John Cavias' eyes, sharp and commanding, lingered on Matthew for a few moments longer than expected. Then, the Fierce Lion's smile softened—just barely—as he turned to address the boy directly.
"You've got fire in you, boy," he said. "Don't let anyone dim it. Not even yourself."
Matthew didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then gave a silent nod. That was all he could manage.
The man's expression turned serious again as he looked toward his children. "Theresia. Asvin."
Both straightened instantly.
"Take care of these three. Keep them fed, safe, and well-behaved. Teach them what it means to be part of a noble home, if only for a while." His gaze lingered on his daughter. "And keep your heart open. All of you."
Asvin nodded solemnly. Theresia's eyes darted to Matthew for just a second, confusion still swimming behind her concern, but she quickly gave a small nod.
"Of course, Father," she said.
Satisfied, John Cavias turned with that same military grace. Without another word, he left the chamber, boots echoing in the grand silence he left behind.
Only once the door closed behind him did anyone breathe.
Then Asvin exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Well. You survived Father. That's not nothing."
Matthew blinked. "He's… really intense."
"'Intense' is a polite way of saying he makes grown knights forget how to breathe," Asvin said with a lopsided grin. "That stare? It's practically a weapon. He once made a grown man cry just by raising an eyebrow."
Theresia chuckled from the side, settling into a nearby chair. "You should've seen Matt, though. Not even a flinch. He stared back like a little lion cub."
"Not bad," Asvin admitted, turning toward Matthew with a more sincere look. "You've got a spine, Matthew. I'll give you that."
Matthew just looked down, rubbing his arm where Sonia was still attached like a limpet. "Thanks… Big Bro Vin."
That made Asvin blink—and then he gave a short laugh. "I'm never living that one down, am I?"
"Not if I can help it," Theresia smirked. "Matt gave me a nickname first, so you're just catching up."
"Big Sis Sia," Sonia said proudly, still clinging to Matthew's side. "And Big Bro Vin!"
"Matt gave them," Terria added, a small, proud nod. She hadn't let go of his other arm.
Theresia leaned forward, smiling softly. "You're building your own little army, Matt."
Matthew gave a weak chuckle, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Asvin's gaze lingered on the boy's face, and though he didn't say anything more, it was obvious he hadn't forgotten about Matthew's earlier declaration. Neither had Theresia—her smile had softened, but her eyes held that same quiet concern. She wasn't teasing anymore.
But the little ones... they clung to him not because of anything he'd said, but simply because he was him. They hadn't moved an inch. They didn't care about the towering halls or red banners or noble blood.
They just didn't want to let go.
And that truth weighed heavier than anything else in the room.
Theresia's smile faltered again. She looked at Sonia and Terria—still latched onto Matt, clinging to him like he was the only anchor in a storm—and something in her heart twisted painfully.
Was this what goodbye looked like?
She had just met them, only spent a morning in their gentle presence, yet already… she couldn't imagine them gone. Couldn't imagine their voices fading from the hallways, their laughter echoing only in memory. The thought of them being sent away—of them being sent there—made her feel sick.
The orphanage in Coupitia City.
She'd heard the rumors. Everyone had. The kind of whispers noble daughters weren't supposed to hear but did anyway. Cold food. Cracked walls. Cruel hands. Crueler silences.
No. No, she couldn't let that happen. Not to them. Not after everything.
I'd kidnap them before letting that place get its hands on them, she thought, gripping the armrest tightly, her knuckles white.
Asvin stood quietly nearby, and for once, didn't offer a sarcastic remark. His eyes were distant, as if remembering something far older than he should. He'd heard those same rumors. And unlike most nobles, he'd actually seen that place—with Theresia, years ago, when their father sent them to donate supplies.
They hadn't expected what they'd found.
It was Theresia who had cried first. Who had held that frail little girl's hand and promised her things would get better. Who had stormed out of the building and, by the time they returned home, already begun dreaming of a new orphanage. One filled with warmth and books and safety. One where no child had to feel worthless or unwanted ever again.
She had been working on it since. Writing letters. Drawing plans. Trying to convince their father.
But it wasn't built yet.
And if Matthew and the girls were sent away now…
Even if she and Asvin could pressure the staff to never touch a hair on the three kids' heads… that wasn't the point. They'd still see things. Hear things. The other children there—scarred, hollow-eyed, some already twisted by what they'd endured. That kind of darkness spread quietly.
That kind of pain infected.
And that alone, Asvin knew, could crush the light out of even the strongest kids.
He looked over at Matthew, still quiet between the girls. So small. So stubborn. So right to be afraid.
