Fate/Eva Frankenstein

"They say she returned to him with the fury of a storm… and left with the sadness of the entire world."

— Northern folk song

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Chapter 10: The Last Embrace.

Eva had imagined this moment many times.

And in many different ways.

Some were swift and brutal deaths.

Others, torturous and prolonged.

In some versions, she even condemned him to a fate identical to the one he had suffered months before.

Armless, powerless, abandoned in the darkness.

She had visualized the exact moment Victor's life would vanish between her hands. She had dreamed of the satisfaction she would feel at seeing the person responsible for her agony disappear.

But this...

It was not like any of those fantasies.

She looked at him, panting, her chest heaving with suppressed rage.

"...Why aren't you scared?" she snapped, her voice harsh, almost broken. "Why aren't you running?"

Her eyes, blazing with fury, scrutinized him, desperate to find a spark of terror.

The same one she'd seen in Geneva.

The one that had delighted her so much, if only for a moment.

But Victor just watched her.

Calm.

As if he'd already accepted his fate.

Because he had.

"Because I no longer have anything to fear," he finally replied, serene. "Because running would no longer make sense."

What...?

The thought echoed like a hollow bell in her mind.

Eva gritted her teeth, her grip on her mace trembling with sheer tension.

"NO!" she screamed, her voice torn by something deeper than the cold. "You shouldn't feel this way! Not calmly! Not at peace!"

Peace.

The word burned in her throat like poison.

It was the opposite of everything she felt.

How could he have what he'd stolen from her?

"Do you think I'll let you go like this? Just to apologize?" Her voice cracked, hoarse, heavy with months of suppressed anger. "After what you did to me? After the rejection... the abandonment... the hell you left me in all that time?!"

His breathing was ragged. His eyes blazed with an ancient fury, a black flame that promised nothing but punishment.

But Victor didn't move.

Still. Serene. Fearless.

"No..." he murmured, his voice thick with guilt. "I hurt you too much."

He slowly raised his gaze, his dull pupils meeting hers.

Eva hesitated.

Because what she saw in that face wasn't fear.

Nor feigned regret.

It was pain.

Raw pain. Pain for her.

"You were an innocent creature..." Victor whispered, as if confessing before an altar. "And I made you suffer for nothing."

I feared you without trying to understand you.

I destroyed you without thinking about your pain.

I pushed you away... as if you were a mistake that needed to be hidden.

Each word was a blade.

And Eva had nowhere to hide from them.

"But in the end... the only mistake was mine," he continued, his voice trembling between certainty and surrender. "It was all born from my hands.

From my arrogance.

From my foolishness."

Eva couldn't move. Something in her was breaking.

A crack was widening under the weight of those words.

"Dear Eva... crystallization of my fantasies... and the greatest victim of my life...I'm sorry. For everything."

Silence.

A sincere apology.

And for a moment, even the wind seemed to stop.

Eva remained motionless.

Victor's words echoed inside her, like echoes in a deep cavern, bouncing off her fury, her pain, her confusion.

She didn't know what she was expecting when she arrived here.

A plea.

A look of terror.

An excuse.

Anything...

But this.

The trembling in her hands was no longer from the cold.

She clenched her fists.

"Are you sorry?" she whispered, incredulous.

A flash of lightning crossed her memory.

Her body, dismembered.

The smell of formaldehyde, the perpetual pain.

The dying darkness.

The moment she realized her existence was nothing more than a failed experiment for this man...

...who never saw her as anything more...

...and how she ended up as a mere abandoned creation.

"Do you think an apology..." her eyes widened, wild, "will extinguish..."

She remembered the last time she saw him.

The last time he pleaded with her in a voice she didn't understand, that only wanted to exist, that only wanted to understand.

"And as for you..." the voice came closer, lowered. "My beloved abomination. Unholy being sprung from my imagination..." She felt his breath brush against skin she still didn't know was hers. "Damn monster..."

"Your destiny is to perish here. Disarmed. Forgotten. Right here."

"I'd like to call myself a liar if I said I didn't enjoy this. But no. No, you can't imagine the satisfaction this gives me."

"Goodbye, Eva... No... that name doesn't suit you. "Lilith" would suit you better, don't you think? Because just like her...

...you were nothing but a mistake from beginning to end."

That face filled with sick satisfaction. So unpleasant. So hateful.

"...THE FLAMES OF MY RAGE!!!" he roared. His voice boomed like thunder, filling the cabin, making the wood itself tremble.

The doctor, hiding in a corner, barely held his breath.

Eva took a step toward Victor.

"Why aren't you scared?!" she spat, her voice cracking. "Why...aren't you...RUN?!"

She repeated those questions more intensely.

Her face was a mask of conflicting emotions. Hate. Pain. Sadness.

