She Called You Marvelous

[Celestialdrafts]

A/N: Hey, all! Yeah, Fortune's Weave just came out, but I happened to recently replay Engage and have renewed brainrot. This fic will update sporadically as I'm still finishing up my Honkai Impact 3rd fic, so expect monthly or bi-weekly updates until I can give this story my undivided attention. I'm aiming to keep this one fairly short compared to my last few fics, but at this point I've learned not to assume anything. We'll just have to see where this journey takes us! Oh, and TW immediately for child abuse. Zephia, as we all know, is a piece of shit.

Chapter 1​

The girl's earliest memory is of death.

It nipped at her heels, threatening to drag her into its depths while she was still learning how to walk. Her sword was far too big for her tiny fingers, and still she swung with all the might she could muster. Terror gripped her every nerve until she was someone else entirely— someone capable of digging the blade into the monster's chest.

Monster. That was the only word to describe her assailant. A charcoal corpse whose single red eye pierced into her soil and vowed oblivion. Had she been even a second slower, its axe would have torn her into a bloody heap.

With her sword in the monster's heart, the girl froze up— barely breathing, tears flowing down her face, a choked shriek caught in her throat. She had never known fear until this day, and now it dug under her skin to etch permanent residence in her heart.

After what could have been a few seconds or a few hours, the monster finally dissipated into a cloud of smoke. Without its weight to provide support, the girl could no longer hold up her sword. It clattered to the ground by her feet, making her jump back with a yelp.

A warm hand landed on her head a moment later. "Well done." Mama. The girl's entire world, her beacon of safety. At least, she had been, before throwing her child into certain doom. Now the weight of that familiar hand rustling her hair made the girl whimper while her tears continued to drip down her cheeks.

"We're fortunate a few Corrupted remain after Lord Sombron's imprisonment," Mama went on. "You must remember this lesson for as long as you live, my child. The fright of mortal peril must never leave you, lest you find yourself walking toward it unaware someday. This is all to protect you."

Protect her? So Mama was still looking out for her after all?

Then why was she still so afraid?

---

Her name is Marvella.

"It means 'miracle,'" Mama revealed one night, combing locks of pale red hair with a white interior as the girl sat in front of a mirror for her. Now 5 years old, she was finally ready to meet some humans! At least, those who still worshipped the Fell Dragon. Mama had warned any others would kill her for the blood in her veins. It meant the little hut the two of them lived in had been all she'd known until now. She couldn't help but squirm in excitement even as Mama continued her explanation.

"That is what your existence is, my dear. A miracle." Mama smiled at her, eyes twinkling with delight. "Lord Sombron himself gifted you to me near the end of the war. A reward for my hard service." She hummed while straightening the last knot in Marvella's hair. "That is why we must dedicate ourselves to his return. It is a debt to repay."

Marvella didn't understand much about debts or service, but if Mama gave her such a lovely name, then she would shout it from the rooftops as proof she was loved. She grinned, looking herself over in the pretty gold dress she was wearing and seeing the shine in her own cherry eyes. This was the first time she felt like the princess Mama claimed her to be.

That was especially true when Mama herself wore the same weird clothes as always. How was she not cold all the time wearing so little in the middle of Elusia?

Despite that, she made sure Marvella was warm and fed. Marvella now knew why. She was a miracle. Her smile grew, and she was certain she would always love her mom— Zephia the Mage Dragon.

---

Marvella decidedly did not love the Fell Dragon worshippers.

Did all humans have such freaky eyes? They had been glued to Marvella all night, reacting to every twitch she'd made. Behind their reverent greetings and apparent hopes they had for her, there was a hunger even the young girl could recognize. All she'd wanted was to go home, but with Mama's firm hand on her shoulder, she'd been forced to stand in place and acknowledge them with nods and simple words for hours.

The last of the Fell Dragons, they'd called her. She was apparently the one destined to carry out her father's wishes and 'bring Elyos into an age of despair,' whatever that meant.

