(Lady Theresa's POV)
The carriage rocked gently as I gazed out the window, my mind drifting back to my earlier conversation with Lady Lily's daughter, Evelyn. When I spoke of the Hero's Slash, at first she only looked puzzled. But then… a flicker of realization crossed her face. It was subtle, but unmistakable.
For a moment, I was certain she knew more than she let on.
Yet there was no malice in her expression—only a quiet weight, as though she carried something she wasn't ready to share. I decided not to press her. Some truths surface only when the time is right.
My thoughts slipped back further, to eleven years ago—the night of Evelyn's birth.
I had returned from Lady Lily's estate to the academy, only to be greeted by chaos. Scholars, students, and knights alike were rushing about, shouting, speculating. When I demanded an explanation, I was told the impossible had happened: the greatsword of the First Hero, which had rested silent in our exhibition hall for centuries, had suddenly ignited with blinding radiance.
A pillar of light surged from its blade, piercing the heavens for only a few seconds, but the spectacle shook the academy to its core.
Never before had the sword reacted in such a way—not even at the birth of later heroes, after the First's passing. History offered no precedent, no explanation. Confusion reigned, and the historians scrambled, clinging to theories that only deepened the mystery.
And yet… in the quiet of my own heart, I could not ignore the timing. Evelyn had been born that very night.
Could it be?
The thought has haunted me since.
Perhaps one day the sword will choose her. Such relics are not bound by reason—they choose their wielder, and destiny bends around that choice. If Evelyn is fated to inherit the First Hero's blade, I cannot begin to imagine the ripple that revelation will cause across the kingdom.
That is why I told no one. Not even my closest subordinates. I gave direct orders: Evelyn's name, her birth, Lady Lily's circumstances—none of it leaves that village. Not until we understand what we are dealing with.
Still… I cannot shake this feeling.
There is something about that child. When I look at her, I am reminded so strongly of the First Hero that it unsettles me. Perhaps it is her craftsmanship—her armor, her sword, creations that echo relics thought lost to time. My informant in the village even remarked on the uncanny resemblance.
Could it be mere admiration? A girl inspired by old legends?
Or is it something more?
I close my eyes and fold my hands, as the carriage wheels rattle on. A whisper stirs in my chest, unbidden.
Evelyn… just what are you meant to become?