And something else.

Something that felt too much like emptiness.

"You think this is forgiveness?!" he hissed, his throat dry and his eyes cloudy. "DO YOU THINK IT'S ENOUGH TO FEEL GUILT?!!!"

The mace fell from her back with a dull sound, the cold metal touching the wooden floor.

She leaned slightly toward him.

"I was the one who lived with that pain!"

She trembled. Outside with rage. Inside... with exhaustion.

"I was the one who bled...!"

"I was the one who was confined, abandoned, the one who begged for a "why?" in the darkness of a grave you yourself DUG!"

Her lips trembled, but no longer from the cold.

And yet...

She didn't hit him.

She didn't raise the gun.

She just looked at him.

And in her gaze, there was no justice. No redemption.

Only an abyss that had waited so long...

that she no longer knew what to do with her hatred, now that it was right in front of her.

"...You don't run just because you can't, do you?" Eva murmured, taking a step closer. "Yes... yes, that must be it..."

Her words came out in a frantic whisper, as if she were trying to convince herself. Her gaze, fixed on Victor, was that of a wounded beast.

"Your apologies... that look... all of this... hehehe!" A broken laugh escaped her throat, brief and bitter, before breaking completely. "LIES!!!"

"NOTHING BUT LIES!!!"

Her roar shook the cabin, as furious as the wind outside.

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN!" she continued, her voice cracking.

"YOU ARE HEARTLESS!"

"CRUEL!"

"A COWARD!"

Each word was a whiplash, launched forcefully from the depths of her soul.

"You delight..." she spat, in disgust, "...in my suffering."

That memory burned in her mind again: him, turning his back on her for the last time in the workshop, without a glance. The door closing, condemning her to that fate.

"With my pain!" she exclaimed, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Never..." her voice broke. "I never did anything to you!"

AND YET...!!

YOU LEFT ME THERE... KNOWING WHAT WAITED ME!!

WAITING FOR ME TO DIE!!

"And now..."

Her lips trembled. The weight of every word spoken was beginning to take its toll on her.

"...you apologize."

Her body finally gave way.

Her knees hit the wood with a thud, and for the first time since she'd entered... Eva fell.

The storm outside hadn't managed to break her. But this storm, the one in her chest, had.

Her shoulders trembled.

Her breathing was ragged.

"W-why...?" she stammered, barely a broken whisper.

Her eyes clouded over completely, and tears—hot, angry, unstoppable—began to slide down her face.

—Sniff... w-why now...?

Her fingers dug into the ground, as if trying to grab onto something, to keep from sinking further. The rage was still there, throbbing.

But now it was accompanied by something deeper.

An ancient, devastating pain that she finally allowed himself to feel.

Victor remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as he listened to Eva's angry words. Only a faint sigh escaped his lips, a silent acceptance of the weight of his mistakes.

His eyes, sunken and tired, reflected more guilt than defense. He didn't say a word; he knew there was no justification that would quell that fire.

In a shadowy corner of the cabin, the doctor watched, his face pale.

His trembling hands gripped the edge of the table, unable to tear his gaze away from that imposing yet broken figure.

Fear mingled with an inexplicable compassion as he processed the scene before him: the creator and his creation, two fractured souls facing off in a final act of truth.

Meanwhile, Eve had fallen to the floor, defeated not by strength, but by the torrent of emotions that anger and revenge could no longer contain.

Her tears, until then contained, flowed freely and heartbreakingly, filling the cabin with the only genuine sound: her sobbing, raw and sincere, reverberating between the walls.

No one else dared interrupt that sacred moment of relief, for within that cry lay the echo of a soul finally facing its deepest pain.

Then, the former alchemist made a decision.

Victor ignored the doctor's warnings, pushed back the blanket that covered him, and, with a titanic effort, sat up.

He felt the little life he had managed to preserve in the warmth begin to slip away as soon as his body was exposed to the cold once more.

But he didn't stop.

He had to.

His steps were staggering, hesitant, as if every movement were a battle against his own body.

And yet, he moved forward. Determined. Toward her.

Eva, seeing him rise, immediately stepped back, her fingers gripping the mace's handle tightly.

Instinct warned her: she must stay away. That man, her creator, was the poison that had poisoned her existence.

When Victor was only a few steps away, Eva tried to move. To push her body away, to get away, to scream, to attack.

But she couldn't.

Her limbs became slow, clumsy, as if her entire being refused to obey.

And then, in an unexpected gesture, Victor reached out his arms...

...and hugged her.

A trembling, weak embrace, but filled with genuine tenderness.

The world seemed to stop.

The hatred, the screams, the rage: everything was suspended within that simple… so human touch.

Eva stood still.

All her hatred, all her pain, all her fury mixed with something new. Something disconcerting.

