| Chapter 20. Do You Remember Me, My Lady?

The torches multiplied, growing into a massive ring of fire that surrounded Ivanov Castle.

“Guards! Where are the guards?”

Natasha shouted desperately, only to remember—too late—that she had dismissed the guards herself. She wanted no one to know of the tragedy that was to unfold in Sergey’s chambers tonight.

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“I have to get to Sophia!”

She flung open the door and bolted down the corridor.

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“The Knulu tribe is attacking! They’re beheading everyone they catch!”

“Move! I’m getting out first!”

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“Help! Spare me!”

The castle’s hallways were chaos. People ran in all directions, desperate to save themselves. To them, the sight of a noble lady emerging from her chambers barely registered.

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“My lady! You must leave at once! It’s dangerous here!”

A lower-ranked knight, rushing past, stopped abruptly upon seeing Natasha.

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“Have you seen Sophia? Is the secondary palace safe?”

“I don’t know about the secondary palace. Please, you must come with me to safety—”

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“Go on ahead. I have to check on Sophia.”

The knight hesitated but then bowed his head and continued running. That was the extent of his remaining chivalry. His superiors had already fled, abandoning the castle to its fate.

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There were even whispers—of dubious origin—that the knight commander had colluded with the Knulu tribe and opened the gates for them.

“Ah!”

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Natasha stumbled and fell as someone running past her collided with her shoulder.

“Ah, Lady Natasha…!”

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The servant who had knocked her over froze, realizing whom he had shoved, but then quickly averted his gaze and hurried on, pretending not to notice. In a life-or-death situation, a noble lady meant little.

“Lord Sergey was taken down by the Knulu tribe! This is the end for Ivanov!”

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The murmurs of a distant crowd widened Natasha’s eyes in shock.

“The secondary palace is on fire! We need to get out before it spreads!”

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The next shout left no room for hesitation. Natasha sprang to her feet, kicked off her slippers, and ran toward the corridor leading to the secondary palace.

The entrance to the castle and the path to the secondary palace lay in opposite directions. Natasha had to fight through the panicked crowd surging toward the exit. She was jostled, shoved, and tripped multiple times but kept pushing forward.

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“Sophia!”

The secondary palace was already engulfed in flames, but Natasha didn’t hesitate. She dashed inside.

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Before Sergey’s wedding, Natasha had ordered Sophia to move to the secondary palace. The stated reason was to avoid interfering with the new queen and Sergey’s married life. The truth, however, was that Natasha wanted to keep Sophia as far away as possible from any sordid dealings between her and Sergey.

And now, this catastrophe. If Sophia perished in the fire, Natasha would never forgive herself.

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‘Please, please be safe!’

Crash.

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A burning wooden beam fell in front of Natasha. She hesitated only for a moment before covering her mouth with her skirt and pressing on.

Through the choking smoke, Natasha saw flames creeping toward the room at the end of the corridor. She ran with all her might, slamming her foot into the door when she reached it.

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“Sophia! Are you in there?”

The lump beneath the blankets on the bed twitched.

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“…Sister?”

A tear-streaked face peeked out from under the covers.

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* * *

For a time, Sophia’s condition had miraculously improved. She could take a few steps within her room and even enjoy strolls in the garden with the help of her wheelchair. But a cold caught during one such walk had worsened into pneumonia just weeks ago, confining her once again to bed.

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An hour earlier, as Sophia lay in bed lamenting that she wouldn’t be able to attend her brother’s wedding the next day, her maid had peeked out the window, drawn by distant commotion.

‘The Knulu tribe is attacking! Lord Sergey has fallen!’

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The secondary palace, isolated from the main castle and sparsely staffed save for Sophia’s maid, had little information about what was happening.

‘I’ll go and check what’s happening,’ the maid had said before leaving. She never returned.

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Sophia, left trembling in fear, realized with dread that her maid was not coming back.

Cough.

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The acrid smoke stung her sensitive lungs. The night outside, though dark, was lit by an eerie red glow. Shaking, Sophia pulled the covers over herself, waiting for the inevitable end. All she could do was pray—pray that her sister, Natasha, had escaped the castle safely.

And then…

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“Sophia! You’re safe!”

Bursting through the flames, Natasha rushed to Sophia’s side and pulled her into a tight embrace.

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“Leave me, sister. Run! Sergey is gone; the Knulu tribe has slain him. You’ve always wanted freedom—now’s your chance. Leave me and go!” Sophia cried, struggling in Natasha’s arms.

“What nonsense are you saying, Sophia? I’m not leaving you. We’ll stay here together. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

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Natasha whispered soothingly, holding Sophia close.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

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‘I’m sorry for leaving you here alone. You must have been terrified.’

‘I’m sorry for praying for the end of the world just to escape my burdens. The goddess seems to have granted my final wish, though I never meant for it to end like this for you. But maybe… maybe this is the best ending we can hope for. I have no other way to protect you.’

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The flames crept closer, licking at the room’s edges. The two sisters clung to each other, awaiting the end.

* * *

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How much time had passed? Natasha wasn’t sure.

She continued to cradle Sophia, who had fallen asleep—or perhaps fainted—from exhaustion. Natasha hesitated, then decided not to wake her. She had read that dying in a fire was agonizingly painful.

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‘Maybe it’s better if Sophia remains unconscious when the flames claim us.’

‘It’s okay. I’ll bear the pain for the both of us.’

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Natasha reflected on her life, now so close to its conclusion. A life weighed down by failure: unable to save anyone, not her loved ones, not herself. She thought of those she had lost—her teacher, her mother, and finally… Alexei Petrov.

Even now, his name felt too sinful to utter, even in thought. But here, at the end, she allowed herself to remember him.

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‘Surely, he’s alive somewhere. Someday, he’ll hear of Ivanov’s fall and my demise. Will he laugh in triumph when he does?’

‘I hope he does. I hope it brings him some solace. May he live well… please, live well.’

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As smoke and heat blurred her senses, Natasha kept her eyes wide open. This final moment, this release, was the one mercy life had granted her—a life that had never once smiled upon her.

But she couldn’t allow herself to close her eyes, not until she was certain it was truly over.

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Crack. Thud.

The sound of burning structures collapsing filled the air. Natasha, by now familiar with it, found it oddly comforting—like a requiem from the heavens.

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Step. Step. Step.

Then came the sound of someone treading over the debris.

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‘…Footsteps?’

Natasha straightened reflexively, but the room was thick with smoke, obscuring everything.

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‘Surely, I’m imagining things. Who would enter the doomed secondary palace now? Everyone else has fled long ago.’

“Goddess Hella, we gladly accept the end you have allowed us. Death is not the end, but a journey toward eternal life. For that, we give thanks…”

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She began reciting a funeral prayer, hoping to silence her stray thoughts. It was her favorite passage, and she found solace in being able to say it for herself at the end.

But then…

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“‘For that, we give thanks,’ is it? I’m afraid I can’t let it end so easily.”

A large shadow emerged, parting the smoke as it strode forward.

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“Natasha Ivanov, my lady.”

A voice, low and resonant like the depths of a cavern, followed. Natasha froze mid-prayer and looked up sharply.

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“…Do you remember me?”

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