Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

"Marquis…..by that point, you must have understood my character no?"

Experience tales with empire

The Marquis turned to Lucavion, his gaze heavy with scrutiny. For a long moment, he said nothing, his sharp eyes boring into Lucavion's smirking expression. Finally, he spoke, his tone low and deliberate. "Does this mean you truly intend to do this, Lucavion? To approach her?"

Lucavion's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and mischief. "Indeed, Marquis. I'm not one to back down from a challenge. Aether may not trust me yet, but that doesn't mean she never will."

The Marquis's expression darkened, though not with anger—there was something closer to concern, tempered by resignation. "Very well," he said quietly, "but understand this, Lucavion—I will not let you harm her. If you so much as frighten her unnecessarily, I will stop you myself."

Lucavion inclined his head, his smirk softening slightly. "I wouldn't dream of it. She's not just a horse—she's a creature of pride, freedom, and power. I understand that. Give me half an hour, Marquis. If I can't win her over in that time, I'll walk away."

The Marquis's eyes narrowed further as if weighing the sincerity in Lucavion's words. After a tense pause, he sighed deeply, his expression relaxing just enough to convey reluctant acceptance. "Half an hour," he said finally, his tone carrying a warning. "If she shows any sign of distress, you stop immediately. Do you understand?"

Lucavion nodded, his smirk unwavering. "Crystal clear."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The Marquis stepped aside, gesturing toward the pen with a small wave of his hand. "If this is what you want… then so be it."

Valeria let out an audible groan, crossing her arms as she shot Lucavion a glare. "You're impossible," she muttered, though her voice carried a faint note of resignation. "If you get yourself trampled, I'm not helping."

"Noted," Lucavion replied, his tone light as he turned his full attention to Aether. The horse had calmed slightly, though her sharp, glowing eyes still burned with defiance. Her stance was rigid, her powerful form radiating tension as she pawed at the ground, her mane rippling like living shadows.

Lucavion stepped forward slowly, his movements deliberate and measured. He stopped just short of the pen's entrance, his gaze locked onto Aether's and held his ground. The two regarded each other in silence, their mutual wariness hanging heavy in the air.

********

Now that I think about it, can animals feel emotions?

Maybe not every one of them is smart enough, but some?

Or is the loss of beings that we hold dear painful universally?

Can every living being discern the term "we hold dear"? Or is it just something special to humans?

Whatever it is the answer to this question, it is apparent that this one before me can.

The air in the stable seemed heavier now, thick with tension that wasn't just from the horse standing before me. Aether's glowing eyes bore into mine, her defiance as sharp as a blade. She was magnificent, really—a creature that embodied freedom itself. But there was something else there, beneath the rippling shadows of her mane and the power radiating from her stance. Pain.

I knew that pain.

"Loss," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "It's always there, isn't it?"

Aether's ears flicked, and for a moment, I wondered if she could understand me. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in the way that creatures with old souls sometimes could. Her stance didn't relax, but she didn't move to charge either.

"Everyone in this world loses something, someone," I continued, my tone soft but edged with quiet bitterness. "That's the cruel truth of it, isn't it? No matter how strong you are, no matter how fiercely you fight to protect them… it's never enough. People slip away. Some are ripped from you, others drift like leaves in the wind. And the worst part? You're left behind, holding the pieces of what they were."

I stepped closer to the pen, my movements slow and deliberate. Aether's glowing eyes narrowed, her tail lashing once, but she didn't move.

"Sometimes, it feels like the world delights in taking what matters most. Like it feeds off your pain, off the emptiness it leaves behind. It's sharp, isn't it? That hollow ache in your chest, like a wound that never quite heals. You carry it with you, every single day, even when you think you've moved on."

I stopped just short of the pen's edge, leaning against it with a quiet sigh. "I've felt it too. More times than I care to admit. And I've seen it in others—the way it breaks them bends them into something they weren't meant to be. Some people drown in it. Others harden, turning their grief into anger, into purpose. And some, like you…" I nodded toward Aether, her glowing eyes unyielding. "They wear it like armor."

