Chapter 7: Life in the manor

Linae sat on the wooden bedroom floor, her long blonde hair draped forward as she leaned close to the toys scattered before her. The twins crawled around giggling, their tiny hands reaching for the carved wooden carriages and horses she had lined up in a neat little row.

“Hey, look at this, you two.” Her lips curled into a small grin. “Illustras,” Linae whispered under her breath. She raised her finger and traced a shape in the air.

In that moment, strokes of colored light burst forth, painting themselves in glowing swirls across the walls and floor, like ribbons unraveling from a brush of pure magic.

The twins both stopped at once, eyes wide. They gaped in awe at the swirling colors around them. Pink, yellow, and blue ribbons of light flowed lazily through the air like streams of silk. 

Their small bodies leaned forward as their fingers reached out as though to touch the lights, but their hands went right through. The walls of the bedroom shimmered with her spell for a few moments before the glow faded, leaving only the bare walls before them.

During this past harvest year, the twins had begun to adjust to this new life. They were picking up on small bits of the world’s language and understanding new things about their surroundings. Their bodies had become stronger as they grew, and although their coordination was still clumsy, they slowly improved in every aspect.

Some of the tones and sounds were beginning to take shape as meaning in their minds—names like “Mother,” “Papa,” and “Linae,” as well as other often-used phrases.

Magic… it is real here, Lea thought, her tiny hand hovering in the air where a ribbon had floated. This isn’t the same world I used to live in. This is somewhere else entirely.

Leo shifted on his hands and knees, his gaze sharp with curiosity. If even she can use it… Then maybe we can, too, at least one day.

Linae giggled when she saw their wide-eyed expressions. “See? I’m getting better. Soon I’ll be strong enough to protect you two.” Her voice carried a tone of pride and childish determination, and though the twins couldn’t reply yet, they squealed in joy, which made Linae beam all the more.

They didn’t yet know how, but every day, they observed, listened, and remembered pieces of their past lives. Each new thing confirmed that they had been reborn, and slowly, the world was unveiling itself before them.

Later that day, Lucina let the twins out for fresh air. The summer sun filtered down gently, and the air was warm but mild. Behind the manor stretched a broad garden with patches of trimmed grass, flowerbeds, and a few trees that rustled lightly in the wind. A tall stone wall separated the grounds from the forest beyond.

The twins sat together on a blanket spread across a patch of grass. The fabric was soft but coarse, scratchy against their bare legs. Nearby, Lilibeth stood watching over them, her pale hair catching the sunlight like spun silver thread. As she leaned down to adjust the blanket, the twins noticed her ears. They were longer than a human’s, the tips sticking out clearly past her hair.

They hadn’t noticed them before, since they rarely got good looks at the maid. But in the full sunlight, they were impossible to miss.

Are those… elf ears? Leo blinked, staring gapingly. She’s not the same as the others. She looks human, but… different.

Lilibeth took a seat near the children and began folding the dried laundry. Lea waddled over on unsteady feet and tilted her head for a better view, her eyes fixed on those pointed ears. So, this world isn't just filled with humans… Then what else is out there?

“Hm? Something wrong, young one?” Lilibeth asked, pausing with a half-folded cloth in her hands. She leaned her head slightly, curious.

The girl could not yet form the words; only soft coos and babbles came forth. Lea lifted her arm, pointing toward Lilibeth.

Lilibeth blinked for a second, then laughed softly under her breath. “Ahh, these?” she pointed to one of her ears, chuckling to herself while continuing the folding.

Not far off, Lucina and Linae stood together on the grass. Lucina’s hands guided her daughter’s, showing her how to steady herself, then Linae began chanting a short incantation.

“Earth, bend to my will, lend me your might… Rock riser!”

Her arms strained, as if an invisible weight pressed them down. The ground rumbled faintly beneath her feet, and several jagged stone spires pushed up from the grass, stopping at knee height before Linae’s breath gave out. She dropped her arms to her sides with a puff of exhaustion.