Asvin clenched his jaw. Theresia, beside him, said nothing either—but when their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them.
They weren't going to let those three walk into there.
Not if they had anything to say about it.
Asvin, lost in thought, suddenly perked up as an idea sparked in his mind. He cleared his throat, stepping forward with a faint grin tugging at his lips.
"Hey, you three," he called out, his tone light, trying to ease the tension. "How about I take you to the backyard garden? You can meet our mother… and the last member of the family—our little sister, Rosin. Well, everyone calls her Rose."
At the sound of that name, both Terria and Sonia lifted their heads, their teary eyes wide with curiosity. The sadness didn't disappear, but a small light returned to their faces. The idea of meeting someone new—someone possibly close to their age—seemed to lift their spirits, if only a little.
"Really? There's a garden?" Sonia asked, wiping at her eyes.
Terria blinked. "The one Big Sis Sia said was 'uncute'?"
Asvin chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Don't listen to Sia. Rose is the same age as you three—and trust me, she's adorable. A little feisty, but smart. I think she'll like you."
The girls exchanged looks, a flicker of recognition in their eyes. They had heard of her—Theresia had mentioned her more than once this morning, usually with an exaggerated sigh or muttered complaint.
Matthew gave a small nod too, though it was slower, less certain. His eyes flickered between Asvin and the others, as if trying to find something solid in a world that had been swept out from under him.
He had just met the Fierce Lion—the Fierce Lion—one of the legends he'd read about over and over again. It should've been a moment of joy, something to celebrate. But the weight in his chest didn't go away.
His parents were gone. His village—ashes. Everything familiar had been torn from him, and now he was here, in a place that felt like a dream… but wasn't his.
He couldn't stay.
He shouldn't stay.
No matter how kind they were. No matter how warm the rooms, or how sweet the smiles. He knew the path ahead wouldn't be filled with gardens or laughter. It was going to be long… hard… lonely.
And the more comfortable he got now, the harder it would be to walk away.
Asvin clapped his hands together with mock grandeur. "Alright then! Prepare yourselves. You're about to meet the one and only Rosin Cavias—Rose for short. A storm in a teacup. A genius of mischief. The terror of tea time. Our adorable little sister."
"Adorable?" Theresia scoffed, folding her arms. "She called me a boar last week. A boar, Vin."
Terria blinked. "Like, the animal?"
"Exactly!" Theresia said, dramatically offended. "And when I tried to scold her, she just patted my head like I was a toddler."
Sonia burst into a giggle, her grip on Matt loosening just a little as she covered her mouth.
"Oh, come on," Asvin said, grinning. "She only does that when she likes someone."
"Then I'd hate to see how she treats someone she doesn't like," Theresia muttered, but there was no bite in her tone.
"You'll love her," Asvin said, winking at the three kids. "She's clever, a great listener, and surprisingly thoughtful… when she's not calling people names. And don't worry—if she calls you a boar, just oink once and you're safe."
That finally got Terria to giggle too, her eyes still misty but now a little brighter.
"She sounds funny," Sonia whispered, smiling.
"She is funny," Asvin said, giving her a thumbs-up. "And I bet the three of you will get along with her just fine."
Theresia glanced between Sonia and Terria, then nudged her brother lightly with her elbow. "Hey, Vin… keep it up. You're making them laugh."
Asvin raised an eyebrow. "I am?"
Theresia rolled her eyes. "Yes, you. I'm obviously the serious one here."
"Ah, right. The scary boar of House Cavias," he teased.
"Oh, shut it," she replied with a grin, flicking his shoulder.
The two siblings kept going, tossing light jabs and teasing comments back and forth like it was second nature. And slowly, steadily, the tension that had been so thick in the room began to loosen. Sonia started to giggle again, holding onto Matt less out of desperation and more out of comfort. Terria wiped her eyes quietly, trying to look like she wasn't smiling.
And even Matthew… even Matthew couldn't stop a tiny chuckle from escaping his lips.
It was small, almost like he didn't mean to let it out—but it was real.
And in that moment, for just a breath, the weight in his chest eased.
Asvin clapped his hands and turned toward the door. "Alright! Come on then, follow me—I'll take you to meet her. She should be in the garden this time of day. Probably bullying the flowers or something."
Terria and Sonia lit up, practically bouncing as they nodded eagerly. "Let's go!" Sonia chirped, grabbing Terria's hand.
Matthew gave a slow nod, quieter than the others but still agreeing. There was something calming about seeing their smiles. Even if he didn't feel the same excitement, he didn't want to ruin the moment.
