2

The sun sets over the land, casting glittering shimmers of ivory and crown gold that ripple across the water by the docks. Sol and Celestina stare out at the lake risen by the King's manor—today was their last day of treatment, at least, the last day Sol was set to work here.

Tomorrow, Sol will begin getting his plans in order, for the journey home. But first —a playful smirk takes the apothecary's lips— it is time for a swim, and to linger in the enjoyment of their first afternoon off in a long while.

Celestina stretches her arms to a sky cut in banners of peach clouds. She yawns. "What a start to the year that was, huh?"

Her legs dangle off the pier. "But!"

she huffs, and eventually her fingers find the old wood again; it is still damp from when a noblewoman's son went fishing earlier today. "It would seem as though His Majesty is out of the woods for good, now!"

Celestina beams as she holds out her hand for Sol to shake. "Thank you again, Sol. You truly didn't have to stay behind for so long."

Sol merely shrugs. It is true that, in some ways, he lingered for more days than planned, however… "It would have felt wrong to leave."

Not to mention , Sol thinks, that would have meant leaving Yohan behind.

"Come now!"

Celestina gives Sol a playful pat on the back. "No need to be that modest! You could have gone home months ago! And yet…"

Celestina's smile reaches her eyes as she faces Sol with earnest gratitude bubbling in her gaze. "You helped us a lot. Thank you."

Sol can't bring himself to tell her he merely wanted for Yohan's final mission to be over sooner, so that he would be freed at a faster rate. Aside from fearing His Majesty's wrath, Sol cares quite little for the King, knowing very well that most i f not all of Yohan's scars were molded by that dreadful man.

He hates how easy it is to forget, sometimes, now that he is here surrounded by such peaceful sights. But taking the freedom of choice away from Yohan is something Sol will never forgive, not in his lifetime.

"Sol?"

"Oh. Right."

Sol clears his throat. "Right."

He hooks a hand around the back of his neck. "I helped, yes…"

he echoes; Sol's voice trails off as he lowers it, but another thought comes to mind. "If I'm being honest, Celestina…" Sol bites into his lower lip. "I'm not that selfless." He is weighing his words carefully, however, part of him has a feeling he can trust her.

"Of course,"

Celestina giggles. She brings a sole finger to the underside of her chin, then tilts her head. "Yohan, was it?"

"H-How—"

Sol stops himself, he raises a hand in the air yet freezes mere seconds later. Was he that obvious?

Before he can find his words, Celestina speaks up again. "How did I know, you wonder?"

She sounds rather cheerful, and lacking any judgment about the situation, Sol's heart feels lighter for that. "I see the way you look at each other, Sol, only a fool wouldn't notice."

Now, it is Sol that finds himself laughing. "Are you implying this manor is full of fools?"

he mutters, "because you are the only one who has noticed so far, I'll have you know."

"Maybe,"

she hums with a shrug. "But he's smitten with you, as you are with him. Whenever you are gone, I catch him looking for you, sometimes, by his side—if discretion was your goal, then you've both failed remarkably."

Sol has scarcely heard Celestina being so talkative before, he wonders if this is good or bad news as she laughs again. "If no one has brought it up to you before, then, they are either too busy to notice. Or, too polite to even mention it. After all—"

Celestina rolls her eyes, and there is a sudden, unexplainable annoyance that fills her gaze now. "It wouldn't be the first time one of the King's Riders got entangled with an apothecary."

Sol blinks, above head the clouds chase each other in a strange, hypnotic dance. "Celestina,"

he starts. "It… sounded as though you had someone in mind when saying that."

Sol's voice is soft, tentative, he isn't quite sure if it is all right to speak of this. But since they are on the subject, he cannot hold his curiosity from getting the betters of him.

Whatever happened to that Rider and their apothecary? he wonders. Do they still live to this day?

Or are they long gone, like most Riders are?

Celestina merely scoffs again as she turns away from him, one elbow rested against her knees, her chin flat atop her fist. Her dark skirt is splayed out atop her thighs like an odd giant medusa washed up on the shore. "I was thinking about myself."

Celestina sighs. Her shoulders rise then fall. "But my Rider died long ago, if you must know—he was nowhere close to retirement, not like Yohan. He was a fool."

"I'm sure he loved you."

She glances at Sol from over her shoulder, there is a bittersweet pain in her gaze. Still, she laughs. "I'm sure he loved the idea of me."

