Chapter 002: The Sea of Illusory Blooms

Blossoms drift, shadows fall, the wind is like a dream; fleeting life, memories tranquil as a gentle dream.

A boy with violet hair and eyes stood silently in the wilderness beneath a starry night. Around him echoed the clear, melodious, and lingering sounds of a wind-borne dream flute—an ancient and pure melody, as if pouring out one poignant tale after another lost to the mists of history. Unconsciously, the boy closed his eyes, and the hazy sea of memories, as elusive as the moon reflected in water, was gently stirred by the intoxicating music. The scattered fragments of longing, drifting and sinking in the sea of remembrance, began to arrange and connect, piecing together a silhouette—vivid in its poignancy, yet blurred and indistinct—of someone unforgettable.

The vision ended abruptly. The boy felt as though lifetimes had passed him by. The flute continued, the moon was serene, and in the wind, he seemed to hear, from afar, a sorrowful sigh from his beloved. Startled awake, he looked up, searching for the source: the night was cool as water, stars filled the sky, and the moon, bright as an eye, gazed softly upon all. At the edge of the world stood a girl in a white moonlit dress. She turned suddenly, and her celestial, familiar beauty needed no words to bridge the gap between them.

Drawn by the lingering nostalgia in his heart, he found himself beside the girl. Under the moon, she merged perfectly with the figure in his memory. Countless emotions and words welled up inside him, yet none could escape his lips. His burning eyes brimmed with tears, and the longing he could not speak was laid bare before her.

The girl raised her slender hand and gently wiped away his tears, comforting him with the tender, attentive voice of an understanding elder sister: "Memories that have passed need not be deliberately recalled. Even if you forget who I am, it doesn't matter. Everything from distant times is too heavy for you now. Forcing yourself to bear it will only bring needless pain. Trust me, one day you will regain all that you have lost. Until then, I will stay by your side."

Her silvery hair fluttered in the night breeze, dancing lightly. The veil woven from moonlight could not conceal her peerless grace.

Edith gazed through tears at the gentle elder sister before him—a girl who felt inexplicably familiar though they had only just met. A thousand words surged in his heart, yet only a broken, choked apology emerged: "I'm sorry... Those memories... are so important... but I can't recall... anything... I'm really... sorry..."

"It's all right. Just being able to see you again makes Yalan happy—especially since you've become such a tiny little brother—ah, I really want to scoop you up and give you a good-natured teasing..."

"Eh? Yalan is your name? Did you say I am your... whoa—" Before Edith could finish voicing his confusion, the girl—her fairy-like image utterly overturned by her decisive action—swept him off the ground and hugged him tightly. His sweet, pitiful little face didn’t have time to shift from grief to surprise before she, starry-eyed and enraptured, began to fondly squish and pinch his cheeks.

"Mmph—let... let me go! You're hugging... too tight... I can’t... breathe..."

The boy, caught off guard by her unexpected pounce, could only protest weakly, like a helpless doll.

Snapping out of her playful reverie, the girl reluctantly set him down.

"Hehe... sorry about that... It's just, after so long apart, and with my little brother being so small and adorable, I couldn't help myself... Ahaha..." The mysterious girl—calling herself Yalan—apologized with no remorse, her eyes sparkling mischievously like a fox that's just stolen a chicken.

Thoroughly startled, Edith glared at her—this so-called Yalan, who might even be his sister—with all the wariness of a bristling kitten, sighing in silent resignation.

"Come on, you don't need to be so guarded. Besides, even if you try to intimidate me with your best 'meow~' face, all it does is make you even cuter—makes me want to tease you more!"

Yalan’s words left Edith completely flustered. Who says "don't worry" and then immediately threatens to tease you? "What do you want from me, exactly..." His small face fell, and he collapsed onto the ground in defeat.

Yalan laughed and leaned in, sitting close by his side, their knees touching.

