Liberation of The Slaves

Chapter 89 – Cradled In Mist

— Celestia’s POV —

“We’ve arrived.”

Earl Xavier’s voice cut through the night air as our company of one hundred cavalrymen rode into Serval City, southeast of Vale City. The rhythmic clatter of hooves slowed to silence in the moonlit streets.

We had moved swiftly, deliberately—before word could spread. Secrecy was vital. Any delay might cost me everything.

My gaze drifted upward. The moon hung above us in pale solemnity—cold, bright, and far too familiar. It was under this same moon, one year ago, that I’d failed to save my little brother, Freed.

Now I was here to save my sister. And this time—I couldn’t fail.

We stopped in front of a mansion nestled at the edge of the district. Its architecture—ornate and sprawling—was nearly a mirror of the Earl’s own residence in Lavender Town.

“Who goes there!?”

The gatekeeper’s voice rang out, startled and demanding. It was understandable. One hundred knights showing up on horseback in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly subtle.

Earl Senian, riding beside me, didn’t dismount. He nudged his horse forward, posture firm, eyes cold. Looking down at the guard, he spoke with the full authority of his title:

“I am Earl Xavier Senian. Under His Majesty’s direct order, I have come to arrest Count Ronan Shufillen for crimes of human trafficking within the kingdom.”

“What!?”

The gatekeepers recoiled, stunned. I mirrored their shock—but kept it buried.

His Majesty’s order? So the king himself knew? Just how deep did this go?

The Earl raised his hand.

“Surrender now if you wish to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

Then he dropped it in a single, sharp motion.

“Knights—seize everyone inside!”

““Yes!””

The gates burst open. Steel met resistance—briefly. The mansion’s private knights scrambled to respond, but they were poorly prepared, likely never expecting a full-scale cavalry charge in the dead of night.

Screams erupted.

“Wha—!? Who are you!?”

““Kyaaa!””

Chaos spilled into the courtyard. Maids fled. Guards were subdued. The thundering of boots overtook the mansion's peaceful facade as our forces stormed in.

Through it all, I moved forward with the Earl. My face betrayed nothing, but inside—my heart hammered.

She’s here. She has to be.

“Search every room in this house.”

““Yes!””

The knights scattered through the corridors with trained discipline. I kept walking, eyes sharp, emotions locked behind the wall I’d been reinforcing since yesterday. I couldn’t afford to feel—not yet. Not until I saw her.

And then—

<“...There he is.”>

A blur of movement caught my eye—a butler bolting up the staircase, his coat flaring behind him.

I didn’t hesitate.

I broke into a sprint without warning.

“Wait, Celestia!”

The Earl’s voice chased after me, laced with warning, but I ignored it. My legs moved on instinct—driven by urgency, fury, and fear.

“That girl—five of you, go with her. Follow her!”

““Yes!””

Boots thundered behind me as the chase began.

Did I make a mistake?

The thought clawed at me as I ran—breath sharp, footsteps pounding behind the fleeing butler.

No.

No, it can’t be true.

It had to be a mistake—some cruel, twisted misunderstanding.

He wouldn’t do this.

He loves me.

I’ve seen his tenderness. I’ve felt it in his arms.

His warmth…

His voice…

The trust I gave him wasn't blind—it was earned.

A man like him… couldn’t be that kind of monster.

My teeth sank into my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, as I followed the butler at a short distance. I kept low, careful, almost praying he wouldn’t notice me.

If I was wrong—if there was still a chance this wasn’t what I feared…

The butler reached a door at the end of the hall and pounded on it, his voice panicked.

“My lord! It’s an emergency! You must flee! They’ve come for you!”

And then—

Two voices responded.

The first stopped me cold.

A voice I knew better than my own breath.

His voice.

“Argh! Noisy bastard! Can’t you deal with it yourself? Don’t ruin my fun!”

My knees nearly buckled. The sound of him—the casual annoyance in his tone—while all this was happening.