Behind them, the sun's touch filters in through the trees, spearing rays of goldlight through the fresh little green leaves.

"There is plenty of you to love without ideas, Celestina,"

Sol blurts the words without truly thinking them through—but now he has said it, and it is too late.

She raises a brow at him. "That almost sounded like a confession."

Sol groans then covers his face, as he lays down against the dock, Celestina joins him. And Sol huffs. "I merely…feel strangely at ease with you. It's hard to explain. But I think…"

Sol's lips remain slightly parted as he looks her way, he smiles. "I think, after spending so long with you through spring and summer, that you are better than the idea I initially had of you. S-So, what I'm trying to say is—"

Sol averts his gaze. "I'm sure anyone would have thought that, too."

"Thanks."

Celestina sounds almost disinterested as she stares down to her nails, trimmed perfectly, despite her constant labor. "But, unfortunately, he wasn't anyone —he was an idiot."

Celestina turns away from Sol again, and Sol wonders what sort of face she is making as her shoulders tense; Celestina hugs her knees closer to her chest. "And I loved him for it, even when…it was what ultimately led to his demise."

The wind rises. Three birds chase after each other as they soar past them, then fly across the lake, towards the city. "You're lucky,"

Celestina tells Sol; she cannot even bring herself to smile anymore, it seems. "Lucky, that he is retiring soon."

If only I had waited, too, the words Celestina likely wants to say hang between them like the souls of the Old King's Cursed Riders, all gone too soon. "I'm sorry."

It feels like a pitiful thing to say, yet Sol can find no other words. "Really, I am."

Celestina tilts her head until it is resting in the crook of her elbows, atop her knees, her hair dangles down her pale legs and catches the light. "Enough about me, Sol."

She blinks, wide-eyed, her face a sudden ghastly pale shade. "Tell me about you."

Sol's laughter is awkward. "You know me."

It feels like she is peering into his mind. Into his heart.

There is a presence about her now, that he could not feel before. But it is almost overwhelming now.

"I don't know what keeps you up at night,"

Celestina finally mutters.

"That's—"

Sol takes a deep breath, in, then out. "That is true, I suppose."

Now, it is his turn to kick at the water beneath their feet. He holds his breath.

And it is Celestina who exhales first, for Sol cannot find the courage to—because now it feels like time is starting again. Like they will have a conversation that may change him, for worse or for better.

Celestina allows herself to fall back—until she, too, is laying atop the dock. Across from Sol.

She looks to him, dead in the eye once more. "So?"

Her lips seem too slow as she speaks. "Tell me."

Sol purses his lips together, he tenses. He knows he could get up, in theory. He could walk away right now. But something is pulling him towards this conversation, as if it is destiny, a call he must answer. "The past,"

he croaks as if the words are painful, just from the sole act of having them climb up his throat. "A lot has happened. A lot is happening. Sometimes I worry it is too much."

Too much for me.

His mind is racing. His mind is racing. His mind is—

"Why would it be?"

Sol blinks. "I don't—"

Know? He catches himself before the word leaves him, because he knows, actually. Sol knows very well, and that is exactly what the problem is. He lightly pinches at Celestina's sleeve then tries to reach for her Gift with his, but on the contrary to Yohan's, hers does not reply to him. In fact, Sol finds himself letting go as if he'd been burned. There is something dark, a presence so terrifyingly malicious, that even briefly touching it was unbearable to him. And yet, oddly, it also felt like it was protecting her.

Sol's eyes widen. Celestina stares at him like nothing is amiss. "Yes?"

she asks, in a tone so docile, so innocent, that he is starting to doubt what he'd felt.

"I…"

Sol bites his lips, before parting them again. "I don't know if you want to hear this."

"Why not?"

Sol buries his face in his palms that brings to his face. He shuts his eyes. "It's not a pleasant story,"

the words come tumbling out of him despite himself. He knows it may not be wise, but he has repressed the truth in his heart for so long, the mere opportunity of being freed from this terrible, haunting secret is enough for Sol to start talking.

Besides… perhaps, he is truly seeing things: he had never sensed anything off about her before.

Celestina shifts against the damp wood. Her breaths are heavy as she briefly looks to the sky, then to the water across the lakeside. "Too unpleasant to tell?"

she asks Sol.

