Ascension Of The Villain

Fourteen Months Ago.

The woods seemed to swallow the last glimmers of moonlight, as Iyana stumbled deeper into the black abyss of the forest. Her uniform was matted with blood, but she couldn't care less. She had to find the person she came here looking for.

After Leila left, there was an ambush from the Haberland soldiers, and after Iyana was mindlessly done slaying or capturing them, she had come straight looking for the infamous witch's hut who had the rumors of being able to erase memories at will.

As her arm brushed against a tree branch in the dark, she didn't even take notice of the nasty, bloody gnash. She was simply hollow, drained of life and light.

Every step felt detached, mechanical, as if she were nothing but a shell moving through the trees.

Through the dense woods, a small house appeared, barely visible in the darkness. It stood alone, as though abandoned by the world, much like how Iyana felt deep within her.

She approached it carelessly, the wood creaking beneath her bloodied boots, and knocked passively on the door, but no one answered. Rather, it creaked open on its own. She stared blankly as its hinges groaned in protest before she stepped in.

Inside, as expected, amidst the darkness, the air was thick with an ancient dread.

"Is anybody there?" Iyana called out.

In response, the door closed behind her with a soft thud, locking her inside.

Iyana did not flinch. She didn't care. The world, this house—it could take everything from her, and she wouldn't feel a thing. She was numb.

Because there was nobody in this world who would care, who would mourn, if she died; in fact, there were a lot who would celebrate with champagne, including the person she loved the most. How pathetic could her life get?

The only reason she couldn't sacrifice on the battlefield was because that would lead to her entire team being a casualty as well, and despite her soul-crushing despair, as their leader, she couldn't let that happen.

A flicker of movement caught her eye.

Before her, a woman materialized from the shadows. Her form was twisted, a cryptic figure draped in tattered robes. Her hair was long and black, reaching to the floor like a waterfall of decay.

The witch's face was creased with age, her eyes black voids that seemed to see too much, to know too much. Her presence was like the breath of death itself, pulsed with a strange, unsettling energy.

With a wave of her skeletal hand, a single candle sputtered to life between them.

The witch's lips curved into a knowing smile as she regarded Iyana. "What does a woman with a bright future such as you seek here, in the depths of the dark, Young Lady Iyana?"

Iyana didn't respond to the fact the witch knew her name. She no longer had the energy for surprise or questions. "There is someone I want to forget. No, not want. I have to, I must forget him, or else, I—" she paused, her voice catching, "Anyway, I heard you are capable of erasing memories."

The witch's smile widened, her eyes gleaming. "Ah, it is the one whom you love the most? The boy who made you realize that someone like you—you who has never received any love even from her own family—was capable of feeling pure emotions like love and happiness?"

"His hatred…" Those words struck something deep within Iyana, and she let out a small, breathless sob. "It's too painful. I cannot go on like this."

The witch leaned closer, as if she were peering into Iyana's very soul, her past, her future. "Do you really want to forget him?"

A tear slipped from Iyana's violet eyes, trailing down her pale cheek. "Yes. I do. He hates me, and I can't live with it." Her voice cracked, and she hated how broken it sounded, how desperate she had become.

The witch tilted her head, considering. "And what will you give me in return?"

Wiping away her single tear, without hesitation, Iyana pulled out a small bag of jewels. She extended them toward the witch. But the woman only scoffed, her lips curling into a sneer.

"That is meaningless to me, child. You know it must be something precious."

For a moment, Iyana faltered. Her hand instinctively went to her chest pocket, patting the pair of earrings she felt inside—the earrings Vyan had bought for her years ago.

They weren't valuable by any measure of wealth and it didn't seem like Vyan was very confident in giving it to her either, but they were everything to her. They were precious memories—a sign of his love—the only ones she couldn't bear to lose.

However, if she were to forget him, they would serve no purpose.

She pulled the earrings out of her chest pockets. Her hand was slightly trembling as she held them out. "These," she whispered. "They are the most precious thing I have."

The witch's bony fingers closed over them, a strange satisfaction lighting up her hollow face. "Yes," she purred, "this will do. But tell me, child—do you only wish to erase his existence from your memories? Nothing else?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "Only his memories. I must remember everything else, or else, my family will leave no stones unturned to take advantage of me. And I can't let them do that to me."

