Chapter 23: Diona

In the morning, within the halls of the Sorcerers’ Academy, Dansleif silently observed the lively scene before him, where excitement and determination filled the air in preparation for the upcoming magic exam.

Dansleif: “The time has come.”

As the bells tolled to announce the beginning of a new day, the training hall surged with energy.

The hall shimmered with the glow of scattered magic, waves of energy clashing in the air.

Everyone was training with heart and spirit before muscle and body—Ash, Klee, and Angela together, Lunaria with Diona, while Anna watched quietly from afar.

The sound of the training hall door echoed through the space.

A gentle smile appeared on Rose’s face as she stepped inside.

Rose: “It seems your training is coming along quite well.”

Anna: “Rose! How are you today?”

Rose: “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

Her voice softened as she added:

Rose: “Dansleif said he is ready to help Diona.”

Diona leapt with joy at her words, exclaiming:

Diona: “Finally! I’ll know what my magic is.”

Rose: “I’m happy for you.” Her eyes swept the room. “By the way, where is Y?”

Ash: “Over there, lying down.”

Rose turned and saw Y stretched out on the floor, one hand under his head, the other covering his eyes.

Rose: “Is he… asleep?”

Diona tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving his still figure.

Diona: “He’s meditating.”

Rose: “Meditating? On what?”

Anna: “On his mistakes in the last training. He lost that fight.”

Ash: “For him, losing in training is important. It means he can learn from his mistakes quickly. But losing in a real battle… means death.”

Anna: “That’s why he reflects after every fight, analyzing every move—right or wrong.”

Rose looked at him, murmuring: “He seems lost in another world, indifferent to everything around him.”

While they spoke, Y was harshly criticizing himself.

“It seems that having such variety in magic has made me more careless. I had several chances to turn the fight in my favor, but I failed to seize them. I must grow stronger.”

Slowly, Y opened one eye from beneath his arm and found Diona’s face above him.

She placed her hand on his head and asked softly:

Diona: “Are you alright? You seem… sad. Usually, you notice me before I even reach you.”

Y: “I’m just a little distracted. Is there something wrong?”

Diona: “We’re going to see Dansleif now.”

Y adjusted his posture, sitting up.

Y: “That’s fine. But I’ll stay here.”

Diona: “Don’t you want to know what my magic is?”

Y smiled faintly.

Y: “I already know your magic. But I’ll be here when you need me. I’ll wait for you.”

Her eyes dropped to the floor, her fingers tightening on her dress as though afraid he might glimpse her feelings. She whispered:

Diona: “I just… wanted you to be there with me.”

He gently placed his hand on her head.

Y: “Forgive me. But I’ll make it up to you. Tell me—what do you want in return? I’ll do anything, as long as it’s within my reach.”

Diona: “Anything? I’ll… need some time to think.”

Y: “You have all the time you need. Go now—I’ll be here.”

Diona: “…Alright.”

She left with Rose, a smile lighting up her face.

Anna approached Y and said quietly:

Anna: “I’ll be with her.”

Y: “Good.”

Anna, Diona, and Rose left the hall. Y leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting to the traces of magic still lingering in the air. He murmured to himself:

“I hope these turn into beautiful memories… at the very least.”

She walked with light steps, her hands clasped behind her back, her head and tail swaying gently from side to side, a smile never leaving her face.

Behind her, Rose and Anna followed, their eyes fixed on her. Rose, watching, smiled softly and said:

“It’s comforting to see her like this…”

Anna drew closer with quiet steps, her lips curved in a gentle smile.

“Tell us, what’s the secret behind all this happiness?”

Diona turned slightly, her smile still adorning her face as she walked toward Dansleif.

“Y promised me he would do anything I ask of him… as long as it’s within his ability.”

Rose chuckled.

“Oh? And what will you ask of him?”

Diona lifted her head in thought for a moment, then returned to her usual lighthearted pace.

“That’s a secret.”

Anna muttered teasingly:

“It must be some sort of chase game.”

Rose smiled.

“A chase game? I was expecting something far more valuable.”

Diona paused for a brief moment, then spoke in a quiet voice:

“There’s nothing more precious… than being with the ones you love.”

