Let’s go back to the moment when Iris realized she was pregnant, albeit a little late.
“Who are you?”
Magicians handle their dreams perfectly. They memorize, write, or bring magic spells to life in their dreams. The third option was the most common. Dreams are a very precious space. Even if magic fails, no one can get hurt. Iris was no exception.
Lately, she has been obsessed with a curse on Margaret. Her curse was conditional. In fact, the less demanding the conditions, the easier it was for Margaret to fulfill them, and the smaller the price.
And Iris had chosen a very easy, truly simple condition. It was something straightforward. However, Margaret has not fulfilled this condition so far. While Iris was implementing various spells in her dream, she heard laughter, “Hahaha.”
At first, Iris didn’t know where the laughter was coming from, so she looked around. The laughter turned out to be echoing from above in the sky.
“Interesting young lady, Iris Elaine.”
A woman with fiery red hair, fiery red eyes, and fiery red skin was floating in the air with her legs crossed. She had an arrogant attitude, but when their eyes met, she smiled gently, as if she had known Iris for a long time.
“…Who are you to invade someone else’s dream…”
Iris blinked her eyes. Then the woman jumped down from the sky and landed on the ground. As per Iris’ preference, the ground was a smooth grass field. Although it was a grass field, it was like a carpet made of grass. Iris stood barefoot on the grass.
She, too, was barefoot. No, she had no clothes. What enveloped her body was not clothing but flames. As the woman approached, Iris felt the heat, and she flinched. But soon, the heat subsided, as if the woman didn’t want to harm her.
“Testalia. It’s the first time seeing you like this, Miss Magician.”
An ancient sword, Testalia. Iris stared at the woman introducing herself. Testalia! The eternal burning sword, The sword that was melted into the heart of Sirdain, Why is that sword in my dream… But what was more surprising was…
“You’re a woman.”
Testalia burst into laughter at Iris’ astonished tone. She raised her hand and lifted Iris’ chin. Testalia was a very tall woman. She was easily over 180cm tall, and she bent down, looking into Iris’ eyes with her curved eyes.
“Listen carefully, young lady. Swords are male, and axes are female. A male sword and a female axe are useless. Do you understand?”
The thousand-year-old sword was incredibly narrow-minded. Iris blinked her eyes and then thought of the very old council members of Matop. She answered vaguely, with caution.
Communication was difficult even with council members who were just over fifty years old, so how could she communicate with a thousand-year-old sword? What does gender matter?
As long as you cut and chop well. She couldn’t say that, and Iris just obediently lowered her eyes. There would be no magician in the world who would want to upset the mood of a thousand-year-old sword.
Iris was no exception. After releasing Iris’ chin, Testalia looked around her surroundings.
“In the midst of it all, my lady’s dreams were filled with a serene and delightful sensation.”
Iris mused, absentmindedly scratching her head. She could understand why Sidrain referred to her as such, but it felt peculiar for this sentient sword to address her in such a manner. Why would she become her lady?
“Here, our master’s child will thrive; I can sense it. Such a wonderful feeling it brings to my heart,” Testalia continued, his words carrying a hint of nostalgia.
“Pardon?” Iris blinked, caught off guard by the sudden revelation.
“It’s been a thousand years since I laid eyes on a child. I hope you have grown well,” Testalia explained, her voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. Swords rarely had the chance to witness the sight of children, as their wielders often perished in battle.
Testalia grumbled in response, prompting Iris to blink in confusion. What did she mean? A child she hadn’t seen in a thousand years? Her master’s child? Whose child? A child, indeed?
As Iris voiced her confusion, Testalia raised her right hand. Resting atop her palm was a small, marbled sphere enveloped in a crimson glow, radiating a mix of red and blue hues.
“Yes, a child,” Testalia confirmed.
Gasping, Iris jolted awake from her slumber.
Fortunately, she was alone. Discovering Sidrain absent from the adjacent spot brought her genuine relief. Whenever she needed to delve into profound thoughts, his presence became a hindrance. It wasn’t that she disliked him; on the contrary, she adored him so much that her thoughts became muddled in his presence. It became challenging to maintain her composure and stay on course. The Tower of Mastery always demanded unwavering rationality. The Tower didn’t make mistakes. Thus, she couldn’t afford to make any. She had been instructed to weather a harsh winter. However, her demeanor effortlessly blossomed whenever Iris was with Sidrain, akin to a spring season.
A child.
First and foremost, Iris needed to confirm the truth of this dream. She cautiously concentrated her magic into her own hands, gingerly feeling her abdomen. Steady now, steady. She was well aware of the formidable strength of her own magic. Her body had grown accustomed to it. However, if a child’s essence had formed within her, that essence might not be acclimated to her magic. Steady now. Delicately, inch by inch, Iris eventually identified the core of that essence.
So, I truly carry a child…
A child.
She had never even contemplated such a notion. She had never experienced having a child. Iris pondered for a moment about the concept of a child. What kind of being could a child be? A diminutive existence? A young being? Unable to articulate well, with somewhat shallow thoughts? The only child that came to mind was Margaret.
But this child couldn’t possibly be like Margaret!
“You must be a child I have yet to encounter, isn’t that right?” Iris whispered, gazing at her abdomen.
A torrent of thoughts raced through her mind—the deformation of magic, the unfortunate possibility of magic fading completely, the prospect of death, the agonies of childbirth, countless variables, and a life without magic. The question loomed: could she bear such a life?