Except Marvella knew that was a load of wyverndung! Since she couldn't actually talk to these people, she'd only been able to listen instead. Thanks to that, she'd heard whispers of someone like her. A young girl whose mother— also a mage dragon— had spirited her away after the war. Why couldn't she fulfill that dumb prophecy or whatever? Marvella wanted nothing to do with it!

It was only when they finally returned to their cabin that she could collapse in bed with a groan, not even caring about the way her fancy dress wrinkled. "That was so boring!" she whined. "I thought humans would be more fun. But they're just creeps!"

Her mama didn't even console Marvella, just giggling into her hand instead! "Humans are a waste, my Marvel. Do not waste your time trying to please them. Focus instead on how they could be of use to you."

Marvella blinked. "Huh?"

"I'll wait until you're a little older to teach you about all that," Mama said. She instead walked over to Marvella's desk, digging under it for some reason? "For now, I have a gift to reward your good behavior tonight."

Suddenly, Marvella's exhaustion vanished in a puff of smoke. She shot up, eyes widening in curiosity and excitement. "A present? Is it more sweets!?" She couldn't get enough of the caramelized apples Mama bought her for her birthday each year!

Mama opened a secret compartment in her desk (had that always been there!?), revealing… a red stone? Marvella deflated at first from disappointment, though curiosity had her jumping out of bed before long. "What's that?"

"This," Mama explained, "is your dragonstone. I've concealed it since your birth in order to protect you, but I believe you're finally ready to assume your true form."

Marvella didn't understand a word she was saying. She already knew who she was! Marvella was Marvella, it was that simple. How could some silly stone change that?

So she thought, and yet… when Mama placed the stone into her hands, heat flooded through Marvella's veins. She gasped, feeling full in a way that even her favorite meals couldn't accomplish. It was like she'd chugged a gallon of the finest tea in all the land, granting her the energy of a hundred Marvellas! She found herself wanting to head outside, then leap into the air and fly! It didn't matter how ridiculous the thought was, it seemed like anything could happen now!

"Feel that?" Mama asked. "That is your draconic power. With it, you can transform into a powerful, majestic state. You will need it to protect yourself against those who would persecute you for being a Fell Dragon."

All Marvella got out of that was that she could do so many cool things! "Can I try now!?" she pleaded, looking up at her mama with sparkling eyes.

Mama laughed and ruffled her hair. "That was the intention. Come, let us head outside, and let your true self be revealed under the full moon."

---

Being a dragon was weird. Those first few nights, Marvella had hardly been able to walk on her lumpy feet, needing Mama's help to take her first steps. That had been humiliating, and still brought a flush to her cheeks 3 years later. Not to mention her flying lessons which had more often than not ended with her crashing into a snow-bank.

At least now, she was good enough at it that Mama trusted her to go on excursions all on her own. She could never stray too far from the cabin, but the freedom to take to the skies and let the wind take her wherever it decided was a rush unlike any other. If she had her human throat, she would no doubt whoop in exhilaration. As it stood, pleased chirps tended to escape her as the wind made her scales whistle.

Currently, she was flying over a lake that sparkled under the sun, letting her see her reflection. She pouted at her diminutive size, barely larger than a tiger cub. Mama had promised she'd be bigger than a house someday, but it was taking forever!

At least she could take pride in her glistening red and white scales. Though most of her body was the same red as her hair's outer layer, the white crept in through patterns running up her sides, the membranes of her wings, and the tip of her tail.

Her eyes were different. They were a carbon copy of her mama's— proof of her Mage Dragon lineage. Marvella sometimes wished they looked like that in her humanoid form as well.

In some ways, she understood what Mama had meant when she'd said this was her true form. She felt most like herself when gliding through the air, watching the world from far above rather than as one of the many ants below.

Not that she could ever approach human civilization. That had been Mama's most important rule— forcing Marvella to learn their surroundings so she wouldn't stumble into a village. Their only interactions with humans came in the form of hikes to the Fell Dragon worshippers. They were as dull as ever though, so Marvella had no interest in meeting their kind.

