You will be greater than what you are right now, Eiravelle.
Eiravelle shook her head, trying to dispel the memory. It was a kind sentiment, she supposed, but it was also a burden she did not want to carry. She had spent her entire life being told what she could be, what she should be, what everyone expected her to become. She was tired of disappointing people.
The carriage came to a gentle stop, and the doors opened soundlessly. Eiravelle stepped out onto the platform, the cool afternoon breeze ruffled her pink cloak, carried by the scent of blooming flowers from the manor’s extensive gardens.
She adjusted the basket in her arms and made her way through the manor’s corridors, her steps were quick with each passing moment.
She needed to see Arielle. She needed to make sure her sister was resting, healing, and taking care of herself. The image of Arielle’s pale face and strained smile from the previous night was burned into her memory, and she could not shake the worry that had taken root in her heart.
The familiar hallways of the manor stretched before her. Servants bustled past her as they had learned long ago not to meet her gaze, not to acknowledge her presence unless absolutely necessary.
Eiravelle had grown accustomed to the treatment. It no longer stung as it once had. But still, she felt the weight of their judgment, the silent condemnation that followed her everywhere she went. She was the plague, the disgrace, and the stain upon the family name. Nothing she did would ever change that.
She reached Arielle’s wing and pushed open the door, stepping inside with a sense of purpose that quickly faded into concern. Her eyes swept the room, searching for her sister, and found her seated at the massive oak desk near the window.
Arielle was surrounded by documents, her quill moved across the parchment with practiced efficiency. Her brow furrowed with concentration, and her expression was one of intense focus. She was wearing a simple robe of purple fabric, and her hair was tied back ordinarily behind her head.
She looked exhausted. The red welts on her back was hidden beneath her robes, still ached—Eiravelle could see it in the stiffness of her movements, the way she shifted in her chair as though she could not find a comfortable position. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her skin had a pallor that spoke of sleepless nights and unrelenting pain.
"Sister..." Eiravelle’s voice carried a note of displeasure as she approached. "Why are you there? You should be resting on your bed, not signing those documents."
Her hold on the basket of magical peaches became tight, her knuckles whitened with the force of her grip. She had gone all the way to the Peach Blossom Valley, had endured Master Ragnar’s probing questions and his uncomfortable predictions, all so that Arielle could heal. And here her sister was ignoring her own body’s needs in favor of work.
Arielle raised her gaze and met Eiravelle’s eyes. Her expression softened immediately, the lines of concentration smoothing away as a gentle smile spread across her face.
She put one of the documents aside, her movements were slow, as though even the simple act of placing a piece of parchment down required effort.
"Please do not worry," Arielle assured her, her voice carried a note of warmth despite the obvious strain she was under. "I will be fine. I have been through worse."
Eiravelle walked beside her and took her hand, squeezing it gently. The warmth of her sister’s palm was familiar, comforting, a connection that had sustained her through the darkest moments of her life. "Sister, please. Just rest for now and eat these magical peaches I got for you. Master Ragnar personally gave me these."
She smiled, trying to convey her earnestness through the expression. The peaches were a gift, a blessing, a chance for Arielle to recover quickly. She did not want her sister’s stubbornness to waste that opportunity.
Arielle studied her for a moment, reading the concern in her eyes, and then nodded. "Alright, Eivy. For you. I know you would not rest until I agree."
She stood up, and Eiravelle temporarily put the basket of magical peaches on the desk before taking her older sister’s arm. She guided Arielle toward the bed with careful steps, treating her as though she were made of delicate glass.
"You know you are being overly strict to me, Eiravelle," Arielle teased, though there was no real complaint in her voice. "I am the older sister, am I not? I should be the one taking care of you."
Eiravelle guided her to the edge of the bed, and Arielle settled onto the soft mattress with a long, shuddering sigh. Her shoulders slumped as the ache in her back made itself known once more, and she pressed a hand to her lower spine, wincing slightly.
"The red welts on your back," Eiravelle said, her voice was carrying a note of worry. "They still hurt, do they not?"
Arielle tried to wave away her concern. "It is nothing I cannot handle."
Eiravelle sighed, shaking her head. She knew her sister too well to believe the words. Arielle had always been the strong one, the one who bore her burdens in silence. But Eiravelle could see the pain in the tightness of her jaw, the way her breath hitched when she moved too quickly.
She reached into the basket and selected one of the magical peaches, its skin glowed with a soft golden light. The peach was warm to the touch, pulsing with gentle magic that seemed to hum against her palm. The scent of it was sweet and intoxicating, a fragrance that seemed to carry the very essence of the peach blossom grove.
"Sister, please eat this," Eiravelle said, handing the peach to Arielle. "This will help you. I promise."