But then—

The second voice.

Feminine. Soft. Broken.

Moaning.

Pleading.

“Ahnn... Ahhhnn... No... Don’t—”

My breath hitched.

My pulse spiked.

No.

It was not just any voice.

It was her.

“B-But... Mmmmmm...! Blurp—Blurp...!”

The butler’s pleas were cut short as a sphere of water formed, cold and flawless—my magic, reacting before I even thought.

It swallowed his head. He crumpled before the door, twitching once before going still.

Silence devoured the corridor.

Only my heartbeat remained.

Loud.

Relentless.

Ringing in my ears like war drums.

My legs began to move.

One step.

Another.

Each step echoed like thunder through the silence, loud enough to shake the dead.

Inside, I heard him speak again. Calm. Amused.

“Be a good girl. Tomorrow, I’ll let you meet her. You’ll sleep beside her and me—like a proper pet. Of course... she’ll have a collar just like yours.”

Each word dripped like venom. Each syllable carved deeper into my mind.

I stared at the door, eyes unblinking. My hands trembled—not from fear, but from rage struggling to contain itself.

Magic pulsed beneath my skin. Water and mist swirled around my fingertips, whispering for release.

And then—her defiance, faint and trembling.

“No… I’ll never submit to you…!”

The world felt distant. My thoughts disjointed. Somewhere behind my clenched jaw, I was still hoping I’d misheard.

Still wanting this to be a nightmare I hadn’t woken from.

But I knew better.

There were no more questions. No more doubts.

This was real.

I wasn’t hearing things.

I wasn’t dreaming.

My vision blurred, not from tears—but from rage.

With every step I took, my breath became shallower. Sharper.

I stopped a single pace away, staring down at the fine wood, now stained by blood. My fingers curled into fists.

This door was the last barrier between lies and truth.

And I was done with both.

Pure, blue-hot fury surged through every nerve as I slammed my boot into the door—

*BAM!*

The door exploded inward with a deafening crack, splinters flying like shrapnel.

Two startled voices rose at once.

“What are you doi—!? C-Celes!?”

“S-Sis!? Sis! Help me!”

There they were.

Frozen in the chaos of the bedroom, two figures turned toward me in shock.

The man on top—the one I had loved, trusted, called mine—

Ronan Shufillen.

His short blonde hair was tousled, gold eyes wide with disbelief.

And there—beneath him, sprawled across the bed—was a girl with long, tangled blonde hair, strands plastered to her face with sweat and something far more vile. Her eyes met mine.

Crimson.

That color—once so vivid with joy—was now glassy and swollen with tears.

Daisy.

My sister.

A thick, metallic collar clung to her throat like a shackle. Her body—naked, trembling—was slick with that man’s filth. White fluid stained her skin. Bruises marked her like a map of suffering—her arms, her thighs, her ribs.

And the scars. Goddess... the scars.

Old, healed wrong, some small and cruel, others long and angry.

I felt my lungs tighten. My heart skipped—then pounded violently in protest.

This couldn’t be her.

Not like this.

But it was.

It was.

Even after three long years—through dirt, blood, and despair—I still knew her face.

She looked at me like a child waking from a nightmare that had gone on too long. Tears welled, her lips quivering as if her voice had forgotten how to beg.

The little sister who once ran to me, pretending she was strong enough to fight the world…

The one who called my magic beautiful…

The girl I promised I would always protect—

She was right there.

And I had failed her.

Something cracked deep inside me. Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just a quiet, internal breaking.

The kind that never heals.

She was still alive. But what he had done to her—

He had erased her smile.

And I had let him.

The cheerful little sister I’d once sworn to protect…

Was now broken before me.

“Celes… Why are you here…?”

Ronan stood up, voice uncertain, stepping toward me with trembling hands and a paling face—like he still believed I was the woman who once smiled at him.

But that woman had died the moment I saw this.

Water burst from the floor with a shriek of pressure, a surge so sudden it cracked the stone beneath him. The column of liquid exploded upward, slamming into his chest with the weight of a battering ram.

