One thing always crossed Siris's mind: she already knew that her job as Elyandra's personal maid would be unlike any other. Caring for such a peculiar child, noble as she was, brought challenges she had never imagined. Yet, at the same time, there was something captivating about the little enigma that was Elyandra.
The girl, at eight years old, was like a sponge, absorbing the world around her with a curiosity that often left Siris impressed. She didn't resemble other children her age. Elyandra was meticulous, studious, and focused. Her interest in magic and knowledge transcended that of any other noble child. If only the girl's family knew how she dedicated herself to her studies, they might even be surprised—but matters of nobility are always the priority.
"She is so focused and intelligent... A true prodigy," Siris thought, watching her young mistress. "And with that cute way of hers, it would be impossible not to enjoy taking care of her."
Despite the somewhat bipolar temperament and the ambitions already beginning to sprout in that sharp mind, there was something genuine about the girl. Something that made Siris feel like more than a simple servant. Caring for Elyandra was a pleasurable task. There was a hidden kindness in the girl, a softness that emerged every now and then, breaking through the facade of determination and control.
But at that moment, Siris found the girl in a rather... unusual situation.
Upon entering the room, she saw Elyandra backed into a corner, arms crossed and a look of panic plastered on her face. The girl's expression was that of someone trying to avoid something—or someone.
— Elyandra?
Siris's voice was soft, but there was an amused smile hidden behind her seriousness. She observed the girl with an expression denoting understanding and, at the same time, amusement.
The girl, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, raised her hands almost defensively. The look of dread remained on her face.
— I... I can do this myself, Siris!
The expression of dread did not dissipate, but the girl tried to make it seem as if she were in total control of the situation. Siris could not contain a mischievous smile.
— Oh, no... you know you're not escaping this, don't you?
She approached, her steps soft, while watching Elyandra with a gaze that knew exactly how this would end. Elyandra was rigid with resistance, but there was something funny about her posture.
— I don't need help! I can take a bath by myself!
Siris drew even closer, her smile wider now. She knew the girl had great pride, but the situation could not be avoided—at least not according to Siris's preferences.
— I see you have your reservations, but believe me, it's better this way.
Elyandra, eyes flashing with defiance, backed away a bit more, trying to maintain a firm stance.
— I can do it alone!
She repeated, in an almost comical manner, trying to distance herself further without being able to escape her maid's presence. Siris couldn't help but laugh softly, enchanted by the girl's determination. Such a stubborn and, at the same time, adorable child.
Certainly, Elyandra still had much to learn about the small things in life, but until then, Siris was more than willing to continue her task; even if Elyandra didn't want help with her baths, Siris seemed like a mother caring for a child who had just entered the world.
Elyandra looked at Siris as the maid approached. The frozen expression of resistance briefly vanished amidst the discomfort.
"Since Siris arrived, she has stuck to me like a stray cat after being fed and petted. She follows me everywhere and insists on helping even at the most inopportune moments!"
It was a comparison Elyandra, with her strategic mind, had found to describe Siris's attitude. She followed Elyandra through the entire house as if it were impossible to let her out of sight. Whether for studying, eating, or even her most private activities, Siris was there, always ready to offer help or simply stand there like a faithful shadow.
"And no matter the situation, she always appears."
At times, Elyandra wondered if Siris knew what privacy was or if she even cared about the concept. Even when she tried to hide or run to some corner of the house, there was Siris, with her silent and constant presence. Not that Elyandra truly wanted to hide; she liked the maid's company, or at least the idea that Siris was there when she needed her. She didn't like to admit it, but there was something reassuring in the fact that, as lonely as she was, she would always have someone nearby—even if that "someone" was as persistent as a starving animal.
"But she is useful," Elyandra acknowledged internally, "even if I don't need her every time... she is always there."
Siris didn't question her actions, no matter what Elyandra asked or how she acted. It was as if she knew, intuitively, when the little Valemortis needed something without being asked. And that was... convenient, to say the least.
But at the same time, Elyandra couldn't help a mental sigh. "Still, it would be nice if she understood that I am capable of doing things alone, like any normal person..."
As Siris approached to insist on the bath once more, Elyandra couldn't help but think that Siris had become more than a simple servant. She was, in a way, becoming... a constant presence in her life. And despite the irritation she felt at times, she didn't know if she was ready to push her away. After all, no one else was there to care for her the way Siris did.
