Late at night, Eomer stepped into the guest bedroom. His gaze fell upon his daughter, curled up on the carpet beside where Visil rested. Papers and coloured crayons. Ones he had brought all the way from the capital as a gift were scattered around her.
He bent slightly and looked at her drawing. Though it was a child's work, it was surprisingly neat. A portrait of a happy family, but of course, drawn in simple stick figures. Among them stood Visil, with dark brown hair and something clutched in his hand—a wooden sword… or perhaps just a stick? Eomer couldn't quite tell.
He let out a soft chuckle.
Carefully, he lifted his daughter into his arms, cradling her gently. He knew she would never willingly leave Visil's side. The bed was large enough, so he placed her down a little distance away from the boy and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
Pulling a chair beside the bed, Eomer sat down and spoke softly—
"Can't sleep?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"No… sleep doesn't come to me so easily. I fear closing my eyes," Visil replied quietly.
"Nothing will harm you here," Eomer said, his voice calm and steady. "This place is protected by the barrier spell I cast, remember? It is hidden from the eyes of non-magis. Just try to rest."
Silence followed but Visil remained awake.
Eomer sighed softly.
"Is there something you want to ask me… son?"
The word son made Visil's lips tremble.
Eomer had always been like a father to him—watching over him from afar, shielding him in subtle ways whenever he faced the cruelties of palace life. Ever since he was young, Visil had endured poison, assassination attempts… all because he was small. The youngest. The forgotten one.
But one question had always lingered in his heart—
Why him?
"I've… I've always wondered…" Visil began, hesitating. Perhaps he wasn't ready to hear the answer. Perhaps it was better left unasked.
"Why I chose to protect you?" Eomer's eyes glistened faintly in the candlelit room.
Visil froze, stunned. He stared at Eomer, utterly dumbfounded.
Can white magis… read minds?
Eomer chuckled, lowering his voice so as not to wake the other sleeping child. The boy's thoughts were written plainly across his face.
"I don't need a reason to justify why I chose you…"
A flicker of disappointment crossed Visil's expression.
Eomer noticed.
"But… if you must have one," he continued softly, "perhaps it's because I saw my younger self in you."
For a moment, his gaze drifted.
Memories resurfaced of him being used as a hostage, of blades and poison meant for his life. Though he had shown little fear outwardly, deep inside, he had been terrified. He remembered the faint hope he clung to whenever someone came to save him…
…only for them to die in the end.
Looking at Visil now, a powerless, young non-magis, Eomer could not help but want to shield him from the same fate. Yet he could not act openly. As the royal advisor, he could not afford to show that he had chosen a side.
That was why he always brought Visil back to this cottage… where his wife could heal him in secret.
"I have a question for you as well, son."
Visil blinked, startled.
"Why do you refuse my healing?"
"Oh… I just didn't want you to get into trouble, Lord Eomer."
Eomer flicked his forehead lightly.
"Father. Call me father."
Visil winced, rubbing his forehead—but he continued.
"You are the royal advisor. Helping me already jeopardises your neutral stance. I can't let you heal me… If it somehow gets found out, you'll be the one in trouble…"
Eomer's heart softened.
This child is trying so hard to act like an adult. He had endured far too much. Oh, how he wished he could shield him from all the cruelty of the world.
Visil continued, growing slightly anxious when Eomer fell silent. Had he said something wrong?
"Erhh… also, well… Lady Miriam's medicine and herbs are the best. My wounds don't hurt that much anymore."
Even if they taste awful… Visil added silently to himself.
"I prefer to be called 'Mama,' Visil."
Miriam's voice came gently from the doorway as she stepped into the room, having noticed her husband's absence.
Visil stiffened slightly.
Calling Lady Miriam "Mama" felt… strange. Embarrassing, even.
But she had always cared for him like one.
Unlike his birth mother—who was too consumed by vanity and indulgence, spending the palace's wealth without a care… never once concerned whether he lived or died.
Eomer spoke, his tone turning firm.
"I have to leave tomorrow morning. I know it's difficult, but I think it's best if you come with me."
