As for anything more, she couldn’t recall it in the moment, so she simply stopped trying to think.
“That’s wonderful, Beacai.”
Satisfying a child’s desire to share was crucial; otherwise, their disappointment would only lead them to become increasingly withdrawn. With a gentle smile, Isis ruffled Beacai’s little head, offering a word of praise.
This simple commendation made Beacai’s heart swell with a sweetness akin to honey, her smile lingering on her face, refusing to fade.
Then, as if remembering something important, she began drawing circles in the air with both small hands.
“Hmph, Mama, this is the simplest magic! Those powerful mages can create enormous fireballs with their magic, and their power is truly terrifying. I’ll definitely show you someday!”
In her daughter’s mind, Isis was just an ordinary woman who had never encountered magic. This was why Beacai eagerly shared these details, hoping to elicit gasps of amazement from her mother.
Such was the nature of children, and Isis, of course, indulged her.
Blinking, she feigned surprise and gently pinched Beacai’s cheek.
“Wow, really? Then I’m truly looking forward to your magic!”
“Mhm, just you wait! I’ll be able to learn it very quickly!”
Nodding her head like a pecking chick, Beacai seemed to be experiencing such eager anticipation for the first time. Not only did a radiant smile bloom on her face, but it was also tinged with an excited blush.
****
Time passed without her noticing, and when Isis next arrived in the backyard of their house, she found Beacai tirelessly swinging a wooden stick.
Anhel Town had recently welcomed a new swordsmanship instructor. Beacai, hoping to become a formidable swordswoman in the future, had sought lessons from the teacher.
From then on, whenever she had a moment of leisure, she would diligently practice her sword techniques in the backyard.
Watching the wooden stick twirl in Beacai’s hands, Isis returned to the house. From beneath her bed in the bedroom, she pulled out a long, rectangular wooden box.
The box was simply adorned, the kind one might find anywhere. She picked it up, placed it on the table, and then opened its lid.
Inside lay a brown wooden sword.
Though it appeared unremarkable, its material was a branch from Yggdrasil. Therefore, in terms of both hardness and magical enhancement, it far surpassed ordinary weapons.
It would be perfectly suitable as a gift for Beacai.
During a festival, she rewrapped the wooden sword in opulent packaging and presented it to Beacai as a holiday gift.
“Beacai, this is for you.”
“Eh, what’s this?”
Swallowing nervously, Beacai opened the wooden box and saw the sword within.
“It’s a practice wooden sword,” Isis explained. “It should make learning swordsmanship much easier.”
Beacai picked up the lightweight wooden sword and deftly twirled it in her hand, her face alight with happiness. She hugged the wooden sword tightly, making a solemn vow.
“Don’t worry, Mama, I will definitely protect you in the future!”
“Yes, I believe in you.”
Her daughter’s happiness was infectious; Isis watched her, her own heart filled with sweetness.
Days swiftly turned into weeks, and finally, the day of her daughter’s eighteenth birthday arrived.
Beacai had passed the Hero’s selection and become the Hero. This would also be their last meeting; soon after, Beacai would leave town to travel, and Isis herself would pass away before long.
It had to be said that after losing the immortality of a deity, she had lived a fulfilling and happy life in these intervening years.
“Mama, do I look nice?”
A birthday cake sat on the table. Beacai, seated opposite Isis, held her hands to her chest, fiddling with a silver gardenia pendant.
The golden candlelight from the candles illuminated the pendant, and the warm glow reflected from the gardenia shimmered with the flickering flames. Isis gazed at Beacai, intending to offer a few words of praise, but then she suddenly froze.
She wondered if it was her imagination, but she felt that the person sitting opposite her shouldn’t be Beacai, but rather a youthful girl with long golden hair.
Moreover, this scene felt unsettlingly familiar, as if she had personally experienced it a very long time ago…
“Mama?”
Beacai tilted her head, confused by Isis’s sudden stillness. Isis lowered her eyes to the birthday cake, and a name suddenly flashed through her mind: Nona.
‘Nona? That golden-haired girl is Nona? Who is she?’
Though she still couldn’t recall who Nona was, she suddenly found the Beacai before her utterly unfamiliar. Simultaneously, a sharp pain shot through her mind.
Clutching her head in agony, she stumbled away from the chair, leaning against the wall to distance herself from Beacai. Her lips muttered incessantly.
“No, you… you are not my daughter…”
Beacai was visibly startled. She quickly stood and rushed to Isis’s side, grabbing her wrist.
“What are you saying? Mama, I am your daughter, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re not! Nona, Nona is!”
“Who is Nona? None of our friends are named Nona. Mama, are you sick?”
*Smack!
“Don’t touch me! You’re not my daughter!”
Beacai had reached out to touch Isis’s forehead, but her hand was cruelly slapped away. Isis leaned against the wall, moving towards the window as fragments of memory resurfaced.
‘Beacai… she isn’t my daughter at all! My daughter is Nona!’
“You… you are an evil god…”
Complex, tangled memories flooded Isis’s mind, causing her both anguish and a light sheen of sweat to break out on her forehead. Yet, she felt a surge of excitement, for she remembered something about Beacai.
‘She is an evil god, not my daughter!’
“An evil god? Mama, you’re ill.”
“No, I’m not…”
Beacai, who had initially been worried about Isis, suddenly calmed upon hearing her words. She drew out her wooden sword and, tilting her head, took slow, deliberate steps towards Isis.
Though her expression remained calm, complex candlelight flickered within her crimson eyes. She worried for Isis, and she loved her, an undisguised possessiveness threatening to spill from their depths.
As if sensing Beacai’s intent, Isis, facing her, instinctively recoiled several steps, desperate to put more distance between them. Yet, to her dismay, the window behind her blocked any escape.
“What are you going to do? Kill me?”
“Kill you? How could I? Mama, I couldn’t bear to.”
Beacai raised the wooden sword in her hand, gently caressing its blade as if it were a priceless treasure. Then, she brought her cheek closer to it, her blood-red eyes glowing with an unsettling, almost demonic allure.
“I think… I think I’ve experienced what it feels like to be cared for, to be deeply loved. It’s truly wonderful, so warm. So this is how those who are loved feel…”
“Though this is only a dream, I want to stay here, forever and ever, forever and ever. Because this way, you can treat me as your daughter. Even if the truth eventually comes out, this much will be enough.”
“So, I apologize, Mama. Let everything begin anew, once more.”
With those words, Beacai raised the wooden sword and, with a smile on her face, thrust it towards Isis’s heart.
Isis, anticipating the danger, turned to flee, but it was too late. In the next instant, the wooden sword pierced her heart. Blood spurted from the wound, staining the transparent windowpane with streaks of crimson.