Or so she'd thought, but when she eventually landed by the lake's edge to lap up some water, a sudden gasp had her whirling around with a shocked chirp. She went still at what she saw. A human girl stood there— no older than Marvella herself and with curly brown hair that had escaped the snow cap she wore alongside a puffy jacket. Blue eyes were staring at her in fascination, freezing Marvella to the spot.

This was bad. She was never supposed to be seen in human form. What should she do!? Could she scare the child off, or—?

"You're so pretty…" The girl's murmur cut off Marvella's line of thought. For some reason, the child got on her knees and began crawling toward her. "Do you have a name?"

Well, she wasn't attacking, so… Maybe it was okay? After another few seconds of deliberation, Marvella returned to her human state. "It's Marvella."

The fascination in the girl's eyes only increased. "You're a girl like me!? How did you transform into a dragon!? That was so cool!" Her hesitation was gone entirely, as she scrambled over to Marvella and grabbed her hand as though to inspect every inch of her. "Oh, I'm Mary! You said you're Marvella? What a pretty name!"

Marvella squirmed, pushing down the instinct to bite the prying hands on her skin. They thankfully stuck to her arms, but it was still far more physical contact than she'd ever experienced. "Um, you're really not scared?" she asked. "What if I had attacked you?"

The girl— Mary— frowned for a moment before shrugging. "But you didn't." That was apparently all the reasoning she needed. Mary sat in the snow beside Marvella, a wide grin on her face. "It's so nice to see a girl my age! The boys are all stinky and the adults are so serious all the time." She crossed her arms with a pout as she spoke, making the injustice she felt known.

Marvella had other questions on her mind. "There are more of you? Why are you here?" She'd have to tell Mama, right? No humans were supposed to get close to their cabin. Surely Mama could chase them off with her awesome magic!

Yet looking at Mary's face, seeing the pain in her eyes, Marvella felt a pang at the thought of scaring her for even a second. "It was a famine," she mumbled. "It killed most of our old village. Those of us who survived have been travelling to find a new home. The adults said we'll settle here, build something new out of the ashes. But… I just wanna go home…"

What was this feeling? Why did Marvella's chest hurt so badly at Mary's tale? Similar stories had been whispered among the Fell Dragon worshippers. Elusia's brutal climate— along with the constant excursions from Brodia— left people hungry all the time. This shouldn't have been any different.

It was. Marvella couldn't understand why, but she wanted to help somehow. "Hey," she said, taking Mary's hand in her own. Somehow that felt right. "It's okay. Your people can be happy here. And I'll come visit so you're not alone!"

Seeing the way Mary's whole body came alive, Marvella knew she'd made the right decision. "Really!? You promise!? Then… Can we be friends!?"

"Friends?" Marvella echoed, tilting her head slightly. "What are 'friends?'"

Mary's eyes widened into saucers. "You don't know what friends are? They're people you play and spend time with! If you're my friend, that means we have a connection!"

A connection. That sounded nice. Marvella smiled. "Then yes, I promise. We can be friends."

For some reason, Mary held out a pinky. "Pinky swear. From this day onward, we'll always be friends— together through thick and thin!"

Marvella just stared at the offered finger. She didn't have the foggiest idea what a "pinky swear" was, nor what she was supposed to do to complete it. Mary seemed to realize as much, taking Marvella's hand and locking their pinkies together.

"There," the girl announced, shaking their locked fingers up and down a few times. "Now it's been sealed. You better not go back on your word!"

"I won't!" Marvella insisted.

"We'll be friends for life, I swear!"

---

She was a fool.

"W-Why…?" Marvella croaked. Before her, the beginnings of a settlement were up in flames. Corpses littered the street, their screams long since silenced by the jagged burn scars littering their skin. Though she'd arrived in the aftermath of the slaughter, Marvella could still taste the death in the air. She nearly choked on the smoke— if not for her tears taking precedence.