*BAM!*

He flew backward—limbs flailing, breath torn from his lungs—before he crashed into the far wall with a sickening crack.

The water didn’t stop. It coiled midair like a serpent, wrapping around his limbs, his throat, his torso—pinning him hard into the stone like a prisoner nailed to a cross.

He writhed. Screamed.

“AAARGHH!!”

The chains of water tightened, pulsed with every beat of my heart—rage given form, cold and merciless.

They weren’t just binding him.

They were punishing him.

And I stood at the center of it all—no words, no mercy, no hesitation.

Let him feel just a sliver of the helplessness she had endured.

But before I could do more, footsteps rushed in behind me. The Earl and several knights flooded into the room.

“Celestia! Don’t kill him!” the Earl barked. “We still need him alive for interrogation!”

From the wall, Ronan twisted his head, eyes wide in panic. “E-Earl!? You came too?!”

“I came under His Majesty’s order,” the Earl replied coldly. “We’ve uncovered evidence of your crimes.”

“What?! N-No, she’s trying to kill me! S-Save me!”

A knight leaned close to the Earl, voice grave.

“Sir, we’ve found about fifty slaves in the basement. There are also documents confirming he planned to sell them to the Empire.”

The Earl’s face hardened into something cold and distant. “Ronan… I thought you were better than this.”

Realizing the Earl was no longer his shield, Ronan turned his gaze—back to her.

His eyes locked on Daisy, who trembled beneath the sheets.

“You! Grab that knife and put it to your throat!”

Ronan’s command rang out, cruel and clear.

“No... Nooo! I don’t want to!” Daisy’s voice cracked, high and raw with fear. Her sobs meant nothing to the collar that puppeted her limbs.

And then—she moved.

Her body stood on trembling legs, as if pulled by invisible strings.

Her hand reached—slowly, unwillingly—toward the nearby desk.

Fingers curled around the hilt of a knife. The steel glinted in the lamplight.

Her arm shook violently as it rose. But it rose anyway—drawn by the bound obedience of the collar around her neck. It’s not a standard slave collar. A high-grade one. The kind that shattered the will.

“Celes! Release me!” Ronan screamed from where he hung against the wall. His voice cracked with panic. “If you don’t, she’ll kill herself!”

“No! Sis—don’t listen to him!” Daisy cried out, fighting against the magic with all that remained of her voice. “He’ll do to you what he did to me! I’m ready to die! Just don’t let him own you!”

Her words pierced through the noise like a blade.

She wasn’t bluffing.

There was no hesitation in her eyes—only terror, and love.

She meant it.

She would die—just to protect me from experiencing the same fate.

That knife—her hand—wasn’t just trembling. It was trying to resist, even as magic forced her forward inch by inch.

And I stood there, powerless to stop her in that instant, the image of my sister—bruised, tear-streaked, and ready to die for me—burning itself into my soul.

“You shut up!” Ronan shrieked. His voice had lost all composure—high, cracked, wild with desperation.

He had lost control—and for the first time, he knew what fear tasted like..

“Ronan...!” the Earl’s voice boomed behind me, a storm barely restrained. “You despicable—inhuman—bastard!”

Steel hissed.

Knights behind me unsheathed their swords in unison, the sound like teeth being bared in the dark. The air thickened with killing intent. Several stepped forward, barely holding themselves back, eyes locked on Ronan like wolves ready to tear him apart.

“Stand down!” Ronan threatened. “One more move, and she’ll be silenced for good!”

The room fractured into chaos—shouting, panic, boots scraping against marble. The air was filled with rage, fear, and magic on the verge of eruption.

But I heard none of it.

I wasn’t listening to them.

My mind filtered it all out.

Because I could only see her.

My sister.

Daisy, still holding the knife to her throat.

Her arm trembling, eyes pleading.

She was slipping away right in front of me.