Before they could leave, Theresia suddenly stepped forward and wrapped all three kids in a warm, tight hug.
"Wait," she said, her voice soft but a little shaky. "Before you go…"
She pressed a quick kiss to the top of each of their heads—first Sonia, then Terria, then Matt. "You three better come back after, alright? I mean it."
"We will, Big Sis Sia," Terria promised, squeezing her back.
"Yeah!" Sonia added. "Promise!"
Matthew glanced up at her, the affection in her eyes hitting something deep in his chest. He nodded, just once, but it was firm. "We'll be back."
Theresia smiled, though her eyes shimmered faintly. She let go slowly, watching them like she didn't want to.
And then, with a wave from Asvin and the girls leading the charge, the four of them stepped out into the hallway—leaving Theresia behind in her sunlit room, her arms still slightly outstretched, and her heart hoping they'd come back smiling.
...
The hallway stretched before them like a painted dream, a corridor of splendor too grand for any of the children to fully take in at once. Crimson carpet cushioned each step, lined with intricate golden embroidery that shimmered in the sunlight. High above, the ceiling arched gracefully, each beam carved with stories of House Cavias—swords, fields of war and honor. Every inch whispered of old legends and nobility.
Asvin walked ahead, his stride casual, as if this world was ordinary. But behind him, the three children moved like travelers in a foreign land.
Sonia's eyes darted from one tapestry to the next, her mouth slightly open in awe. "Big Sis Sia's house is so big," she whispered to Terria, who clutched her hand tightly, equally spellbound.
"It's like the palaces in the storybooks," Terria murmured, her voice trembling with excitement.
Matthew trailed just behind them, his hand brushing the polished wood of the wall panels as if to make sure it was real. He'd seen it before—he knew this was how nobles lived—but even now, even after all the marveling earlier, it still struck him silent.
As they turned a corner, the hallway opened to a wide landing, and the grand staircase revealed itself in full.
The children stopped in their tracks.
The staircase was wide enough for a procession, draped in a rich red carpet that cascaded down like a river of velvet. Golden balustrades gleamed on either side, etched with twining vines. Above, a massive chandelier dominated the ceiling, dripping with crystals that refracted the morning sun into a thousand dancing lights. It sparkled like a constellation had been trapped in glass.
Terria gasped audibly, squeezing Sonia's hand. "It's so shiny!"
Sonia giggled, tilting her head back as far as she could to see the top of the chandelier. "I wanna touch it…"
"Not unless you learn to fly," Asvin teased, looking back over his shoulder with a grin.
Matthew stepped forward slowly, his eyes on the way the light danced along the walls. "This place… it's not just big," he said under his breath. "It's… alive. Every step, every wall… it's like it remembers something."
Asvin's smile softened. "That's legacy for you," he said. "Our house's history is everywhere. You walk through it."
Matthew didn't answer. His hand lingered on the golden railing for just a moment longer before they began descending the grand staircase together. And as they moved downward, surrounded by color, light, and silent stories etched into every corner… the world outside—the one with ashes, cold winds, and memories too heavy—felt like it was still far, far behind.
...
They reached the end of the hall, where a tall black door stood—elegant, with golden trim carved into its center. Asvin stepped forward and placed a hand on the handle. He looked back at the three, gave a quick wink, then pushed it open.
A warm breeze greeted them, carrying the faintest scent of roses and citrus.
The backyard of House Cavias wasn't just a garden. It was a world.
A wide maze of tall green hedges stretched before them, trimmed with such precision they looked like they'd been sculpted by an artist's brush. And scattered throughout—nestled among the turns and resting in tiny open clearings—were bushes carved into the shapes of swords, shields, tea cups, books, even a little castle. Nothing alive. Just art made of leaves.
Terria and Sonia gasped at the same time.
"It's like a wonderland…" Sonia whispered.
Matthew stepped out last, eyes scanning the garden slowly. He'd spent time in forests before, peaceful places full of trees and birdsong. But this… this wasn't nature wild and free. This was nature tamed, shaped into beauty. Gentle, soft, vibrant with colors he hadn't seen in weeks. The forest had been calm.
This place was… gentle.
He stepped forward quietly, letting the grass brush against his sandals.
Asvin wandered a few paces ahead, casually reaching up to one of the low-hanging trees and plucking three small, ripe apples—red with a golden hue. Then he turned and offered the fruits to the children.
"One for each," he said. "Garden rule: if you pick it, you eat it."
Sonia giggled and took an apple with both hands, giving a little, "Thank you, Big Bro Vin!"
Terria followed, taking one and nodding, "Thanks, Big Bro Vin."
