What of Mages?
Father once said that magic is not as simple as uttering a chant.
If it truly were that simple… then would not anyone be capable of wielding it, without needing to be born as a Mage?
Then…
What truly is the difference between a chant… and a hand seal?
That seemingly simple question echoed within my mind, again and again, like a voice cast into an endless void with no walls to return it.
I looked at Father with quiet anticipation.
Something within me stirred, a trembling desire to know, to understand something I had never once touched before. It was a feeling both strange and familiar, like that of a child listening to tales of wondrous toys he had never seen, yet already cherished through imagination alone.
Knowledge… no matter how small its form… always held value in the right hands.
That, I understood.
For Father had planted that truth within us long before we could even begin to grasp the world. He filled our minds with guidance given freely, without burden, without expectation.
A soft chuckle left him, warm and low, as he noticed my unwavering gaze.
"The magic wielded by Mages… and the manner in which they bring forth such wonders… is tied to one of the fundamental forces of this universe."
His words felt heavy… yet that very weight made them all the more captivating.
Something far greater than anything I had known was beginning to reveal itself, piece by piece.
Confusion and curiosity intertwined within me, growing stronger with each passing breath.
I remained silent, allowing every word he spoke to sink slowly into my being.
"That force is known as… Magic Force."
Magic Force…
An unfamiliar term, and yet it carried an inexplicable grandeur.
"Without it… there would be no magic in this world."
The very air around us seemed to fall still, as though even the wind paused to grant those words their due.
"Unlike us, shinobi. Our bodies serve as vessels, holding chakra and shaping it into phenomena through hand seals."
"At the highest level, even hand seals become unnecessary. Understanding the flow alone is enough… and the power will take form."
He paused, if only for a heartbeat.
"But the magic of Mages… is different."
Those words settled deeply within my thoughts.
Something entirely new.
My curiosity would not allow me to remain silent for long.
"Magic Force… what is it, Father? And how does it connect to the Mages?"
Father drew a slow breath.
His eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze lifting toward the sky, now veiled in gathering clouds.
A somber sky.
As though it held something waiting to descend upon the earth.
Dim and heavy.
A quiet sign that time itself was shifting, that rain would soon follow within the passing hours.
Beneath that muted sky, his voice deepened. Heavier. Touched with a quiet melancholy.
"Magic Force is a primordial source of energy… one that exists beyond the dimension in which we live."
His words flowed slowly, yet each one felt as though it opened a door long sealed shut.
"There… the wills of dragons and Mages converge. From them are formed countless laws and principles…"
"Like an endless library… where every page holds knowledge of all things that have ever been."
My eyes lit with wonder.
This knowledge… far surpassed anything I had imagined.
From the very beginning, I had been surprised.
But now… that feeling deepened into something closer to awe.
One of the fundamental forces of the universe…
Did that not place it alongside the very act of creation itself?
Magic Force…
The more I pondered it, the more it drew me in, as though I were listening to the tale of the world's beginning, an ancient epic whispered in a voice both calm and eternal.
Without realizing it, I found myself looking at Father as though he stood at the threshold of something far greater than I could yet comprehend.
"Before the age of Mages… there was an era far more ancient."
"The age of dragons."
"Dragons were the first beings to connect with Magic Force… and from that connection, a bond was formed."
"That bond granted them a gift of power… which they came to call the Dragon Tongue."
Dragons…
I had known of them through Father's stories.
Vast, winged beings, sovereigns of the skies, whose very name made the world feel smaller.
Unrivaled rulers of the open firmament.
And yet…
Dragon Tongue?
That was something new.
I had never heard of it before.
Not from Father… nor from any chronicle I had ever read.
As though such knowledge had been hidden… or perhaps deliberately forgotten by the world itself.
"It is the power of miracles possessed by dragons…"
"Their will connects to Magic Force… and is then given form through the words they speak."
Would that not sound no different from the spells of Mages… then why is it not called an incantation?