The light had vanished from her eyes. Gone was the girl who used to chase butterflies and hum lullabies to our little brother until he drifted to sleep.

All that remained was this trembling shell—scared, humiliated, and utterly alone.

Because I wasn’t there when she needed me most.

Because I believed in the wrong person.

Because I was too blind to see the monster hiding behind a smile.

A bitter ache surged up my throat.

Her trembling hands.

The knife on her throat.

And her resolve.

In that moment, I knew—

Even after everything, she was still trying to protect me.

Even when I had failed to protect her.

I had no right to call myself her sister.

Still—

I couldn’t let her go—not again.

I took a step forward. My body felt like lead, my heart like glass.

And somehow—despite everything—I smiled.

Not from joy.

Not from peace.

Just a small, trembling curve of the lips. Bitter. Fragile. A smile not for me, but for her.

A promise.

A silent whisper that she didn’t have to fight anymore.

That I would handle the rest.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered, my voice raw from hours of silence, cracking at the edges.

“I’m already here.”

My mana stirred. The air around me shimmered.

*Swiiiir!*

A pale blue mist began to rise, gentle and slow—like breath on glass. It curled from the floor, soft as moonlight drawn in water, swirling toward her legs with tender purpose.

It didn’t rush. It didn’t choke.

It soothed.

As it reached her skin, she didn’t flinch. The mist licked over her bruised knees, her trembling arms, her scarred thighs—and numbing her limbs gently without giving any pain to her.

*Clank*

The knife slipped from Daisy’s limp fingers and fell to the floor with a hollow ring.

Her legs gave out. But the mist rose before she could fall, swelling upward like a wave that had waited years to catch her.

Her weight cradled with silent grace in a cushion of gentle waves and glowing mist. It lifted her as though she were made of feathers and sorrow.

She collapsed into a bed of ocean light and quiet, like a child returned to the warmth of home. She sank slowly into its embrace, as if falling into a gentle dream.

And I wove it tighter.

A soft tendril curled upward, brushing her cheek with infinite care, wiping away the tears that refused to stop—slow and careful, as if even her sadness deserved to be touched with kindness.

It lingered there for a moment… then folded back into the cloud that now held her like a mother’s embrace.

More mist followed—cool, luminous, shaped by memory, guilt… and love.

It wrapped around her, forming a soft cocoon like she was precious—because she was.

It shielded her body and cloaked her shame.

To tell her she was no longer exposed.

To tell her she was no longer his.

To tell her that she belonged to no one.

To tell her… I was already here.

To take care of her.

To take care of her burdens.

To take care of everything for her.

And then—she breathed.

A full, trembling exhale that sounded like it came from somewhere buried beneath years of pain.

Her first real breath of freedom in years.

And in her eyes—red, glassy, still wet with fear—there was a flicker of peace emanated.

I saw it in her face.

The first piece of peace.

Relief.

Not joy. Not healing.

But something had loosened in her eyes—something dark that had begun to recede.

And in that fragile peace, I felt my soul split.

Because I knew—

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough to erase the sin of failing her.

Of not being there when she needed me most.

But for now…

It was enough.

And when I was certain she was safe—shielded, embraced, hidden from the cruelty of the world—the mist turned.

Slowly.

Purposefully.

It shifted in the air like a silent sentinel, lifting her just enough so her crimson eyes could witness what came next.

She would see—

Not just justice.

But retribution.

What happens to the monster who dares carve nightmares into someone I love.

Then—I turned to him.

Still bound to the wall, still gasping, still clinging to the hope that I was the woman who once whispered his name in the dark.

The smile from moments ago vanished without a trace—like it had never existed at all.

The warmth in my face drained to ash.

The kindness he knew—

Died.

What he saw in my gaze now—

It was not the woman he knew.

It was not the lover he deceived.

It was the storm he had unleashed.

The fury of a sister whose heart had been shattered, rebuilt, and sharpened into a weapon.

And I would make him understand—

What it means to break something I swore to protect.