Matthew hesitated… then took the last apple, looking up at Asvin for a moment before murmuring, "Thanks."
Asvin's smile grew warmer. "Polite little lions, aren't you?"
The three nodded, cheeks puffed from first bites, juice trickling down fingers.
Asvin watched them for a moment, then turned to walk ahead. "Come on," he said, his voice light. "Rose should be around here somewhere. She's probably trying to beat her own maze time again."
The garden shimmered in the sun, as though waiting to meet the little guests who had entered its heart.
They continued forward, the soft grass muffling their steps, until the sound of voices drifted through the hedge.
A middle-aged woman's gentle laughter.
A younger, more high-pitched voice following—clearly frustrated.
As they turned the corner of the path, they found them.
The woman stood tall with an air of effortless grace, her golden-blonde hair falling in soft waves down her back. Despite her age, she looked as young and radiant as Theresia—her beauty untouched by time. She wore a modest red dress that matched the garden's roses, the color making her blue eyes stand out like gems beneath the sun.
Beside her stood a small girl in an orange dress, her hands on her hips as she frowned at one of the carved bushes. Her eyes were the same piercing blue, her golden hair tied in a neat braid that bounced as she stomped a foot lightly on the grass.
"It's not even!" the girl complained, pointing dramatically at the hedge shaped like a teacup. "The handle is too thick compared to the one we saw last week! It looks lopsided!"
The woman chuckled, clearly amused. "My, my," she teased gently. "Such a perfectionist. Are you sure you're not part sculptor?"
The girl huffed, crossing her arms with a small pout.
It was a scene both light and peaceful—like the garden itself had paused just to watch.
Asvin laughed as he stepped forward, hands in his pockets. "Honestly, Rose, if that poor bush could hear you, it'd cry itself into mulch."
The little girl spun around with a scowl. "It should! It's ugly!"
The middle-aged woman turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes lighting up—and then she noticed the group behind him.
In an instant, all noble decorum vanished.
"Oh, my sweet stars!" she gasped with delight, and before anyone could react, she broke into a full run across the grass, barefoot and uncaring of the garden path. Her red dress fluttered behind her as she rushed forward like a mother reunited with her long-lost children.
Terria and Sonia barely had time to blink before the woman swept them into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around both of them at once.
"I missed you two!" she said with a bright, affectionate grin, holding them close. "Even if it's only been an hour—I still missed you!"
The two girls blinked, then giggled into her arms, warmth blooming across their faces.
Then, the woman leaned back slightly, her eyes landing on the boy just behind them. Her expression softened, glowing with a kindness that was immediate and sincere.
"And you must be Matt," she said gently.
Matthew stood still, surprised by how naturally she said his name—Matt—and by the welcoming gleam in her eyes.
"I'm Rania Cavias," she continued with a graceful nod of her head. "Wife of the Fierce Lion, and very lucky mother to Theresia and Asvin."
Then she turned, one arm sweeping toward the little girl still inspecting the hedge with an irritated look.
"And this little storm of opinions is Rosin Cavias—but everyone just calls her Rose."
Rosin huffed and crossed her arms, turning her nose up slightly as her cheeks tinted a soft pink. "Hmph. They're okay, I guess," she muttered, glancing sidelong at the two girls… and very briefly at Matthew before looking away just as quickly. "Not like I was waiting or anything."
Matthew blinked at her reaction, then the faintest of smirks tugged at his lips. He'd met her type before—the haughty, pretend-you're-not-happy kind. A few kids in the village had acted the same when they didn't want to seem too eager. It didn't bother him. If anything, it was oddly comforting.
Asvin let out a loud chuckle, hands resting on his hips. "Oh? That's funny," he said, leaning toward her with a playful grin. "Because someone practically skipped around the house when I told her she'd be getting two little sisters this morning."
Rosin's face flared red, and she stomped her foot. "I did NOT skip!"
Sonia and Terria both giggled, their hands clasped in front of them as they stepped closer.
"Hi, Rose," Sonia said sweetly. "We're happy to meet you."
"We hope we can be good sisters," Terria added with a warm smile.
The way they spoke, so genuine and soft, caught Rosin off guard. She fidgeted, eyes flicking between them, lips pressing together like she was trying not to smile.
"…W-Welcome," she mumbled at last, barely above a whisper.
From behind, Lady Rania clapped her hands together and leaned forward, eyes shining with amusement. "Look at you, little miss warm-heart. Pretending you don't love them already."
"Mother!" Rosin cried, flustered, as she spun away and pretended to busy herself with the bush again.
