Ersia: Raven Dawn

[04:00 PM – The next day, in the backyard of the Arbona estate]

“I’ll channel a fraction of my anima into your left hand. Try to feel it. Then, let it flow out through your right,” Randia said, kneeling beside Viena, their hands clasped gently together.

He had to be careful—extremely so. His magical reserves, vast as the sea, were a blessing from an age long past, from the days he bore the mantle of a great hero. But now, they were a burden as much as a boon. Viena’s magical veins were delicate—scarred by the wrongful use of yarna—like trying to pour molten silver through cracked porcelain.

He imagined trying to place a lamb atop a pair of chopsticks—without even letting the chopsticks tremble, let alone crack. That was the delicacy required.

Bit by bit, anima seeped from his body into hers. Viena blinked, startled. Something new stirred inside her—a second heartbeat, faint but resonant, mirroring her own pulse. It throbbed gently, a whisper of life within her veins.

Then the weight came.

Her body felt sluggish, her head light. A strange, sticky sensation spread beneath her skin—as if something thick and reluctant was trying to move inside her, like mud forcing its way through a clogged pipe.

She flinched.

“It’s all right,” Randia said gently. “Don’t fight it. The first flow always feels unnatural. Like trying to pull a tree from the earth, roots and all. Just focus on your breath. In and out. Let your right hand relax. What goes in… must come out.”

She closed her eyes and tried again. Breathed deeply. Loosened the tension in her fingers. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.

Then—something shifted.

With each attempt, the sluggishness began to ease. She found herself aligning with the rhythm. Flow in, flow out. As Randia watched, he felt the subtle change: Viena’s body was no longer resisting. It was learning. Her channels were opening.

Soon, the energy was not just moving from one hand to another—it was flowing through her entire body. Down her spine, across her shoulders, and spiraling out through her fingertips. What began as a trickle now became a controlled stream.

For nearly two hours, they practiced in uninterrupted silence. Randia guided her through the discipline of flow: redirecting the current, raising or lowering its intensity, learning to feel where the energy gathered and where it faltered. Viena learned to shift it at will, guiding the power like a musician shaping the notes of a song.

At one point, Randia paused.

He could see it now—clear and undeniable. A subtle glow flickered in Viena’s palms. Threads of light, coiling and swirling, danced across her skin. The air trembled around her hands, shimmering with unstable but genuine meta. It was wild, raw, and barely contained—but it was there.

“I-I did it!” Viena gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief and joy.

Randia stood, brushing the dust from his knees. “We’ll stop here for today. Now… tell me what you’ve learned.”

Viena straightened her posture, face gleaming with pride. “You taught me how to circulate anima—to receive it, and then let it flow through my body until it turns into meta.”

Randia nodded, satisfied.

“Then, you taught me how to awaken my core. By breathing and focusing, I can draw in meta from the world around me and generate anima on my own.”

Another nod.

Randia gave her a long look before nodding. “That’s right. Remember it well. But from now on, only rehearse what you’ve learned—no improvisation. That’s an order. Now, go take a bath. It’s getting late.”

“Aww, why can’t we just continue for a little—eh…?”

Viena tried to rise from the grass, but her knees buckled and she flopped back down with a soft thud. Blinking in confusion, she sat there, dazed, her limbs heavy and sluggish like soaked laundry. Randia stood, brushing off his sleeves without a word.

“Papa?” she called weakly. “Huh…?”

But he didn’t answer. He turned and took a slow step away.

“Wait—!” She reached out, but her arms barely moved. Her voice caught in her throat—no sound, just a strained hum. Panic welled in her chest as she realized she couldn’t even sit up, let alone walk. Her whole body felt palsied, unresponsive. Tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t just tired—she was trapped in her own skin.

Randia glanced back once, expression unreadable. Then he turned fully and took another step away.

Viena made a muffled, desperate noise.

Just before the tears fell, her body lifted gently off the ground, cradled by an invisible force. She floated slowly through the air before settling into the warmth of Randia’s arms, just as she had so many times during their travels. He held her with the same casual ease as always—no scolding, no lectures, just a quiet, familiar presence.

“Extra lesson for today,” he murmured. “Never take magic lightly.”

Viena pouted against his shoulder, her pride wounded but her heart full.

“…Mean Papa,” she mumbled.

But she held onto him anyway.

---

Days passed quietly in the House of Arbona, each one blending gently into the next—until, at last, the day arrived.

[Junda, 27th of High Tide, 10th Year of the Fourth Age]

It was Viena’s birthday.

And yet, the birthday girl was still fast asleep.

The sun had already climbed well past the rooftops. It was eight in the morning—unusually late for Viena, who was normally up by dawn. But last night, she had stayed up far past her usual bedtime, learning to sew with Lisabelle. After hours of concentration, pricked fingers, and whispered giggles, she had finally finished patching up a tear in Randia’s robe—with a crooked but determined little cat stitched right over the hole.

She had gone to bed just past midnight.

Now, she lay tangled in her blankets, snoring softly, her cheek pressed into the pillow, still adrift in dreams.

“Vivi,” came Lisabelle’s voice, gentle but insistent.

“. . . .”

“Vivi, wake up.”

“. . . Nngh.”

“Wake up now, or I’ll put two spoons of salt in your mouth.”

That got a reaction.

Viena stirred with a sleepy grunt and began to crawl toward the edge of her bed like a sluggish caterpillar, her limbs uncoordinated, her hair a tousled halo. Clearly, her soul hadn’t quite returned from dreamland yet.

Lisabelle chuckled, took her hand, and guided her to the bathroom. She helped her wash her face and brush her teeth, humming softly while Viena swayed on her feet like a sapling in the breeze.

