Ashtoria lowered her gaze for a moment, studying the twisted lump of metal that had once been a spoon. The lamplight of the tavern flickered across its bent surface, making it look like the shadow of something that had once been whole but was now destroyed.

“If my will is not enough to shatter something, then I will break it with my own hands. And if that is still not enough, I will create something capable of destroying it.”

Her hand clenched tightly, as though pressing down on something invisible until it sank to the very bottom. Her voice remained flat, yet beneath it burned a fire that seeped into the air around them, like flames crawling slowly under her skin.

“And everything I want destroyed will be destroyed.”

She raised her head slowly. Her eyes were sharp, blades that seemed to cut directly into the one sitting across from her.

“Even if I must do it again and again to ensure it all collapses completely.”

Silence crept back over the table, wrapping them like a thin veil of fog. The noise of the tavern patrons faded into the distance, sounding as though it came from another world.

“I was born to destroy,” she whispered, her voice almost like a sacred confession. “And nothing can stop me.”

Riven did not know what to say. His whole body felt tense. Not entirely out of fear, but with the strange sensation of standing at the edge of a cliff and staring down into an unknown depth. Every word she spoke opened a crack into a darkness he had never seen before.

Before him sat the woman he had once saved when she was on the brink of death. That same woman now confessed to being destruction itself. And somehow, deep inside, Riven did not dare to dismiss her words as mere bluster.

Ashtoria’s gaze locked on him, cold and unwavering. She saw how he stiffened at her words, how his eyes shifted away for a moment, how his posture tightened. It was brief, but enough to make her wonder. Was he afraid of her now?

Her right hand, still clutching the twisted scrap of the spoon, pressed harder as if she wished she could crush it into nothing.

But the voices in the tavern did not stop. Whispered poison slid into her ears, words about her, about the “Mad Queen,” about the monster thirsty for blood. Every syllable spoken by strangers weighed heavier on her mood.

She opened her mouth to speak again, when suddenly Riven lifted his head.

Their eyes met, and for an instant, time halted.

Ashtoria froze. She searched his gaze for fear, for the proof that he would soon recoil from her as everyone else had. But what she found was not fear. What she saw instead was genuine confusion, and behind it, a faint spark of curiosity. Like someone trying to solve a riddle, not to condemn, but to understand.

Her heart gave an unsteady beat before she realized it.

“Explain it to me,” Riven said softly, his voice steady but weighted. “What do you mean? Why do you think that way?”

His tone was deep and earnest, without even a trace of mockery. For all the darkness in Ashtoria’s words, Riven sensed something else within them, something that strangely felt like an answer he had been seeking.

Ashtoria held his gaze in silence. For the first time that day, she felt uncertainty within herself. But she finally replied, her voice heavier, deeper.

“What I mean is this. If you believe you can cut through anything, then you must truly believe it with your whole heart. Even if that conviction carries you to death,” she said slowly.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes sharp, piercing.

“Not only believe. You must become the cut itself. Become the will that cannot be denied. It does not matter who stands in front of you. It does not matter what you must sever. You must do it as though it is the very purpose of your existence. But if that belief does not come from the deepest part of your soul, if you only carry it halfheartedly, then you will stop at a limit. If your affinity truly is connected to cutting, perhaps you will cut stone, or metal, but no more than that. You will never reach the point where you can sever all things as you claim.”

Her words carried a cold calmness, yet each syllable struck with the weight of a hammer driving nails.

Riven said nothing. He absorbed every word, letting them echo in his head. For a moment, the world around them disappeared, leaving only the reverberation of Ashtoria’s voice looping within him.

Melly, who had been quiet between them, lifted her face after finishing the last bite of meat on her plate. She glanced at Riven’s untouched food, then at Ashtoria, who had barely moved hers.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, Riven and Ashtoria almost simultaneously held out pieces of their meat toward her. The gesture was spontaneous, wordless, as though they had already guessed what she wanted.

Melly blinked, then laughed softly.

“Why are you both so serious?” she teased, quickly snatching the meat from both sides. “Thanks! This is really good!”

Riven and Ashtoria exchanged a glance, realizing what they had just done. For the first time since sitting at the table, both of them wore faint, fleeting smiles. Small, but enough to warm the tension that had weighed so heavily between them.

.

.

When the meal was done, the three of them left the tavern without saying much. Riven, Ashtoria, and Melly walked side by side along the city streets now bathed in golden light. The sun sank behind rooftops, painting the sky with streaks of red and orange, as if the heavens themselves were a canvas softly burning.

Melly skipped ahead, pointing out little things in the shop windows, or commenting on birds flying low toward their nests. Riven and Ashtoria followed at a calm pace, letting the girl enjoy what felt like the last peaceful evening before something unknown drew near.

There was no need for words.

They all knew. Parting was close.

The narrow streets leading toward the city square were filled with life. Merchants opened stalls, children laughed and played, footsteps echoed on the stone-paved roads. Time seemed to slow, as though the world itself granted them space to savor this fleeting moment, a silence strangely both peaceful and heavy.

When they reached the city square, their steps stopped naturally. In the center of the circular plaza, bathed in the fading light, stood the statue of an old hero. The stone figure raised a sword toward the sky, as if splitting the last rays of the sun.

The evening wind drifted by, carrying with it the damp scent of the river that flowed not far from the city.

Melly stood at Riven’s right, Ashtoria at his left. All three remained still, watching the sky, as though waiting for something unseen.

Riven finally broke the silence. His voice was low, nearly lost in the whisper of the breeze. “So… this is it, then?”

Ashtoria did not answer right away. Her eyes remained fixed on the sky before slowly falling to the statue in the square. She seemed to ponder for a long while before giving the faintest nod.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Riven nodded. The questions crowding his mind no longer seemed important. He already knew their time was almost gone.

Dusk deepened. The air grew colder, and the statue’s shadow stretched long toward them. Ashtoria drew in a slow breath. A rare uncertainty flickered in her eyes as she turned slightly, studying Riven’s profile. Finally she asked, her voice soft yet burdened.

“What do you think… what kind of person is Queen Ashtoria Iskandrite?”

The question fell like a stone into a still lake, rippling outward in silence. Riven turned to her slowly, surprised. He did not answer at once, as if searching for words to fit such a question.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep