Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 434 The Unnamed Bond — In Silence, They Hold Each Other

Chapter 434 - 434 The Unnamed Bond — In Silence, They Hold Each Other

Fitran walked away from the ruins of the altar in Valdenmeer.

His steps were steady, yet his mind roared like an uncontrollable storm, battling against the forced calmness. He revealed nothing on his face, but within his chest, a pressure grew—stemming not from an enemy, nor from magic, but from two figures who should be strangers, yet evoked a silence too profound to ignore.

At the top of the hill overlooking the town, Fitran came to a stop.

Amidst the gentle whisper of the wind, the shadows of Joanna and Rui flickered in his mind, like silhouettes in a dream he was reluctant to forget. The memories of their smiles were tightly bound in his soul, draining strength from his fingers and shaking the confidence he had built through battles. The whispers of nostalgia ambushed him, causing him to wonder if the decisions he had made all this time were right. He missed them—yet felt estranged, as if separated by an ocean of endless uncertainty, an anxiety that gnawed at his courage to move forward.

The wind carried the scent of dust from the statues she had destroyed, but also... a faint aroma: the smell of burnt lavender and the ether of wounds—scents she once recognized from the battlefield, now feeling like something from a home she had never visited, reminding her of buried memories.

"They are similar..."

Fitran felt the struggle between loyalty and desire. In every blink, she found a reflection of hope and fear—dictating her heart's urge to approach, yet also distancing her from potential betrayal. Within her soul, a question echoed: If those two figures were not merely memories, but also the cause of her feelings' awakening, was it worth opening her heart again? "But I don't know why I care."

Fitran, the warrior of will who had never succumbed to personal feelings, found herself... wanting to speak.

Not to seek the truth.

But to listen.

Joanna sat at the edge of the altar, her knees folded, head...

Fitran, the warrior of will who had never succumbed to personal feelings, for the first time in a very long time... wanted to speak.

In her mind, waves of doubt and uncertainty crashed like a relentless storm. She felt an unspoken fear, a fear of what might be revealed in her restrained voice. What if those words shattered the bond they had built between them? Yet, the desire to hear Joanna, a voice so familiar, grew more insistent, becoming an emotional magnet that pulled her into the unknown. The struggle between desire and fear raged within her heart, weaving a painful tapestry that separated her from taking the next step.

She missed the small moments filled with laughter, how they shared stories with each other—free of burdens and the complexities that plagued them. The deeper she sank into those memories, the more bitter the currents of sadness became, fueling her determination to preserve this relationship, no matter what happened. Because speaking would bring forth tears, and she understood that the tears held back could lead to greater loss.

After a long silence, Rui spoke softly:

"She... has the same gaze as when you remember Jeanne."

Joanna responded almost inaudibly:

Between them, Fitran felt the widening chasm—a realization that they were trapped in the past, waiting in hopeful anticipation for everything to return. "And your voice... sounds clearer when she is present."

"But this isn't the time."

Joanna held Jeanne's locket tightly, gripping it as if to suppress the name threatening to escape her lips.

"If we say it now, she will push us away—the only way to protect ourselves from the painful reality that is inevitable."

"Or worse... she will pretend to accept it."

Rui lowered her gaze.

"I don't want to be met with sympathy. I want to be recognized... not forgiven."

Joanna nodded.

"Then let time carve your name itself."

"When she's ready, we will talk. Not as children, but as those who once chose love over curse. We won't repeat the same mistakes, and this decision will lead us down a new path—a path that we hope will bring peace and healing."

Hours after his departure, Fitran found himself returning to the ruins.

Joanna and Rui were still there.

They did not stand.

They did not greet.

But they also did not turn away.

Fitran approached, then sat down... not as a king, not as a warrior, but as a human weary of questions without answers.

He remembered the days gone by, when his gaze met Joanna's, as if trapped in a web he could not escape. When his heart struggled between sympathy and the grip of love—a feeling he had buried deep, stifled by the responsibilities of a warrior.

"What are your names?" Fitran asked.

Joanna held her breath. Rui answered:

"Rui."

"And you?" he looked at Joanna.

She stared far into the horizon, savoring a beauty that now seemed out of reach. Hoping, even in desperation, that there was a way out of the pain that gnawed at her soul.

"Joanna."

Fitran gazed at the sky. Then, without realizing it, he asked:

"Do you... believe that someone can lose their name without dying? To lose their true identity amidst the murkiness of life, as if being tossed between what they desire and what they do not?"

Joanna smiled bitterly, responding with more than just words. It seemed she wanted to tell Fitran that they were all trapped in the same labyrinth; hoping to find a way back.

"We live because of that."

Fitran turned quickly—an honest reaction that startled even himself.

But before he could ask further, Rui stood up.

"We will continue our journey. This place has taught us enough."

Joanna stood up too. However, before stepping forward, she said:

"Thank you... for your insight."

Fitran nodded and then said something that made time seem to hold its breath:

"Take care of yourself, Joanna."

As the distance grew ever smaller, a warm feeling flowed within Fitran's chest. It felt as though when Joanna walked away, a piece of his soul vanished with her. He devoted his attention to studying the face he did not want to forget. All the memories surged in these final moments, painting a picture of a past he did not wish to leave behind yet was too heavy to carry.

"And you, Rui."

They left. Without saying that they were his children.

Without saying that they missed him.

Without mentioning that their dreams were always haunted by the shadows of swords and the voice of that man, a flash of memory that could not be avoided, as if watching them step into the next darkness.

As silence enveloped the room, Fitran felt a heaviness. No more laughter echoed, no more bright eyes glimmered in sight. Only the creeping quietness lingered in his heart's uncertainty, like a dark shadow that would not fade. He weighed this feeling of loss, a sensation gripping his soul, reminding him of how fragile the connection they had formed truly was.

And Fitran...

...sat alone on the stone altar, gazing at the small footprints that had just receded.

"Sheena..." he whispered. "If you are still alive, why do I feel as though I have just been left behind by my family for the second time? Is all of this merely an illusion created by the weight of loss?"

Only the echo of her name answered, allowing solitude to envelop his heart with an unexplainable thickness. Amid the burning longing, he found himself trapped in a web of memories that kept biting, inviting every pain along with the beauty that once existed. Like an unavoidable rhythm, each arrival brought with it a racing heartbeat, torn between hope and letting go, ensnared in an endless cycle.