Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 97

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 97.
Blood That Does Not Fade (10)
Daphnen shook his head.
“No, I’m accustomed to camping, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
The moment he stepped outside and reached for the door, her voice called out again.
“Then leave it open.”
Following Isolet’s instruction, I left the door ajar and made my way around the back of the house. A few of the lights Isolet had conjured drifted after me, illuminating the ground beneath my feet.
Behind the rear wall, something resembling an old handcart lay embedded in the earth, one wheel conspicuously missing. Blue grass sprouted between the ash-grey handles.
I settled beside it. The summer night’s soil and air were warm.
The wooden wall, smoothed by a craftsman’s careful hand, remained sleek enough to rest my back against. When I tilted my head upward, stars hung suspended from the eaves that sloped at an angle.
Such a small house—seventeen years ago, a golden-haired girl was born within these walls, and her mother closed her eyes for the last time here.
The stars grew progressively brighter, shining with a blue radiance far more luminous than those of my homeland, gleaming in shades of gold and tangerine.
“Sigh…”
For the first time in ages, peace settled over my heart.
I recalled what Spirit Boy Endymion had once told me. When I asked if the world of the dead was peaceful, he replied that it was far more tedious than I imagined.
Did everyone, upon death, spend their existence merely observing the living, trapped in a monotonous existence? But then again, wasn’t it strange to speak of the dead as “living” at all?
Endymion’s words echoed in my mind—the eternal sleep of an eternal night. How desperately I had longed for it during those days of flight across Trabaches Land and Anomarad Land.
I desired nothing else. Only to rest, to be left undisturbed, to exist alone.
Yet now, though few in number, good people had gathered around me. Tedium, tedium… When had I begun to fear such a thing? What was boredom compared to death or being used? It was far preferable to either.
But now, I did not wish to be bored.
I looked down at my hands. The absence of Winterer within immediate reach felt strange.
When Priestess Despoina first asked me to entrust the blade to her care, I had been flustered and instinctively refused. Yet ultimately, I relented at her words and handed over the sword.
Even after making that decision, I harbored doubts about whether I could truly manage the unease of being without the blade.
But now it was different. Certainly, the promise to return it soon played a part, but there was something more—something else entirely.
Perhaps Winterer had been a counterweight of sorts, keeping me true to myself.
Yet there was an inaccuracy in that notion of “being true to myself.” It was not a self I had chosen, but rather one imposed by circumstance.
During the harsh journey I undertook to survive, I had become this way without conscious thought, leaving no room to judge whether such a state was right or wrong.
The fact that what I felt upon losing the counterweight was emptiness rather than anxiety only confirmed this truth.
But now, somehow, it felt different.
Something else seemed to be filling the weight that Winterer had pressed upon my heart.
So that even with the counterweight temporarily absent, I would not feel hollow—instead, I would feel free.
Had that blade been a form of responsibility to me? Compensation for the helplessness of my past?
“Daphnen.”
A voice came from behind, startling me. At the rustling sound of movement, the voice spoke again.
“So you were here after all.”
It was Isolet. Now I realized her bed must have been positioned directly against this very wall.
A round orb of light fluttered toward me like a mischievous sprite, illuminating my cheek.
Then it drifted toward the wall. Following it with my eyes, I noticed a hole large enough for a fist to pass through.
The light slipped inside, and a small gasp of delight echoed from within.
“Ah, this hole—it’s still here.”
There was something about that voice that warmed my heart.
“What kind of hole is this?”
Isolet’s voice too carried a vitality it hadn’t possessed when we were facing each other.
“When I was very young, I used to come here with Father every summer. This is Father’s and my Summer Villa. Yes, you could say we were on a trip, but Father would force me to sleep early despite my excitement. The starry nights in this place are so beautiful.”
A breath as soft as a feather mingled with the words.
“I was so stubborn that I refused to listen, so I drilled a hole in the wall to see the night sky. Eventually I was caught and scolded for it. Hehe….”
“You were quite willful.”
Saying so, Daphnen laughed along with her. The starlight seemed to tremble with the sound of laughter.
“That wasn’t the end of it. Father plugged the hole with a bundle of wool, but I would often pull it out and drop white seashells outside. I kept hoping Father would discover them one day. My hopes weren’t disappointed—when Father found the seashells gathered there, he placed a beautiful pinecone inside the hole for me.”
I had never heard Isolet’s voice sound so beautiful. She exhaled softly and spoke.
“I woke up and discovered it, and I was truly delighted.”
Daphnen gazed down below the hole, to where the seashells must have been.
As if sensing his heart, a single bell-like light descended and illuminated that spot. Of course, there was nothing there. Not even a trace of anything that had been.
Yet he extended his hand and placed it there. As if to catch seashells that would soon fall.
“Where did the seashells come from?”
“The Sea. That place we went to. Below that Cliff, there’s a very small White Sand Beach. Really tiny. Too narrow even for ten children to play in. But it was a playground for only one. Father discovered it and gave it to me as a gift—from that seaside meant for one little girl, I gathered the seashells.”