Matthew watched the whole exchange quietly. He said nothing—but his eyes lingered on Rosin a moment longer, that tiny smirk still faint on his lips.
Lady Rania turned her warm gaze toward Matthew, her hands resting lightly on her hips. "And you must be the brave young man my son hasn't stopped talking about." Her smile deepened. "Matthew, yes?"
He gave a small nod, unsure how to respond, but polite nonetheless. "Yes, Lady Rania."
"Oh, none of that now," she said with a playful wave of her hand. "You may call me Lady Rania until you're more comfortable, but no need to bow or anything of the sort. We're just family enjoying the garden, aren't we?"
Matthew blinked. Family? That word felt heavy, strange. He gave another small nod, more awkward this time.
Rania didn't push. Instead, she glanced up at the sky and said lightly, "When I was your age, I used to sneak into this garden at night pretending I was performing Arts like the White Dragon. I'd steal my mother's crystal comb and spin little lights, imagining I could shine like him in the capital one day."
Matthew perked up slightly. "The White Dragon?" he echoed, surprised. "You liked him?"
Rania raised a brow. "Of course. Who didn't?"
"Father didn't," Asvin chimed in with a smirk as he leaned against one of the nearby shaped hedges. "He always grumbled about how he was too flashy. 'More charm than substance,' I think he once said."
"Your father grumbles about everyone with a stage presence," Rania said with a mock sigh.
Matthew chuckled at that and then asked how she felt about the Green Sage instead.
Rania smiled when she heard the name, "This one I like more I think. Sure, he's not as strong or as famous as the White Dragon, but he's our hero, you know. The local hero of our kingdom."
"A friend of Father's, actually," Asvin added, a little proudly.
Matthew looked surprised. "Really? But I thought most nobles hated him."
"They do," Rania replied with a bright, unapologetic smile. "But your father isn't most nobles. And neither am I."
Matthew considered that, then nodded. "I like him too. The Green Sage, I mean."
"Of course you do," Asvin muttered with a grin. "Only sensible people do."
"But everyone pretends to swoon over the Yellow Sun these days," Rania said with mock disgust. "All glitter and grins, not a single real idea behind the smile."
"Mother," Asvin groaned with a smirk, "you're going to get letters again."
"Oh, let them write. I'll line the garden beds with them," Rania said breezily.
To the side, a few steps away from the adults, the girls had clustered together near a fruit-bearing tree. Rosin stood stiffly, arms crossed as Sonia admired the shape of a bush carved like a silver goblet.
"It's so pretty," Sonia said dreamily.
"It's crooked," Rosin mumbled, nose turned up. "Whoever carved it didn't even match the curve right."
Terria giggled. "You're funny, Rose."
"I'm not trying to be funny," Rosin snapped, cheeks pink. "I just don't like sloppy work."
Sonia looked at her with wide eyes, then smiled. "You're kind of like a teacher."
Rosin flinched, then quickly turned away. "Whatever… Just don't mess anything up. This garden has standards."
Terria leaned in close and whispered to Sonia with a grin, "She likes us already."
"I heard that!" Rosin snapped without turning around.
Matthew glanced over, catching the exchange, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Just a little. It was strange… but maybe not all bad here.
Matthew tilted his head, eyes thoughtful. "If the Fierce Lion hates the Arts so much… why is he friends with the Green Sage?"
At that, Asvin's expression shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. Not because of the question itself… but because he knew exactly what Matthew was really asking.
If he was friends with an Arts user, then why wouldn't he allow his own family to learn the Arts?
That unspoken truth twisted something in Asvin's chest. He hated it. Hated that this could be the reason Matthew wouldn't stay. The more he spoke to the boy, the more he saw that flicker of a smile… and the sadness beneath it. It hurt.
He already liked him—more than he wanted to admit. And knowing how awful the orphanage had been, knowing what Matthew would be going to if he left… that made it all feel worse. So much worse.
Rania, oblivious to the shift in her son's expression, answered with a light smile. "Unlike most Arts users who strut around like they're better than everyone else, the Green Sage is… different. Humble. Normal. He has never acted like power made him more important. Your father respects that."
She paused, eyes distant for a moment.
"But that's only part of it," she continued, her voice softer now. "The real reason… well, that happened about a year ago. Something bad. Very bad."
Matthew leaned in slightly, eyes fixed on her, curiosity sparking behind them. He could tell it wasn't just gossip—it was something important.
By then, Rosin and the girls had started to wander closer, their chatter quieting as they picked up on the shift in mood.
