The question lingered in the candlelit air:

"…what must be done so our faith does not collapse?"

Orthran's voice still trembled, as if he feared the answer more than the truth itself.

Charlotte lowered her gaze.

Noel felt her thigh tense under his hand — a quiet warning he had learned to recognize. Something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn't planned to say.

He leaned closer, whispering barely above breath.

"Charlotte… stick to the plan," he murmured. "We only tell fragments. Nothing more."

She didn't nod, breathe or blink.

Instead, she whispered back — so faintly he almost missed it.

"…Noel… I can't lie to Grandpa."

Noel's heart dropped.

Charlotte's fingers curled tightly in her lap.

"He deserves the truth," she whispered, voice quivering with conviction. "All of it. Everything that happened. Everything we saw."

Noel's blood ran cold.

"Charlotte," he whispered quickly, eyes widening, "that's not what we agreed. Are you sure?"

Charlotte swallowed — not in fear, but in resolve.

"…Yes."

Noir stiffened beneath the table, her shadowy tail pausing mid-sway. 'Dad… this feels dangerous,' she cautioned in his mind.

'I know,' Noel answered silently.

He leaned in a little more, urgency slipping into his voice.

"Charlotte… if you tell him too much, if you go beyond what we planned—"

"I know," she whispered, cutting gently through his warning. "But I won't lie to him. Not about this."

Her golden eyes lifted, shining with something between fear and determination.

"I have to say it, Noel. I have to tell him what really happened."

Before he could stop her —

before he could argue, or plead, or remind her of the danger —

Charlotte straightened in her chair.

She turned to face Orthran fully.

Her expression was steady.

Her resolve, unshakable.

Noel's breath froze.

He knew, in that instant, that Charlotte was about to break the one rule they had sworn to follow.

Charlotte lifted her head.

Orthran raised his eyes to meet hers, and for a moment the three simply breathed the same heavy silence — the kind that came before a blade dropped.

Then Charlotte spoke.

Slowly. Carefully. But with a depth that made Noel's chest tighten.

"Grandpa," she began, her voice soft but unwavering, "the people believe our god was betrayed by corruption… or by darkness… or by some unseen evil."

Orthran nodded tightly. "Those are the stories passed down, yes."

Charlotte inhaled. The candle flame between them trembled as if sensing her intent.

"But the truth… is not that simple," she said quietly. "Elarin wasn't betrayed by evil. He was sealed away. And not by a monster. Not by some ancient enemy."

Orthran's brows furrowed.

His breath hitched the slightest bit.

"Sealed…" He leaned forward. "By whom?"

Noel felt his stomach twist. He tried to interject — gently, carefully.

"Charlotte, we can explain it without—"

But Charlotte continued.

"By his brother."

Noel shut his eyes.

Orthran froze. His fingers, folded together a moment ago, slowly loosened.

"…His brother," he repeated. "You mean… the stories were incomplete? That Elarin had a sibling?"

Charlotte nodded once, slowly.

"Yes."

Orthran's voice cracked.

"We have no record of this. No scripture even hints—"

"Because it was hidden," Charlotte said softly. "Because the truth was too dangerous."

Orthran stared at her with widening eyes.

"Dangerous how?"

Charlotte hesitated — only a heartbeat — but it was enough for Noel to feel the dread roll through him like cold smoke.

'Charlotte, stop.' He gripped her knee subtly under the table.

But Charlotte continued speaking, her words deliberate and careful only in the shape — not in the weight.

"The one who sealed him… cared for him deeply," she said. "He wasn't corrupted. His love didn't twist into anything dark."

Orthran blinked, stunned by the sudden correction.

Charlotte continued, her voice soft but sharp with truth:

"He sealed Elarin because Elarin was losing himself. Because he was becoming unstable… dangerous. Because the world was at risk."

Orthran froze.

"Unstable…?" he whispered.

Charlotte nodded.

"Yes. Elarin wasn't evil. He wasn't malicious. But the power he carried — the pressure he lived under — it began to break him. And if Noctis hadn't acted… Elarin would have destroyed everything without even realizing it."

Orthran's hand covered his mouth, his breath shaking.

"So the brother didn't betray him," he whispered. "He tried to save the world… and perhaps even save Elarin from himself."

Charlotte's voice softened even further.

"Yes. It was an act of love… but also of necessity. He didn't want to do it. It broke him. But he did it because there was no other choice."

Noel watched Orthran fold inward, as if the weight of this knowledge pressed centuries onto his shoulders.

And Charlotte finished quietly:

"Noctis sealed Elarin… to protect the world. And to spare his brother from becoming something he never wanted to be."

Silence.

A silence so deep it seemed to echo inside the stone walls.

