. Yet, I had resented it then, resentful of being manipulated into a weapon of war.

Here, however, I let my strength guide me. I took my work into the town, my arms growing accustomed to the effort. I joined older orphans in repairing roofs, hammering away tirelessly to escape my thoughts. Over time, the faces of the town's inhabitants began to blur, and the town itself became familiar. The town's affection for the orphans was palpable, a close-knit community of less than two thousand people. Even Irina's high school, whether I attended as her or by her side, had more students than that.

Days melded into weeks. The women in golden armor visited me, once, then twice. Their presence drew attention, but I hardly spared them a glance from my rooftop perch. I swung my hammer, maintained my distance, anything to divert my mind from him.

What feels like weeks later, I walked into town, the sun high overhead. Sereia had insisted on a day off, concerned that I was pushing myself too hard. But the fear lingered, the fear that if I stood still for even a moment, the tidal wave of heartbreak would engulf me once more. So, I paced the familiar paths, passing humans and aliens alike, seeking the bustling market in the city's heart. Maybe I could trade some labor for a fresh piece of fruit.

But there he was—the warrior. My heart seized, hope and despair clashing within me. But as he turned, the truth hit me like a blow. It was one of the three gold-armored warriors, not him. I all but sank to the ground and broke. I just wanted it to be over.