Once she was awake and refreshed, the two of them went downstairs.

Everyone was waiting—Randia, Eleanor, Alan, and Gwen—all gathered around the long table.

“Wow! A whole turkey?!” Viena gasped, eyes wide. “Isn’t this a little too much for breakfast?!”

Alan laughed. “It’s not breakfast. It’s a feast.”

“For our birthday girl,” Eleanor added, smiling.

Only then did Viena seem to realize what day it was.

She turned in a slow circle, looking at each of their faces—the warm smiles, the little wrapped packages on the table, the flowers in the vase by the window—and the truth hit her all at once.

It was her birthday.

Her mouth wobbled.

And then she cried.

Not the loud, dramatic cries of a tantrum, but soft, shaking sobs as she stumbled into Lisabelle’s arms. Her face buried in her sister’s chest, she tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Eleanor rose from her chair and joined the hug, wrapping both girls in her embrace.

It had been years—years since anyone had remembered her birthday. Years since it had meant anything. And now, here she was, surrounded by a family that made it feel like the most important day in the world.

When her tears had quieted, Randia cleared his throat.

“Are you planning to cry until noon and let us starve?” he asked dryly.

Viena let out a watery giggle and turned to him, her cheeks wet and glowing.

She ran into his arms and gave him a fierce hug.

“Let’s eat!” she said with a grin.

And so they did.

---

After the grand feast, the family gathered in the living room. One by one, they came bearing gifts for Viena—starting with Lisabelle.

From behind her back, Lisabelle produced a beautifully folded cloak. It was a soft seafoam green, its edges embroidered with intricate native patterns from Surnaba—a coastal city in Zarim. The threadwork was a delicate beige, forming a lattice of symbolic waves and blossoms that shimmered subtly under the light.

“I made this for you,” Lisabelle said, holding it out. “It might be a little big now, but that just means you can grow into it.”

Viena’s eyes widened. She ran her fingers over the fabric, marveling at the texture, the weight, the craftsmanship.

“T-This is too pretty!” she gasped. “Are you sure I can have this, Lily? It’s okay to change your mind—really!”

Lisabelle scoffed lightly, arms crossed. “Don’t underestimate me. I could make thousands like that if I wanted to.”

“But this one’s special,” Viena whispered. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she added, “Can you lean down for a second?”

“Huh?”

The moment Lisabelle bent forward, Viena wrapped her arms around her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Lisabelle jolted back like she’d touched a live wire, clutching her cheek in shock.

“W-W-What are you doing?! You can’t just—! K-Kissing people out of nowhere?! Are you out of your mind?!”

She whipped around to Randia and jabbed a finger at him accusingly.

“You! Did you teach her to kiss people so casually?!”

Randia raised his brows, both hands up in defense. “No. I was just as surprised as you the first time she did that.”

“UNBELIEVABLE!” Lisabelle shrieked. “This is so crazy! Y-You can’t just go around doing that to people!”

Across the room, Gwen leaned toward Alan and whispered, “(She loves it.)”

Alan smirked. “(Yeah, that couldn’t be more obvious.)”

Meanwhile, Lisabelle continued ranting, utterly flustered.

Viena tilted her head, puzzled. “Do you really hate it that much?”

“Ngh—! It’s not that I hate it, I just—! You can’t—! I mean—!” Her voice faltered. “You know that’s too—!”

“Too what?” Viena asked innocently.

Lisabelle turned redder than a ripe strawberry. Defeated by her own tongue, she spun on her heel and stomped away.

“TOILET!” she declared, disappearing down the hallway like a fleeing criminal.

Eleanor, who had been silently watching the entire exchange with her chin resting on her hand, finally broke into a quiet laugh.

“This is the first time I saw her bumbling that hard. I think she’ll be glowing the rest of the week.”

They rode the wave of joy, laughter still echoing through the living room as the gift-giving continued.

Next came Alan and Gwen, who stepped forward with wide grins and presented a slim box tied with twine. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a small wooden recorder.

“It’s nothing fancy,” said Gwen, “but it’s yours now.”

Viena beamed and immediately lifted it to her lips. She took a deep breath—then blew with all the force in her tiny lungs.

A shrill, almost violent note pierced the room like a battle horn.

Everyone flinched. Alan jumped. Gwen covered her ears. Even Viena herself looked stunned by the noise. Before she could try again, Randia calmly reached over and plugged the recorder’s end with his finger.

“…Maybe some practice first,” he murmured.

The room broke into laughter.

Then, Eleanor stood from her chair and approached with a smaller, more elegant box. Inside was a delicate curb bracelet of pure gold, the light catching on its polished surface like sunlight on water. Without a word, she slipped it gently onto Viena’s left wrist.

But just as quickly, Randia caught her hand.

“Madam,” he said, voice low and serious. “I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for us. But this—this is simply too much.”

Eleanor didn’t reply at first. Instead, she tapped Randia’s hand lightly, asking him to let go. Then she turned Viena’s wrist, revealing an engraving on the inside of the bracelet.

There, etched in graceful script, was the word Arbon, accompanied by a familiar sunflower emblem—the same one Viena had seen on the wrought-iron gate of Uncle Liam’s estate.

“This isn’t just gold,” Eleanor said quietly. “It’s a key. We have allies, friends, and old debts scattered not just across this country, but beyond it. Should anything ever happen… should you ever need help and we’re not there—I want this to be your lifeline.”

She leaned down and kissed Viena on the crown of her head, brushing aside her hair.

“Because both of you,” she said, “are part of our family now.”

Viena looked down at the bracelet, her small fingers tracing the name and the flower she could not yet fully understand. But the warmth in her chest told her enough.

"Thank you granny! I love you too!"