And he considers her words for a moment. Is it? Would it be? He has never, truly said the words aloud. But he wonders, if he keeps holding them inside his heart, if they will ever truly leave him one day.

And so, even if it is painful, Sol parts his lips. "W-When I left to become a mage, there was someone I trusted—a professor—I trusted him so much."

Celestina stays silent, yet Sol hears her hold her breaths.

Sol's eyes blur with tears. "I-I trusted him too much. "

Sol's throat tightens. "Sometimes… I wonder if it's my fault, if I shouldn't have—"

Sol freezes. As he speaks, it is like — 's hands are on him again. "If only I had been more careful, then…"

His lower lip trembles, the tears he'd been holding back fall. Sol chokes on the feeling of weakness that he hates so—of being there again, a young, trusting mage. "Maybe then, he wouldn't have forced himself onto me." Sol takes a deep, shaken breath. "I—" He does not know why, but now that he started to say it aloud, he cannot stop. It is all spilling out of him—all of these words he had kept inside—like a barely stitched wound gashing red. "We would always spent time together after lectures—he was brilliant, he would teach me things about my Gift, how to use it…I wanted nothing more than to follow in his footsteps. Until…" Sol's voice waivers, his fingers tremble against the dock. "Then, he—" He cannot say it.

There is silence. The sun sets above them; the sky is red. He does not know if Celestina will understand, perhaps, she will find it silly, but he feels the need to say it anyway, "I couldn't go back."

Sol's words are buried under his nervous breaths. "I couldn't face him again. I couldn't face anyone, because if this is what it took to become exalted as a mage, I didn't think I could do it: so I ran. And sometimes…"

Sol lowers his voice to a meek whisper. His throat tightens. "I feel like I am still running, even when it was years ago."

It is the first time he has truly said it aloud. As much as it hurts and makes the past feel all so terribly real, even more so now —in other ways, wielding the truth has set him free. Those dreaded memories he'd been holding in for so long, the poison that had been burning him hollow, perhaps there is a future in which they will not have as much power to hurt as they once did over Sol.

"Can I hug you?"

"Oh—um."

Sol averts his gaze as he sniffles. "Sure?"

On most days, he would have protested the hug, but right now, he appreciates the gesture—it feels as though his mind is drifting, like he could sink into the cold wet wood beneath them and drown without an anchor.

Celestina wraps her arm around his shoulders as she hugs him from the side; she smells of the ointments they made together today, a gentle reminder for Sol that time is still going. It has not stopped. He is still here. He is not in the past. He is not—

"You didn't run away."

Celestina's voice rips him out of his thoughts.

And Sol sighs, his brows arch upward with sorrow. "Didn't I?"

His voice cracks, it is shaking now, but he cannot help it. "It certainly feels like I did."

Celestina gives Sol's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "You protected yourself in the ways you knew best, at the time, and there is nothing wrong with that."

She pauses, for a brief moment, and Sol listens to the birdsong—the peace that surrounds them. "Say,"

Celestina starts again. "Does Yohan—"

"Know?"

Sol shakes his head against her, and Celestina's shirt soaks in his tears. "He knows, but not everything."

They are close, and there is that stench about her again that strikes him for a few finite seconds, that strange, dark thing that feels close to Yohan's scent yet different. But it fades again, quickly gone in seconds. And Sol's heart is too busy pouring the truth out into the air, for Sol to pay it heed. "I've never told Yohan with words. Not properly, at least, but h-he—"

Sol heaves in another breath. "Yohan understands."

Celestina pauses for what may as well be a lifetime. "Am I the only one, then?"

"That I've told?"

Sol forces out a laugh. His shoulders slump over. "Does it matter?"

"Not exactly…"

She sighs, and her breaths fall against Sol's shoulder. "Well, it changes things, a little."

Sol scoffs again, bitter venom envelops his tone. "As if I'd want to tell my peers that one of their most renowned mages did… that, to me. Have I not been humiliated enough? Would they even believe me?"

he croaks; even if he were to go back in time and tell them, it wouldn't have made a difference. Sol doubts his past self would have wanted anything to do with the grounds on which his trust was gutted and spilled. He would never have stayed. And nobody could have stopped him.

All he wanted, was to forget.

"At first,"

Sol whispers, "I wondered if I was overreacting…"

The emptiness Sol had once felt pierce his heart returns, just like on that very day: he had hated himself for feeling despair instead of fury, for still holding onto the memories he'd made with that man, for hoping he had misunderstood. That was long ago, though. Now, that feeling soon boils into fire, rage. "I felt so powerless."