Miriam's expression darkened instantly.
"What?! He can't! Not in his current state. A horse ride would tear his wounds open!"
"I can't let him stay here, Miriam," Eomer replied, his voice low but resolute. "Who will return him once he recovers? And I won't risk anyone coming here looking for him… and finding all of you. You understand that."
Miriam clenched her fists, anger flashing in her eyes.
Without another word, she turned and left the room.
Silence lingered.
Visil found himself caught in the middle, unsure of what to say. He glanced at Eomer, who let out a quiet sigh.
"I… I'm okay to travel tomorrow, Lord Eom-."
Eomer shot him a sharp look.
"Erhh—I mean… father."
A faint smile appeared on Eomer's face at that word.
"…Good. Then rest well, my son. We leave at dawn."
With that, Eomer rose and left the room.
Not long after, sleep finally began to claim Visil.
But unknown to them all…
The little white magis was awake the whole entire time. And she had heard EVERYTHING.
There's no way I'm letting my injured brother travel like this… no way.
She had to do something.
She could use healing magic, but only for small wounds and scrapes. Visil's injury was far too severe… and she could not use her own life force. She would have if she knew how.
Magis usually only start casting spells around the age of twelve. She was still just a baby by magis standards and she pouted at the thought.
But still—her resolve was strong.
Slowly, she climbed out of bed and silently began searching the house.
She didn't have the heart to take life from animals but then—her eyes fell upon the house plants her mother lovingly cared for.
An idea sparked.
With great effort, she lifted one of the pots. It was far too heavy for her small frame. She grunted softly, dragging it across the floor at times, pausing whenever her arms trembled.
Step by step, she made her way back.
By the time she reached the bedside, she was utterly exhausted.
"Whew… why are these pots so heavy…"
She panted, catching her breath.
Then, gently she caressed the leaves of the medium-sized plant.
She whispered softly to the plant,"I'm sorry… I have to do this. I want to save my brother. Please… let me."
Of course, the plant didn't respond.
But one of its young leaves trembled slightly—despite the still air.
Ayumu's eyes lit up, and she smiled.
"Thank you…"
Gently, almost apologetically, she placed her hand on the plant and focused.
A faint glow began to form.
Minutes passed. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
Her small body trembled as her energy was steadily drained—but nothing seemed to happen.
Why isn't it working…?
Just as doubt crept in, thin trickles of white light began to seep out from the plant.
Ayumu's face brightened.
"It's working…!" she said softly.
She winced, struggling to control it, and quickly grabbed Visil's hand—trying to guide the energy into him.
Visil stirred when he felt a hand clasping his… and something else.
A strange, refreshing sensation flowed through his body, like a cool breeze circulating within him.
His eyes snapped open and what he saw left him frozen.
Ayumu—bathed in soft white light—stood beside him, trembling. And that same light… was flowing into him.
"Ayu, what are you doing?! Stop—stop!" Visil shouted in panic.
But Ayumu refused to let go.
The light slowly began to fade.
And then she raised her small hands weakly, a bright smile on her face.
"I… did it!"
She exclaimed even when her breathing was ragged.
The next moment—she collapsed.
Visil reacted instantly, lunging forward and catching her before her head hit the ground.
"Ayu!"
He held her tightly—then paused.
"…Huh?"
He moved slightly. No pain. None at all.
His wounds… were gone. Completely healed.
Visil's eyes widened in disbelief.
Slowly, he turned his head. The plant beside them had withered, its leaves dry and lifeless.
Oh no…
Without hesitation, Visil scooped Ayumu into his arms and ran out of the room.
"Father! Mother! Ayumu—she—she…!"
He rushed up to the second floor and burst into his adoptive parents' room—only to freeze on the spot.
Both of his adoptive parents were… naked on the bed. They stared awkwardly to the boy carrying the little girl.
Silence. Absolute silence.
Visil's soul practically left his body.
"I—SORRY—!"
He slammed the door shut, face burning red, internally screaming as he stood there in pure shock.