Orthran didn't speak at first. His hands trembled on the table.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw — stripped of authority, stripped of calm, stripped of anything but pain.

"…All my life," he whispered, "I have taught the faithful that Elarin disappeared fighting an ancient evil. That he fell in a glorious final battle to protect humanity."

Charlotte lowered her gaze, listening.

Orthran's breath shook.

"And the tale that spread through generations…" His voice dropped further. "…was that he was slain by another god. A being of equal power. Someone who turned against him in the final hour."

He shook his head slowly, despair settling into the lines of his face.

"But the scriptures never named that god. It was always left as a shadow—an unnamed betrayer." His fingers curled helplessly. "And I told that story to thousands. Year after year. Ceremony after ceremony."

He looked at the lantern on his desk as if it were a grave marker.

"I believed it. Completely. I taught them that Elarin died a martyr, struck down by a force of darkness. I never imagined…" His voice broke. "…that the truth was nothing like the legend."

Charlotte stepped closer, her golden eyes soft with compassion.

"You didn't lie," she murmured. "You carried the only version the world could bear."

Orthran closed his eyes tightly, anguish twisting his expression.

"But I passed down a story built on sand," he whispered. "A death that wasn't true. A murderer who never existed. A villain invented because the truth was too heavy…"

He pressed a hand over his heart.

"…and I helped spread that illusion."

Orthran's breathing was uneven, his fingers trembling over the wooden table as the truth reshaped everything he had believed.

But before despair could swallow him completely—

Noel spoke.

"Orthran… you're wrong about one thing."

Orthran lifted his eyes, hollow and wounded.

Noel continued.

"Your doctrines weren't all built on sand. Not even close."

Charlotte watched Noel with surprise — she hadn't expected him to speak now, not after everything she had revealed.

Noel straightened, his voice gaining steadiness.

"Elarin was good. Truly. He was kind, compassionate… a protector. Everything you taught about him being the guiding light of mankind — that was real."

Orthran blinked, breath catching.

"And the stories," Noel went on, "about him helping the first humans… those weren't myths either. He was the first to touch mana. The first to share it. The first to teach others how to wield it."

Orthran's fingers slowly unclenched, as if grasping for hope.

Noel continued, gentler:

"He shaped the world. He made it safer. He lifted entire civilizations with his own hands."

Charlotte nodded softly beside him.

Orthran whispered, voice trembling:

"So the core of our doctrine… was still true."

"Yes," Noel said. "Most of it was."

Orthran swallowed hard, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly—until Noel spoke again.

"But something happened when Elarin reached the Rank of Manacode."

Orthran stiffened instantly.

Noel continued, slow and deliberate:

"His mind… broke."

The lantern flickered, casting long shadows across the room.

"It wasn't corruption," Noel clarified. "It wasn't darkness. It was pressure. Power. Vision. Something he saw — or felt — shattered him."

Orthran leaned forward, breath shallow.

"And when his mind broke," Noel said quietly, "he changed. He wasn't the same god anymore."

Orthran finally found his voice.

"How do you know this, Noel?"

The room froze.

Noir stopped moving under the table.

Charlotte's breath stilled.

And Noel answered with calm honesty:

"…Because Noctis told me."

Orthran's face went pale.

"Y–You… spoke with him?"

Noel nodded once.

"I did. Once."

Charlotte placed a hand over her chest, steadying herself as Orthran stood, shock rippling through him.

"You met the brother of Elarin…" Orthran whispered. "The one who sealed him… the one whom scripture only hints at in shadows… you spoke to him?"

"Yes," Noel said. "I listened. And whether I liked it or not… I learned what truly happened."

Orthran sank back into his chair as if his legs had failed him.

Noel continued softly:

"Noctis didn't seal Elarin out of hatred. He loved him. He tried to stop him. But Elarin's mind was gone — and the world was in danger."

Silence expanded — deep, trembling, suffocating.

Then…

Charlotte stepped forward.

Her voice was steady.

"Grandpa… we can't let people learn the real truth. Not like this. They would break. They would lose hope — and faith is sometimes the only thing keeping the world together."

Orthran lifted his eyes toward her, dazed.

Charlotte continued:

"We need to change the doctrine. Adjust it so that it protects the faithful — not destroys them."

She placed a hand on the table, leaning slightly forward.

"We can't reveal the real story. But we can give them a version that is safe. One that honors what was true… and shields what must remain hidden."

Noel nodded beside her.

"And this time," he added quietly, "the Church won't be teaching lies. Just a version of the truth that people can survive."

Orthran didn't answer.

He simply stared at the two of them — shocked, torn, listening with every fiber of his being… because he had no choice but to.

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