Rose laughed softly, adding:

“It’s as if I can see Y standing here now… We’ve arrived.”

They stopped before an ancient wooden door, unlike any other in the Academy. Strange engravings were carved into its surface, intertwining like secrets etched across centuries.

Rose slowly extended her hand toward the handle. As she turned it, the door swung open with a heavy sigh of air thick with magic. The wave surged toward them, their lashes trembling under its weight, as though the chamber beyond concealed another world entirely.

Inside, Dansleif sat behind a broad desk that seemed more like a throne than a seat. His hand gripped his black staff tightly, his piercing eyes never leaving the newcomers.

At the center of the room, a glowing circle of runes was inscribed upon the floor. Resting on a stone table in its midst lay a crystal sphere, faintly glowing as though it were the heart of the place.

Dansleif’s gaze lifted, fixing firmly on Diona. His voice resonated through the chamber like a distant echo:

“Step forward… if you wish to learn the truth. But remember… the truth is always painful.”

Diona stepped ahead, her movements slow, her expression torn between hesitation and courage. She stood before the crystal sphere and saw her trembling reflection gazing back at her.

Dansleif struck the floor with his staff, and a burst of radiant light shook the walls, the air itself vibrating around them. His voice cut through like a blade:

“Place your hand upon the orb.”

With trembling fingers, Diona reached out hesitantly. The moment her hand touched the sphere, a dazzling spark flared—

and in an instant, memories surged into her mind like an unstoppable flood.

Flashback

Rain lashed against the windows of the grand palace, as though the heavens themselves were weeping. Inside, the lights had dimmed with the queen’s passing, while a nameless child was born.

A man appeared, his features clouded beneath the shadows of rage, dragging his feet toward the cradle. His trembling hand clutched a dagger, his voice breaking apart:

“You… you’re the reason she’s dead…!”

The maid rushed forward, pleading: “She is your daughter!”

But his cry thundered through the hall: “I reject her!”

He raised the dagger to strike the infant, yet a fleeting innocent smile on her tiny face made his hand falter. The blade slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. He turned away and left the room, fleeing as if from a ghost.

In the dark corridor, the maid chased after him, her voice desperate: “Give her a name… please.”

He snarled without looking back: “She needs no name. And whoever dares to name her… will die.”

That same year, another child was born of a different woman. He held her in his arms with a tenderness he had never shown before, whispering a name filled with pride:

“Fae… you will be the pride of this family.”

⸻

The two girls grew up together. Fae basked in the warmth of fatherly love, while little Diona lingered beside her like a forgotten shadow, watched in silence by the eyes of the servants.

One day, a woman with long blue hair appeared, standing among the attendants.

“How are the two girls?” she asked.

Diona whispered, her eyes widening: “It’s… my mother, Nerys.”

Nerys stepped closer, bending slightly to brush the hair of the forsaken child, a cold smile on her lips.

“Your mother was my dearest friend… I love you as though you were my own. Take good care of them both.”

Suddenly, Diona’s body trembled. She clutched her head, a sharp pain tearing through her skull, and screamed:

“My head…! What’s happening to me?”

A voice echoed within her mind, soft yet terrifying:

“Forgive me… but your magic is far too unique.”

The little girl lifted her teary eyes, only to find Nerys staring straight at her.

With a weighty voice, Nerys said:

“Can you promise me something?”

The child nodded in fear. “What is it?”

“That you will never use your magic except to protect those you love… or yourself. Do we have an agreement?”

Through her tears, the girl smiled faintly: “Agreed… I’ll protect all of you.”

Nerys placed her hand gently on Diona’s head, a sinister smile curving her lips.

“Thank you… but you must forget this day.”

She wove a complex incantation, twisting the child’s memory, whispering as she turned away:

“From this moment on… only my true daughter will become the next ruler.”

Years passed. Inside a carriage, the father sat with little Diona at his side. He looked at her with loathing and muttered:

“If only you were like Fae… none of this would have happened. Even magic itself has abandoned you. I should have killed you the day you were born… but letting you suffer is far better than staining my honor with an insect like you.”

He kicked her out of the carriage, her body crashing into the muddy ground. She clung desperately to his leg, sobbing:

“Father… don’t leave me! I’ll die alone!”