Amidst the wreckage stood a lone, white-haired woman with a tome in one hand and the last of the corpses in another— held up only by her brown locks. Even that was enough for Marvella to recognize the scarred figure of Mary— dead eyes gazing at nothing as the terror of her final moments remained etched onto her face.

It didn't take long for Mama to spot Marvella, during which she dropped the body like trash and stomped over to her. "Making contact with the humans," she growled. "Letting them build homes near our sanctuary. Befriending one of their spawn!" At the moment, she reached Marvella and lashed out, her hand lashing across the girl's cheek and making her cry as pain blossomed there. "What the hell were you thinking!?

"I-I just—!" Marvella babbled, hardly able to speak past the lump in her throat and tears blurring her vision. "Mary was nice to me and—"

"Nice?" her mother echoed, the disgust on her features clear even through the veil over Marvella's eyes. "You are a Fell Dragon. All of mankind is your enemy!"

"B-But why!?" Marvella yelled. "Why can't we be their friends!?"

She'd only known Mary for a month, but in that time, they'd played games, watched the clouds, tried catching fish in the lake, and so much more! She'd learned more in those few weeks than in 8 years of studying under the world's greatest Mage Dragon. Not about spells or books, but about life. Mary had opened her eyes to the world at large.

A memory flashed through Marvella's mind. One night, she'd visited the village and gazed up at the stars with Mary. The girls had giggled at their clandestine meetings that none of the adults in their lives knew about before eventually lying next to each other in the snow, whispering their greatest secrets.

Mary had talked about how she sometimes felt less like a girl and more like a boy, even if the other village kids made fun of her for it and made her repress those feelings. Marvella, in turn, had revealed she had a sister somewhere in the world, and the more time passed, the more she wanted so badly to meet the girl. They'd made a new promise. Mary would help Marvella find her sister, and in turn they would find a way Mary could live as a boy like she always wanted.

Like their first promise, this was impossible now. Mary was… she was actually…

Marvella sobbed, a fresh wave of tears pouring down her face. She couldn't understand! Her mom loved her, so why was she causing her so much pain!?

Mother sighed, seeming to recognize her confusion. "I see it falls to me to teach you a lesson so that these mistakes are never repeated." She stowed her Thoron tone, instead, holding up one Marvella had recently begun to study herself. Arcfire. The sight of it made her breath catch in her throat.

"M-Mom?" she whispered. "What are you going to do?"

Her mother didn't respond with words, but with a spell. Flames erupted on Marvella's skin, making her shriek as she collapsed from the agony overwhelming her senses. On that day, at 8 years old, Marvella experienced her mother's "discipline" for the first time in her life.

It would be far from the last.

---

Word eventually reached their hovel from the Fell Dragon worshippers. Zephia was definitively the last of the Mage Dragons, as her kin— the mother of Marvella's sister— had been slain for her association with Sombron. Marvella was dying to know where that left the sister she'd never met, but she didn't dare voice such a question. There was always a stern look on her mother's face whenever she tried broaching the topic of family. Fearing further punishment, Marvella had learned to keep such questions to herself.

She was 12 now, and from the books she'd read, this was how she'd look for a long time. Fell Dragons aged so slowly compared to humans— taking centuries to fully mature. Such a massive scope of time boggled Marvella's mind. Entire human lifespans would pass, and she would remain how she'd been from the moment of their birth— stagnant, a steel blade gaining only a single speck of rust.

That was why she didn't protest when, following the news, her mother revealed they would go deeper into hiding. They would seclude themselves to the harshest mountains of Elusia until the day of her father's awakening drew near. There, Marvella would be expected to devote herself to her studies. History, magic, swordplay— Mother wanted her to master it all in the centuries to come.

Marvella had once thought of herself as a girl. But girls made friends, played games, and shared secrets with the people they loved. She had none of that. The only person she loved also brought her great fear.

