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Chapter 19
Desawa continued with a calm smile.
“Now then, shall we hear from Solalune? How was Solalune founded?”
The children all turned toward Ayla, their faces alight with curiosity. She felt a rush of nerves but soon raised her voice.
“Mm, the ancestor of Solalune, Theo Solalune, was once the crown prince of the Holy Spirit Empire. But he fell in love with a common girl, Orel, and wished to marry her. Naturally, everyone opposed it. So he declared that he would abandon everything and live as a commoner. The emperor, enraged, disowned him and sent soldiers to kill them both.”
Ayla paused for a moment, checking that everyone was listening, before continuing.
“While fleeing, Theo and Orel encountered the Spirit of Light. The spirit was charmed by Orel—her radiant golden hair and emerald eyes were the colors it cherished most. It hid the two lovers and pleaded with the Spirit Queen on their behalf. In the end, the queen mediated between the emperor and the couple. The emperor granted Theo the surname Solalune and banished him to a distant, barren land. That was the beginning of Solalune.”
When Ayla glanced toward Desawa, silently asking was that enough?, the sage chuckled.
“Thank you, Miss Ayla. Hearing the tale of Solalune from Solalune’s own lips makes it all the more fascinating. The name itself, Solalune, means Sun and Moon. And the Spirit of Light is the natural enemy of the Demonkin.”
As he raised his clenched hand and opened it, a bright sphere of light blossomed in the air.
The children gasped in awe.
Ah, somehow… I feel like I could do that too.
Ayla glanced down at the back of her right hand—where nothing yet appeared—then back at the luminous sphere.
When Desawa sent the globe drifting above their heads, it whirled gracefully through the air.
“Spirits are with us always, even when unseen.”
Yes… yes, that’s right.
Ayla nodded, then glanced across the circle toward Roland. Since that day, she had gradually begun to be able to look at him. Today, her eyes fell on him almost boldly.
But his face was stiff—completely unlike usual.
As the glowing orb neared him, she saw it: the tremor he could no longer hide.
Fear? Terror? Unease?
She thought for a moment he might leap to his feet, but instead he sat frozen. Only when the orb faded did he exhale in visible relief.
And then, their eyes met.
Reflexively, Ayla whipped her head away. Luckily, Desawa spoke again at that moment, giving her cover.
“What I have shown you is only a fragment of the spirits’ power. Solalune is under the protection of a mighty Spirit of Light, and as proof of that covenant, children with golden hair and green eyes are born.”
This time Ayla’s gaze dropped unconsciously. She knew now it was not so simple, but she wondered what the others might think.
Desawa went on.
“Occasionally, however, a child is born with different colors—like Miss Ayla here. Such children are said to be ‘spirits’ pranksters.’ It is, in truth, another sign of the spirits’ special favor.”
“Uh…!”
A tiny sound escaped her before she could stop it. Desawa only smiled.
“Is it a Solalune secret? Oh no, anyone who communes with spirits would know. Miss Ayla… you seem to shine.”
“…What?”
Startled, Ayla looked up. Desawa merely laughed softly. The children gazed at her as though she were something wondrous.
Her whole body felt like it was twisting in embarrassment.
The lesson continued.
“Demonkin command the Spirits of Darkness. Indeed, they too were once spirits. There were four: the Crescent Moon, the Blue Stag, the Red Shadow, and finally, the Harmony. But Harmony has fallen, and that is what we now call the Demonkin. Solalune descends from the Crescent Moon line, sages like myself from the Blue Stag, and the monasteries you know from the Red Shadow. As for Harmony—it no longer sings of concord, but of corruption, luring mortals with honeyed words.”
Desawa paced as he told cautionary tales—of mortals who bargained with dark spirits and paid dearly. One begged for his dead wife’s return; she came back breathing, but empty, no more than a husk. Another pleaded for his daughter’s cure; she recovered, only to become someone else entirely—and a murderer besides.
Peroti shivered and pressed against Ayla, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her. Peroti looked up at her with a smile of quiet gratitude.
“So do not heed the whispers of the Dark Spirits. They prey upon human fear and unease, feeding upon them until they swell monstrously.”
Peroti raised her hand.
“Then… how do we defeat them?”
“Each lineage has its own means. But prevention is best of all. Today, we will craft talismans—bracelets in which a spirit’s blessing may easily dwell.”
“Talismans?”
Ayla tilted her head, and Peroti whispered,
“Protective charms.”
“Ah, I see.”
Desawa laid out threads of silver and gold, and yarn dyed with berries, teaching them to twist the strands into patterned bracelets. The promise of spiritual blessing made every child weave with eager fingers.
When all were finished, Desawa summoned a lesser Spirit of Light and let it dwell in each bracelet.
“I used invocation just now, but you may also steep it in clear water under sun and moonlight for a week to invite the blessing.”
Peroti whispered with a grin,
“Somehow I feel the bracelet Ayla wove will work best. Imagine—my friend is someone who shines.”
“Shines? I… I don’t really see it.”
Ayla brushed her fingers over the Shooting Star bound around her own wrist, then glanced toward Desawa’s hut.
“…It feels kind of embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? It’s recognition from a sage. That’s amazing.”
Peroti laughed brightly.
She had always clung to one particular toy—a rabbit doll she’d had for as long as she could remember. Even when it frayed and tore, she patched and stitched it again and again. Once, her mother tried to throw it away. Peroti had thrown such a tantrum—refusing food, lying in bed for three days—that her mother had no choice but to return the doll.
Though surrounded by endless possessions, Peroti rarely grew attached to any.
Her mother had called it obsession, not affection, but the attempts to break her of it only deepened her clinging.
Now, smiling at the memory, Peroti touched her cheek and said,
“You know, Ayla—you remind me of that doll I loved.”
“Really? What kind of doll?”
“A rabbit, with long floppy ears.”
“…That doesn’t sound like me.”
Ayla tugged playfully at her short hair.
Peroti only giggled.
“No, it does.”
“…That’s a compliment, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then you can say it as much as you like.”
With a grin, Ayla fastened the bracelet she had made onto Peroti’s wrist. She bowed slightly, pressing a knightly kiss upon her friend’s hand.
“There. This one is yours, Peroti. May the spirits’ blessing dwell with you.”
Peroti’s eyes sparkled as she tilted her head and smiled sweetly.
“Thank you, Ayla. And may their protection rest upon you as well.”
At that moment, Coon approached, hesitantly.
“Miss Ayla, once the sage’s lessons are over—when autumn comes—we boys planned a hunt. Would you join us?”
Peroti covered her mouth in mild shock.
A hunt? That’s hardly something to invite a young lady to.
But Ayla’s eyes lit up, and she nodded cheerfully.
“Of course! Just send me a letter once you’ve set the date.”
Coon bowed gratefully and withdrew. Peroti frowned.
“…Are you sure about this?”
“Hmm? About what? Oh! Do you want to come too? It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll pass.”
Peroti grimaced. Boys on horseback were reckless enough—but add bows and arrows, and it was a miracle none of them shot each other.
Instead, she clasped Ayla’s hands in both of hers.
“These lessons are nearly done. In what time remains, let’s spend it together.”
“Of course. Come to me anytime.”
Ayla turned her gaze toward the boys. Normally, they would all gather together after class, chatting freely. But today the boys had clustered around the crown prince.
Good.
Now it’s all right.
Ayla slowly lifted her eyes to Roland.
This time, he wasn’t looking at her. He was speaking with the others, unaware of her gaze.
He was the one who embodied all her failures.
Her shame. Her humiliation. Her helplessness. Her fear. Her dread.
And now… I can face him at last.
