Chapter 388: A DADDY’S GIRL
Not too far away from where Kaelen had a few exchanges with Christopher.
Although dawn was now approaching, the moon still hing in the sky like a silver coin above the Veilwood forest, its pale light spilling into a clearing where Lila sat cross-legged. The air around her pulsed faintly, as though time itself trembled in her presence. Her eyes were shut, but even behind closed lids, faint silver lines glowed, tracing the veins of her bloodline.
Across from her, seated on a stone carved with runes that looked as though they predated kingdoms, was Velyrian. His aura was calm yet sharp, the kind of presence that belonged to someone who had long accepted the weight of foresight. His eyes were now mismatched—one silver like Lila’s, the other a faded grey—watched her quietly.
"You carry Lyseria’s inheritance within you," Velyrian finally spoke, his voice deep yet laced with shock, resonant, like echoes in a forgotten temple. "The last true Seer of our bloodline. She foresaw the calamity that would befall Aetheris... and left everything she was, everything she saw, to her successor."
Lila’s brows furrowed, her breathing unsteady as the power within her bloodline stirred.
"It feels... overwhelming," she admitted. Her voice cracked, uncharacteristically vulnerable. "When I close my eyes, I see flashes. People I’ve never met. Places I’ve never been. Futures... that terrify me."
Velyrian leaned forward, resting his hands together.
"Those are not illusions. They are fragments of the threads of fate. Your Seer blood is awakening, but uncontrolled. Without focus, those visions will tear your mind apart."
His words struck Lila with the weight of truth. She clenched her fists against her knees, silver lines crawling further up her arms.
"Then teach me," she said, her voice steadier this time. "Show me how to control it. Show me how Lyseria mastered it."
Velyrian’s lips curled into the faintest smile.
"Very well. But know this—According to the scrolls, Lyseria did not master her visions by resisting them. She embraced the storm. She let the threads of fate pierce her until she bled with truth. Only then did she see not just the fragments, but the whole."
Suddenly, the clearing shifted. The runes beneath Lila began to glow, forming a sigil of spiraling eyes, each one opening and closing like a living thing. The moonlight dimmed, and the forest fell silent—as if even the world itself was holding its breath.
Velyrian’s voice rang clear, chanting in an ancient tongue. "By the blood of Seers, by the sight of eternity, awaken what sleeps within!"
Lila gasped as the inheritance of Lyseria surged through her. Images assaulted her mind:
A city in flames beneath a broken sky.
A colossal shadow, wings blotting out the heavens.
Kaelen, standing in chains of light, his eyes burning with both despair and defiance.
A dragon with six fingers tearing open the fabric of the world.
And a figure cloaked in silver fire—herself, standing against it all.
She screamed, clutching her head, but Velyrian’s voice cut through the chaos.
"Do not fight it, Lila! See it! Take it into yourself!"
Her silver eyes burst open, blazing like twin moons. In that instant, everything became clear. The visions no longer drowned her—they bent around her will. Threads of light stretched before her, infinite possibilities woven into a tapestry of fate.
She collapsed forward, gasping, sweat dripping from her brow. Velyrian knelt by her side, his hand on her shoulder.
"You’ve taken the first step," he said, his tone almost reverent. "You are no longer just Lila of Pacesetters Academy. You are the inheritor of Lyseria’s Sight. From this day forward, you are the beacon through which fate itself shall reveal its course."
Her breaths steadied, and though exhaustion weighed on her body, her eyes shone with determination.
"Then I’ll master it," she whispered. "For my friends... for this world. Whatever horrors I saw... I won’t let them happen without a fight."
Velyrian’s mismatched gaze softened. "Good. Because what you saw is only the beginning. The threads of fate are unraveling, and you will soon have to choose which future you are willing to sacrifice... and which you are willing to save."
The runes dimmed, the night sounds returned, and the forest breathed again. But Lila’s heart pounded with a new, terrifying clarity—she now bore the eyes of Lyseria, and the fate of Aetheris had never looked so fragile.
-----
The streets of Eldoria were lively, yet Charlotte walked them with a heart weighted by silence. Each step toward her childhood home felt like trudging through thick water, her breaths shallow and her fists curled as if bracing for a storm. The house hadn’t changed much—its old oak frame, the wind chimes her father once carved, and the warm but sorrowful light that lingered in its windows.
Apparently, the Eternal of Judgement told her after assessing her that her path is pretty much straight forward, all she has to do was to fully master that Divine technique she has honed all her life, which led her back to her widowed mother.
When she knocked, the door opened slowly. Standing there was her mother, a woman whose once radiant beauty was now shadowed by grief, her smile faint and her eyes red-rimmed.
"Charlotte..." her mother whispered, voice trembling. "I knew... one day you would come for it."