Soon enough, their meager belongings were packed and her mother was beckoning her from the cabin's front door. "Come," she ordered. "It is time we bid this place farewell."

Marvella acquiesced with a nod, following Mother out the door and into the chilly plains. At least it was summer time, which would make the journey easier on them both. By the time winter came and brought with it cold despair, they would long since be settled in their new home.

Even so, as they began their trek, Marvella couldn't help but look back at the tiny hut she'd lived in for 12 years. Her world had been contained within those walls… and really, what was to come would be no different. At least there would be no more grandstanding for those pompous Fell Dragon worshippers.

She told herself as much to refute the tear gathering in the corner of one eye. It was silly— nonsensical, really. Nothing had changed. She had no reason to feel like she was walking into her own specially-made prison.

If the gods do exist, she thought to herself, may they one day show me what happiness feels like.

The wind carried her prayer to the skies up above— to a floating island far, far from where she stood. An island she would eventually step foot on when her entire life changed, as a millennium of hardship would finally be repaid. Her prayer reached the lone girl sleeping on that island, forming a connection the two sisters would only understand after countless battles.

Like Marvella, the girl had red hair— though hers was a far more vibrant shade. Most notable, however, was the change that occurred when Marvella made her wish.

At that moment, the first of many locks on the sleeping girl's head turned blue.

 

[Celestialdrafts]

A/N: I found myself with some extra free time, so here's chapter 2 early. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2​

"My child…"

The deep, reverberant voice pierced the veil of sleep and clung to Marvella's unconscious mind. She was floating— eyes sealed shut by slumber— yet she could feel a vast presence nearby. It threatened to swallow her whole, malevolence pouring off of it like sap from a tree. A whimper escaped her throat unbidden even without her understanding the situation she was in.

"I sense your power," the voice seethed. "It seems Zephia was good for something after all. Now that the time of my awakening draws near, you will be instrumental to my aims."

Who are you? she wanted to ask. What do you want with me? Yet her mouth refused to obey her commands, leaving her questions trapped in the recesses of her mind.

Somehow, the presence heard them regardless. "My name is Sombron," it intoned. "Your father, and the one who will bring ruin to this world. Wake now and return to Elusia. There, destiny shall finally resume once more."

Sombron. The name alone struck fear into Marvella's heart— born of the stories her mother had shared and the darkness she sometimes felt seeped into the land. Remnants of the Fell Dragon's War with the Divine. Could Elyos survive another conflict of that scale?

She didn't know, and she wasn't about to get any answers. The moment her father finished speaking, a bright light enveloped her— making her clench her already closed eyes. When that very light seemed to pour into her, Marvella finally gasped awake while nearly flinging herself out of bed.

This was… her bedroom. The same room she'd slept in every night for the past thousand years. A dingy space with a rotting floorboard in the corner and only a single candle to provide light in the dead of night. She at least had a single window which the sun was currently shining through, reflected off the blanket of snow that always covered Elusia's mountaintops.

Furniture was scarce beyond her lumpy bed and a bookcase pushed to the opposite corner of the wall that was absolutely brimming with tomes of both the magical and non-magical variety. Her desk was tiny in comparison, but served its purpose well enough when she needed to make notes in her many books.

Properly climbing out of bed while trying to calm the racing in her heart, Marvella walked over to the desk and trailed a finger along the spine of a book she was currently reading. Slipped inside the covers of a tactics manual was a fictional tale of a princess and her knight finding love together. These stories were one of her few indulgences— one she suspected Mother knew about despite her efforts at concealment. At least she allowed Marvella these brief escapes.

That might change, given the dream she'd just had. Marvella sank into her deskchair with a sigh, pressing her fist into her forehead to stave off the oncoming headache. "Damn it all," she muttered. "I can't even pretend that wasn't him. The magic felt far too real to be a fabrication of my mind."

If only she were so lucky. Mother would find out about this one way or another, and trying to conceal it would only lead to another "punishment." Marvella shivered at the thought. No, she'd reveal everything over breakfast.

