The old woman and Valensia continued reading the book.

            "Worried about Bellona and what she might do with Janvier's power, the leaders of the  Center decided to send them to a weak clan.
            After several weeks of walking, the group—composed of Bellona, Janvier, five warriors, and one mage—finally reached the village.
            Bellona marched in first, entering the village as if it already belonged to her.
            Without hesitation, she proclaimed herself Chief of the clan.
            A murmur of protest erupted in the crowd.
            A female warrior, about ten years older than her, stepped forward.

            — “You think you can just walk in and seize power like it’s yours? You’re nothing. We elders are far more legitimate than you.”
            — “A challenge? Let’s have some fun then,” Bellona replied.

            The combat began. The entire village cheered for the older warrior, who clearly dominated  the fight.
            Bellona, overwhelmed, barely parried, struggling to hold her ground.
            Then, with a swift strike, the warrior severed Bellona’s arm.
            It hit the ground with a thud. Blood spurted. Bellona fell to her knees, gasping… and then began to laugh.

            — “Hahahahahaha!”

            A chill swept through the crowd. The warrior hesitated.
            Bellona raised her head, smiling—an insolent smile.

            — “Janvier…” she said.

            The sorceress stepped forward. Her body began to glow. She started an incantation.
            In almost religious silence, she danced—guided by a melody no one else could hear.
            Light swirled around her…
            Before the stunned crowd, Bellona’s arm regrew.
            No one spoke. Even the wind seemed to have stopped.
            Bellona rose to her feet.

            — “Good. Now that the introduction’s done… Shall we begin the real fight?” said Bellona.

            Her gaze shone with icy intensity.
            She rushed forward with blinding speed.
            The older warrior tried to defend herself—without success.
            In a few swift exchanges, it was clear: Bellona was on another level.
            The final blow was merciless—a clean strike to the throat.
            The warrior collapsed.

            A scream of terror rang out.
            A young woman rushed to the lifeless body, eyes brimming with tears.
            Around her, the villagers fell to their knees one by one.
            Bellona had won. No one contested it.

            No one… except the one who was crying.
            Kneeling, shaking, her tears fell as she cradled the body of the one she loved.
            Her heart screamed. Her fists trembled.
            She wanted to fight. To scream. To rebel.
            But reality hit her, cruel and absolute: she didn’t have the strength.
            She wasn’t strong enough.
            So, her eyes filled with rage and sorrow, she bowed her head.
            And submitted. Bitterly.

            — “Good. Everyone agrees, then. Show me my quarters.”

            A local woman stepped forward to guide her.
            Bellona turned slightly and glanced at Janvier.
            With a subtle nod, she indicated the warrior’s body.

            — “Janvier…”

            The magician understood.
            She rose slowly, lifted by an invisible force.
            Her silhouette floated, surrounded by a supernatural glow.
            With graceful precision, she danced—slowly, fluidly, like a vision from another world.
            With each movement, filaments of green light appeared, twinkling like spring fireflies.
            The crowd held its breath.
            Magic stirred. It swirled. It pulsed gently… and flowed into the fallen body.
            The wound glowed—
            And before the villagers’ wide eyes, it closed.
            The warrior opened her eyes.

            A sacred silence fell.
            That day, everyone understood:
            She was not simply a magician.
            She was the impossible made real.

Valensia's eyes were shining. She barely blinked, as if afraid the image of the magician might vanish if she looked away. Her hand hovered gently above the page, not quite touching it—afraid, perhaps, to break the spell of the moment.

"Is everything all right, Valensia?" the old woman asked softly.

Valensia seemed to come back to herself—just barely.
"She... she's magnificent." she murmured, almost under her breath.

There was an emotion in her voice difficult to define—admiration, wonder, and perhaps something even deeper.
The old woman was moved by her sincerity.

"It's true," she said.

"Is it really possible to bring people back to life?" Valensia asked, almost incredulous.

"I think it’s more subtle than that," the old woman replied. "From what I’ve read, she couldn’t revive those who died of illness or old age. Only those killed in battle—and even then, only within a very short time. But yes… it’s an incredible power."

Valensia remained silent, her eyes locked on the image.
"She is… incredible."

Her gaze sparkled—not only with fascination, but with something deeper. In that moment, she had found an echo.
A vision to dream of.
A figure to aspire to.

The old woman said nothing, letting the silence settle gently.
Valensia wasn’t simply looking at an illustration in an old book—
She was staring at an ideal.

"What happened next?" she finally asked, her voice low but eager.

