The night had swallowed up the last rays of sunshine, and the corridors of the Valemortis mansion were now illuminated by the soft light of chandeliers and sconces. Elyandra was walking silently, her light footsteps echoing in the velvety carpets, when she caught sight of her father and Dalia in serious conversation in one of the side aisles. Lord Valemortis, with his imposing posture and austere countenance, gesticulated as he spoke to Dalia, who listened attentively, his expression professional and focused. The atmosphere between them was charged with a strategic weight, clearly discussing matters of a military nature.
Realizing the seriousness of the dialogue, Elyandra instinctively tried to retreat, looking for a shortcut that would divert her from their attention. "Better not to bother," he thought, already turning to follow another corridor. However, before he could take more than a few steps, his father's deep, unmistakable voice echoed down the hallway.
"Elyandra.
His body froze at the same instant. Slowly, with a learned formality, she turned, her eyes meeting her father's and then Dalia's.
"Good evening, Father. Good night, Dalia.
They both approached her, their faces softening slightly as they addressed the birthday girl.
"Happy birthday, Elyandra," said Lord Valemortis, his voice, though still firm, carrying a note of paternal affection.
"Happy birthday, Lady Elyandra," Dalia added, her usual formality tempered by a faint acknowledgment of the occasion.
Elyandra offered a small elegant nod, gratitude plastered into her golden eyes.
"Thank you, Father. Thank you, Dalia.
Lord Valemortis watched her with a piercing gaze, his posture still somewhat formal, but with a genuine curiosity in his features.
- And how are the preparations for the tests, Elyandra? Do you feel ready?
The girl hesitated for a brief moment, her thoughts coursing through the countless days of hard training, the study nights, and the pressure of expectation. She pondered the real extent of her preparation, the uncertainty inherent in any evaluation. Finally, with a composure that betrayed his age, he replied:
"As planned, Father.
"I see," said Lord Valemortis, the only word charged with imposing firmness, before passing Elyandra, Dalia close behind.
The tutor, however, interrupted her steps, crouching next to little Valemortis. Her posture, even kneeling, maintained a military rigidity, but her dark eyes softened slightly when she met Elyandra's. His firm hand rested briefly on the girl's shoulder.
"Lady Elyandra," Dalia said, her voice maintaining the formality of her position, but with a tinge of solemnity. - Don't get carried away by excessive thoughts. Lord Valemortis is a man of his position, with the responsibilities that it entails. Its rigidity is part of it. But he has a great appreciation for you, and he has prepared something special that awaits you in his chambers.
With a slight squeeze on Elyandra's shoulder, an almost fatherly gesture disguised under the mask of a farewell to a recruit, Dalia stood up with the same austere composure and returned to follow Lord Valemortis down the aisle.
Elyandra watched the two walk away, her mind working at a fast pace. The pragmatic and slightly suspicious gaze fixed on the back of his owner. "Appreciation? Something ready?" Dalia's words echoed in her thoughts, trying to decipher the meaning behind that brief interaction. His father's rigidity was familiar, but the mention of a gift... This aroused a cautious curiosity in the little noblewoman. What could Lord Valemortis, usually so reserved in his displays of affection, have prepared for her?
Alone again in the now silent hallway, Elyandra proceeded toward her quarters, her little fingers intertwined behind her back in a thoughtful gesture. The curiosity planted by Dalia's words began to blossom in her mind. "What has my Father prepared?" The question swirled in his head, fueling a hint of hesitant anticipation.
The truth is that the father figure had always been an enigma to Elyandra. Their interactions were like brief diplomatic encounters: formal, concise, and devoid of any real intimacy. Lord Valemortis was an imposing presence, shrouded in an aura of power and responsibility, and his words to Elyandra rarely extended beyond what was necessary. She couldn't decipher her her father's layers, draw a profile of his tastes, his feelings, or his deepest motivations. He was a distant figure, respected and feared, but hardly understood. The idea that he could have prepared something special for her was both intriguing and a little baffling. What kind of gift would a man like Lord Valemortis give his daughter? Would it be something practical, something that reflected his noble status, or perhaps... Something more personal? Doubt persisted, hovering in the air like a soft melody of mystery.