Father lowered his gaze, glancing at me for a brief moment. His expression remained calm, as though he deliberately slowed the passage of time itself, ensuring that every word he was about to speak would take root within my mind.
"When a dragon's will is bound to the Magic Force, the moment it speaks the words fireball, that miracle comes into being exactly as it is spoken. That is the true form of the Dragon Tongue."
His voice remained even, yet the meaning within it felt boundless.
"Of course, it is not so simple for dragons to connect with the Magic Force. The level of Dragon Tongue differs among them. At the highest tier… they can even overturn the very laws of the world with a single word."
I fell silent.
The more I listened, the greater the awe that swelled within my chest.
It felt as though I were hearing an ancient tale, a legend that would normally be sung in quiet ballads or whispered before sleep.
And yet… this was real.
That alone made it far more overwhelming.
Magic Force…
Dragon Tongue…
All of it felt so grand, so distant from ordinary understanding.
Was it not…
A power akin to that of the gods spoken of in sacred texts?
The power to create… through words alone.
My thoughts nearly drifted too far, carried away by a tide of imagination I could scarcely restrain.
Until I almost forgot the very purpose of this conversation.
The Mages.
I wished to ask more, to delve deeper, yet I knew… Father's time was never truly his own.
He was always occupied.
If I let this moment pass, I might have to wait until tomorrow… or perhaps even longer.
He had always been like that.
For as long as I could remember, I never truly understood why he trained without end.
There were days when he would run from midday until dusk, without pause, without complaint.
As though his body knew no fatigue.
As though time itself held no dominion over him.
He called it exercise.
Training to maintain his strength.
But could a man truly persist in such a routine for years, without missing a single day?
Without ever growing weary of it?
Mother had once answered that question with a lighthearted tone.
"You know, my son… your father loves training more than he loves your mother. Do not follow that path, or your future wife will scold you without end."
At the time, I had nearly laughed.
"Then why do you love Father so much, Mother?"
She smiled.
A simple smile… yet one filled with quiet certainty.
"Does loving your father require a reason? But if I must give one, it would be a very long answer. Would you like to hear it?"
"Just the short version, Mother. I will be training with Sister Charlotte soon."
"You truly are your father's son… utterly consumed by training."
"My apologies, Mother. I wish to grow strong… so that I may protect you."
The faint irritation upon her face softened, replaced by a warmer smile.
Without the slightest hesitation, she answered with unwavering confidence.
"Your father is handsome… and wealthy."
I had been momentarily speechless.
That reason felt… far too simple.
Had Mother not always said that character was what mattered most?
And yet, when I thought upon it…
Father's character was indeed extraordinary.
Perhaps… she had seen something within him from the very beginning.
And as time passed, she simply found more reasons to continue choosing him.
My thoughts had wandered too far.
I drew myself back to the present, back to Father standing before me.
My curiosity remained unsatisfied.
"Then… what of the Mages, Father?"
A ray of light suddenly broke through the veil of gray clouds above, falling directly upon him.
The dark sky seemed to part, making way for a gentle yet noble glow.
His black hair shimmered faintly, holding both light and shadow at once, casting an image that words alone could scarcely capture.
He turned his gaze toward the shattered remains of the stone.
"Mages…"
His voice was low, almost swallowed by the air itself.
Yet before he could continue, another voice broke the silence.
My elder sister's voice.
From beside me, clear enough to shatter the lingering fragments of that memory I had shared with Father.
"Ian!"
And in an instant, I was pulled from the vast sea of distant memories… back into the present that stood before me.
"Ian..."
The call rang clear and alive, brimming with energy that could not be ignored. Her voice was like a silver bell echoing through the quiet chambers of my mind, reminding me that the past was but a shadow, while the present was the world I must face.
I turned toward her.
And for a moment… I fell still.
Her beauty, graceful despite her youth, held my gaze longer than it should have.
In that quiet instant, my resolve strengthened once more.
I would protect her.
She was a treasure beyond measure to me.
And anyone who dared to harm her…
An apology would never suffice.
Her eyes caught the shift within mine.