Elyandra kept her posture upright and serious, assuming her position of nobility. She knew that, even with her childish appearance, her title and authority could not be forgotten—or at least, she strove for them to be respected, even in situations like that.
"I am a noble," she thought firmly, "I am not just any child to be treated as such."
She looked directly at Siris, who approached with that familiar mischievous smile, and made her best effort to maintain an implacable expression.
— Siris, do not worry. Even though I am a child, there are things I can and should do alone.
The sentence was spoken with the authority of someone who knew exactly what they were saying, even if her young and childish tone wasn't the most suitable for such an assertion. Elyandra felt a growing pride in herself as she spoke those words, as if she had finally made a valid point.
— I can dress myself, take my own bath... there are many things I already know how to do without help.
While she spoke, Siris continued to approach with that mischievous smile on her face, as if the girl were saying nothing at all. It was clear she didn't care much for Elyandra's nobility or her attempts to display a control she thought important to maintain. But Elyandra, in her mind, was succeeding in her arguments.
However, before she could continue her list of things she "could do alone," Siris scooped her up into her arms with an ease that made her let out a light cry of surprise.
— Siris! No... don't do that! I can do everything myself!
Panic seized Elyandra, and the seriousness she tried to project dissipated instantly, replaced by a look of pure desperation. She knew that with Siris, her words meant little when the maid decided it was time to act.
Siris, with a gentle smile, looked her in the eyes and, affectionately, shook her head in a "no," her hand slowly coming to rest on Elyandra's hair as if to soothe her.
— Oh, Elyandra, you are so cute... But dear, young ladies don't throw tantrums about taking a bath. And it's time you learned that even the most noble people need a little help once in a while.
Elyandra opened her mouth, ready to protest, but her expression of indignation mixed with embarrassment. What could she do when Siris was so obstinate? She simply surrendered, though her pride was still ablaze.
With a light, defeated sigh, Elyandra turned her head to the side, trying to look less vulnerable. But deep down, she knew Siris was just taking care of her, as she always did. And that, in a way, bothered her, but also reassured her.
Later, after all the commotion, Elyandra was sitting in the armchair near the fireplace in her room, already dressed in a clean robe, her damp hair carefully combed by Siris, who was now drying it with a fluffy towel and exaggeratedly dedicated attention.
"I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life." The thought crossed her mind with bitter sincerity. "Thirty-two years of existence. Thirty-two. And not once did I come close to such a humiliating situation... and now I've been bathed, soaped, and rinsed like a lady's lapdog."
Indignation pulsed in her chest. The masculine pride that had once been a solid part of her reincarnated soul was crumbling under the fragrance of lavender and the gentle care of a devoted servant.
"This is outrageous... pathetic... and somehow, still more comforting than it should be."
She crossed her arms, still trying to maintain the posture of someone dignified and inviolable, but the flush on her face betrayed the embarrassment she tried to contain.
"Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating."
It was at that moment, when the silence of the night filled the room and only the crackling of the fire danced on the stone walls, that Elyandra let out a light smile. A mischievous, almost imperceptible smile that took over her face like a spark of repressed malice.
Immediately afterward, she shook her head, trying to banish that moment of weakness.
— Hmph... — she murmured softly to herself.
"No. I am Elyandra Valemortis. Heir to one of the most powerful houses in the Empire of Divine Light. The future Saint...?"
Her eyes glittered for a moment, reflecting the fire's flame like an omen of ambition. It didn't matter how many baths she still had to endure, nor how many times that maid insisted on treating her like a fragile little doll—Elyandra knew exactly who she was. And no one, absolutely no one, would take that away from her.
While Elyandra was still savoring her triumphant return to composure, wrapped in ambitious thoughts and mental declarations of world dominance, she suddenly felt the warmth of two soft hands sliding behind her back.
Before she could even react, she was enveloped in a cozy hug, squeezed exactly between sincere affection and the complete collapse of her dignity.
"N-no!"
Her eyes widened and her body froze as if hit by a paralysis spell. A flush flooded her face instantly, tinting her cheeks with an intensity that would make even a fairytale maiden blush.
— Aaaah...! — she let out a muffled sound, almost inaudible, but filled with silent despair.
Siris, resting her face on the little noble's shoulder, sighed contentedly.