Charlotte swallowed hard. "Mother, I..." Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out. "I need the last spell of Father’s Divine Shield."
Her mother’s expression crumbled. She turned away, walking back inside without answering, and Charlotte followed. The air inside smelled faintly of jasmine—the scent her father always loved. Memories clawed at her heart.
Sitting down at the table, her mother finally spoke. "That technique took him from me, Charlotte. The last spell devours life itself to protect others. And now... you want to wield it too?"
Charlotte clenched her fists. "Father gave his life with no regrets. I refuse to let his sacrifice chain me in fear. I need that spell—not to die like him, but to make sure no one else suffers as we did."
Tears slipped from her mother’s eyes. "And what if I lose you too? You are all I have left... my last sunshine."
Charlotte reached across the table, grasping her mother’s trembling hands. "You won’t lose me. I swear it. I’ll master this spell without letting it consume me. I’ll surpass Father. I’ll carry his will—but I will not share his fate."
For a long silence, her mother stared into her daughter’s burning eyes, searching for doubt... but found only resolve. Finally, she stood, walking to a chest hidden beneath the family altar. She drew out a scroll, its seal engraved with divine patterns that pulsed faintly with golden light.
Holding it out with shaking hands, her mother whispered, "This is the last spell... Aegis of Final Dawn. It was your father’s last breath made into power. Charlotte... promise me, promise me with everything you are, that you will live."
Charlotte accepted the scroll with reverence, her heart burning as if lit by divine fire. She stood, pulled her mother into a tight embrace, and whispered back, her voice firm yet gentle:
"I promise, Mother. I’ll live. And I’ll make both of you proud."
The embrace lingered, sorrow and hope intertwining in the silence. And in that moment, Charlotte felt not just her father’s legacy, but the weight of her mother’s love—and she vowed, deep in her soul, that her shield would not end in tragedy, but in triumph.
The streets of Eldoria were now quiet that afternoon, the sun bleeding over the rooftops in molten gold. Charlotte left her mother’s home with the old, weathered scroll clutched against her chest as if it were a living thing. Her steps were heavy, but her heart burned like a furnace. She carried the burden of her father’s last legacy.
By the time she reached her personal training ground—a secluded courtyard tucked away behind the Grey family’s secondary estate—her hands trembled as she unrolled the scroll.
The Last Spell of the Divine Shield.
Her eyes moved over the intricate glyphs, each stroke brimming with holy energy, each line radiating the weight of sacrifice. The spell was not just defense—it was absolute defense, a barrier that could repel even the power of gods. Yet, as her mother had told her with eyes full of sorrow, it was a spell that consumed the very life force of the caster.
"Father... is this why you didn’t come back?" Charlotte whispered, pressing her palm against the cold ground.
She took a deep breath and began.
The first attempt was clumsy—she formed the shield’s circle with her spirit energy, layering her mana with divine chants her father had once whispered to her as a child. A golden outline sparked to life around her, shimmering with brilliance for a single heartbeat before collapsing like fragile glass.
The backlash slammed her to her knees, forcing a mouthful of blood from her lips. Her chest heaved, sweat running down her temples.
But she wasn’t deterred. She pushed herself up again, trembling. "Again."
The second attempt fared no better. She expanded her mana too quickly, and the shield grew unstable, splitting apart as if rejecting her control. This time the recoil burned her veins, sending sharp pain through her arms.
"Again."
The third attempt nearly knocked her unconscious. The divine chants twisted mid-incantation, echoing painfully in her head. She staggered, gripping her temples, her vision flashing with the image of her father’s final battle—the way he stood unyielding, shield raised high, as countless enemies crashed against him until his body could take no more.
Charlotte collapsed onto her knees, gasping, the world around her spinning. For a moment, despair tried to creep in. Now she understood.
Her father had not died because he was weak. He had died because the last spell of the Divine Shield was not merely a shield. It was a vow—an oath that demanded the caster surrender their very existence to protect what they loved.
Tears blurred her vision, but her lips curved into a trembling smile. "So that’s it... Father, you died because you chose to protect us. You gave everything for us."
The weight of the truth crushed her chest, but rather than break her, it ignited her.
Charlotte rose once more, wiping the blood from her mouth. Her body screamed for rest, but her heart burned fiercer than ever. She placed her hand over her chest, where her father’s will seemed to linger.
"I’ll master this spell," she whispered, her voice quaking but resolute. "I’ll master it and wield it without falling the way you did. I’ll prove to Mother... and to you... that the Divine Shield is not just a spell of sacrifice—it will become my shield of hope."
With that, she steadied her breathing, her palms glowing faintly gold as she prepared for the next attempt.
And so began Charlotte’s long and painful journey into the very heart of her bloodline’s ultimate technique—a path of failure, pain, and discovery, but also one that would carve her into the immovable fortress her friends and the world would one day need.