Our gazes, alike in their depth, dark as an endless abyss, met for a fleeting moment, as though each of us sought to read what lay within the other.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Ian? Do not tell me you have fallen in love with your own sister."
Her eyes narrowed, and she continued in a tone feigning seriousness.
"Remember, that is forbidden."
A soft chuckle escaped me.
Her humor was always peculiar… yet somehow, it never failed to feel light.
Of course I loved her.
But not in the way she implied.
She was my elder sister.
The one who had shared countless moments with me, weaving memory after memory into something we both carried within us.
"Do not laugh… or I shall strike you!"
Her lips formed a pout, her cheeks tightening slightly, and yet that very expression only made her all the more endearing.
As Father often said…
Charlotte would always be adorable, no matter how many years passed.
She was older than I, yet that changed nothing in the way she carried herself. Still confident, still free, still vibrant.
Unlike Karina.
She had inherited Father's calm and Mother's firmness, forming a temperament that was balanced, yet difficult to read.
Ryan was no less unique.
He carried Mother's sentiment and Charlotte's boldness in equal measure.
Yet what stood out most was his appearance.
His face… was almost entirely our mother's reflection.
Even Grandmother had once called him the male image of her.
A beautiful boy.
That was the simplest way to describe it.
I could almost see his future.
At the same age Charlotte now stood, he would likely be surrounded by those drawn to him, unknowingly leaving broken hearts in his wake.
But that was a matter for another time.
Far too distant to dwell upon now.
Charlotte's voice drew me back once more.
This time, sharper.
"If you remain silent, your mighty elder sister will truly strike you, Ian!"
I smiled at her.
The carriage we rode swayed gently, its wheels rolling against the road as it carried us toward the town where Grandmother's home awaited.
"Sister… it is only that you are far too beautiful. It is difficult not to be captivated."
The corners of her lips lifted.
That familiar mischievous smile returned, one I had come to know all too well. Yet behind it, a faint blush slowly colored her cheeks.
"Is that so…? You are becoming more like Father and Mother. So skilled with sweet words."
"That was not flattery. I merely spoke the truth. Besides… had we not been siblings, I might truly have fallen in love with you."
For a moment, silence.
Then…
A series of strikes.
My shoulders jolted as her hands struck me again and again. Not painful to me, yet firm enough that the tremor reached deep into my chest.
"I told you, you have become far too skilled at praising me! It makes it difficult for me to tease you!"
I held back my laughter.
Difficult to tease me?
Had she not just done so?
Not everyone would take such blows lightly.
If another had received strikes of that strength, they might have mistaken it for a challenge… or even an insult.
And if it had been an ordinary person…
Charlotte's strength alone might have been enough to fracture their collarbone.
She truly needed to be more careful.
Yet for me, who had long grown accustomed to it, it was no trouble at all.
For the sake of her radiant smile, I would even wish for her to remain just as she was… no matter how firmly her hands struck against my shoulder.
I did not wish to harbor regret in the days to come.
While we were still young…
While she was still the person she is now…
While nothing had yet come to slowly draw her away from me…
Let us remain close.
Let time move gently, granting us the grace to weave more memories, to gather them into a tale we may one day look back upon in distant years.
Perhaps… for now, I will remain at her side.
To guard her smile.
To protect the warmth of her heart, bright as the sunlight of early autumn.
Until the day comes…
When someone else will arrive.
And take my place.
And when that day arrives…
It will not be easy.
I will not simply allow it.
Charlotte…
My elder sister…
She is among the most precious parts of my life.
For anyone to take her from me…
That person must be worthy.
Worthy, by my own judgment.
And why should such judgment be objective?
No.
I will not weigh a man as though he were a number in some cold calculation.
He would become a part of my sister's life.
That alone is enough to make such judgment deeply personal.
Utterly subjective.
And undeniably heavy.
There is also…
Wealth.
We have never known want since the day we were born.
So why should I entrust my sister to someone whose world is smaller than mine?
It would make no sense.