The coolness of the deep night and their playful antics had dispersed the heavy sorrow lingering in their memories. As the wind picked up, Yalan dutifully pulled the thinly-clad Edith into her warm embrace. After a few token struggles, seeing no further mischief, he resigned himself to her care.

In the silence that followed, the wilderness beneath the stars felt deathly still. Edith glanced around, feeling a sense of familiarity, yet compared to the hazy vistas in his memory, something essential seemed missing from this place.

"This place..."

"Don't ask. Don't think about it."

"Why?"

"I’ve told you before. There's no need to force memories of the past—they are too heavy for you now. Remember the accident at the archives last time? That happened because you accidentally awakened memories sealed since the Primordial Age. You really are a handful! If your good sister hadn't acted quickly, you’d have died for sure!" Yalan's eyes were deep and unfathomable. Her teasing tone barely concealed a trace of genuine concern and annoyance.

"I'm sorry... And... thank you..." So Yalan had saved his life that time... Edith hung his head in shame, his usual lively cowlick drooping. Remembering the agony of that ordeal, he shrank further into Yalan’s embrace.

"It's all right. You don't owe me anything. As your sister, it's only natural I help you. As long as you grow up healthy and happy, I’ll be genuinely glad for you." Yalan softly ruffled Edith’s hair, her tone a blend of doting little sister and infinitely patient elder.

The long-lost warmth of family suffused Edith, wrapping him in comfort and security.

"Yalan, let’s suppose for now you really are my sister—but don’t get the wrong idea—I'm not the least bit thrilled about 'just having another sister,' not at all..." Edith wrinkled his nose, turned away, and tried to sound tough.

"Of course, my dearest big brother! Your little sister understands!" Yalan struggled to hide her smile, playing along with her earnest but not-so-honest brother, careful not to let him know she’d seen right through him.

Far on the horizon, dawn broke. Beauty is ever fleeting; after their brief reunion comes another long separation.

"Brother, it’s getting late—the dream must end now."

"Mmm..." Edith rubbed his sleepy eyes, reluctant yet hopeful. "We'll meet again, won’t we?"

Yalan smiled gently, reassuring as ever: "Of course. But not until you complete your first metamorphosis. Meeting before then would only burden your body unnecessarily."

"Metamorphosis? What’s that?" Edith asked, curious.

"It’s the foundation of our race’s freedom from dimensional shackles—and your first step to reclaiming the past. You must work hard at magic. The progress of your metamorphosis depends on your understanding of the world’s essence, and magic is the shortcut to that understanding."

Yalan’s guidance left Edith nodding earnestly. "Mm! I’ll work hard at my magic studies!"

As daylight grew, the world became even more dreamlike. The girl gently brushed aside the boy’s fringe, leaned down, and kissed his forehead—a moment when time itself stood still, that gentle kiss eternal. A luminous, weighty sigil sank into his brow.

"This is my parting gift—the invisible sigil called Heartseal. It will lock away memories too ancient to bear, so you may awaken at your own pace, safe from pain... May you soon be free of dreams of longing, and fully enjoy each happy day ahead. Farewell, my dearest... bro... brother..."

A sudden, wild wind swept down, carrying a rain of pale blue petals, raging across the heavens and earth. Edith closed his eyes, powerless. His consciousness drifted; the world shattered like a reflection on water, and all that remained was the solitary, peerless figure of the silver-haired girl.

Early spring sunlight, warm but gentle, crept through the sun-facing window and onto Edith’s small bed.

Outside, birds chirped. On the bed, a cowlick bounced. Edith lay curled like a kitten in his warm covers, unwilling to open his eyes.

"Time to get up, Edith."

Dressed in a homey apron, Priscilla entered, half amused, half exasperated, at her stubbornly resistant son. With a sigh, she lifted the quilt.

"Mmmii—" The little one groaned indistinctly, his small frame in bear pajamas curling into a round ball.

