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ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｌａｓｔ　ｓｔａｎｄ[hr][/center][/color]

The sounds of combat became louder. Distant clashes became louder and more powerful. Something was culminating. But what did it matter to Estelle? When she had thought all was lost, she had found her youngest sister.

What came wasn't a sweet reunion. Instead, her sister had begun to admonish her. The words cut deep. Ophelia was right. Estelle only ran. She ran from her responsibilities as an older sister. She ran as the war continued. She ran from any hope at reconciliation even until the end times. It was a truth that Estelle could only acknowledge. But despite that, she wanted her sister to live. She'd easily sacrifice her life in exchange for either one of her sisters.

She couldn't see it. An ephemeral clash--one that ended in a blade piercing Ophelia.

Her hair stood. A cold wave ran down her spine. Immediately, she ran and cradled her youngest sister as she collapsed.

[color=b8ffd2]"I'm sorry..."[/color] She muttered, her voice hoarse. Tears welled and ran down her face, only to be absorbed by dirty bandages. This was the first time Ophelia had seen her oldest sister cry. There were so many things she wanted to say. There were even more that she wanted to apologize for. But no words beyond apologies came. Her hand intertwined with Ophelia's. It was becoming cold.

The sounds of uneven steps caused Estelle to turn to whatever approached them. It was a human. Another figure she could identify, no matter how weakened her vision became. A familiar voice shouted their names.

[color=b8ffd2]"I-Isana?"[/color] She exclaimed, though her voice would not permit a yell.

Isana approached. Estelle wished to spring forward and hug her middle sister, but she could not afford to do so. Not with Ophelia becoming colder. She wanted to beg for help getting Ophelia to safety. A distant flash of light cut her off before she could form the words. She looked towards the light. Clouds began to part away from the epicentre. The sound of cracking earth and continuing destruction. A wave of destruction began to form.

Words didn't form, but she grabbed Isana when she came into reach. Estelle pulled her two younger sisters into her chest and cradled the two of them as best she could. If only they had met at a better time. One before Estelle made the mistake of leaving her sisters.

The sound became louder and louder. Finally, the buildings that formed the alleyway were torn asunder. Auric shards pierced what negligible protection Estelle could offer.

...

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It was a rather uncomfortable bed, all things considered. After all, it wasn't made for relaxation. It was one to prevent sores. The rest of her room told the same story. It was closer to an infirmary than a bedroom.

Things were quiet. Ever since the incident, her room had remained locked and empty. She had been moved to a more private estate in hopes of aiding her recovery and, though perish the thought of someone betraying the Kaides family, one that was only accessible to her immediate family and most trusted servants. 

What had happened? Estelle knew it was not a dream. She didn't need any physical test or confirmation. It was too real to be a dream. Too unforgettable. Too painful. But she lay in her old bed once more. 

But that sense of quiet... it was more than usual. While her estate was quiet, she usually had her trusted maid to help her.

Ah. Wasn't this the day where the servants were busy with helping prepare for the College. Her maid would be out preparing one of her old outfits. The realization hit her as she recalled old memories. It was [i]that day[/i]. The day of her biggest regret.

She would chuckle, but she remained silent as she stared at the ceiling, what little detail it had blurring together in a haze.

Of course, there was something she had to do this day. She had to see her sisters.

She crawled out of her uncomfortable bed only to immediately fall onto the floor. Her body didn't seem to want to move how she wanted it to. Was this how she was when she ran away? Or was this her body forgetting how to move as it once did in the past-future. It was a miracle that she made it to another town.

Like a newborn fawn, she clumsily stepped towards an old wooden wheelchair using whatever table or dresser she could reach to remain upright. She nestled herself in the chair before her hands--still cold and thin, but significantly less calloused and scarred--began to roll the chair out of the room. It was clumsy, but less so than her walking in her current state. She had somewhere she needed to be and she wouldn't pause or make detour. She didn't even put on a proper set of clothes, instead choosing to throw a basic shawl on.

She had her sisters to see.