— It's so good to take care of someone so cute... — she murmured with a sweet smile, as if she had just won a rare prize from fate. — You're like a precious little candy that fell into my lap... I'm going to take care of you forever, Elyandra.
"This is the end... I won't survive another one of these."
Elyandra's body remained static, like a warrior surrendered on the battlefield—only in this case, the battle was against an absolutely dedicated and overly affectionate maid.
"Why is she so clingy?!"
And despite all the silent resistance, the little Valemortis remained there, squeezed in the warm embrace, her heart racing like a drum on a battlefield. She wanted to scream. She wanted to escape. She wanted to invoke all her divine magic and purify the world of this humiliating situation.
But all she managed to do was whisper to herself:
— I am Elyandra Valemortis... this is just a setback.
The night light filtered through the window in silvery beams, gently touching the contours of young Elyandra's room. The curtains swayed lazily in the warm breeze, and the air carried the faint scent of flowers from the garden outside.
Siris was by the bed, carefully adjusting the little noble's pillow with a care that bordered on the ceremonial. She leaned down, tucked the blanket over Elyandra's body, and delicately ran her hand through the girl's hair.
— Goodnight, my lady. May your dreams bring you peace... — she said in a sweet, almost whispered tone.
Elyandra, with her arms crossed and a slight pout on her lips, stared at the young maid with a slightly grumpy look, as if trying to maintain her composure until the very last moment. But feeling the gentle touch on her hair, she couldn't contain a small sigh.
She pulled the blanket up until it covered her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes showing, before grumbling softly:
— Goodnight, Siris...
Siris smiled, satisfied, and left the room with silent steps, turning off the magical light by the door.
The room plunged into a peaceful gloom. And for exactly three seconds, silence reigned.
Then, Elyandra exploded in a fit of contained frustration, rolling from one side to the other on the bed like a devilish eel.
— GAAAH! I'm pathetic! Ridiculous! A complete... HIGH-CATEGORY FRAUD!
She punched the pillow with her tiny hands, her face completely red.
— How did I... A master battle strategist! A conqueror of virtual kingdoms! HOW was I DOMINATED by a... by a... by a marshmallow with silky hair and such a beautiful smile?!
She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as if waiting for her dignity to fall back down from above. But, of course... nothing fell.
Sighing loudly, she tucked herself under the covers like a cornered and ashamed animal.
"Right... focus. Siris is dangerous. A cuddly danger. But dangerous nonetheless."
Deep down, still warmed by the blankets and the recent affection, Elyandra returned to her mental pose of a manipulative arch-villain:
"I need to keep focus. My tutor told me the entrance exam for the Royal Academy of Magic will be in a year... That means I have twelve months to master the basics, prepare my presentation, and ensure my glorious entry. I can't waste time on hugs and embarrassing baths... This world won't bend to cuteness."
But before she could continue her mental list of grand objectives and megalomaniacal plans...
She yawned.
Then she yawned again.
And on the third, she was completely out, sleeping on her side like any other child, hair spread across the pillow and lips slightly parted, dreaming perhaps of conquests, perhaps of blankets... or maybe of Siris offering her another surprise bath.
The morning light spread across the training field like a golden veil. Dewdrops still glistened on the leaves while a gentle breeze carried the fragrance of flowers from the property's side garden. A group of birds sang discreetly in the distance, as if even they knew this was a moment for concentration.
In the center of the smooth, polished stone ground, Elyandra Valemortis, her hair tied back and wearing a training uniform that mimicked her tutor's—a fitted dark gray tunic of simple and functional cut—remained kneeling with her eyes closed, hands resting gently on her thighs.
She breathed calmly.
Inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
"Feel... the mana... like an underground river. An invisible but present flow."
Tutor Dalia Vernhardt's voice echoed not in spoken words, but in previously repeated instructions that had already fixed themselves in the young girl's mind.
— Your focus is scattered. Concentrate on the lower abdomen region. Mana is born from the core, not from the fingertips — Dalia said, in her usual serene tone, but charged with the authority of someone who accepted no laziness or distraction.
She stood before her little pupil, arms crossed. Her countenance was firm, dark brown eyes analyzing every tiny tremor in the girl's body. Her black hair, tied in a loose braid, swayed slightly with the wind, her gray military-cut cloak molding to her imposing frame.