Arielle smiled and accepted the peach, her fingers brushed against Eiravelle’s in a gesture of silent gratitude. "Thank you, sister."
She raised the peach to her lips and took a bite, her eyes closed as the sweetness filled her senses.
The juice ran down her chin, and she laughed softly, wiping it away with the back of her hand. The magic of the peach worked immediately, spreading through her body like a wave of warmth and light.
"Wow," Arielle said, her voice carried a note of genuine surprise. "It is really effective. I can already feel the ache fading."
Eiravelle could not help but giggle at her older sister’s admission. "See? I told you so. You should have trusted me from the start."
She sat next to Arielle on the bed, close enough that their shoulders touched, and watched her sister eat the peach with a sense of satisfaction. The red welts on Arielle’s back were already fading, the magic of the peach was knitting the damaged tissues together and soothing the inflamed skin. The color returned to her cheeks, and the tension in her shoulders was slowly easing.
Eiravelle knew the value of these peaches. They were prized throughout the divine realm, sought after by immortals and mortals alike. The reason so many loved them was simple—they were sweeter than any bitter liquid medicine prepared by healers or physicians. They were a pleasure to consume, not a punishment to endure.
But they were also incredibly rare. Ragnar rarely gave them away for free. They were not for sale, and they could only be earned through merit or by personally visiting Ragnar and convincing him of one’s worthiness. Not even the Sovereign herself had a free pass in getting the magical peaches.
Eiravelle did not know how she had gotten so lucky. She had not earned the peaches through any great deed. She had simply asked, and Ragnar had given. It was a mystery she did not fully understand, and one that made her feel oddly uncomfortable.
"Thank you, Eiravelle," Arielle said, taking another bite of the peach. "These magical peaches are hard to retrieve. I wonder why Master Ragnar just gave them to you for free."
Eiravelle’s expression flickered with worry at the question. She thought of Ragnar’s words, his vision of her as a great being worshipped by immortals and Gods. She thought of his insistence that she was meant for more than she believed. She thought of the weight of expectations that had followed her all her life.
Then she shook her head, forcing a smile back onto her face. "I also do not know," she said, her voice was barely above a whisper. "He just gave them to me. Perhaps he was feeling generous today."
She reached out and wrapped her arms around Arielle’s arm, leaning her head against her sister’s shoulder. The familiar warmth of her sister’s body was a comfort, a reminder that she was not alone in this world. "What matters now is that you are going to recover. That is all I care about."
Arielle gently poked her nose, her touch was light and affectionate. "My little sister is always kind to me. I do not know what I did to deserve you."
She finished the peach in a few more bites and set the pit aside on the small table beside the bed. Then she turned and pulled Eiravelle into a warm embrace, her arms are wrapping around her sister’s smaller frame.
"Eivy," Arielle said, her voice was soft and earnest. "Promise me that you will not change this sweet, kind, and warm personality of yours, okay? Promise me that the world will not harden your heart."
Eiravelle nodded against her sister’s chest, a small hum of agreement escaping her lips. "Mm~ I promise, sister. I will always be this way."
"Sister only wants you to be well and grow up safe," Arielle continued, her voice carried a note of tender affection. "If ever it is true that one day you will have wrinkles, white hair, and that you will grow old, I will be there to take care of you. I will be there to hold your hand, to feed you soup, to remind you of all the wonderful memories we have shared."
Eiravelle frowned at the words, though Arielle did not notice. Her sister kept hugging her, her arms are warm and secure, her presence was a comfort that Eiravelle had relied on all her life.
But the words had struck a chord. The thought of growing old while the people around her would remain young and live longer did not ease her worries. It only reminded her of her own mortality, of the limited time she had in a world filled with immortals.
In the divine realm, if you did not show any abilities or powers, you would grow old and die like humans did. It was a rare occurrence—most beings in the divine realm had at least some measure of magical ability, some connection to the supernatural forces that governed their existence.
But there were exceptions, rare cases of people who lived in the divine realm without any powers at all.
Eiravelle was one of those exceptions.
She will be considered as a mortal in a world of immortals, a human among Gods. Her life would be short, measured in decades rather than centuries. Her body would age, wither, and eventually fail. And when she died, she would be reincarnated, reborn into a new life with no memory of the one she had lived before.
Unless her powers manifested. Unless, somehow, she awakened the magic that had always been dormant within her.
But she was already twenty two. Her powers should have manifested years ago. The longer she went without showing any abilities, the less likely it was that she ever would.
"Sister..." Eiravelle’s voice was small and hesitant. She pulled back slightly, looking up at Arielle with eyes that glistened with unshed tears. "If I were to be reincarnated again one day... Will you look for me?"