She moved to her closet, though that was a generous term for a single rack where robes of the same variety hung. In stark contrast to Zephia, Marvella had never cared much for appearances beyond what her mother deemed necessary. These outfits were practical, especially in the harsh mountains they'd called home for generations.

When Marvella eventually trailed out into the far more homely dining room, her mother was already setting food down on the table. "Ah, good, you're awake," she remarked. "Come, eat. After breakfast, I want to see if you've mastered that spell I taught you last month."

Normally having to face Zephia's assessment brought a pool of dread to Marvella's stomach, but today she wished they could have such a mundane experience. She sat, taking a deep breath to steel herself.

"I had a dream about Father last night." She could see the way Mother stiffened at those words. "He felt like a mountain of darkness. He said he will awaken soon and that we must head to Elusia.

Silence followed her words, during which every one of Marvella's muscles tensed. What could possibly be going through Mother's head now? Was she happy? Displeased? Something else entirely? Normally Marvella could read Zephia's face, but right now it was painfully neutral— as though she'd forgotten how to emote in the wake of such news.

That was, until a bright smile overtook her features. "Finally," Zephia breathed. "The day we've been waiting for is at hand. Eat fast, my Marvel. We leave in 1 hour."

Mother's word was Law. Marvella simply nodded and dug into the wyvern eggs on her plate. At least her final meal in the home she'd come to see as her entire world would be a mini luxury— brought about by a lucky find when she'd stumbled into a nest during training the other day.

Final meal. She was actually leaving. There should have been some type of stirring in her heart at that realization, yet Marvella couldn't dredge up any strong emotions.

This was the day she'd been both dreading and anticipating for a millennium— When she'd abandon everything she knew for the sake of a brutal campaign that might bring about the end times. Now that it was finally here… Well, she'd lived through it in her head so often that the actual events seemed like just another task for her to complete.

Granted, she was not looking forward to interactions with the Fell Dragon worshippers. Their incessant stares lingered in her memory to this day.

Oh, gods. She'd have to speak to humans again. What would they want from her? Would they act like she was some sort of religious figure? What could she possibly say to them!? She wasn't ready after all!

Those thoughts rampaged around her brain as she gulped down her meal, though none of them showed outwardly. She merely nodded along to Mother's ramblings about how Marvella had been Father's gift to her— and all the ways in which she could return the favor. It was nothing she hadn't heard before.

Breakfast came to an end far too soon. With the gait of a woman walking toward the guillotine, Marvella made her way to her room to pack. She couldn't bring her entire personalized library, but every book left behind felt like a lost keepsake. Most of the hour was spent agonizingly selecting which to bring with her, and she still wasn't certain of her choices when she slunk over to the front door where Mother was waiting.

Even so, time was up. Zephia ruffled Marvella's hair— the most affection she ever showed her child— and they stepped outside into the wilderness. They were fortunate that the weather was mild for the season. Undoubtedly frigid, but the winds were calm enough for Marvella to maintain a simple Elfire spell that kept them warm. With that, and the sun shining bright above, they had no trouble making their way down the mountain.

And toward their destinies.

---

Mother insisted they head straight for a Fell Dragon church.

Marvella should have figured as much. It wasn't like they were welcome anywhere else. Still, she had to withhold her sigh as they pushed open ornate wooden doors and stepped into the gloomy vestibule. She could see the main church hall beyond, where Fell Dragon worshippers were gathered not for worship, but for survival.

Huddled up in blankets, the old sharing their meals with the young, not even flinching at the rattling cough that sounded nearby— These people were victims of war and famine, left forgotten by the rest of the world.

"The lead priest here will be all too happy to update us on the current state of the world," Mother remarked, glancing back at Marvella with narrowed eyes. "He will be curious about you. Do not give him what he wants. I'll handle most of the talking."

"Yes, Mother," Marvella agreed, keeping her head low and her bright hair concealed under her hood. Please don't let anyone come up to us.