Let’s go back to the moment when Iris realized she was pregnant, albeit a little late.
“Who are you?”
Magicians handle their dreams perfectly. They memorize, write, or bring magic spells to life in their dreams. The third option was the most common. Dreams are a very precious space. Even if magic fails, no one can get hurt. Iris was no exception.
Lately, she has been obsessed with a curse on Margaret. Her curse was conditional. In fact, the less demanding the conditions, the easier it was for Margaret to fulfill them, and the smaller the price.
And Iris had chosen a very easy, truly simple condition. It was something straightforward. However, Margaret has not fulfilled this condition so far. While Iris was implementing various spells in her dream, she heard laughter, “Hahaha.”
At first, Iris didn’t know where the laughter was coming from, so she looked around. The laughter turned out to be echoing from above in the sky.
“Interesting young lady, Iris Elaine.”
A woman with fiery red hair, fiery red eyes, and fiery red skin was floating in the air with her legs crossed. She had an arrogant attitude, but when their eyes met, she smiled gently, as if she had known Iris for a long time.
“…Who are you to invade someone else’s dream…”
Iris blinked her eyes. Then the woman jumped down from the sky and landed on the ground. As per Iris’ preference, the ground was a smooth grass field. Although it was a grass field, it was like a carpet made of grass. Iris stood barefoot on the grass.
She, too, was barefoot. No, she had no clothes. What enveloped her body was not clothing but flames. As the woman approached, Iris felt the heat, and she flinched. But soon, the heat subsided, as if the woman didn’t want to harm her.
“Testalia. It’s the first time seeing you like this, Miss Magician.”
An ancient sword, Testalia. Iris stared at the woman introducing herself. Testalia! The eternal burning sword, The sword that was melted into the heart of Sirdain, Why is that sword in my dream… But what was more surprising was…
“You’re a woman.”
Testalia burst into laughter at Iris’ astonished tone. She raised her hand and lifted Iris’ chin. Testalia was a very tall woman. She was easily over 180cm tall, and she bent down, looking into Iris’ eyes with her curved eyes.
“Listen carefully, young lady. Swords are male, and axes are female. A male sword and a female axe are useless. Do you understand?”
The thousand-year-old sword was incredibly narrow-minded. Iris blinked her eyes and then thought of the very old council members of Matop. She answered vaguely, with caution.
Communication was difficult even with council members who were just over fifty years old, so how could she communicate with a thousand-year-old sword? What does gender matter?
As long as you cut and chop well. She couldn’t say that, and Iris just obediently lowered her eyes. There would be no magician in the world who would want to upset the mood of a thousand-year-old sword.
Iris was no exception. After releasing Iris’ chin, Testalia looked around her surroundings.
“In the midst of it all, my lady’s dreams were filled with a serene and delightful sensation.”
Iris mused, absentmindedly scratching her head. She could understand why Sidrain referred to her as such, but it felt peculiar for this sentient sword to address her in such a manner. Why would she become her lady?
“Here, our master’s child will thrive; I can sense it. Such a wonderful feeling it brings to my heart,” Testalia continued, his words carrying a hint of nostalgia.
“Pardon?” Iris blinked, caught off guard by the sudden revelation.
“It’s been a thousand years since I laid eyes on a child. I hope you have grown well,” Testalia explained, her voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. Swords rarely had the chance to witness the sight of children, as their wielders often perished in battle.
Testalia grumbled in response, prompting Iris to blink in confusion. What did she mean? A child she hadn’t seen in a thousand years? Her master’s child? Whose child? A child, indeed?
As Iris voiced her confusion, Testalia raised her right hand. Resting atop her palm was a small, marbled sphere enveloped in a crimson glow, radiating a mix of red and blue hues.
“Yes, a child,” Testalia confirmed.
Gasping, Iris jolted awake from her slumber.
Fortunately, she was alone. Discovering Sidrain absent from the adjacent spot brought her genuine relief. Whenever she needed to delve into profound thoughts, his presence became a hindrance. It wasn’t that she disliked him; on the contrary, she adored him so much that her thoughts became muddled in his presence. It became challenging to maintain her composure and stay on course. The Tower of Mastery always demanded unwavering rationality. The Tower didn’t make mistakes. Thus, she couldn’t afford to make any. She had been instructed to weather a harsh winter. However, her demeanor effortlessly blossomed whenever Iris was with Sidrain, akin to a spring season.
A child.
First and foremost, Iris needed to confirm the truth of this dream. She cautiously concentrated her magic into her own hands, gingerly feeling her abdomen. Steady now, steady. She was well aware of the formidable strength of her own magic. Her body had grown accustomed to it. However, if a child’s essence had formed within her, that essence might not be acclimated to her magic. Steady now. Delicately, inch by inch, Iris eventually identified the core of that essence.
So, I truly carry a child…
A child.
She had never even contemplated such a notion. She had never experienced having a child. Iris pondered for a moment about the concept of a child. What kind of being could a child be? A diminutive existence? A young being? Unable to articulate well, with somewhat shallow thoughts? The only child that came to mind was Margaret.
But this child couldn’t possibly be like Margaret!
“You must be a child I have yet to encounter, isn’t that right?” Iris whispered, gazing at her abdomen.
A torrent of thoughts raced through her mind—the deformation of magic, the unfortunate possibility of magic fading completely, the prospect of death, the agonies of childbirth, countless variables, and a life without magic. The question loomed: could she bear such a life?
