Lylia carried Serina to her room, her steps hurried yet full of caution. She laid Serina's body gently onto the bed; the girl's chest rose and fell with breaths that had yet to fully stabilize.
Zevaron stood not far away. His hands were clenched into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms as if holding back a surge of emotion deep within his chest. Since the incident, his gaze had not left his sister's face.
The silence felt heavy.
"What was that scroll?" Lylia asked, breaking the tension. Her voice was calm, but her eyes still held the remnants of the earlier strain.
Zevaron took a deep breath before answering.
"It's... a scroll I found in the rare plant garden," he said softly. "At the time, I only intended to pick some sunflower seeds. I almost ignored it."
His voice trembled slightly at the end of the sentence.
Lylia offered a faint smile, though it wasn't entirely warm.
"If you hadn't found it..." she whispered, the sentence hanging unfinished in the air.
Her gaze shifted to Serina. A shadow of clear fear flickered in her eyes—the fear of a grim possibility that had nearly become reality—mingled with relief that Serina was still lying there, alive.
Zevaron looked down, his jaw tightening.
The next day, Serina woke up with a sharp gasp. Her gaze swept across the ceiling of a room that felt foreign, as if a part of her had been left far behind in the previous night.
She furrowed her brow, trying to remember.
But all that surfaced was a void.
There were no shadows, no voices—only a heaviness in her chest, like a nightmare forgotten upon waking.
Serina turned to her side.
There, Zevaron was asleep by her bedside. His face looked exhausted, the lines of tension he usually hid were now clearly visible. One of his hands still gripped the edge of her blanket, as if afraid to let go.
Serina watched him for a long time.
Slowly, she reached out and gently stroked Zevaron's hair, a gesture full of habit and warmth.
The touch caused Zevaron's eyes to snap open.
It took him a second to fully register his surroundings—but as soon as his eyes met Serina's clear, open gaze, his body reacted faster than his mind. He sat up and pulled Serina into a tight embrace, as if fearing that if he let go, this would all prove to be an illusion.
"Sister Rina..." his voice shook, no longer attempting to hide his emotions.
"I'm so glad... that you're okay."
Serina was startled for a moment, then hesitantly returned the embrace.
"Zevaron," she said softly. "What... what exactly happened to me?"
Zevaron slowly pulled back, looking into his sister's face with a serious expression.
"Last night," he said quietly, "there was a water dragon."
"The dragon merged directly into your body. We couldn't stop it in time."
Serina fell silent.
"Then," Zevaron continued, "the scroll I found reacted. It sealed the water dragon... within your subconscious."
Silence returned to the room.
Serina looked down, staring at her own hands.
"So... there is a dragon inside me now?" she asked in a low voice, devoid of panic—only a quiet confusion.
Zevaron nodded slowly.
"I will find a way to keep you safe. No matter the risk." His tone wasn't loud, but it was brimming with resolve.
Serina looked at Zevaron for a long time, as if wanting to ensure her brother heard every word she was about to say.
"Don't take risks just for me," she said gently. "Remember... you still have a long future ahead of you."
Zevaron shook his head slowly.
"A long future, without family, will only leave me lonely."
Serina went quiet. Her hand tightened over the blanket, then slowly relaxed.
The bedroom door opened.
Lylia entered without a word. Her shoulders were slumped, and her breath was heavy—she was clearly exhausted. Yet, her gaze remained as sharp as ever.
She walked closer and held out an unusual pendant. Its surface was simple, almost unadorned, but it bore fine carvings that felt... stern.
"Wear this," Lylia said curtly. "It can suppress the dragon's dominance in the future."
Serina accepted it carefully.
"Where did you get this, Sister?" she asked, curious.
"I made it," Lylia replied flatly.
She then held up a worn-out book. Its cover was faded and the corners were torn, yet the pages within were neatly maintained.
"The method is written in this book."
Zevaron stared at the book, his eyes widening slightly.
"That looks like a book from the library," he said softly. "The one Father built back then. In our old house."
Lylia nodded.
"I took all those books when the tragedy occurred," she said briefly. "I figured... one day we would need them."
Serina gripped the pendant tighter and put it on.
That night, the house was wrapped in a silence that was calm yet heavy.
Serina sat on the sofa, her hands folded in her lap. Her face appeared peaceful, though her eyes held a weariness that hadn't fully vanished. Lylia stood by the window, her back to the room, staring into the darkness outside with an unreadable, cold expression.
Zevaron took a deep breath.
"I'm going," he said.
Serina turned toward him first. She wasn't shocked—only momentarily silenced.
"Going... now?" she asked gently, her voice barely a whisper.
"To find the legacy of the man from the Peak Era."
Serina stood up and approached him. Her hand rose, paused for a moment, then straightened Zevaron's collar—a small, habitual gesture.
"If that is what you must do," she said quietly, "then do not hesitate."
Zevaron looked at her, surprised.
"Sister Rina..."
Serina gave a faint smile.
"You've always been like this since you were a child," she continued softly. "Once you've decided on something, you never look back."
She tapped his chest gently.
"But remember... you don't have to carry everything alone."
Lylia finally spoke without turning around.
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"Hmph." Lylia crossed her arms. "Your typical answer."
She turned to face Zevaron. Her gaze was cold and evaluating.
"If you die out there, I won't explain a single thing to Serina."
Zevaron gave a wry smile.
"I'll be back."
"You better."
Lylia stepped closer and placed a small object in Zevaron's hand—perhaps an amulet, perhaps a communication device.
"If the seal reacts strangely," she said curtly, "I will call you."
Serina looked at them both, then slowly embraced Zevaron. The hug was warm and reassuring.
"Come home safely," she whispered. "This home will always be waiting for you."
Zevaron closed his eyes for a moment.
"Thank you... Sister."
Lylia had already turned back to the window when she said coldly, "Go, before I change my mind."
"I'll go get ready first," Zevaron said briefly.
He then stepped out of Serina's room, his footsteps light yet filled with alertness.
A few seconds after the door closed, Lylia's voice rang out quietly. "I'm going out for a moment."
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped out of the house. The night wind swept through her hair as she leaped lightly onto the roof, landing soundlessly. From that height, the surroundings appeared quiet—too quiet.
Lylia stood still, her eyes fixed on the dark sky.
The air around her suddenly shifted.
It wasn't the wind, nor a sound.
It was pressure—subtle yet suffocating.
A figure appeared beside her out of nowhere, as if they had been there from the start. No footsteps, no sign of arrival.
"Pass my thanks to him," Lylia said flatly, without turning her head.
The figure stared at her for a long time. Their face was shrouded in shadow, their aura cold and alien, as if they were not part of this world.
"Very well," the figure finally answered. "But remember—do not break your blood oath."
The tone was calm, but every word felt like a nail driven into the air.
"I will not break it," Lylia replied without emotion.
She paused for a moment, then added,
"However... can I obtain a protective tool?"
Silence once again enveloped the rooftop.
The figure gazed at her deeply, as if weighing something much heavier than a mere request.
Finally, the figure raised a hand.
A small object floated through the air before falling toward Lylia—a token with a strange, dimly glowing pattern, radiating an unstable aura.
"Take this."
Lylia caught it with one hand.
"Thank you," she said briefly.
"I am leaving now."
Without waiting for a response, she jumped down from the roof. The moment her feet touched the ground, the pressure vanished—as if the figure had never existed.
A few moments later, Zevaron stepped out of the house.
"Zevaron."
Lylia stopped him. She held out the token she had just received.
"Use this... when your life is in danger."
There was no further explanation.
No emotion on her face.
Yet behind that cold stare, something was hidden that even Zevaron was not yet able to understand.