As she turned the handle and pushed the door to her room, Elyandra entered the space with the caution of a hawk stalking its prey, its golden eyes scouring every corner for any unusual changes. Or perhaps, more like a hungry kitten sniffing out a possible feast, his attention was immediately captured by a towering object on his bed.
A box. Not just any box, but a volume that exceeded in size his own stature. For a brief instant, his eyes shone with a mixture of pure childlike curiosity and genuine surprise. What could such enormity contain? With slow, hesitant steps, as if fearing to awaken a sleeping giant, she approached, keeping her eyes fixed on the mysterious object.
The box design was the epitome of the refined elegance expected of the Valemortis high nobility. Panels of a soft sky blue were adorned with intricate white accents that seemed to bloom on the surface. An inconspicuous magical seal, engraved with silver runes, flickered faintly, a silent warning that only the pre-registered magic of a specific individual could break through its protections.
On the lid of the box, a letter rested. The paper was a pale gold, almost ethereal, and the seal of Lord Valemortis, the imposing double-headed eagle of the House Valemortis pressed in sealed wax, adorned the center. With her hand hesitant, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension dancing on her chest, Elyandra reached out her fingers and picked up the letter. The weight of the golden paper in his small hand seemed to carry the solemnity of a royal decree. What might his father's sealed words reveal?
The golden letter in her hands seemed to radiate an air of solemn mystery, urging Elyandra's childish mind to embark on a torrent of hilarious and improbable speculations about its contents.
"Is it a decree? A royal order disguised as a birthday letter?" She imagined the seal of the double-headed eagle coming to life, cawing imperial orders about their future marriages. "Oh, dear! Has the Father ever arranged a marriage for me? With some distant prince with thick eyebrows and stamp collectors?" Her mind envisioned a miniature wedding dress coming out of the oversized box, made of heavy brocade and adorned with pea-sized pearls. "What a horror! What if he has already chosen names for grandchildren? Eustace and... Genoveva?" A shiver ran down his spine.
Elyandra's imagination galloped wildly, weaving more and more absurd scenarios. "And if the box is not a gift, but rather... a portal? To another dimension? Where do furry creatures live that talk backwards and eat blue mushroom soup?" She even imagined her father, with a solemn expression, explaining that it was her duty to marry the leader of that people to seal an interdimensional alliance.
His thoughts took an even more bizarre turn. "Or maybe... The letter is a map! For a treasure hidden deep within the mansion's dungeons? And the box contains the tools needed for the expedition: a rusty shovel, a ridiculously large explorer's hat, and a scroll with indecipherable riddles?"
The sequence of surreal thoughts made her wave her hands frantically over her head, as if she were trying to scare away particularly insistent mosquitoes. "No, no, no! The Father would not do such a thing! He is... he is Lord Valemortis! He has a certain decorum! At least that's what I imagine," he thought, a hint of uncertainty wavering in his conviction. The idea of her father orchestrating an arranged child marriage or sending her on an interdimensional adventure seemed so absurd that it bordered on the unbelievable. "Please, let it be just... a normal gift," he silently pleaded to his imaginary buttons.
With slightly trembling fingers, Elyandra broke through the wax seal of the golden letter. The paper, soft to the touch, revealed an elegant and adorned handwriting, the letters oozing with an almost theatrical fluidity, shining softly in the light of the room. It was the unmistakable handwriting of his father, Lord Valemortis.
"My dear Elyandra,
On this ninth anniversary, I allow myself to express the gratitude that your presence has brought to this house over the years. I wish you health and may luck always favor your paths. Know that Casa Valemortis remains steadfast in its support, whatever your goals.
I confess that I have observed with... some bewilderment at the remarkable transformation that has taken hold of you after the loss of our esteemed Siris. Her sudden interest and dedication to training under Dalia's guidance has not gone unnoticed, and I must admit that it causes me a dose of concern. I do not fully understand the nature of the goals that now drive it so intensely.
However, you are a Valemortis. And as such, I assume that your goals will ultimately align with our family's well-being and honor. The object you will find in this box may or may not be something you like at the present time. However, know that it belongs solely to you, and only you will have the prerogative to decide when and how to use it. It is a worthy gift, ordered from trusted people, tailor-made for my daughter. Its usefulness... this is a discovery that only you, Elyandra, can make.