Sol's lip jerks downward. "I felt so wronged. "

His eyes sting with tears again as his voice trembles. "It was all so—" Violent.

Emasculating.

I felt so small.

"How could he do that to me? I—"

Sol sniffles as he stares down to his knees, to his tears staining the fabric of his robes in deep circles. "I n-never understood—"

Celestina's grip tightens around his shoulders before she pulls away from him then meets Sol's gaze. "He should be the one made to feel humiliated for doing that to his own student."

It is only now that Sol notices, she has been crying, too. " Fuck , that bastard!"

This must be the first time he's ever heard her swear, though, he can only agree with the sentiment.

"Yeah. That bastard!"

Sol doesn't know why he is suddenly laughing now, yet he wraps his arms around Celestina's shoulders and hugs her again. Tightly. Sol surprises himself when he feels okay. The sky has paled. His soul is lighter in ways he cannot explain. "I'm grateful to you, Celestina—truly, I am. Thank you, I-I…"

His voice trails off.

And Celestina gives him a soft, pat on the back before they let go of one another anew. Celestina reaches out to hold his hand in an effortless manner—it feels as if the wind could snap their point of contact in an instant, if it were to sway a tad too much. "Sol?"

It only takes Celestina another peek into his eyes before she asks him, "Why does it look as though more troubles you?"

Sol is relieved to hear her voice again, he didn't want to continue drowning in this silence. He wonders if all those years of working with so many different people have made Celestina just this good at reading others—or, if her talent for it has led her to the path she walks now. "After what you just shared with me, about your past I… was worried it would be—"

Sol peers upward, and a black, fleeting fog swirls within Celestina's eyes. He blinks. The vision is gone. "Insensitive to mention?"

What is going on today? Sol wonders as his mind finally buzzes alight with questions, because this does not feel like a mere coincidence or trick of the light anymore.

Could it be a curse of some sort?

But, as familiar as this feels to Yohan's curse, she is not a Rider.

"Nonsense, I am asking, after all!"

Celestina gives him a curt pat on the shoulder then looks him in the eye, with an earnest grin across her lips. Nothing about her is awry. She is as she always has been.

Odd, Sol thinks, he makes a mental note to keep watch of anything else—if this carries on, he may need to tell her, or Yohan. Perhaps, something is wrong with his Gift. Perhaps, this is something else entirely.

"I like hearing about people's problems!"

Celestina presses her hands together then shuts her eyes with a shrug. "They make mine feel less important, you see—it's nice, to have something to concentrate on other than that noise in my head."

She peers into his gaze again, there are no shadows to be found, and yet it feels as though she is looking right through him. "People are fascinating ."

Sol stares at her, deadpan, before he looks away. "Ah…"

He initially assumed she was doing this out of sheer good-will. "I see."

Not that it changes much, at this point, but… he does wonder if this is what Celestina had in mind when she'd mentioned the supposed-idea that others have of her. Though, he does not like her any less for it. She is a great healer and a scholar with a keen eye; he's never met anyone quite like her—and every genius he'd crossed in his lifetime often thought in wayward ways…

What harm would it do to share more? "I'm often tense around him,"

Sol eventually tells her, though, he is a tad more interested in her mystery than the subject at hand now. He can't help but feel as if he is missing something, a detail, that would give sense to everything he has seen and heard today. "I feel guilty. Yohan's done nothing wrong— nothing to remind me of those things I do not want to think about. Yet… my mind always wanders back to that dreaded time…"

Celestina raises a brow at him. " Always? I find that hard to believe."

"I…"

Sol sighs. "Fine, not always."

He pushes up against his palms and sits once more. "But it happens enough for me to notice."

Sol stares down at Celestina, who is still laying across the dock, her arms crossed over the velvet fabric that sits atop her stomach. "And enough for Yohan to notice, too… He is so patient with me, Celestina, I worry I may hurt him, if things remain this way."

Celestina reaches for the amber, darkened sky and huffs. "It's normal to have scars, Sol."

She tilts her head until their eyes meet, hers carries a silver sheen now, and Sol is too transfixed to even say a word. "Tell him how you feel—open your heart to your lover, and he will open his to you."

She grins. "Maybe you will find that you are not so different, after all."

