(Evelyn's POV)
It turned out that everyone who had come to help during Avery's birth was already familiar to my mother. They were old acquaintances—trusted people who had also been there when my brother and I were born.
Among them was an elderly woman, a healer of some renown, known as Lady Theresa. She seemed kind, her presence calm and assuring, and though I wanted to spend more time with her, the group left as soon as my mother and Avery were settled. By morning, however, word had already spread throughout the village—my little sister had been born.
It amazed me how quickly news traveled. All day, people came to visit, bringing smiles, small gifts, and warm words. By the time night fell, the house finally quieted down, save for Avery's cries whenever she wanted something from Mother.
Earlier that day, I had managed to speak briefly with Lady Theresa. I couldn't resist asking her a question that had been resting in the back of my mind.
"Lady Theresa," I began carefully, "what do you know about the first Hero?"
Her eyes softened, as if remembering something distant yet important. She leaned closer to me, her voice carrying the weight of a story passed through generations.
"There was one attack," she said, "a technique only the Hero himself could perform. They called it the Hero Slash. With a single swing of his sword, a crescent-shaped blade of light would fly forth. What made it miraculous was that it could strike down vampires… yet never harm a single human caught in its path. Not once."
I frowned slightly. "No one has ever reproduced it?"
She shook her head. "No. To this day, no one understands how he did it. And those who witnessed it—those who truly knew the secret—perished in the final battle against the Vampire King."
Her words lingered in my mind long after she left.
---
Later that night, lying in my bed, I couldn't stop thinking about that name. Hero Slash.
A small smile tugged at my lips. So they remembered it after all… but they called it wrong.
I whispered into the silence of my room:
"I never called it the Hero Slash. I called it… the Healing Slash."
The name made sense only if one understood the truth. Creatures of dark alignment—vampires, undead, werewolves—were all vulnerable to light-aligned magic. Healing and purification spells burned them as surely as sunlight. That was the secret.
Long ago, I had learned healing magic not for others, but for this very purpose. I had infused it into my sword technique. Whenever my blade cut the air, it carried that light. Humans struck by it would feel their wounds close, their pain soothed. But monsters of darkness who dared touch it… would be consumed by fire that no shadow could resist.
I turned my gaze to the ceiling, fingers brushing the blanket absentmindedly. It's strange. So much knowledge is simply… gone.
Generations had passed since my time. Other Heroes had surely come and gone, each one fighting battles of their own. But when their struggles ended, what was left?
A few scattered stories. A title. A name carved into history… and then slowly forgotten.
Those who survived—diplomats, warriors who became kings—had their legacies too. But even they were swallowed by time. Only fragments remained.
I let out a quiet breath. "The cycle will always begin again. A new Hero will always be born. But I wonder…" My eyes drifted closed. "Will I meet the Hero of this generation… before fate forces us to?"
With that thought, I let sleep take me, while Avery's soft cries echoed faintly in the background, a reminder that the world was still moving forward.