Rania's gaze drifted to Rosin, lingering on her for a heartbeat before she spoke again, her voice quieter now. "It was about a year ago. Rosin was visiting the market… accompanied by guards, of course. But even that wasn't enough."
She inhaled slowly. "She was taken. Kidnapped by a member of the Red Glass Gang."
Asvin turned his head away, jaw tight with shame. He hadn't been home when it happened. He hadn't been there for his sister.
Matthew's eyes widened, his breath catching. Kidnapped? By the Red Glass? The infamous gang that even seasoned mercenaries feared? And they had dared touch the daughter of the Fierce Lion?
Terria and Sonia didn't grasp all the words, but the shift in tone, the weight in every glance—they understood something bad had happened. Something frightening.
Rosin, who had been acting proud and prickly just moments ago, now stood still. Frozen. Her haughty air had vanished, and in its place was a silence so sharp it pressed on the air around them. She stared at the ground, lips pressed in a thin line, her small hands curled into fists at her sides.
Fear gripped Rosin like a vice, but she said nothing. Her throat was tight, her posture stiff, as her mother's calm voice continued over the heavy silence.
"The guards were injured," Rania said, her tone composed but careful. "Thankfully, none died. The man who took her… he wasn't following orders from the gang. Just a fool acting on his own. But it was still the Red Glass, and that name carries weight."
Matthew listened intently, jaw clenched. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears.
"The Fierce Lion began the search immediately," Rania went on. "Every alley, every contact, every whisper in the city turned over. But an hour passed… and there was nothing. Not a trace."
She paused then, her eyes dropping briefly to the grass beneath their feet before she looked back at the children.
"And then… he landed. Right here, in this garden. The Green Sage."
Her voice softened, as if even the memory humbled her. "He held Rosin in his arms—crying, clutching at him like she'd never let go. He didn't say a word. Just placed her down, nodded once to my husband… and vanished."
All eyes turned to Rosin, who looked smaller now than she had just minutes before.
Rania took a gentle step closer, her expression kind. "Rosin," she said softly, "if it's not too much to ask… would you tell them what happened?"
Rosin's throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. The memory surged through her like a wave—dark alleyways, rough hands, the sound of shouting, and then… silver-green light and calm eyes that burned with quiet fury.
Rosin's lips parted, but no sound came at first. Her fingers trembled slightly at her sides, and she stared at the ground like it might swallow her whole. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she began.
"U-Um… w-when he… when the man took me…" she stammered, her words hitching. "I… I was really scared. I didn't know what was happening…"
Terria reached out, but didn't touch—just stood close, her face drawn with worry.
Rosin sniffed, eyes wide and far away. "I-I screamed… a-and cried… but… he—he didn't like that. He… he hit me. H-Hard. Said I was noisy. Told me to shut up…"
Matthew's chest tightened as he listened, fists clenched by his sides.
"H-He kept… h-hitting me until I… I stopped making sounds," Rosin went on, her voice barely a breath now. "I… I thought I was gonna d-die…"
A long pause. Her shoulders trembled.
"Th-Then… then he came."
Her eyes flickered upward just for a second, something like light in them now.
"The Green Sage. He… he j-just… kicked the man. Fast. L-Like—like he was wind. A-And the bad man fell and didn't move again."
The smallest breath of relief passed her lips.
"He… he picked me up and said I was safe now. H-He… he made me fly." Her lips twitched upward, just a little. "I'd never flown before… He used his Arts… and we flew above the rooftops. It was… it was warm."
She paused, glancing at her mother for reassurance, then at Matthew and Asvin.
"He was s-so gentle. A-And funny… he made silly jokes 'cause I was crying too much. He… made it all go away…"
She drew in a long, shaky breath, then lifted her chin, small hands balling into fists.
"I… I wanna be just like him," she said, louder now, steadier. "A-Amazing. And strong. An Arts User who… who saves kids from b-bad people."
The silence that followed was thick with emotion.
Even Rania, who had lived through the moment, looked moved all over again.
Matthew opened his mouth, the words sitting heavy on his tongue: But your father doesn't allow family to learn the Arts. He wanted to say it, but something held him back. Maybe it was the way Rosin's small fists clenched, her determination etched into her features. Instead, he exhaled softly and chose different words.
"Can you see it?" he asked quietly.
Rosin blinked, tilting her head slightly. "See what?" she asked, her voice still a little shaky but curious now.
"The One Power," Matthew replied.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, but as the seconds passed, her composure seemed to return bit by bit. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, and the furrow in her brow smoothed. "Of course not," she said, crossing her arms in a manner that hinted at her earlier haughtiness. "I'm not an Arts User. I'm not even a Fighter yet. Why would I need to see it?"