Anticipating this, Priscilla played her trump card: from behind her back, she revealed a plate of freshly made treats. "If you don’t get up, there’ll be none for you!"

Like a tiger cub, Edith pounced! All traces of sleep vanished from his focused gaze, replaced by shining dreams of sweets. But alas—Priscilla withdrew her right hand and, with her left, chopped down with feigned nonchalance.

With a thud, Edith clutched his forehead, eyes brimming with unshed tears as he looked at his mother, unsure whether to feel more aggrieved about missing the treats or his sore brow.

Priscilla bent down, smiling, and gently tapped her son’s delicate nose with her curled index finger. "Wash up first, then you can eat. Remember?"

"Mmm... I know..." Edith drawled, still sulking, as he got up, tidied his bed, and followed his mother out—his eyes never leaving the plate of treats in her hand.

After washing, Edith sat beside his mother, finally savoring the long-coveted sweets with a face full of bliss.

Priscilla watched him eat with tender affection, her heart filled with joy.

"Don’t just eat sweets. The milk and vegetables are for you, too. If you don’t finish, Mommy will be sad."

Edith eyed the pale red object on his plate with dismay. "Carrots and I just don’t get along..."

"What about carrot juice?"

He tilted his head, frowning in deep thought. "That’s acceptable."

His mother ruffled his hair. "Wait here; I’ll get it ready."

A week had passed since the accident at the archives. Priscilla had taken a long leave from the Development Bureau to care for her young son. There were too many unanswered mysteries about that incident. She had questioned Edith about it, but he seemed to have lost all memory—he only recalled reading countless magical tomes, then his mind was flooded by theories he’d never learned, and after that, nothing. Tests at the most reputable hospital in Mead found nothing wrong—he was perfectly healthy, and, crucially, had not grown wings. Perhaps, she reasoned, her fears were just the result of overwork. Yet the bloodstained gouges on the library floor reminded her again and again how close she’d come to losing this messy little boy sitting before her. The emptiness of almost losing her world still haunted her.

"Mommy, are you all right? Do you feel unwell?" Edith’s soft, concerned voice brought her drifting thoughts back.

"I’m fine, don’t worry. You finished breakfast so quickly today?"

"Mm! Because you promised last night to take me to see the fields of blooming violets in the hills today!"

Edith’s eager excitement reminded Priscilla of the promise she had made a week ago, thinking she’d never have the chance to fulfill it. By the grace of fate, now that chance was in her hands—how could she not cherish it?

"Pack up—we’re leaving at once!" Priscilla’s firm command met Edith’s anticipation.

"Yes, madam! Mission accepted!" The boy snapped to attention, saluting with earnest imitation, then ran off.

Endless clouds stretched to the horizon, the blue sky peeking through like a stroke of divine artistry. In this carefree moment, mother and child nestled together amid the violet sea. Spring breezes played with their matching hair, and Priscilla’s violet eyes glowed with warmth as Edith’s eyes mirrored the color of the blossoms.

Her gentle chin rested on his restless head, her arms tightening around him, and the soft warmth in her embrace brought perfect peace.

In the dreamlike sea of flowers, the blooms swayed gracefully, like dancers turning their slender waists.

Priscilla deftly plucked a few blossoms, her fingers weaving a delicate crown in the blink of an eye.

"Wow!" Edith’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

Smiling, Priscilla placed the crown on his head, and his eyes curved into happy crescents.

At twenty-seven, Priscilla had only been a mother for three years, yet the joy her son brought her surpassed all she’d ever known. Though Edith could be a handful, he was usually affectionate, like a little cat devoted to its owner. When she returned home exhausted, she was always greeted with a loving welcome and a perfectly warm bowl of sweet porridge. Even when his own stomach rumbled, he would wait for her to return before eating. How many hardships had this child borne alone, because of her long neglect? How much loneliness?

Such gentle salvation—how could she ever let anyone take it from her?