With a merciless grip, he seized her by the arm and lifted her into the air, his eyes devoid of even a shred of compassion:

“I am not your father.”

He hurled her aside and struck her in the stomach. The child collapsed face-first into the dirt, gasping for breath, watching as the carriage rolled away, abandoning her to die.

—

Beneath the rain, she crawled until she reached a dark cave, barely conscious. The cold air wrapped around her fragile body before she heard footsteps approaching.

She whispered, just before fainting: “This… feels warm.”

A young man appeared, inspecting her with concern:

“Broken ribs, a fractured hand… and that leg. How did she even crawl this far?”

A voice called out: “Lycht!”

“I’m here!” he replied.

A girl came running, only to freeze at the sight of the small body.

“Oh gods… what happened?”

Lycht answered: “I don’t know… I just found her.”

Diona muttered weakly, “I’m… sorry… I’m sorry…”

Anna knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“We need to take her to Freya. Quickly.”

—

Days later, little Diona awoke in the arms of a woman, who held her close, weeping.

“Is this… a dream?”

The woman answered with a tearful smile:

“No dream. From today on… you’ll be safe.”

When her health improved, she sat with Anna and Freya. Anna asked softly:

“You don’t have a name?”

The child shook her head. “No…”

Freya said gently: “It will be difficult to live without one.”

Anna thought for a moment, then smiled:

“I have it. Your name will be… Diona.”

Freya raised a brow. “Why that name?”

Anna replied, “Because it was Y’s favorite name.”

The child hesitated. “Y?”

Anna smiled faintly. “My younger brother… a fighter without magic.”

Her eyes lit up. “Without magic? He’s just like me!”

Anna chuckled: “When you meet him, he’ll be the first to respect you. Because he doesn’t care about magic.”

Freya murmured: “Perhaps it would be better if she chose her own name.”

For the first time, the little girl lifted her head with a smile:

“I’ve decided. My name is… Diona. And I want to meet Y someday.”

Anna reached out, pulled her into an embrace, and whispered:

“From today on… you are my little sister.”

—

At the Sorcerers’ Academy, Diona returned to consciousness, yet her tears would not stop, as though she were trying to wash away years of pain in a single flood.

Anna hurried to her side, kneeling down and holding her tightly to her chest, whispering with tender warmth:

“It’s all right… you are not alone anymore.”

In the bedroom, a heavy silence hung in the air, grief and anger taking turns as Diona’s story weighed on their hearts.

Ash spoke, her eyes shimmering with sorrow:

“What kind of family could do this to their own daughter?”

Lunaria answered in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper:

“It must have struck her like a thunderbolt.”

Anna, however, remained fixed on the door, her face tightened in a silence overflowing with worry:

“Diona…”

Klee murmured, pressing her hands against her chest:

“I… I can’t find the words…”

Angela followed, her voice unsettled:

“Nor can I…”

Then, breaking through the sorrow, came a familiar voice:

“Do not worry… I will take care of her.”

It was Y’s voice.

He added, calm yet tinged with plea:

“Anna… please, make her happy once more.”

—

The door opened softly, and Y entered. The room trembled in utter silence, as though even the air itself held its breath.

He closed the door behind him and walked with steady steps toward the bed, where Diona lay curled beneath the blanket, hiding from the world in trembling silence.

He drew closer, then raised his hand and began tapping gently on her head through the covers.

Tap… tap…

Her angry voice broke out between sobs:

“Ash! Leave me alone!”

But the tapping continued.

Tap… tap…

She burst out, throwing the blanket aside in frustration:

“I told you—!”

Her words froze in her throat when she saw Y standing before her, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

He smiled gently, plucked a small flower from the bouquet, and tucked it softly into her disheveled hair, speaking in a deep, resonant tone:

“No matter what your past may be… it will never change who you truly are. You are my little sister.

And sorrow was never meant for a smile as beautiful as yours. Remember this always… I will love you, forever.”

At that moment, her resistance crumbled. She leapt into his chest, clinging to him as if afraid he might vanish. Her tears streamed down his shoulder, and with a trembling voice she whispered:

“And I love you all as well… having you with me is greater than any magic.”