A mixture of relief, sadness, and confusion.

She didn't know what to say.

She could only stay there, contained in that embrace. No answers. Only emotions.

"This will be the last… my last and first gift to you," Victor whispered, so low that his voice barely reached her ears. "Take good care of yourself… my beloved creation… my greatest achievement… my… last… regret…"

The embrace lost its strength.

It grew cold, like an inevitable sunset.

Finally, Victor's body separated from Eva's...

...and fell with a dull thud.

He died before hitting the ground.

Eva was speechless.

Unable to utter a word, she could only stare at Victor's lifeless body.

No...

A dry, wrenching pain ripped through her chest.

Don't you dare...

Suddenly, her body reacted.

With a strength born of panic, pain, denial, she lunged at him.

"DON'T YOU DARE DIE LIKE THAT!"

"No... you can't... not like that! You were supposed to... you were supposed to..."

"No... this... this is cheating..."

"YOU SHOULD HAVE SUFFERED!" she roared, her voice breaking. "Like me!"

"You should have begged for mercy... begged for mercy..."

"You should have looked me in the eyes when the last traces of life left you..."

"O-if not..."

Her words were cut off.

The rage, the desire for revenge, everything froze in the air.

What was all this for...?

What was her pain for?

What was her desperate struggle for?

What was the persecution for?

What... was she for?

Eve froze.

A memory, buried beneath the fog of her anger, emerged with brutal clarity.

Geneva.

That house.

Herself, wielding the mace.

Her face, impassive. Almost alien.

And in front of her...

...

"Oh... God..."

She covered her mouth with her hand, as if trying to catch a scream before it escaped.

Her eyes widened.

"What did I do...?"

I killed an innocent man.

He was in the way.

I don't even... know his name.

We couldn't do anything.

He had nothing to do with it... and yet...

That...

I didn't even know if... if I had...

"Darling!"

The voice.

That scream.

Eva remembered with brutal clarity the sound she had ignored after the blow.

A woman.

Torn apart. Calling for someone.

Calling for him.

And that word...

"Darling."

Her eyes widened in terror.

I left her alone.

And in that instant, the world fell apart.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The scream escaped her lips, unrestrained, unformed, just pure pain. A visceral roar that broke the silence like thunder in the night.

The doctor, who was just beginning to catch his breath, was startled violently. The walls creaked, and the echo of the scream spread through the cabin, then the mountain... until it reached the heart of the village.

The windows shook.

The animals stirred.

The people woke up.

And Eve… she curled up.

Her hands trembled, her breathing was uneven, shallow, almost inaudible.

And then...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

The words came out one after another, without pause or reason, like an unanswered prayer. As if they could undo what had been done, erase the horror, remake history.

But they only filled the air with a hollow wail.

Desperate.

Irreparable.

"How could this happen...?" Eva sobbed, her voice breaking. "I just wanted Victor to suffer... this wasn't supposed to happen!"

...

"It's another lie..."

Yes...

That has to be it..."

"You're fooling me again..." she said, looking at Victor's motionless body. "That's what you do, isn't it? Again..."

Silence.

"DON'T PRETEND! YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!" she suddenly screamed, lunging at him.

She sat on his chest and shook him hard.

"THIS IS ANOTHER DECEPTION! YOU JUST WANT ME TO SUFFER AGAIN!"

His breathing was labored, his eyes trembled, his pupils dilated.

"Your heart..." he gasped. "No matter how hard you pretend... your heart can't... CAN IT?!"

She tore at he clothes with trembling hands, digging her fingers into his pale skin.

Blood.

Flesh.

Ribs.

She didn't stop. Like a deranged machine, she tore off piece after piece, searching, digging, denying the reality she refused to accept.

"You'll see how I uncover your lie! And then you'll suffer! Yes! Your screams will ring out for hours! I'll tear your limbs off! I'll sew your mouth shut!" I'll burn your eyes out and I'll... I'll...!

...

The heart was there.

Visible.

Open.

Motionless.

Silence.

Everything remained suspended. Neither the bustle of the town outside nor the doctor's shaky breathing could break that pause.

Eve remained motionless, staring.

Her mind finally began to accept the image before her.

Victor Frankenstein... was dead.

Truly dead.

As if suddenly dawning on her, she looked down at her own hands.

Covered in blood.

Covered in viscera.

I tremble.

And she whispered, in a small, lost voice:

"What am I doing...?"

She slowly raised her gaze.

Her eyes, still moist, lingered on Victor's lifeless face.

Despite everything...

Despite the torn flesh, the ripped chest, the body violated by his fury...

That expression.

Calm.

Serenity.

Almost tenderness.

It hadn't faded.

No matter how brutal the wound, his face still spoke to her with compassion.