Elyandra squeezed her eyes shut tighter, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Come on, treacherous mana... why are you so slippery?"
She could feel it... a faint pressure. A faint heat, as if something were pulsing very lightly inside her, below the navel. A raw energy. Crude. Almost wild. That was it. She knew. It was the mana. But touching it, molding it... was like trying to hold smoke with her fingers.
— You are in too much of a rush — Dalia commented, taking a step forward, the sound of her boots touching the ground resonating sharply. — Mastering mana is not like controlling a sword. It is more like dialoguing with a spirit. It responds best to those who listen before they command.
Elyandra opened her eyes with a small, frustrated sigh, discreetly wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. She had been training for almost an hour. Her still-childish body showed no signs of visible exhaustion, but internally, her mind was boiling.
— I am listening — she murmured, firmly.
— You are trying to listen by shouting at it — the tutor replied, crouching down to be at the girl's level. — Your determination is admirable, but remember: mana is nature, and nature does not bow to shouting. It flows. You must learn to flow with it.
Dalia's gaze softened, even without losing the weight of discipline.
— Start over. Breathe. Feel the core. Only then think about molding.
Elyandra nodded in silence, returning to the starting position. She closed her eyes again, but now with a slower, deeper breath. There was no rush. There shouldn't be.
"If I want to enter that Academy, I need to start here. And become the best..."
The wind blew harder at that moment, lifting a dry leaf that landed softly in front of her.
She smiled slightly.
And then she dove back into herself.
The training field fell silent in reverence. Elyandra remained motionless, but inside, she fought a war against her own anxiety and against the impalpable fluidity of the mana escaping through her thoughts. Her fists clenched involuntarily until she relaxed them with effort. She inhaled once more.
In the background, leaning under the shadow of one of the courtyard's marble columns, Siris watched in silence. Her eyes followed every small gesture of the girl like an attentive sentinel. Despite her always gentle and relaxed posture, there was something in her expression at that moment—a delicate seriousness, as if she understood the importance of that instant. Her fingers rested interlaced in front of her skirt, and she didn't even blink.
The wind danced through the trees.
That was when Dalia Vernhardt approached.
With firm steps, she positioned herself behind Elyandra. The girl heard the boots echoing against the stone floor but did not break her concentration. And then she felt it. Dalia's palm rested gently on her back. It wasn't just a guiding gesture; it was a seal of trust, a silent reminder that someone believed in her.
— You are searching with the eyes of reason — Dalia began, her voice like controlled thunder. — But mana is not logic. It is not physics. It is the reflection of your spirit. And the spirit is not tamed... it is recognized.
Elyandra breathed deeper. The heat of that hand on her back seemed to guide something inside her.
— The power you seek is here, now. It always has been. You don't need to find it. You need to accept that it is yours.
The wind intensified around them.
The tutor's words didn't have a mystical tone, but a strategic one. It was like hearing a general instructing a soldier before the final battle. And it touched Elyandra deeply, awakening something in her chest.
— Control doesn't come from strength, Elyandra — Dalia continued, firmly. — Control is born from respect. From clarity. From discipline. A true Magic Knight does not subjugate mana. He walks with it.
And then... something clicked.
Inside herself, Elyandra felt a faint vibration, as if the strings of a long-forgotten instrument began to echo. A subtle heat. A shiver running through every fiber of her body. The soft pulse of an internal presence. Warm, alive... hers.
She gasped discreetly. Her eyes were still closed, but an invisible light seemed to shine behind her eyelids. The world slowed down for an instant. There was no more wind, or sound, or voice. Just her... and that.
"I... I did it?"
Her eyes opened, and for a moment, even without emitting a single spark, a different glow emanated from her pupils. The look of someone who finally understood something fundamental. A look of victory.
She rose slowly.
Her small hands clenched at her sides, trembling slightly. A wide, genuine smile was born on her lips. For the first time since her reincarnation, Elyandra Valemortis felt her mana.
— I... I did it! — she said, almost in a laugh, surprised and euphoric.
The explosion of emotion was so genuine that Siris, who until then had maintained her composure, let out a moved little laugh, her eyes tearing up without her realizing. Dalia, for her part, slightly arched one corner of her lips. A rare gesture of silent approval.
— Congratulations on reaching the first step of your path, Elyandra — she declared, firmly.
Elyandra looked back, eyes shining with pride, gratitude, and ambition.