The Weight of a Sister’s Secret

Stella sat on the edge of the bed, barely an arm’s length from Mylian.

Beneath the thick covers, her hand held Mylian’s tightly. This was her method for guiding Mylian through her nightmares.

Mylian’s brow furrowed slightly. Her fingertips twitched, and with what little strength remained, she pulled her hand away, turning her head towards the window.

I hate her. Why does she cling to me?

Mylian couldn’t fathom it. She noticed ice crystals clinging to the window sill and residual frost on the walls, clear signs of ice magic.

“Mylian, look back at your sister. She saved you.”

Raphael suddenly approached the bed, her tone stern, a hint of admonition in her eyes.

“She saved me?” Mylian turned her head at the sound, her pupils dilating slightly.

“Sister, your fever was raging, so I had to use ice magic to cool you down. I didn’t realize my control over magic was still unrefined, and I accidentally messed up the room.”

Stella smiled and shrugged, subtly concealing the true events that had befallen Mylian.

“Not only that, but she also carried you, unconscious, from the study to your room. The least you can do is offer a word of thanks.”

Raphael continued, her gaze fixed on Mylian. Her admonishments seemed to hold more sway than anyone else’s, causing Mylian to silently furrow her brows.

“Thank… you.”

Though the words were exceptionally difficult for Mylian to utter, Stella had heard them. She nodded solemnly.

“You don’t need to thank me, Sister. Just tell me anything you want to eat or do.”

Stella patted her chest, but inadvertently, the bandage on her right hand became visible to Mylian.

“Your hand… what happened?” Mylian narrowed her eyes, sensing it had something to do with her.

“Oh, that? It’s nothing. My magic isn’t very proficient, so I just accidentally hurt myself. I’m fine.”

Stella clasped her hands behind her back, clearly unwilling for Mylian to examine it further.

“Is it a serious injury?” Mylian pressed.

“It’s alright, a minor scratch. It’ll heal in a day or two.” Stella nodded to herself.

“Your injury has nothing to do with me?” Mylian remained unconvinced, vaguely feeling Stella was hiding something.

“If it truly has any relation, it was for Sister’s safety. Sister, please rest well for now. I’ll come back later.”

Stella wished to say no more, turning to leave the conversation to the others. Seeing this, Raphael quietly followed her out.

In the corridor outside, Raphael called out to Stella, who was about to leave.

“Stella, I have something to ask you.”

“Oh, Teacher Raphael, could we discuss it tonight? I need to go stew some hot soup for my sister right now.”

Stella merely turned her head to greet her, intending to continue walking, but Raphael quickly caught up to her side.

“I’ll go with you. We can talk on the way.”

“Alright, Teacher. What would you like to discuss about me? Future career guidance, or perhaps my magical research direction? It’s not about family matters, is it?”

“The fact that you can ask such questions suggests you’ve already made plans. However, what I wish to ask is about the [Curse] on your sister.”

Raphael merely mentioned it, and Stella’s steps instantly slowed, a sudden jolt in her heart.

“Teacher, you must be joking, right? My sister doesn’t have a curse on her.”

Stella laughed, attempting to brush it off, but Raphael was unwilling to let it go.

“Your domain barely managed to withstand the scorching flames emanating from Mylian, and your hand was burned by her as well.”

Raphael spoke with the tone of one stating facts; she knew precisely what Stella had likely done.

“Indeed, nothing escapes Teacher’s notice when it comes to magic. But Sister certainly didn’t do it on purpose.”

Stella nodded, readily admitting the truth, as long as Raphael remained unaware of Della’s presence in the room.

“It seems you’ve known about the [Curse] for a long time. Why haven’t you allowed a more highly skilled priest to remove it? Your sister should possess the same exceptional magical talent as you.”

Raphael placed a hand on Stella’s shoulder, stopping her. She required a reasonable explanation.

“There are many convoluted reasons involved, Teacher. It’s best you don’t know too much. There’s only one thing I can tell you.”

Stella reached out, removing Raphael’s hand. She turned back, her sky-blue pupils dark with a chilling intensity.

“Tell me. If I know, I won’t stand idly by.”

Raphael’s demeanor was firm, yet inwardly, she marveled at Stella’s shadowed side. The girl before her possessed profound cunning, far more complex than she appeared.

“The [Flame Demon], Teacher, do you know of Them?”

“Didn’t They die centuries ago? They attempted to sacrifice countless living beings to break through [Level] limitations, and were ultimately slain by the combined efforts of the great elemental spellcasters.”

“Yes, history records it that way. But who could have foreseen that They had a contingency? A mark of vengeance, transcending time, was cast, and the cursed one is my sister.”

Stella’s tone was calm, as if this were merely ordinary news to her, and the means to avoid it quite simple.

“Is there any basis for what you’re saying?” Raphael frowned, not entirely convinced.

“Teacher, I’ve already told you these things. If you insist on having a priest remove the [Curse], perhaps consider giving them a fire-protection spell first. If they get burned, you can’t blame anyone else.”

Stella raised her shoulders and waved her hand. She needed to focus on stewing soup now; the conversation could not continue.

“Alright, Teacher, no need for such a troubled expression. Just assume I was spouting nonsense. After all, no one would believe it.”

“You have a way to cure Mylian?”

Raphael suddenly asked. Stella nodded as she walked.

“Yes, because she is my sister.”

After the well-wishers departed, silence finally enveloped Mylian.

The window sill devoured half the twilight, and an air of loneliness permeated the entire room.

Mylian’s headache prevented her from sleeping, yet there were no peers willing to talk. Stella was not her choice, and Della was not by her side.

Creak—

The door quietly pushed open a crack. A pair of blue pupils peered into the room. Perhaps certain that the timing was right, the blonde girl then walked in openly.

“Sister, dinner is ready.” Stella carried a large bowl of steaming hot soup.

“I’m not hungry… I want to sleep.” Mylian lacked the strength and had no desire to see anyone. She closed her eyes.

“Even when you’re sick, you must eat well. Come on, Sister, open your mouth.” Stella sat by the bed, scooping a spoonful and blowing on it.

“I told you I’m not hungry.” Mylian refused again, but the aroma of the soup stirred memories in her taste buds.

“Just one sip, you’ll love it.” Stella waited patiently, her spoon still held steady.

“Ugh… Fine, just one sip, then you leave.”

Mylian, annoyed, opened her eyes. Yet, upon seeing the color of the soup, her heart involuntarily trembled.

It was the color of “Peace Soup.” Mylian’s former family would brew such soup, always when Mylian was sick.

“What is this…?”

“Peace Soup. Someone told me this is how you’d be willing to drink it.”

Stella smiled, the twilight glow from outside reflecting on her face, and a gentle warmth quietly refracted with the light into Mylian’s eyes.