Ch 18: Gaia's Childrens & A Fractured Trio
In the following weeks, Cateleya’s lessons deepened. She spoke of the Great Council of Mages and Saints that existed a hundred years ago—a gathering of the most powerful beings in the continent, who once united to seal the chaos that nearly destroyed humanity.
As she mentioned it, Isla, Sylveria, and Isao sat frozen, their eyes wide in disbelief.
“Wait… so you’re saying you were part of that council?” Sylveria asked, astonished.
Cateleya smiled modestly. “Yes, I was. I was the leader and represented the will of the gods.”
There was a beat of silence before Isla, in her usual blunt tone, tilted her head. “So… are you an old hag then?”
The entire classroom went dead silent.
Cateleya’s smile twitched. Her holy aura flared faintly as she took a very long, deep breath. She appreciated Isla’s familiarity—truly, she did. Isla had grown attached to her, even copying her white robes out of admiration. But being called an old hag by the same child who idolized her? That tested the patience of even a saint.
“...I am blessed by the gods, Isla,” Cateleya said sweetly, though her voice trembled just enough to make Isao and Sylveria scoot their chairs back in alarm. “That means I don’t age. My body is eternal, untouched by time. The same goes for your masters—our lifespans are far longer than normal humans.”
“Ohhh…” Isla nodded slowly, entirely unaware of the danger. “So you’re an immortal hag. Got it.”
Cateleya’s smile froze. Her hand twitched toward her staff.
Sylveria whispered to Isao, “She’s going to explode.”
Isao whispered back, “We should probably pray.”
But instead of scolding, Cateleya let out a long sigh and patted Isla’s head with a smile that was both loving and terrifyingly calm. “Yes, dear. A very beautiful immortal hag. Remember that.”
Isao giggled nervously. “Wow… that’s amazing, Lady Cateleya!”
Sylveria nodded. “To live that long and still look so youthful… that’s incredible.”
“Indeed,” Cateleya said with serene grace, though her tone carried the faintest hint of a threat. “Some people appreciate my beauty more than others.”
Isla blinked, confused. “Huh? Did I say something wrong again?”
Cateleya smiled wider. “Not yet, my child. Not yet.”
The discussion slowly shifted, the tone in the room becoming more somber as Lady Cateleya’s expression softened.
“Now then…” she began quietly, her eyes reflecting faint traces of old sorrow. “You three should also know why the Great Council was dissolved.”
Isao tilted her head, curious. “Was it… disbanded peacefully?”
Cateleya chuckled faintly, though it carried no warmth. “If only it were that simple, dear.”
She clasped her hands together, her gaze distant as if recalling something painful. “The council—once formed to protect humanity—was consumed by greed. Many of its members desired the same thing: Ardisia’s creations.”
“Ardisia?” Sylveria repeated. “The Great Magus Ardisia, the one from the legends?”
“Yes.” Cateleya nodded. “Ardisia was one of the greatest minds in history. A Magus whose genius could rival the gods themselves. He created the Spirit Weapons—weapons forged not from metal, but from souls.”
Isao blinked in disbelief. “Souls? As in... people’s souls?”
“Human, demi-human, beastfolk, even divine spirits,” Cateleya confirmed gravely. “He believed that by binding souls to weapons, he could create living tools capable of fighting the gods on equal footing. His intention was pure—to protect humanity from extinction. But…” She closed her eyes briefly. “The council did not see it that way.”
Sylveria frowned. “They wanted his creations for themselves.”
“Exactly.” Cateleya’s voice was laced with quiet bitterness. “They accused him of heresy, of violating divine law, and used it as an excuse to seize his work. When Ardisia refused to hand them over, they exiled him from the council.”
“What happened next?” Isla asked, her tone flat yet somehow heavy with curiosity.
“Ardisia… foresaw it,” Cateleya said softly. “Before he was betrayed, he set a failsafe into motion. Using a hidden portal deep within his kingdom—built through lost technology even the council couldn’t comprehend—he scattered all his spirit weapons across other continents, far beyond anyone’s reach.”
Isao’s mouth dropped. “He hid them… all of them?”
“Threw is the right word. And then…” Cateleya paused. Her voice wavered ever so slightly. “He unleashed a black fog across his kingdom—a curse that killed every council member within his borders… along with his own people.”
Sylveria’s hands trembled slightly. “He… killed himself too, didn’t he?”
Cateleya nodded. “He did. Ardisia perished with his kingdom. When the fog cleared, the entire nation of Ardisia was gone. Erased from existence. As if it had never been there at all.”
Silence filled the room. Even Isla, who often seemed detached, lowered her gaze.
Cateleya looked down at her clasped hands. “After that, chaos followed. Without Ardisia, without the council’s balance, the united kingdoms began to fracture. Greed spread faster than faith. Empires that once stood shoulder to shoulder turned their blades against each other. Aethalgard opposed it… I opposed it… but my voice was too small.”
Her tone grew faint, almost a whisper. “We lost almost all of the council’s members that day. Humanity’s strength crumbled. The kingdoms that resisted the evil gods fell one after another…”
She stopped there. Her voice caught in her throat as she forced a faint, reassuring smile. “That is enough history for today.”
But the truth lingered in her eyes—
a truth she dared not speak aloud:
Aethalgard was the last bastion of humanity.
And even now, despite all her saints and soldiers,
it was beginning to fall apart.
“Wait, Lady Cateleya, just one question!” Sylveria said suddenly, raising her hand with the confidence of a princess. “L–Lady Accla told me that I’m destined to save the continent—and that we are the last hope of humanity!” she added proudly, as if already wearing a crown of heroism.