Whatever god she could possibly pray to did not heed her wishes. They only made it halfway down the isles— toward the balding man wearing black and gold robes at the front of the room— when someone stepped between her and Mother. A scrangly boy with a rat's nest of green hair and a crazed look in his sunset-colored eyes— which darted to and fro even as they looked over Marvella like a particularly juicy piece of meat.

Marvella stiffened under his gaze, her left hand hovering over the magic tome hidden under her robe. She assessed the boy for any weaknesses and noted dozens of scars— raw and fresh alike— littering his arms. Those weren't the type of wounds one received in combat. They were the sort haphazardly applied to oneself within their own secluded corner of the world.

"Well, what do we have here?" the kids drawled. He couldn't be any older than 13, yet he moved with the stride of a practiced killer. "You're no ordinary refugee. There's something sinister about you."

Risking a glance toward her mother, Marvella only saw her smile and give a slight nod to the boy. Did she want Marvella to handle this herself?

Fine. Then she'd better not get angry if Marvella scared the brat off. "I'm no one important," she grunted with a glower his way. "Step aside."

The kid had the gall to laugh. "You say you're nobody, but think you can order me around? You must be crazy as me, lady."

Oh fuck you! "Do you want to get burnt?" she asked while curling her free hand. The boy didn't even flinch, gaining a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"That would be exquisite!" Saying as much, he brandished a knife from who knew where and raised it in a clumsy stance. "Show me some real pain, woman!"

He lunged, and Marvella… sighed. She didn't actually want to hurt the kid. His jab wasn't terrible, but his young and hungry frame betrayed him. Marvella had no trouble dodging the blow and kicking his legs out from under him, sending him down in a sprawling heap before any real combat could begin.

Not that it stopped people from watching. They weren't even trying to hide their interest, leaning forward to get better viewpoints while murmuring excitedly amongst themselves. Seriously, what was wrong with these people!?

The boy was already picking himself up to try again, but Marvella kicked him back down and put her foot on his back to keep him from moving. "Give it up. You've got a long way to go before you can touch me, kid."

He looked unperturbed over his defeat, simply laughing from his position on the floor. "Not bad! I could learn a thing or two from you."

"I'm not interested in tutoring." Marvella intended for that to be the end of it. She checked to make sure her hood was firmly in place and took her foot off the boy, ready to walk over to the lead priest who had silently observed the entire scene with a frown. Mother, however, had different ideas— putting a hand on Marvella's arm to stop her.

"Why not?" Zephia asked with a smirk that made chills run down Marvella's spine. "The boy clearly has potential, and teaching him may provide you with valuable experience as well."

"Mom, you can't be serious." Mavella stared at her with wide eyes, briefly forgetting where and who they were. "There's clearly something wrong with this kid!"

"Aw, thanks," the boy himself chuckled, now sitting on the ground with his knees up. He wouldn't even stand up to face them!

"You'll make it work." So Mother said, waving her hand as though that were the end of it. "You, boy, what's your name?"

"Griss," he said.

Mother nodded. "Well, Griss, wait right here. We'll fetch you on our way out."

He only grinned and leaned back against the pews. "Looking forward to it."

Seriously? Marvella just barely managed to keep her groan internal. What is my life turning into!?

Her only option was to follow Zephia's whim. Still, if she expected Marvella to get along with the brat, then she'd be thoroughly disappointed.

---

"That's Ragnarok mastered. You've perfected four high-level spells in just as many years, Griss. I've gotta say, I'm proud to be your teacher."

…Okay, yes, Marvella was the one speaking, having long since gone back on her promise not to get close with the human boy Zephia had taken in. She hadn't known he would be so into magic! He'd taken to learning with a zeal Marvella had only seen in herself, and it hadn't been long before they were chatting the hours away about the intricacies of magic. Despite his often baffling behavior, Griss was smarter than most gave him credit for.

Plus, while he tried to hide it, Marvella's praise often made the now-teenager light up. He tried to deflect with a chuckle, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Oh, please, this stuff's easy. Throw an enemy at me and I'll happily light 'em up!"