Arielle’s expression softened, her eyes were filled with a depth of love that made Eiravelle’s heart ache. She withdrew slightly, just enough to look at her sister directly in the eye, and took Eiravelle’s face in her hands. The touch was gentle, reverent, as though Eiravelle were something precious that could break.
"Of course," Arielle said, her voice was firm with conviction. "I will. No matter what form you take, even a worm or a butterfly, I will try to look for you. I will search every corner of every realm until I find you again."
Eiravelle’s tears spilled over, running down her cheeks in hot, silent streams. "But what if you cannot find me? What if I am too far away, too hidden, or too lost?"
Arielle’s thumbs brushed away the tears, her touch was impossibly tender. "Then I will search harder. I will never stop looking for you, Eivy. Never. You are my sister, and I love you. That will not change, no matter how many lifetimes pass."
"I just hope that if you get reincarnated, you will stubbornly choose to stay on my shoulders," Arielle continued, her voice was carrying a note of playful warmth that was meant to chase away the sorrow. "If you were a worm, just stay on my shoulders, hahaha. Or if you are a bird, or a beast... Just tap my shoulder three times. And I shall recognize you."
Eiravelle laughed through her tears, a wet, hiccupping sound that was both joyful and sorrowful. "Three times, sister. I will remember that. I will find you and tap your shoulder three times, and you will know it is me."
She wrapped her arms around her sister tight, burying her face against Arielle’s chest as sobs wracked her body. "I will, sister. I promise. I will find you again. I will always find you."
Arielle’s own eyes were filled with unshed tears. She had been trying to make the conversation playful, to lighten the weight of the moment. But the reality of it all was more painful to live in than she could express. The thought of losing Eiravelle, of watching her wither and fade while she remained forever young, was a wound that cut deep into her soul.
She did not want Eiravelle to die. She did not want to watch her little sister grow old and frail while she remained forever young. She did not want to be left behind, alone in a world that had taken everything from her.
But if Eiravelle’s powers did not come out by the time she turned thirty, there would be no other way. She would age, she would wither, and she would die. There was no stopping it, no preventing it, no saving her from the fate that awaited all mortals.
The thought of it was unbearable.
Arielle held her sister close, her arms are wrapped around Eiravelle’s trembling form, and allowed her own tears to fall. She had always been the strong one, the pillar upon which their family rested. But in this moment, she allowed herself to be weak, to grieve for the future that might be stolen from them.
"Eivy, always remember that sister loves you very much, okay?" Arielle whispered, her voice was breaking.
Eiravelle nodded against her chest, her sobs were slowly quieting. "I love you too, sister. I love you so much. You are the only one who has ever loved me."
They held each other for a long moment, the silence was broken only by the sound of their breathing and the distant chirping of birds outside the window.
The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden light across the room. Dust motes danced in the beams, and the scent of the magical peaches still lingered in the air.
Finally, Arielle pulled back, her hands coming up to wipe the tears from Eiravelle’s cheeks. "Now, no more crying," she said, her voice was firm but gentle. "You have brought me magical peaches, and I am already feeling better. That is something to celebrate, not mourn."
Eiravelle sniffled, a small smile tugged at her lips. "You are right, sister. I am sorry for being so emotional. I did not mean to burden you with my worries."
"Do not apologize," Arielle said, shaking her head firmly. "You are allowed to feel what you feel. That is what makes you a being with feelings. That is what makes you beautiful. Never apologize for having a heart, Eivy."
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eiravelle’s forehead, her lips lingered against the warm skin. "Now, come. Let us enjoy the rest of these peaches together. I suspect there is more than enough for both of us."
Eiravelle nodded and reached for the basket, pulling out two peaches and handing one to her sister. They sat together on the bed, their shoulders were touching, and ate the magical fruit in comfortable silence.
The peaches were sweet, their flavor was bursting on Eiravelle’s tongue like a burst of sunshine. She felt warmth spreading through her body, a gentle energy that seemed to replenish her spirit.
She did not need the healing properties of the peaches but the magical fruit still made her feel better, as though it was feeding something deeper than her physical form.
They finished their peaches and lay back on the bed, side by side, staring up at the ornate ceiling. The curtains billowed softly, and the distant sound of birdsong drifted through the air.
"I am glad you are my sister, Eiravelle," Arielle said, her voice carried a note of sleepy contentment. "I would not want anyone else. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."
Eiravelle smiled and closed her eyes. "I am glad too, sister. I would not want anyone else to be my oldest sister, haha. You have always been my protector, my guide, and my home."
They lay there together, the weight of the world was momentarily forgotten, and allowed themselves to simply be. Sisters. Best friends. Bound together by blood and love and a promise that would last forever.