"Thanks, Celestina,"

he smiles back. "I…"

The silver in Celestina's pupils shifts to ivory, and then pure oblivion once more. Sol blinks. "I will…"

he mutters as he tries his best to remain calm, but the presence is not leaving this time.

It is real.

All of it.

Sol's heart thumps loud in his ribcage. His mind latches onto every piece of magic, every curse and legend he has ever studied—yet, nothing comes to mind. And as similar as this presence feels to Yohan's predicament, her malediction is of a different kind. It does not carry the reek that the Riders carry. It does not fill her with the fear that he senses from Yohan on the daily.

"Celestina,"

Sol speaks her name slowly, before he parts his lips again. "There's something I'd like to—"

The sudden noise of grass crunching beneath hooves fills the air amid the gardens and devours Sol's question. When Sol turns to meet the sound, a tall stallion plunges him and Celestina in the darkness of its shadow—riding the steed, is no other than Yohan.

Yohan is not riding one of the Old King's cursed horses, he notes, but one he remembers from the residence's stables. The horse seems to have taken a liking to Yohan, this is not the first time Sol has seen them together across the manor's fields. Sol's gaze briefly flashes to where Celestina lays: she has returned to her old self—whatever is haunting her, does not seem intent on harming—in fact, Sol worries now that bringing notice to it could do more harm than healing. Certain curses and spirits only kill once their host is made aware of their existence… maybe, it would be best to leave this be.

At least, for now.

"Sol! Celestina!"

Yohan calls out as he waves to them.

Sol glances up at his beloved anew—he is handsome, as always. Though, the lines beneath his eyes are stronger than usual; Yohan has been in the midst of his preparations for his retirement, lately, and it seems today was a long day.

It is quite possible this afternoon marks the beginning of their journey back to Featherlaine.

Despite the stallion being of an impressive stature, Yohan dismounts him with ease. He ties the horse to a nearby apple tree, and as Sol strides up to him, Celestina trails him not too far behind.

The forest that surrounds the meadow around them is peaceful, as are the winds carrying fallen petals and strange little insects across its gentle breeze—if Sol concentrates hard enough, he can hear the sloshing of water near his feet, yet right now he is transfixed by the knight who has taken his hand between his, and holds it like it is a precious piece of himself. When Yohan spots Celestina in the corner of his eye, he tenses and starts to pull away.

But Sol smiles. "It's okay,"

he tells his beloved, as if to give Yohan permission to stop pretending they do not go to bed together every night, and fill each other's cup every day at breakfast on dawn's cusp. "Celestina knows."

It is all Sol needs to say before he is running, into the knight's arms for a brief few seconds. He finds respite in their embrace.

The afternoon's weight, too, dawns on Sol—though he was laying on the pier during the majority of it, his talk with Celestina took so much out of him, Sol feels like he could sleep for eons.

When he and Yohan pull away, the grass beneath their feet is all ivory and orange reflections from the dying sun. "I will be right with you in a minute,"

Yohan whispers, before he presses a kiss to Sol's forehead then excuses himself to lead his stallion towards an apple tree, where he ties him there beneath the shade for the time being.

As Sol watches him, dazed by his charms, Celestina whistles. " Gods, he really cares about you."

Sol's lip twitches, as do his fingers by his sides, whilst he continues to observe Yohan from afar and tries to keep his composure. "W-Why do you say that?"

"He is so soft with you, and tender… it is rare to see someone love like him."

Celestina pats Sol on the shoulder with an envious sigh. "I think you've nothing to worry about, Sol. Truly."

Celestina's words sit in the air between them for a few seconds.

Sol parts his lips as he ponders on their meaning. Nothing to worry about —Sol tugs at the fabric of his robe as he looks downward to his feet, his heart a nervous wreck, his face warms and flushes with a crimson pink shade— is that right?

Yohan returns to them not long after with his brows furrowed in confusion. "Hold on,"

he mutters, "now that I'm getting a good look at you, why is your hair wet?"

he asks the two, while his attention shifts between Celestina and Sol, who had still been laying on the dock mere minutes ago.

But Celestina merely waves his words away. "Long story."

She winks at Sol. "Maybe Sol will tell you later if he wants to—but right now,"

she cheers, "you've promised me a swim!"

"Ah."

Yohan leans down to kiss Sol's cheek. He chuckles. "In that case, I'll keep my curiosity at bay, my love."

