Chapter 1: Beyond My Imagination (Part 1)
Sigh.
My name is Lailac Von Kaizah, daughter of Haines Kaizah, head of the Kaizah household. My life before fourteen years ago was little more than a fragile spark—a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could one day be as strong as the rest of my family.
Father often told me I reminded him of my mother. "You have her eyes," he would say, brushing a hand across my hair with surprising gentleness for a man known for his iron command. "And her stubborn heart, too."
I would smile when he said that, though sometimes I wondered if he only said it to comfort me. He loved me dearly—I knew that—but I was weak. Hopelessly, humiliatingly weak. While my brothers and sisters sparred in the training fields, their auras burning like flames against the horizon, I tripped over basic stances and collapsed from exhaustion after only a few minutes of practice.
Because of that, Father always assigned a guard to follow me. No one else my age needed such a thing. To them, I must have looked like a porcelain doll—fragile, breakable, and undeserving of standing beside them.
But Father never treated me as useless. Instead, he went to desperate lengths to help me cultivate. Every rare resource he could acquire—beast cores, essence fruits, even small artifacts brimming with energy—he placed in my hands. He would watch me try, his sharp eyes filled with both anticipation and worry.
And yet, every time, the result was the same.
The moment the energy touched me, it vanished. Not absorbed. Not rejected. Simply gone. As though I were a bottomless void swallowing treasures the world itself would kill to obtain.
The sensation haunted me: that instant of hope as power entered my body, followed by the cold emptiness when it slipped away. My meridians felt hollow, my chest tight, as though I had tried to breathe in fire but exhaled only smoke.
I hated it. I hated myself.
But Father refused to give up.
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It was eleven years ago, in the month of Gemini, when everything shifted. Father discovered the truth—something even my mother had kept hidden until her death. Through relentless research, through unearthing scraps of forgotten records, he found it.
The Flame Sage Bloodline.
My bloodline.
Mother's legacy.
It was power unlike any other—terrifying and awe-inspiring. But it came at a cost.
If awakened before I reached the Origin Chi realm, it would consume my own vitality. My life force would burn away, every breath shortening the time I had left to live. Only once I surpassed that realm could I ignite it without killing myself, but even then, it demanded sacrifice. Instead of draining me, it would devour vitality from the environment. From trees, rivers, animals, even people. Whoever was closest, however strong they were—it did not matter.
A curse masquerading as a gift.
I remember the night Father told me. His study was dim, the candlelight casting shadows across his lined face. He spoke calmly, but his voice was heavy with something I had rarely heard from him before—fear.
"This bloodline… it is not something to awaken carelessly," he said, his gaze fixed on me as if I might vanish before him. "Do you understand, Lailac?"
I was only a child, yet the weight of his words pressed on me like chains. Still, I nodded.
"Yes, Father."
He reached out, placing a rough, calloused hand on mine. "You are my daughter. My flesh, my blood. I will find a way to protect you from this fate. Even if the world sees only weakness in you, I will not."
His conviction should have comforted me, but instead it carved guilt into my heart. Every resource he poured into me, every moment he spent shielding me from the rest of the family—it was all for nothing. I was an endless void, swallowing hope itself.
---
And the others noticed.
Father's wives and children looked at me with thinly veiled disdain. To them, I was a threat, not because of my strength, but because of Father's affection.
One evening, curiosity led me too close to their private gathering. I remember crouching behind a carved wooden screen, my hands clenched tight, my breath shallow.
Dinah, Father's third wife, sat at the center, her voice sharp as a dagger. "We should find a way to get rid of Lailac before Haines puts her in his will."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the others.
"She contributes nothing."
"She drains his wealth."
"She will ruin our children's inheritance."
Each word pierced me, cold and bitter. My nails dug into my palms until they drew blood, but I did not cry—not then. I refused to give them the satisfaction, even in secret.
Later that night, Father found me sitting in silence, my eyes fixed on the moonlight spilling across the floor. He asked nothing, yet he knew. He always knew.
Without a word, he took me to live in his quarters. From then on, whenever he traveled—whether for business negotiations or leisure visits—he brought me with him.
At the time, I thought it was only to protect me. But soon, I realized it was more than that. Every journey became a lesson. I learned how merchants haggled, how nobles disguised malice behind polite words, how cultivators concealed their strength in crowded markets. Father's world was vast, complicated, dangerous—and he wanted me to see it all.
Perhaps he believed knowledge would become my shield, if strength never would.
---
Of all the places he owned, none captured my heart like the Wooden-Horse Manor.
The first time I saw it, I was still a child, my small hand gripping Father's as we stood at the edge of rolling pastures. Before us, the beasts ran—majestic creatures resembling horses, yet unlike anything ordinary.
Their eyes glowed with emerald light, sharp and intelligent. Their coats were pure white, but when they galloped, their fur shifted, blurring into the wind itself, as though the world could not hold them still. Leaves and dust whirled around them, carried by the storms of their speed.
The young ones bore manes of shimmering green, strands like liquid jade flowing in the sunlight. As they aged, the green deepened to black, silkier than midnight.
I remember pressing my face to the wooden fence, breathless, my heart pounding with wonder.
"They're… beautiful," I whispered.
Father chuckled softly, watching my awe. "They are proud creatures. They do not yield easily. A rider must earn their trust, and once they bond, it is for life."
His words lingered, etching themselves deep into me.
True strength, he said, was not only in power, but in the bonds we forge.
---
Even now, when I close my eyes, I hear the thunder of their hooves, feel the rush of wind, and see the shimmer of emerald eyes in the sunlight.
That was the moment I began to dream—not of being the strongest, not of surpassing my siblings, but of finding a place where my weakness could become something more.
My destiny, my bloodline, my flame… one day, it would blaze beyond imagination.
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