She hesitated, then smirked faintly, though the expression wasn't as strong as usual. "Besides, it's not like you ca—"
"Yes, I can," Matthew interrupted, his tone calm but firm.
Rosin froze, staring at him like he'd just claimed to have wings. Then she scoffed, a touch of color rising to her cheeks. "Yeah, right. You're just saying that to sound impressive."
"I'm serious," Matthew replied, his gaze unwavering.
Rania raised a brow, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, really? You can see the One Power? And here I thought only Arts Users could do that. What else can you do, hmm? Fly? Summon storms?" Her tone was teasing but not unkind, clearly meant to lighten the mood.
Matthew frowned slightly but said nothing, holding his ground.
"Actually, he can!" Terria piped up, her voice high with excitement.
"Yeah, we saw him!" Sonia added, nodding vigorously.
Both Rania and Rosin turned toward the two younger girls, their disbelief evident.
"You saw him?" Rania asked, her lips twitching with amusement as she glanced back at Matthew.
"Yes! He saw something we couldn't," Sonia said earnestly. "And then he pointed, and it was exactly where the rabbit was hiding!"
Rosin narrowed her eyes at Matthew, looking skeptical but less dismissive now. "So what?" she said with a sniff, her pride starting to creep back in. "Even if you can, that doesn't mean it's special or anything. Maybe it's just… By chance or something."
Matthew raised a brow but didn't respond to her jab. He didn't need to.
Meanwhile, Asvin stood off to the side, silent and distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. His gaze rested on Matthew, but it wasn't curiosity that lingered in his eyes. It was something heavier—something that twisted in his chest.
Would he really leave? Asvin thought, his throat tightening at the idea. Just to learn the Arts?
Rania squinted, her teasing smile gone. Her gaze narrowed, thoughtful now, laced with something sharper—curiosity, and a touch of seriousness. "Matthew," she said, her voice lower, quieter, "can you truly see the One Power?"
The boy hesitated only a moment, then gave a small, certain nod.
Before anyone else could speak, Asvin stepped forward, his voice steady. "He can," he said simply.
There was no flourish in his tone, no elaboration—just truth. That alone made the others pause.
Rosin blinked, her mouth half-open. "What?" She shook her head as if trying to dispel the idea from her mind. "But… but that doesn't make sense!"
She then added, "Hmph, even if he can, it's not like he's not an Arts User. Or a Fighter. So—bah!" She crossed her arms, her voice rising in a flustered huff. "Whatever."
"No," Terria said softly, but firmly. "He is."
All eyes turned to the small girl. Sonia nodded beside her, eyes wide but certain. Rosin stared at them, then turned back toward Matthew, face full of disbelief.
Even Rania looked surprised now. Her brows lifted. "You're… you're saying he's an Arts User?" she asked, mostly to herself.
Asvin didn't speak. His expression remained calm, but behind his eyes, memories stirred—yesterday. That moment. The one he hadn't forgotten.
Matthew cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable under the sudden weight of everyone's attention. "I can… perform one Art," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "But only one. And it takes time. And… it's not always easy. I need the right state of mind and…" He trailed off, floundering, offering weak excuses, as if trying to lower expectations before anyone could be disappointed.
Rosin stepped forward, cheeks pink with rising energy. "Then show us," she said, eyes shining with challenge. "Right now."
Matthew looked up, startled.
"If you can really do it," she said, nose slightly raised, "Then prove it. I'll even say I'm sorry if you're telling the truth."
She smirked, her voice turning taunting. "What? Too scared to try?"
Matthew flinched slightly—not because of the words, but the sharpness behind them. Around him, everyone waited. Sonia held her breath. Terria leaned forward, eyes bright. Rania watched silently now, curious and serious all at once. Even Rosin, for all her pride, was focused on him—not mocking, not dismissive, but daring.
He swallowed. Then nodded.
"…Alright," he said quietly.
Matthew closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting his breath slow, steady. Then, he opened them again.
The world changed.
Fine, glowing blue threads danced through the air—delicate, barely visible strands that wove like silk across the garden. They shimmered and pulsed with life, invisible to all but him and Asvin. Only they could see the weave of the One Power. It was beautiful, as always—mysterious, strange, and alive.
The threads curled most densely around living things: the hedges, the fluttering flowers, the people gathered around him. But the difference between them was stark. Around Terria and Sonia, the threads were faint, barely there—thin wisps that flickered like dying embers. Rania was no better; the strands that touched her seemed dulled, distant. They weren't attuned.