The horse snorted softly, her mane rippling as though stirred by an unseen breeze. I could feel her tension, her refusal to let anyone close—not because she wanted to hurt them, but because she couldn't bear to lose someone again. That kind of pain wasn't easy to endure.

"You're right to be wary," I said, my voice quieter now. "Because the truth is, nothing can make that pain go away. Not really. You can try to forget, bury it, drown it in anger or distraction, but it never truly leaves you. It lingers, like a shadow that stretches with the passing of time."

I leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze directly. "But here's the thing, Aether."

The soft crackle of flames broke the tension, a sound faint but unmistakable. Aether's ears twitched, her glowing eyes snapping to the flickering light that danced across my outstretched hand. The [Flame of Equinox] coiled there, a steady, living heat that pulsed with a rhythm only I could feel. It wasn't just fire—it was balance, a harmony of life and death, an energy both destructive and nurturing.

"What are you doing?" the Marquis's voice rang out, sharp and laced with warning.

I raised my other hand without breaking my gaze from Aether. "Marquis, you need not worry. My flames will not harm this one."

The tension in the room was palpable, but I let it wash over me. Aether's stance remained taut, her defiance unyielding, but her eyes were locked onto the flames now, captivated by their strange, shifting glow.

"Life and death…" I murmured, my voice low, almost to myself. "They both complement each other. One cannot exist without the other. And yet, we struggle against death, as though it's an enemy. As though it isn't the very thing that gives life its meaning."

Aether's mane rippled like liquid shadows caught in an invisible wind, the faint hum of mana thickening in the air around her. Her gaze didn't waver, and for a moment, it felt as though she truly was listening.

"But you," I continued, my tone softening, "you've let death shackle you. The loss of someone dear has bound you, hasn't it?" I tilted my head slightly, studying her, searching for some flicker of understanding. "Aether, will you let that pain define you? Will you let it hold you captive, even as you claim to embrace freedom?"

I wasn't sure if she could comprehend my words—if she could even begin to grasp the weight of what I was saying. But in that moment, it didn't matter. Perhaps I wasn't speaking to her at all. Perhaps these words were meant for me.

"This freedom you cling to," I said, my voice steady but carrying a faint edge of something unspoken, "isn't it your prison? Isn't it the very thing keeping you from moving forward?"

The flames in my hand flickered, their light casting faint shadows that danced across Aether's dark coat. She pawed at the ground, her powerful form trembling slightly, not with fear, but with something deeper. Something raw.

I stepped closer to the pen's edge, the heat of the flames warming the air between us. "Come," I said, my voice calm but commanding. "If you want to experience what real freedom is."

Aether's glowing eyes burned brighter, her gaze locked onto mine now as though searching for something—truth, perhaps, or resolve.

I extended my hand, the [Flame of Equinox] flaring slightly, its light casting a soft glow across the stable. "Or," I continued, my voice dropping to a near whisper, "without the flame of life, you'll lose yourself in the coldness of death."

The stable was silent save for the faint crackle of flames and the quiet hum of mana that filled the air. I stood there, my hand extended, waiting. The choice was hers. It had always been hers.

Would she remain bound by her pain, or would she take the first step toward something greater? Toward something free? Only time would tell.

"But one thing is clear…" I said softly, my voice cutting through the silence. The flames in my hand burned steadily, their warm glow casting shifting light onto Aether's dark coat. "The hardest step is always the first one."

Aether's ears flicked again, her sharp, glowing eyes never leaving the fire. The hum of mana around her seemed to grow quieter, almost as if the air itself was holding its breath. Her defiance remained, etched into every taut muscle, every ripple of her flowing mane, but there was something else now. Something softer. A question, perhaps. A flicker of doubt in her unyielding stance.

And then, she moved.

"Heh…..Not bad….."