“Phew, I actually did it this time, Mother.” She placed her hands on her hips, standing proudly before her progress.

“Focus your breath,” Lucina urged gently. “You’re only using earth magic for this spell, so lean into your blessing from Thorrak, not the goddess Arcadia. If you do not steady yourself, the stones will crumble because your mind shifts its focus.”

“Yes, Mother,” Linae replied, determination written on her face. She shut her eyes tightly, then raised her arms again.

“Rock riser!”

This time, the ground split wider. New stone spires rose from between the smaller ones, climbing higher and higher until they reached nearly two meters tall. Some fragments crumbled from the top and then fell to the grass. Linae’s arms stayed up above her head for a second, and then she opened her eyes to see if she'd done it.

The twins’ small fingers twitched as though trying to mimic the motion. Their wide eyes followed every rise of the jagged stone.

“Well done,” Lucina clapped, her voice proud. “Better, much better.”

The training went on for another hour. Linae tried variations of the spell, like shaping the rocks narrower, then wider, learning to send them back beneath the ground, and how to crumble them down to dust. She stumbled, sweated, but always tried again. The air grew warm, smelling faintly of churned earth.

The twins were transfixed. Even when the sun dipped lower, painting the stone wall gold, they still sat intriguingly.

Later that evening, the family gathered in the dining hall. The long wooden table was lit with candles, their glow warming the polished silverware and bowls. Shadows flickered across the carved beams of the ceiling.

That night’s meal was made from fresh vegetables Lilibeth had picked earlier from the garden. A simple stew with rabbit meat caught by Solan, along with carrots, peas, and potatoes steamed in the bowls, filling the air with a mild, earthy scent. A loaf of crusty bread sat between Solan and Lucina.

Solan had returned not long before, tired but smiling faintly as he set his sword against the wall before sitting down. He had been out in the village tending to aristocratic duties as lord of the Endlost region of Ronayah.

The twins were placed in cushioned wooden chairs beside Lucina. A small bowl of mashed vegetables was set in front of Leo, and with practiced care, she scooped a spoonful, guiding it toward his mouth.

He squirmed, his thoughts protesting. Vegetables again… is this all we eat now? Still, his tiny mouth opened, and the taste filled him, bland, warm, but nourishing. Do they even have salt here? He complained silently.

Lea slapped her palms on the table, whining until Lilibeth soothed her with a spoonful of the mush. I hate this… why can’t I just eat normal food? How long before this is over? I want to eat things like noodles and sushi again.

But hunger won over frustration, and she accepted it, her small fingers clutching at the maid’s sleeve as the next spoonful came.

Across the table, Linae nibbled on a piece of bread, glancing curiously at the twins. Solan poured himself a cup of water, exhaustion still lingering in his eyes, though his smile warmed when he looked at his children.

Solan’s features seemed clearer to the twins now as their understanding of the world sharpened with each season. His short, dirty-blonde beard was always neatly trimmed, not wild and long like some other men. His eyes, though tired from long days of duty, carried a sharpness that made him seem unshakable, yet softened each time he looked at them.

Lucina, seated beside him, carried a very different kind of presence. Her golden hair was down, and it shimmered like strands of golden fire in the candlelight. When she leaned over to cut pieces of bread for them, her hands moved with a refined grace that made Lea wonder if she had always been this perfect at every small task, or if being a mother had taught her to be like this.

Linae, nibbling her bread, looked more and more like Lucina as she grew, though her playful eyes held a unique spark in them. Sometimes the twins would watch her, wondering how it would be for them when they grew older.

Even Lilibeth, when she passed quietly past them, had a beauty the twins hadn’t noticed at first. Her pale almost silver hair over her long elven ears and serene smile, giving her an otherworldly aura compared to the rest of the household.

For the twins, these details had once been invisible, lost in the haze of infancy. But now, each glance, each small gesture, added another stroke to the picture of their new family.

The twins could not yet speak with their voices, but in their minds, they began to understand more and more: the names, the roles, the rhythms of this household. Slowly, the picture of their new life became clearer.