And that...

That was the worst of it.

"...you really are cruel," she whispered. Her voice was barely a thread, broken, almost inaudible.

"...why did you create me, if you were only going to cause me suffering... even in your final moments..."

She lowered his head, trembling.

Her shoulders rose and fell with an uneven rhythm, as if she couldn't decide whether to cry or vomit.

"...how can you have that face... after this?"

Her fingers—the same ones that had destroyed him—clumsily caressed his cheek, as if she expected the warmth to disappear... but it didn't.

It was still warm.

"...why am I alone... suffering like this...?"

The question wasn't for Victor.

It wasn't even for the world.

It was for herself.

She stood there, alone...

...holding what remained of her creator.

And, for the first time, without knowing who she was.

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The doctor, still trembling, kept his distance for a few endless seconds.

Everything inside him told him to run.

The stench of rusted metal, the spilled blood, the mutilated body of the man he'd tried to save...

And her.

The creature that had appeared before him with such a fury that it didn't seem of this world.

But now...

Now she was kneeling.

Motionless.

Sunk within herself like a lost child in the midst of an endless nightmare.

He could no longer call her a "monster."

Not after seeing her tremble, cry, desperately mutter words that were meant for no one.

Hesitantly, almost afraid of breaking something fragile, he took a step forward.

Just one.

And then another.

Each step weighed more than the last.

He bent down slowly.

And, restraining the trembling of his hand, he reached out toward her shoulder, like someone trying to comfort someone who is breaking into a thousand pieces.

But before he could touch her...

"Don't touch me," Eva whispered.

It was barely a whisper.

Without anger.

Without threat.

But so hollow, so deep and broken, it made him freeze.

The doctor withdrew his hand.

And he said nothing.

Because he understood, deep down, that no words could reach the person in front of him.

At least...not now...

Eva stood up slowly, almost dragging every muscle as if her own body weighed tons.

Her breathing was ragged. Her face, blank.

She picked up her mace, dragged it behind her like a burden, and headed for the door.

She couldn't stay there a second longer.

When she opened it, she was greeted by the creaking of wood, the icy hiss of the blizzard...

And the fire.

Dozens of people had gathered outside.

Villagers. Hunters. Men and women armed with torches, rifles, axes.

Their faces were a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion.

"What is that thing?!" someone shouted from the back.

"Is she a demon?!"

"She's covered in blood!"

"Monster.!!"

The words piled up, tumbled over each other.

Eva looked at them.

Or rather: she pierced them with her gaze.

Her eyes were empty, emotionless.

As if they were nothing more than shadows dancing before her.

And without pausing, she took a step forward.

The crowd tensed.

Some stepped back. Others raised their weapons, their knuckles white from clenching. Then...

"Wait!"

A clear voice cut through the air like lightning.

The doctor appeared behind her, panting, his gown still soaked, his gaze steady.

"Stop! Stop!" he shouted, pushing his way through as best he could.

He placed himself between Eva and the villagers, his arms outstretched as if his thin body could stop a stampede.

Eva gave him just a glance. Not one of gratitude. Not one of anger.

She just… saw him.

And he kept walking.

Step by step. Toward the storm.

"Let her go..." the doctor said, his voice lower.

"But..." someone tried to retort.

"Just let her go!" he shouted this time, desperate, almost pleading.

The storm was slowly devouring Eva's figure, her silhouette disappearing into the snow like a specter that should never have existed.

The doctor watched her walk away, his throat tight.

"...please...just...let her go."

And no one dared to move.

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Pov. Eva.

The wind blew hard, dragging the snow as if it wanted to erase its footprints.

She walked without looking back.

The sounds of the village—the voices, the footsteps, the murmurs—were left behind, fading little by little until they were swallowed by the blizzard.

Only she remained.

And the crunch of the snow beneath her feet.

Her body trembled, but not from the cold.

It was something else.

A wound deeper than the flesh.

Deeper than the soul.

"...monster..."

The word escaped her lips in a weak, almost confused murmur.

She had heard it before. Many times. In shouts. In whispers. In unspoken thoughts.

It had hurt before. It burned like an open wound.

But now...

She felt nothing.

She thought of Emma. Of that man from Geneva. Of that villager she threatened.

Of Victor.

Of her bloody hands.

Of her mace.

Of the scream that shattered the cabin.

Of her lifeless body.

"Yes... I guess I am a monster," she murmured, lost in the wind.

There was no pain in her voice.

Only emptiness.

Some villagers watched her from a distance, motionless figures at the entrance to the village, so small against the immensity of the storm.

They watched her retreat.

Until her silhouette became a shadow.

And then, nothing.

Swallowed by the world.

Lost in the depths of the storm.

Alone.

End of Chapter 10

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I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Goodbye