“WHAT!?” Isao nearly fell off her chair. “Save the continent!? Last hope of humanity!? My sister never said anything like that!”
Isla remained quiet, her silver eyes half-lidded. She leaned her chin on her hand, her expression indifferent. “...” In truth, she didn’t care about any of that—she only wanted to perfect her swordsmanship.
Cateleya, however, groaned softly, massaging her temples. “That woman…” she muttered under her breath. “I told Accla not to say anything until you three were ready.”
She sighed deeply, then looked at the trio with weary eyes. “Very well. I suppose I have no choice but to tell you the truth.”
The air in the room grew heavy as her tone softened, carrying both warmth and sorrow.
“When the Council vanished, despair spread across every land. Even Aethalgard—this holy citadel—was not spared. I prayed, begged, cried to the spirits of the good gods for guidance.” Her voice trembled as she clasped her hands together. “But even they were silent… filled with despair. It was as if the heavens themselves had lost hope.”
Isao frowned. “That sounds… awful.”
“It was,” Cateleya said softly. “Even the World Tree, Yggdrasil, which once stood as a bridge between the divine and mortal realms, burned to ashes. What remains of it now is but a hollow shell—its branches no longer reaching the sky.”
Sylveria lowered her gaze, the pride fading from her face. Isla’s eyes flickered briefly, though she said nothing.
“But,” Cateleya continued, “when the last light of hope seemed gone, a prophet appeared. He came to the gods themselves, bringing a prophecy—a promise.”
She stood, her pure white robe glowing faintly with divine light. “He spoke of three souls—born from the tear of the continent that wept in despair. Three children who would one day carry the will of Gaia herself.”
“Gaia’s… children?” Sylveria repeated, her voice quiet but filled with awe.
Cateleya nodded slowly. “Yes. The prophecy called them Gaia’s Children. Born under different stars and skies, raised by different hands, but bound by fate. Their strength, their hearts, and their paths will decide whether this continent—no, this world—will be reborn… or finally fall into the abyss.”
The room fell silent. Even Isla, for once, looked slightly interested.
Then Isao raised her hand timidly. “…Sooo, wait. You’re saying that we’re those three souls?”
Cateleya smiled softly, her eyes full of mystery. “Yes, Isao. You, Sylveria, and Isla. The three of you are Gaia’s Children—the prophesied ones.”
Sylveria blinked, her lips parting slightly. “We’re… destined?”
Isla tilted her head. “Destiny or not, I’ll still train.”
Cateleya chuckled, shaking her head with amusement. “Yes, Isla… that’s exactly the spirit you’ll need.”
Her smile faded just slightly, her tone becoming solemn again. “Remember, all three of you—prophecy or not—your choices will shape the future. Whether you walk as saints, heroes, or something far beyond… that is up to you.”
The trio became silent, contemplating Cateleya's words.
During one of their day off,
Isao and Sylveria, walking from opposite directions down the marble path, met halfway near the newly, almost, repaired training grounds. The sound of wood clashing against metal echoed in the distance—sharp, steady, rhythmic.
They turned toward the noise and saw Isla relentlessly striking a wooden dummy clad in armor, her movements precise and efficient. Sweat clung to her white hair, but her face remained emotionless, her strikes sharp enough to dent the armor.
“Hey, Isla!” Isao called cheerfully, waving as she approached with Sylveria. “No class today! Why are you not resting?”
“Indeed,” Sylveria said, crossing her arms, her tone calm but distant. “Rest is good for the mind after so much studying with Lady Cateleya.”
“Tch. Pinky and Blue Blue again,” Isla muttered, not even glancing at them as she swung her sword again with a clean, loud clang!
Sylveria’s brow twitched. “Ugh, even now you’re insufferable. We are being kind and considerate, you know?”
“I never said I need such concern,” Isla replied coldly, turning slightly to meet Sylveria’s gaze with a flat, unreadable stare.
“What’s with that look, you damn commoner?” Sylveria snapped, taking a step forward, her pride flaring.
“Aha… haha…” Isao laughed awkwardly, holding her hands up as if to calm them. “Now now, Sylvie, we know how blunt Isla is. Let’s just, uh, give her spac—”
“Can you shut up!?” Sylveria’s voice suddenly rose, cutting Isao off. Her eyes burned with irritation. “You are a princess like me, Isao, but you are so immature! ANNOYING! You keep chatting and chatting, making small talk about flowers and ribbons and tea! For goodness’ sake, can’t you be quiet even for one minute!?”
Isao froze, her smile fading.
“I’m not interested in girly gossip, hair accessories, or frilly dresses!” Sylveria continued, her voice trembling between anger and exasperation. “We are here to train—to become stronger! Not to attend a royal ball! Didn’t your etiquette teachers teach you when to shut your mouth!?”
Her words hit hard. Isao stood there, her lips parting slightly, her eyes shimmering. Then she lowered her head. “I… I just wanted to talk,” she whispered.
Sylveria clicked her tongue, turning away sharply and storming off, her boots echoing against the stone. “Unbelievable.”
“Tsk. You heard her, Pinky,” Isla said coldly, giving a sideways glance before resuming her training. “Get lost.”
Isao’s throat tightened. She turned and ran off, tears slipping down her cheeks, her footsteps fading into the distance.
“Finally,” Isla muttered under her breath, exhaling. Her expression returned to its blank calm as she raised her sword again and swung—each strike faster and sharper than before.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of her blade filled the empty training field, drowning out everything else.
