Tears were pouring like a river as Ashla staggered towards the ship. She knew how confused the crewmates were over the fight between two maidens down the beach, yet she would say nothing. She was paying them with coin, not details of her life story. Still, her head hung low as she sheathed her dagger. “I am so, so, so sorry, dear…”

Then, her elf ear twitched. It was strange, as she heard bubbles, bubbles, in the water. Even in summer the water would not naturally boil like that! Her eyes widened, suddenly realizing that the explosion of ice must have cut her too many times.

Her Berserk Powers would not take control of her body like a parasite.

She turned around, blue eye wide in fright as she saw a figure emerge from the water in a flurry of white, foaming waves. The water around her glowed and bubbled. Steam was rising like smoke from a burning building, reacting to the nuclear girl’s extreme heat. A cloak of red-orange hue swirled around her, encircling her in the wild, chaotic energy of deadly radiation. Sanity was gone, if any sanity was there before her plunge. Eyes dilated and mindless like an animal, she bolted towards the nearest person with wide, outstretched hands – Ashla.

Ashla saw a monster before her. A monster she created.

Her stubborn, selfish refusal to live was the only thing that kept her from letting the beast kill her. Instead, she dodged. She averted the extreme power, the glowing woman. She dodged and ran, waiting out this short yet brutal storm. Steam swirled, meshing with the cloak as the soaking wet redhead punched and swiped blindly. The rage engulfed body was acting out of an instinct of destruction and devastation. This was what had Ashla created in an innocent child.

She knew her crimes as the Executioner of the Wicket were wide and ranging, but she personally counted this to be amongst the worst.

Until the moment she died, Ashla would never feel free from the shame of it.

Eventually, the nergy died out. The cloak dissipated and Felicity dropped to the sandy ground unconscious. Now, standing over the smoldering young woman, Ashla wiped her tears. She pulled out backpack out and scowered for something. Eventually, she pulled out an old, white cloak and wrapped it around the girl like a blanket. With an old, despairing care, she stood up. Leaving a goodbye note she had written prior to this tucked under her limp hand, Ashla took one final look at Felicity Knopsnider Rhyolite before turning and leaving for the ship. This was the final goodbye.

The note’s contents would be a story for once Felicity woke up. As of now, the tragedy of the Apprentice of the Executioner of the Wicked was finally at its bitter end.