Even if we are not nobles, it does not mean we lack anything.
With Charlotte's talent and ambition…
It is only a matter of time before her name echoes far and wide, drawing even the wary attention of noble houses.
And then there is one more matter…
Father.
He would think the same.
Perhaps… even more severely than I.
Father is not a man easily swayed.
Perhaps only Mother can speak to him in a way that softens his resolve.
But then… what of Mother?
She once spoke wisely, saying that character is what matters most.
And yet, she also said…
That she chose Father because he is handsome… and wealthy.
Words that sounded simple, yet carried meaning far deeper than they first appeared.
If she still held to that belief…
Then even if a man possessed good character, yet lived in want…
I doubt Mother would accept him so easily.
A good character is important.
But to me…
It is a requirement.
Not a virtue.
If a man does not even possess that…
Then becoming part of my sister's life is nothing more than a dream that will never come to pass.
A slow breath escaped my lips.
My thoughts, which had wandered far beyond their bounds, were finally broken by Charlotte's voice calling to me once more.
"Ian, you are drifting again."
I turned to her.
A faint trace of sadness crossed my expression, just enough to draw her concern.
"I was thinking of Father… Mother… Ryan… and Karina."
"I see…"
She exhaled softly.
Then she shifted closer.
Without hesitation, she rested her head upon my shoulder.
Her warmth was real.
And for that fleeting moment, the world felt quieter, as though nothing beyond us truly mattered.
She continued, her voice trembling softly, drifting through the narrow carriage like a whisper unwilling to fade.
"I do… as well…"
I fell silent.
So did she.
Quietness descended gently, wrapping around us without a sound.
My gaze shifted toward the glass window at my side. The world beyond moved at an unhurried pace, yet it felt distant, as though separated by more than mere space. The trees we passed stood like silent witnesses, each trunk marking how far we had come from home.
Leaves fell in the wind, turning and drifting through the air like a dance both free and sorrowful, as though carrying unspoken feelings within their gentle descent.
I remained still, unwilling to move even the slightest bit.
The warmth beside me was too precious to disturb.
"Rest, Sister."
"I will keep watch. I shall wake you when we arrive."
Her answer came softly, little more than a breath given shape.
"Very well… thank you, Ian."
At last, the silence became whole.
My sister accepted, her eyelids lowering slowly, allowing herself to sink into the rest she needed.
I could feel it.
That sadness… though never spoken.
After all these years together, the bond between us had grown so deep that even the faintest shift in her expression or tone would never escape my notice.
To part from family…
From those who had filled our days with laughter and memory…
Was never an easy thing.
And yet, life does not pause.
It moves ever forward, drawing each step along without granting us the choice to truly turn back.
No matter how beautiful the past may be…
There comes a time when it must be released.
Not because we wish it so…
But because the future awaits.
My sister and I are but small threads within that greater flow.
Many have walked this path before us.
Now, it is our turn.
And one day…
Others will follow, continuing the same tale, reliving the same parting.
All for a single purpose.
To move forward…
In pursuit of their dreams.
Drowsiness began to creep upon me.
Yet I resisted it.
My eyes remained open, fixed upon the passing scenery beyond the window.
The sounds of nature slowly wove themselves together.
The occasional song of birds slipped through the narrow gaps of wood.
The distant neigh of horses echoed faintly.
The steady rhythm of their hooves striking the earth merged with the soft tremor of wheels rolling against the road.
All of it blended…
Becoming a simple symphony that filled the quiet space around us.
The town drew nearer.
I allowed my eyes to close for a brief moment, only to steady my restless thoughts.
Memories from years past stirred once more, seeking to draw me back.
But I held them at bay.
I could not allow myself to drift.
Not now.
My sister rested at my side.
And I must remain awake.
I drew a slow breath, then murmured under it, adding a quiet note to the silent symphony surrounding me.
"Dragons… Mages… Magic Force…"
Soon enough…
I would witness it all with my own eyes.
And…
"Aurors…"
All of it…
Would come, in its appointed time.