The reading continued.

            « Little by little, the clan fought battles and grew stronger with every victory.
            Thanks to Janvier’s power, the bodies of fallen enemies were brought back to life—to serve their former adversary.
            And so, year after year, their army swelled into a force beyond measure.

            Bellona expanded her lineage. All her children were born with the same bloodthirsty fury, fearsome warriors from a young age. Was there something in her blood that carried such   violent power?
            Sooner or later, the whole family was reunited.

            As she aged, Bellona continued to exploit Janvier. She even used her magic not only to heal —but to annihilate entire enemy divisions.
            For Janvier, who disliked fighting, also possessed the power to destroy.
            She, who once danced to revive the fallen, was now forced to kill.

            Years passed. And one day, Bellona noticed something:
            Janvier wasn’t aging.
            Her appearance remained that of a young woman—ageless, untouched by time.

            Bellona understood: it was thanks to Janvier’s own magical power.
            Enraged by the passage of time marking her own body, she demanded that Janvier preserve her youth as well.

            But Janvier explained: this gift could not be transferred.
            It was hers alone.
            Bellona flew into a rage.

            And thus began long years of suffering.
            Years of abuse, and torment, and silence.

            Imprisoned, Janvier endured unbearable physical violence.
            She was not allowed to react.
            The vow still held . »

The old woman stopped her reading and saw that tears were streaming down Valensia's face.
All this violence—it wasn’t easy to hear for a child like her.

“Shall we stop for now?” asked the old woman, worried.
“She must have suffered so much...” Valensia whispered, pained.
“What a monster! I really hate her!” she cried, her eyes full of rage.

Outraged, Valensia let her fury explode, pouring out a stream of insults against Bellona for several minutes.
“Calm down, Valensia. I'm not supposed to be showing you this book. If anyone finds out, I won’t be able to help you anymore...”

She barely managed to contain her anger and asked to continue the reading.

            « Janvier only left the prison when Bellona summoned her, especially during battles.
            Decades passed. One day, during a confrontation, Bellona collapsed and was urgently  brought back to her quarters.
            Janvier was called. They demanded she heal her — she wasn’t allowed to let her die.
            But Janvier could do nothing. Bellona’s body was simply exhausted; she wasn’t wounded. After all those violent years, her time had come — a natural death.

            In her final breath, Bellona was as vile to Janvier as ever.

            Her family then ordered Janvier to heal the army, which had been badly weakened by the battle.
            The fight was against a clan with powerful forces. The defense was barely holding on.

            But after all those years of pain and servitude, Janvier could finally choose her path.

            “Bellona is dead. My contract ends here,” she said calmly.
            “You think you can just abandon everyone? They all have families! You're letting them die!”  shouted one of Bellona’s daughters, furious.

            This clan had brought her nothing but pain. It meant nothing to her now. She gave no  answer.

            “Goodbye.”

            “If we have to force you—!”

            The family tried to stop her. But with a simple gesture of her hand, she pushed them all away.
            She opened the window... and flew.

            The battlefield, the village — everything was burning.
            Hearing the cries of suffering in the distance, she fled... without looking back.

            No one ever saw the sorceress again.
            Some called her the traitor. »

Valensia was revolted.
“They were just a bunch of savages! They ruined her life!!”
She was still crying.

“If I had been there, I would have protected her!”
“Ah... innocence,” thought the old woman.

“Reading time’s not over, Valensia. Try to calm down. All of this... it’s in the past. You don’t need to torture yourself over something so long ago.”
“If she were still alive... I... I...”
“What would you do?”
“I’d do everything for her. So she’d never have to fight again! I would fight for her!”

“Really? You hate fighting. You’ve been beaten for years because you refuse to fight... and now this?”
Silence.
“Then I’ll become stronger! I’ll train hard, become number one... so I can make a wish!”

Despite appearances, the old woman was convinced that Valensia had the strength. After all...

She smiled and added, mysteriously:
“Well, the books say no one ever saw her again... but maybe that’s wrong. We have to remember — her magic was strong and mysterious. Maybe... maybe people just didn’t recognize her?”

Valensia’s eyes lit up.

Filled with determination, she decided that day to train — to become the greatest warrior of all time... and to find the magician.
To protect her.

She couldn’t take her eyes off Janvier’s image — fascinated by her presence, by her strange blend of strength and gentleness.

Valensia asked if there were other books about her.
The old woman pointed out a few titles... but warned her: some were darker.
Stories where meeting this sorceress on the battlefield meant terror.

Like facing a god of death.