Rain hit the glass in thin, irregular lines.
Lita stood at the window and watched it run down, watched the people below huddled under makeshift shelters, wrapped in whatever they'd grabbed before leaving wherever they used to live. Children on wet stone. Old men staring at nothing. The city didn't look like a capital anymore. It looked like a place where things ended.
Flare came up beside her quietly and set Lita's favorite sweet on the windowsill. Lita looked at it. Didn't touch it.
"What's really happening?" Her voice came out small. "Why are they doing this? The Northland… why would they want to destroy everything?"
Flare stayed quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that meant she was choosing words carefully. She knelt down to Lita's level, looking up at her. "I wish I knew, Lita. I really do. Sometimes, people... kingdoms... they do things we can't understand. It's not fair. It's not right. But we'll protect you, no matter what happens."
Lita's eyes stayed on the window. On the rain. "I just don't understand. All those people out there… why do they have to suffer? Why does it have to be this way?"
Flare stood. Put a hand on her shoulder, steady and warm. "Maybe we don't have all the answers right now. But we'll get through this together. Your mother, me… we're all here for you."
Lita looked at her. Said nothing. The weight in her eyes didn't shift.
Rain kept falling.
She turned away from the window. Faced Flare directly. "Flare, did we… did we do something to the Northland? Something bad?"
The question landed between them like something dropped from a height.
Flare opened her mouth. Closed it. "Lita… it's complicated. Sometimes things happen between kingdoms that—"
"You're lying." Not loud. Just certain. Lita's hands tightened at her sides. "Please, Flare, just once. Tell me the truth. You don't have to hide it anymore. I can handle it."
Flare's chest tightened. She could see it in Lita's face, that particular look that didn't leave room for a gentle version of anything.
Then a voice came from the corner of the room, soft and completely unhurried: "Greed. The gods did it."
Both of them turned.
The Veil Maid stood in the shadows near the wall, dark silhouette perfectly still, face hidden as always. Neither of them had heard her come in.
"What… what do you mean?" Lita asked. "Greed? The gods?"
The Veil Maid moved into the room slowly, each step deliberate. "Long ago, the North and South were one. The land was peaceful, balanced. But that peace was shattered when the gods descended from their realm. Greed overtook them. The mortal world became a battlefield for their desires."
Lita stared. Processing. "So, this war… it's because of the gods?"
A slow nod. "That's all I know, child. The greed of gods stained these lands with blood. And ever since, the balance has been lost."
"But why us? Why now?"
The Veil Maid tilted her head. "The cycle repeats. Power shifts. Mortals, like the gods, are drawn to it. That's how it's always been."
Lita looked at Flare, searching. "Is that true, Flare? Is this really about the gods?"
Flare was quiet a beat too long. "The world is… much more complicated than it seems, Lita. What the Veil Maid says may be part of the truth, but no one really knows everything." She glanced at the Veil Maid, who offered nothing further.
Lita exhaled. Deep. Frustrated. Her thoughts kept circling something she couldn't catch, history and power and old gods and war tangling into a knot with no loose end to pull.
"That's all I know," the Veil Maid repeated, voice dropping, fading.
Then she was gone. Just the room and the rain.
The voice came back once, from somewhere near the edge of the room. Soft. Almost a laugh. "Tell me. Are we the evil ones? Or is it them? No one truly knows. Perhaps the Greed God could answer… but then again, would you believe it?"
Lita turned toward the sound, wide-eyed. "What do you mean? How can no one know who's good or evil?"
The Veil Maid moved to the window. Looked out at the rain with her hidden face. "The lines between good and evil are not always so clear, child. Kingdoms rise and fall, decisions are made, and wars are fought. But what drives them? Power, fear, greed… it's all tangled together." She turned, something shifting under the veil. Almost a smile. "Sometimes, the greatest villains believe themselves to be heroes. And the ones you think of as evil may simply be trying to survive."
Flare's hand tightened on her dagger. Said nothing.
"So, we don't know who's right or wrong? We're just… guessing?"
A soft sound. Not quite a laugh. "That's the mystery, isn't it? Who decides what's right and what's wrong? Is it the victor? The gods? The people? Or perhaps it's no one at all. In the end, the truth is only what you choose to believe."
"That's not fair." Lita's fists closed. "How are we supposed to know if we're doing the right thing?"
The Veil Maid faced her fully. Gentler now. "You don't, child. You act on what you believe. That's all anyone can do. Maybe one day, you'll understand. Or maybe not. But always remember: evil, like good, is just a matter of perspective."
Lita stood there with it. The war. The ruins. The people in the street below. None of it fitting into anything clean.
"Perhaps one day, you'll meet the Greed God and ask for yourself. But for now… who can say? Are we the evil ones? Or are they? The answer is always just out of reach."
Gone again. No movement, no sound.
Sylana's laugh cut across the silence like something thrown.
She'd been sitting in the corner the whole time, wine glass in hand, bright eyes sharp with amusement. "What an interesting story, don't you think? Such a lovely little tale about gods and greed. And to think, dear Lita just can't handle the truth."
Lita's chest clenched. She didn't say a word. She turned and walked out of the room, footsteps quick, the walls pressing in from both sides.
Flare moved to follow immediately.
Sylana's hand shot out and caught Flare's arm. "Let her go. She's already heard everything. There's no running from it now, little Flare."
Flare yanked free. Hard. "You don't understand. Lita's still—"
"Still what?" Smooth. Playful. Taunting underneath. "Innocent? Naive? Oh please, don't insult me." She leaned back, slow sip. "The truth was bound to catch up to her sooner or later. Better she hears it now than live in some fantasy. Don't you agree?"
"You think this is some kind of game, don't you?"
"Isn't it? War, politics, gods—it's all just a grand game, and we're the players." She gestured toward the empty doorway. "She's learning that the hard way. Just like you did."
Flare stood there, something burning behind her eyes. "Why are you like this, Sylana? Why do you always have to twist everything?"
"Oh, sweet Flare. You should know by now that I only speak the truth. Whether you like it or not." Another slow sip. "Besides, it's better for her to hear it from me than from someone who sugarcoats reality. Don't you think?"
"You're cruel."
One shoulder. Unbothered. "Maybe. But I'm not wrong."
Flare turned her back. Walked to the door. Didn't let Sylana slow her down.
"Go ahead, little Flare. But remember… the truth has a way of finding everyone eventually."
No response.
She was already in the hallway.