He would. Inflicting pain on others was Griss' second favorite hobby, followed only by running headlong into pain himself. The first impression one would get from the blood-red tattoos on his face and exposed torso were never far off from the truth.

Though used to this behavior by now, Marvella let out a suffering sigh. "How about you focus on honing your wind magic instead? Excalibur won't be an easy spell to conquer."

To demonstrate, she pointed her hand at a nearby snowbank, calling magic to her fingertips. Sharp gales zipped through skin without ripping it apart, then burst into existence around the powdery slope. The entire structure sprayed outward in all directions, flakes of snow traveling dozens of meters out from the sheer force pushing them onward.

There were better targets to show off the spell's might against, but unfortunately none that weren't property of Destinea Cathedral. The temple built like a fortress loomed behind them— her home for almost half a decade now. She still wasn't sure whether she liked it.

The snow out here was serviceable enough to practice on, based on Griss' whistle. "Impressive," he said. "Was all that power really the spell? Sure you're not drawing extra energy from somewhere, like those fancy earrings of yours?"

Marvella brought a hand up to one of the objects in question— a gold loop hanging from her earlobe. "They are magical," she admitted, "but not in the way you're thinking. These are magic artifacts I designed— they're storage containers of sorts. For my memories."

Griss blinked. "Oh?"

"I'm a thousand years old," Marvella reminded him. "There are certain memories I don't want slipping through the cracks. These will allow me to hold onto them, no matter what."

Even if some are more painful to keep than others, she thought with a wince. Whoever said time healed all wounds was a liar. Marvella knew certain scars would stick with her all her life.

So be it. Perhaps that was her recompense for what she would soon do to this world.

"I think I get it," Griss said. "If I could relieve certain agonies over and over again, I'd do so in a heartbeat."

"…Sure, let's go with that."

They may have chatted for longer, but at that moment a familiar pair came out of the cathedral's entrance. The sight of one particular man walking alongside her mother nearly brought a grimace to Marvella's face. Though she knew only a handful of humans, she was confident in saying that King Hyacinth of Elusia was among the lowest common denominators.

The man had seemed competent at first— being at the head of a den of snakes. Yet he was little more than the object that vipers competed over— a pawn to be used in Father's schemes. Mother had gotten him eating out of the palm of her hand in no time, which was how they'd found residence in Destinea Cathedral to begin with. Now, like Zephia herself, all he cared about was seeing Lord Sombron's revival.

Still, they had to play nice, so Marvella forced a smile as the pair approached. "King Hyacinth. I hope you are doing well." She would not bow. She was still his superior.

"Lady Marvella," he greeted. He did not bow either, though Marvella suspected his head was simply too far up his ass for him to do so for anyone. "I trust you've been doing well?"

Marvella opened her mouth to reply, only for Zephia to speak over her. "Lord Hyacinth and I were just discussing some upcoming sermons for the Fell Dragon sects."

Oh, great, more standing around and letting the humans stare at her while whispering amongst themselves. That particular unpleasantness had returned not long after their arrival in Elusia, and no matter how much Mother insisted it kindled the people's faith in the Fell Dragon, Marvella would never find any joy out of the experience.

No doubt reading her thoughts, Zephia smirked and continued. "The crown princess, Ivy, is turning 10 this week. From this point on, she'll be expected to attend the sermons. Keep an eye on her for us, would you, Marvel? Apparently the girl has a bit of a rebellious streak."

A rebellious streak? Marvella eyed Hyacinth in confusion, knowing full well the crown princess was his daughter. He should have beaten any serious resistance out of her by now. Or perhaps he was more incompetent than she thought.

Not my concern. If the king wanted his daughter to run around unchecked, that was his prerogative. All Mother had asked her to do was keep an eye on the kid when she went to church. That was easy enough, and Marvella agreed readily.

"Sure. How much trouble can one girl cause?"