Asvin, by contrast, shone brighter—stronger threads curled near him, like a calm flame rising in the wind. Rosin was brighter still. The weave near her crackled softly, like the first hint of a storm. She had potential—real, burning potential.
But Matthew…
He stood alone.
The threads surrounded him in thick, swirling waves. They rippled through the air with weight and intent, bending toward him as though he were gravity itself. The garden around him dimmed in his eyes, blurred by the overwhelming clarity of the weave. He could see it. Feel it. He belonged to it.
But now wasn't the time to brag.
He pushed away the awe, and forced his focus. He remembered the old man—the Researcher—who had passed through their village just a month ago. An odd figure in a ragged white cloak, dusty and tired-looking, with an uneven smile and sharp, intelligent eyes. Unlike everyone else, he hadn't looked down on Matthew. He'd looked at him with interest.
He was the one who taught Matthew his only Art. Simple, but difficult. Old-fashioned. Dangerous if misused.
The Fireball Art.
Matthew focused, drawing in a slow breath as his eyes remained fixed ahead. His hands moved with practiced care, fingers slicing through the air as if grasping invisible threads. He wove them delicately, deliberately—bending and twisting the glowing strands around him, gathering them inward.
To the others, it looked like he was molding the air itself, cupping something intangible between his palms. But to him and Asvin, the truth was clear: the blue threads obeyed him. They spiraled inward, wrapping tighter, coiling into a concentrated sphere of pulsing power. The air around him grew dense with tension.
Everyone watched in silence.
Rosin's breath hitched. She couldn't see the threads, couldn't understand what he was doing—but his hands… they moved like they knew. Like he was shaping something real. She shook her head, heart pounding. No. Impossible. A commoner boy like him? Her age? There was no way—
And then it happened.
A spark. Small. Orange. Brief.
It flared for just a second between Matthew's hands before vanishing like a trick of the light. Rosin blinked, her mouth parting. She rubbed her eyes. Had she imagined it?
But no—the spark returned.
And this time, it grew.
A flickering flame ignited in the space between his palms, swirling slowly as it gained strength. It crackled to life, orange and warm, until it floated there—a small, perfect fireball.
Rania gasped aloud, hand flying to her mouth in stunned silence.
As the fireball hovered gently between Matthew's hands, glowing softly in the afternoon light, silence blanketed the garden like snowfall.
Asvin's breath caught. Even though he had seen something the day before—a flicker, a hint, something his mind tried to dismiss as imagination—seeing it now, with clarity, made it undeniable. The boy could truly perform the Art. He wasn't just talented… he was real. And the unease in Asvin's chest twisted tighter. Would Matthew really leave, just to chase this?
Terria and Sonia gasped in unison before breaking into the brightest grins. They clapped, beaming with joy. He wasn't their blood brother, but that didn't matter. They had believed in him, defended him, and now—he had proven them right. Their pride wasn't quiet; it shimmered in their eyes as they exchanged gleeful looks.
Rania stood utterly still, her lips parted as she stared. After a beat, she finally exhaled, shaking her head in disbelief. She murmured. "You really can…"
And Rosin—
She didn't move. Didn't blink. Her hands were clenched at her sides. She'd spent her whole life believing that she would be the first in the family to wield the Arts. That commoners couldn't possibly possess what nobles couldn't. But now—there it was, floating right in front of her. She wanted to deny it, to call it fake, to say it was some trick.
But the warmth of the flame brushed her skin.
It was real.
He could really do it.
Just one Art. But that alone… made him an Arts User.
Matthew didn't speak. He just stood there, the small flame gently flickering in his hands before he let it fade, its warmth lingering in the air. He didn't smirk, didn't gloat. That wasn't him. He waited—quiet, patient.
Rosin finally broke the silence. "...That was… really good," she said, her voice low but clear. "I'm sorry for what I said before."
It wasn't haughty. It wasn't forced. It was honest. And that small bit of sincerity from her, of all people, warmed Matthew more than the fire ever could. He gave her a small nod, eyes soft.
Rania blinked dramatically and placed a hand to her cheek. "Oh my—did Rosin just admit she was wrong? Someone mark the date."
Rosin flushed. "Mother!"
Asvin chuckled, folding his arms. "I thought I'd never see the day either. Miracles do happen."
"I wasn't that wrong," Rosin huffed, glaring at them. "So what if he's an Arts User? I'll train harder and become even better than him! You'll see!"
Terria giggled. "Oh? Is this a rivaryly... Or how do they say it?"
Sonia leaned into Matthew. "You better win Matt!"
Matthew smiled—genuine and bright. "Challenge accepted."
—End of Chapter.