"L-Let's just go already."

Sol didn't think his face could burn any hotter, however the universe proves him wrong when Yohan wraps an arm around his waist, his palm is so big and perfect wound around his hip. Sol's ears warm.

The three of them walk towards the lakeside, leaving footsteps on the pier over dark smudges of human-like shapes, Celestina and Sol left whilst they had laid across the elder wood. Celestina tiptoes towards the edge that creaks under her feet, then, she yanks off her dress over her shoulders.

Sol has barely had a moment to blink before she has also taken her undergarments off, too, and doven into the lake. "Are you coming?"

Celestina calls out to them with a wave as she kicks her feet beneath the water; Sol remembers the conversation they'd had right before the spring ended, how Celestina had admitted to coming here for swims whenever life became too much to bear and she needed a moment to stop thinking—to be one with the water and the lands surrounding them.

It seems she was not lying when she'd promised to show him, to introduce Sol to the lakeside wonders of the King's estate, once they had more time.

Sol doesn't reply with words, instead, he takes a small peek at Yohan from over his shoulder then shows him a smile full of nerves. What a strange way to end his mission this is , he thinks to himself, before he asks his beloved, "Shall we?"

As Sol peers down to Celestina once more, he scarcely believes he is on the verge of doing this unthinkable act, but the water is enticing—reflecting peach violets across its surface like liquid candy warmed by the summer sun, gold specks dance at the tip of each small ripple—and all he wants to do is jump.

And he will.

He does.

He gives Yohan a knowing look and takes his hand with a roguish smirk.

Yohan returns his expression then rids himself of his armor. And as Sol sheds the robe's satin from his skin in turn, they dive.

For a moment they are comets in the water, odd disruptions bubbling amid the lake's quiet surface—until the two of them surface once more and breathe the fresh air in, the fragrance of the flowers and trees all around.

Soon, the lake returns to how it was before, unmoving— still —as if they had never even jumped. And Sol wonders if this is what it is like to die. And to be rebirthed.

Celestina splashes water their way.

It isn't long before the three of them are playing quite the childish games.

Their laughter dances in the air. And in that brief pocket of the afternoon, they are eternal—Sol feels as though nothing could stop him anymore. He has tasted too much love, too much life , to leave himself behind again.

They plunge into the blue. Underneath the water the three of them hold hands and look to one another. For a brief second, Sol tastes something bitter against his tongue, an act of missing someone that has not even begun. They play amongst themselves for another hour, without a care nor worry for the time of day. As a curtain of stars greet the rising dusk, Celestina is the first to speak. "I'll be missing you,"

she tells the two of them. "Things haven't been this lively since…"

she stares down to the water, now stripped of any pinks, she laughs with a sigh. " Gods only know when."

There is a deep, loneliness and longing etched in Celestina's voice.

Sol squeezes at her hand, and at the same time, he feels Yohan's palm tighten around his own fingers. Silent farewells linger in the air between them, and Sol's teeth find his lower lip as he thinks back to the Spring he spent here—growing, learning more and more each day about new medicinal recipes from Celestina's teachings, himself, and patience… How many days did he spend cooped up on rainy afternoons in the old gardener's cottage, in the warm embrace of Yohan's arms? he wonders. And tears line the edges of his eyes. Sol isn't sure if either of his comrades notice, when his heartbreak drops into the water in such a small, insignificant way it barely lands a ripple.

In truth, Sol does not want to go. As much as he despises the King, he loves the people here, the scenery, the sunrises…he's never wanted to stay so badly in his life. Still, he knows his place isn't here— perhaps, in another life it could have been, but certainly not in this one.

And Sol would not want it another way, yet he merely wishes…he could exist in two lands, two timelines at once, because then it would not hurt this much. Then, he would not have to say goodbye.

They swim towards one another, and hold one another. Even though Yohan tells Celestina she must come visit his tea house next year, " I'd be more than happy to have you, "

Sol knows it is a lie—once they leave, Yohan will not be coming back here again, nor will Celestina leave the King's side; she has made that part clear enough in the past.

The sun sets, and the three of them are forced to pluck themselves out of the water, yet one question remains on Sol's mind.

He wonders who Celestina is to Yohan.

And about what haunts her, truly.

Sol makes a silent promise to himself that he will try and understand once and for all before he departs, over his final days here at the manor, numbered ‘til the middle of next week.