Several years had passed since she read the famous book about the magician Janvier.

Valensia was now fourteen years old. Since then, she had continued to read everything she could find about this mysterious figure.

Her progress in combat was notable, but she still lacked something — an inner fire, a true driving force.

That day, she was immersed in a dry document on the art of assassination — a subject that, despite her efforts, held no passion for her. Then, a trainer appeared.

“You are summoned to the infirmary.”

Surprised, she didn’t know anyone there. But curious, she went.

She was invited to enter a room.

She stopped. She saw the old woman lying on her bed—emaciated, short of breath. Dying.

"You came…” the woman said with a fragile breath.

"You’ve grown a lot. Is your training going better?"

"I’ve made some progress. Are you going to die?"

Valensia was direct. Unable to lie or sugarcoat her thoughts.

A faint smile appeared on the old woman’s lips.

"Yes… I don’t have much time left. I just wanted to see you, one last time. I was remembering when I told you about the legendary magician…"

She immediately noticed the light shining in Valensia’s eyes, just at the mention of her name.

“Oh, I’ve read so much more since then!” Valensia answered proudly.

The old woman was relieved that Valensia still felt the same way about the magician.

Maybe it was time… to share her most important secret.

"I’m going to tell you… one last story. Would you like that?"

Valensia nodded quickly, intrigued.

“Once upon a time… there was a woman named Mélissandre.

She lived in a coastal clan, peaceful, focused on fishing and trade. Everything there was gentle, full of harmony.

One day, Mélissandre discovered she was pregnant.

It was a shock. Like some others, she refused to send her child to the Center. Some children never came back.

She couldn’t accept that. So with her husband, they made a decision: hide the pregnancy.

She remained cloistered at home for nine months.

But the pregnancy was difficult and painful. Her worried husband looked for ways to relieve her suffering.

That’s when he heard about an old woman—a mysterious herbalist—who prepared special potions.

He finally found her. She agreed to help, but under one condition: she must deliver the potion herself and examine the patient.

The man hesitated… then gave in.

When she entered the dark cave, she found Mélissandre suffering terribly.

Without a word, she approached, made her drink an odorless, colorless potion, and placed her hands on her stomach to examine her.

Within minutes, the pain was gone.

The relieved couple thanked her. They called on her several times—even for the birth. A beautiful baby girl was born.

Little by little, a friendship grew. The old woman remained discreet about her past. All that was known was that she wasn’t from the clan. She, too, was fleeing the war.”

Valensia listened quietly. She didn’t yet understand what the story meant.

“The little girl grew up… always locked inside. She knew nothing but the walls of her house.

One day, while her mother was cooking, she wasn’t watching her daughter. Just a few seconds.
That was all it took.

The girl slipped outside. She had wanted it so badly.

But those seconds were too many.

People saw her and alerted the clan chief.
The girl was taken from her family and sent to the Mathesia Center.

Their punishment? No violence. No prison.

Only… the punishment of never seeing their daughter again.

A silent, irreversible sentence.”

The old woman was crying.

Valensia whispered, her throat tight:
“The little girl… that was you?”

“Yes…” she said breathlessly. “But the story isn’t over yet…”

"My mother used to tell me a lot of stories about a wonderful witch.

She said the witch helped people, healed them without asking for anything in return. But one day… my mother took advantage of her kindness—and regretted it for the rest of her life, because she never had the chance to apologize.

During her pregnancy, Mélissandre faked unbearable pain.
She pretended to drink the potion… but in truth, she discreetly spat it out to analyze it.

She and my father wanted to uncover its secret.”

Valensia leaned forward, fascinated. She was eager to know.
What was in the potion?

“It was… water.
Nothing else. Pure water.”

Valensia froze. Speechless.

“It wasn’t the potion that worked—it was her hands. Her magic.
Thanks to her power, my mother was able to give birth without any problems.
Thanks to her… I was born.”

Valensia whispered:
“She was… the legendary magician?”

The old woman nodded.
“My mother was certain of it.”

Valensia’s heart was pounding. Deep inside, she knew—this story was going to change everything.

“My mother and the sorceress used to talk often.
The witch asked her if she knew of a place without war. A quiet place.”

There was no such place, strictly speaking, but there were a few corners of the world that were slightly more peaceful.
My mother mentioned three: the Brandium clan, the Frantium clan, and the Shantium clan.

A few days later… the sorceress vanished.”

Valensia clenched her fists. She needed more. She needed the rest of the story.
A chill ran down her spine.
Suddenly… books weren’t enough.

She wanted to search. She wanted to know.

The old woman continued, her voice growing weaker:

“I did some research… The first two clans were destroyed.
Only one remains… Shantium.”

A glint flashed in Valensia’s eyes.

“So… that means… she could be there?”

In that moment, the old woman understood: Valensia had just found the motivation she needed to fulfill her dream.

She asked her to let her rest a little.
Valensia thanked her warmly, smiling.
The old woman, happy to see such joy in Valensia’s eyes, closed hers—
and slept.

Forever.”