"For one, I can summon a big wolf."
The mont the words left Aveline’s mouth, Selaphiel froze.
Sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, Aveline grew uneasy as Selaphiel pierced her with an intense, unreadable stare. The silence stretched.
Finally, the elf spoke again, her voice was low and deliberate.
"How big is this wolf you can summon?"
"Not too big,"
Aveline answered hastily, rushing to clarify the details of her magic.
"It doesn’t have a physical form—it appears as a phantom. I have to spend a significant amount of mana for it to interact with the physical world, and even then, it’s only for an extrely brief mont. I can’t use the spell again for a while after that."
"I see,"
Selaphiel responded, her expression loosening just slightly.
She spoke again.
Aveline visibly relaxed—until Selaphiel’s voice followed once more.
"And here I thought Lugh was the only anomaly."
Aveline imdiately tensed.
"Wait. Are you comparing to Lugh?"
Her face betrayed clear skepticism.
Selaphiel smiled, her mood visibly improved.
"Well, maybe not as exaggerated as Lugh... but it’s still unheard of. Your generation has an impossible amount of talent ...for humans. My hard work is finally bearing fruit."
"Your hard work?"
Aveline repeated, confused.
Selaphiel turned toward her, eyes twinkling.
"Why yes. You don’t think I marry my grandsons because of so weird fetish, do you?"
Aveline’s eyes flickered with dawning comprehension, but her expression remained guarded.
After all, this was the sa woman who once told her that the deeper one delves into magic, the more the mind slips. And given Selaphiel’s eccentricity, Aveline still half-suspected the elf preferred such unsavoury implications.
Her gaze shifted toward the unconscious Lugh—the supposed husband-to-be. Her expression turned perplexed.
Selaphiel caught it in a glance. She frowned, reached over, and pulled at Aveline’s cheeks.
"What are you thinking about?"
"N-nothing!"
Aveline stamred, reddening.
Selaphiel sighed, speaking more seriously.
"We have more important matters to discuss. Specifically, the magic you’ve learned."
"Oh. Okay,"
Aveline replied.
"I’m going to tell you a short story,"
Selaphiel said.
"I won’t tolerate any interruptions."
"I’m listening,"
Aveline confird.
Selaphiel cleared her throat and began:
"Long before ti moved in circles and shadows learned to follow light, two beasts were born from the first silence of the cosmos.
Their nas were Solvyr, the Burning Maw, and Nhemira, the Veiled Fang.
They were twin wolves—but not born of womb or flesh. They erged from the death of a star—its final scream fractured space itself, and from its broken howl ca two shapes:
Solvyr devoured the heat, light, and fire of the star.
Nhemira swallowed its shadow, silence, and the void it left behind.
The gods called them the Sky Devourers, and feared what they might hunger for next.
To keep them from consuming the newborn cosmos, the gods bound Solvyr to the chariot of the sun, and Nhemira to the wake of the moon.
But it was a mistake.
Solvyr’s hunger burned brighter with every dawn. He would leap for the sun, leaving streaks of fla in the sky.
Nhemira, more patient, crept behind the moon in silence, blotting dreams and twisting tides.
When they catch up, the sky bleeds or dims. Eclipses are the marks of their jaws grazing their prey.
But the Sky Devourers were not without rcy. Once, during a stilled night where neither sun nor moon moved, they paused. And in that pause, a pact was made with a mortal—a child born under a sky with no stars.
A girl who bore both fla and shadow in her eyes.
They did not devour her. They marked her.
Now, their heir walks the world, carrying the divided legacy of their power.
When she calls, lesser echoes of the Sky Devourers answer—brief, spectral beasts made of ash and starlight.
But one day, it is said, she may summon the true Devourers.
And on that day, the sky will have no light left to chase."
Aveline blinked.
"What?! Am I—?"
"You are not,"
Selaphiel interrupted, wearing an odd expression.
Aveline hesitated, rembering the phrase she had to chant to summon the wolf.
"Nhemira..."
She began.
"But—?"
Selaphiel cut her off again.
"Ponder it carefully. It’s a spell you learned, no?"
"Ah. That’s right."
Aveline nodded visibly deflating. This ant others could learn it, too.
But... that only left her more confused.
"So... why the story?"
Selaphiel shrugged.
"Oh, that? That’s just sothing every awakened has. Like a legend or myth. I even have my own."
"You’re awakened?"
Aveline asked, a little surprised.
"Yes,"
Selaphiel answered matter-of-factly.
"Lugh will probably get one made of him in a couple of years. The stories are mostly exaggerated and fantastical."
"Oh. Okay."
Aveline nodded slowly, before a new question ca to mind.
"And what about the girl in the story? The marked one. Is she still alive?"
There was a pause.
"...Rember the elf from the Cross family I told you about?"
Aveline’s eyes widened in realization.
"You an—?"
"Yes,"
Selaphiel cut in again, finishing the thought before Aveline could. She continued, her tone turning serious.
"Which brings us to why I’m telling you all this."
"What you ca across was the teaching manual she created. It was ant to be passed down to her descendants. I stole it.
She must’ve made a new one by now, but the fact remains—you’ve learned the awakened ability of another elf. The secret magic the Cross family prides itself on. For your safety—and everyone else’s—you must never reveal this fact openly."
"...I understand."
"Good,"
Selaphiel said, clasping her hands.
Silence returned.
Aveline was quick to break it.
"What about your own legend? Or... er, whatever those stories are called?"
"Mine?"
Selaphiel raised a brow.
Aveline nodded.
Selaphiel put on a thoughtful expression—but then her gaze caught the window. The scenery outside had changed.
"I’ll tell you later,"
She said.
Before Aveline could protest, the carriage ca to a halt.
They had arrived at their destination.
Selaphiel glanced at the still-sleeping Lugh.
"It’s about ti we woke him up."
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