The witch hummed in approval. "Very well. However, I must let you know that you have to set a trigger for your memories to return, otherwise, the spell wouldn't come full circle. Do you get what I mean? So, what shall be the trigger?"

"What type of trigger are we talking about here?"

"Well, it can be anything. Any particular action, place, words, or somebody's face."

Iyana hesitated as a dangerously hopeful idea came to her head. "If that's the case then... I don't know if I am being stupid. But if by some miracle, Vyan ever loves me again—if he admits it verbally, confesses it to me—that's when I want to remember his previous memories. Only then."

The witch smiled, her black eyes gleaming. "So be it. Those three magical words shall be your trigger."

A strange calm settled over Iyana, the kind that only came before oblivion.

She closed her eyes, the last images of Vyan flashing before her—his shy smile, the warmth of his touch, the care in his eyes. She didn't know what it would be like to live in a world where she didn't love Vyan, and suddenly, the thought of it was very terrifying.

No, no, I don't want to forget him—

However, before she had a chance to backtrack, a flick from the witch's hand and the world dimmed, and slowly, the memories of him started fading into nothingness, but unexpectedly, along with it, every other memory also began to get erased. And with the last of it gone, Iyana became a blank slate, incapable of even remembering her own name.

———

Present.

Iyana opened her eyes in the dark room, shadowed by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. She stared at the ceiling, absorbing every memory that had come back to her. Along with the memories came the dread that caused her to wipe them.

With her heart pounding, she sat up and looked around the familiar room.

Just then, the candles came to life as the door opened and Vyan stepped.

"Oh, thank goodness, you are awake," Vyan let out, relieved.

Iyana turned her head to look at him standing at the doorway, dressed in the same outfit he was sporting in the afternoon, except his suit was missing. Even so, the image of him in that intricate bottle green vest and embroidered white shirt was such a jarring contrast to the Vyan she used to know as her knight—it almost made her sob.

She stretched out her hands from the bed, and without a word, Vyan rushed to her, embracing her in the much needed hug.

"Vyan…" she breathed out, holding him tightly as though he might slip through her fingers like smoke. Tears spilled down her cheeks, soaking into the fabric of his vest as she pressed her face against him.

"It's okay, I am here, Iyana. Whatever it is, it will be okay," Vyan assured her, his voice full of warmth and tenderness.

Her sobs didn't cease, and she buried herself deeper into his chest.

He stroked her hair and asked gently, "Did you have a bad dream?"

"I remember, Vyan," she whispered, her voice broken.

"You remember what?" His voice remained soft and gentle, his fingers threading through the strands with infinite care.

"I remember everything—everything that I had forgotten."

His fingers paused briefly, his body stiffening. "Really?"

"Yes…" she answered, a little scared of his reaction for no reason.
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"That's…" Her heartbeat fastened. "That's great," he expressed, and all her worries melted away. "That's so great, Iyana."

He didn't ask her how she got them back, why they returned now, why she was crying this way, he just held her in his arms until she calmed down.

But even though he was so close to her, he was hers now, she still couldn't get rid of the deep-rooted fear from back then—those numbing feelings were all back to her in full throttle.

So, she pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. "Vyan… please," she whispered, her violet eyes wet and pleading. "Tell me you love me. Tell me so that I can forget you ever hated me."

The vulnerability in her voice broke something in him.

Vyan's breath hitched, his gaze softening. He cupped her face gently in his hands and leaned in close, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered the words she so desperately needed to hear. "I love you," he breathed. "I love you, Iyana. And I have never stopped loving you."

Her tears fell harder, but this time they were different—relieved and reassured. She clung to the words, clung to his body once again, as though the power of those three words could heal every wound.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Vyan murmured over and over. Each repetition was like a balm to her shattered heart—the heart that he had broken sixteen months ago.

"I love you," he whispered again, the words threading through her, stitching together the pieces of her that had been wounded by him to the point she had to forget his existence to be able to breathe properly.

"I love you," he said, his lips brushing against her ear. She sank deeper into him, her sobs quieting into soft, exhausted breaths.

And slowly, the tension melted from her body. She let his words wrap around her like a lullaby, her fears and doubts dissolving in the warmth of his embrace.

As his voice murmured against her skin, her breathing evened, her eyelids fluttering closed once more. She fell back into sleep, cradled in the safety of his arms. The Iyana from fourteen months ago who was dissolved in darkness had finally found peace.