With the highest consideration,
Lord Valemortis"
At the end of the reading, Elyandra held the golden card, her mind spinning with her father's words. There was a tone of recognition and even a certain veiled admiration in his lines, mixed with concern and lack of understanding. The mystery of the box, now shrouded in his father's cryptic words, became even more intriguing. What could be such a meaningful and personal gift, the use of which would be exclusively yours?
Elyandra swallowed hard, the same hungry anxiety of a player about to unravel a legendary treasure taking care of him. His hand hesitated in the air for a few moments, hovering over the box like an indecisive butterfly, curiosity and a certain fear dancing within him. Finally, with a barely audible sigh, his finger touched the magic seal.
At the instant of contact, the seal shone with an astonishing intensity, radiating a translucent white light that ran through the cracks of the box, like veins of energy igniting. With a gentle click, the seal fell apart, releasing the cap. The box slowly opened, revealing its contents as Elyandra waited, her golden eyes wide, gripped by an almost painful curiosity.
The dim light of the room caressed a rigid object of flashy colors in a deep dark hue, which seemed to emit its own subtle glow. Elyandra came across a sword. Not just any sword, but a work of martial art, with the intricate engravings of the Valemortis family adorning its hilt and its own name, "Elyandra", engraved in elegant inscriptions along the blade.
Little Valemortis brought her hand closer, a mixture of bewilderment and reverence guiding her movement. His hesitant fingers touched the cold, smooth surface of the blade. At the exact moment his skin made contact, an intense glow emanated from the sword, absorbing Elyandra's mana in a gentle and powerful stream. The dark blade seemed to awaken, gaining a vibrant golden glow from the point of its touch, as if the sun itself had been imprisoned in its steel.
The glow intensified, becoming so blinding that Elyandra instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes, glimpsing through her fingers an ethereal beauty. His lips remained sealed, paralyzed with admiration. But in his mind, a whirlwind of silent exclamations echoed. "Impressive... magnificent... unbelievable...", she was in a frenzied ecstasy, a wave of admiration so overwhelming that no words would be able to express the wonder of that object before her. He thought and rethought, but his mind was so overwhelmed with wonder that no coherent sentence could form. The sword, gifted by his enigmatic father, was much more than an object; It was an extension of her own magic, a silent symbol of a future she could barely begin to imagine.
Elyandra's eyes shone with an almost feverish intensity, the same restrained excitement of a player engrossed in anticipation of a powerful, yet inaccessible item.
"It's like... a legendary weapon of a very high level," he whispered, his voice charged with a mixture of amused frustration and pure excitement. — "Requires level..." But she's mine! My!
She looked at the sword with childlike possessiveness, but with the strategic vision of a commander planning his next move.
"I'll keep you as a rare action figure, with very limited editing. One of those that only hardcore collectors with a black credit card can have. Kind... the Holy Grail of dolls. This sword is my real-life action figure. Someday... One day I'll have enough "level" to use you.
A mischievous smile danced on his lips. The wait, somehow, made the inauguration even more exciting. That treasure lying dormant in his room was a silent promise of future power, a constant incentive to keep growing and training. Little Valemortis, with her grandiose sword and her contagious enthusiasm, seemed ready to face any challenge that the future held for her, even if to do so, she needed to "level up" a lot.
With a last look of pure admiration at the sealed box, Elyandra closed the lid carefully, the soft click of the clasp sounding like the confirmation of a silent promise. That night, little Valemortis found her sleep in a peculiar way. The box, imposing in its size, became her bedfellow, both wrapped in the protective warmth of the blanket. The scene, certainly unusual for any outside observer, represented for Elyandra a peak of contentment. It was the tangible embodiment of a wish fulfilled, a quiet luxury that filled her with genuine, almost palpable happiness. In his thoughts, a fervent thank you echoed toward his father, not a simple formal "thank you" but a silent burst of deep and turbulent joy, a childlike and sincere acknowledgment for that extraordinary gift that had kindled a new flame in his young heart.