Suddenly, the sound of waves seemed to echo in my ears—an auditory hallucination. A white sandy beach.
A young girl and her father walked slowly, occasionally bending at the waist to pick something up. Isolet’s father, whom I had never seen before, had fine golden hair just like his daughter.
“The White Sand Beach—I want to see it. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
A shallow cough sounded, then came the answer.
“I don’t want to show it to you now.”
“I see….”
Daphnen lifted his head and looked up at the sky again. A meteor traced a brief golden line between the stars and vanished. A star whose life had ended fell, yet golden stars still glimmered brilliantly.
“What kind of man was your father?”
Isolet didn’t usually ask so directly. But today she had done so several times.
“I envy you. I have no good memories with my father at all. He didn’t love me.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t because I did something wrong. And it wasn’t because Father was a bad person either.”
My father, Yulken Jineman, simply lived faithfully to his own cause—creating the optimal conditions for survival. He had to protect the household and preserve its heirlooms.
To his eyes, worn by suffering at the hands of his hostile younger brother, Boris—who would become the second son and the “younger brother” of the household head—could only appear as Yefnen’s burden and a potential threat.
“So your Elder Brother loved you in Father’s stead.”
The moment I heard those words, the boy felt sudden tears welling up for the first time in a long while.
I thought I had forcibly swallowed them, but sensing something odd, Isolet asked.
“You’re not alright, are you?”
“No… I’m… fine.”
The moment I barely managed to exhale, I felt something touch my shoulder. Turning around, it was a hand. Isolet’s hand extended through the hole.
“I’ll… sing for you.”
Though only her fingertips touched, even her warm breath seemed to reach me.
Daphnen remained leaning his head against the wooden wall, sitting still, so still, so very still.
It was flowing now.
A small bird and tears
And melodies that have faded
One by one
Each time they draw near
My heart
Follows after him.
Calls out to him.
A blue star and primrose
And winds that brush past
One after another
Each time they return
My heart
Calls out to him.
Yearns for him.
Worn clothes and ribbons
And faded strands of hair
A person who has gone away, one
Each time I long for them
My heart
Yearns for him.
The lump in my throat subsided, and a single tear traced down my cheek. Though no one was watching, Daphnen felt embarrassed and laughed awkwardly.
“That’s a beautiful song.”
The songs Isolet occasionally sang had a way of touching my heart with their meaning, even when I couldn’t immediately grasp the words themselves.
Whether that power came from the song itself or from Isolet’s voice was difficult to discern.
“That’s what a chant is.”
The wall trembled slightly. It seemed Isolet was lying down on the bed.
“A chant is a song of Origin Island. It is the power that the heart possesses. You asked earlier if I couldn’t sing this time and make you fly away, didn’t you? The reason that doesn’t work is because a chant isn’t created with a specific purpose in mind from the start.”
Daphnen nodded slowly, listening intently.
“It’s not that some songs are meant to let you fly through the sky while others are meant to comfort someone’s heart. When the person singing the chant deeply desires something, the appropriate chant comes to them naturally. You sing, and then it comes to pass.”
Daphnen laughed softly.
“Then I don’t have to sing as beautifully as you do. I thought I sang so poorly that I could never become like you.”
Isolet spoke with a hint of exasperation.
“If you can feel the beauty and ugliness of a song yourself, and if you feel that your own song isn’t beautiful because of that, couldn’t that become a wonderful origin?”
“I suppose so.”
After a moment, Isolet spoke as if to console me.
“You don’t sing so poorly. With more effort, you’ll develop a good voice.”
Daphnen shook his head.
“Perhaps I’m already too late.”
“Why?”
“My voice is beginning to change.”
Nauplion taught me the term “voice change.”
After meeting Endymion, my voice had grown somewhat hoarse and didn’t easily return to normal, so I wondered if I’d caught a cold from sleeping in the cold. That was when Nauplion told me it might be something else entirely.
“Your voice might change into something more impressive. The person who taught Father the chant was Father himself, after all.”
“In any case, my voice will be a mess for a while. Ah, teaching me will surely be tedious for you.”
“Would you like me to teach you an Origin that I can perform silently?”
I heard Isolet sit up again.
Time had passed—it was already past two hours after midnight—yet sleep didn’t call to me. Instead, my consciousness only grew sharper.
“You won’t be able to see it, but try to follow along. Do as I say.”
I started to nod before catching myself and opened my mouth to speak.
“Yes.”
“Raise both your hands and clasp them above your head. Make your arms round.”
“Done.”
“That gesture means ‘look here.'”
Daphnen raised his arms above his head, forming a jar-like shape, and smiled faintly.
“‘Look here.’ I’ve memorized it.”
“Next, extend your right arm straight forward and bend your left arm, placing it inside the crook of your right elbow.”
“With my palm open?”
“Yes.”
“Done.”
“That gesture means ‘I want to be by your side.'”
“By your side….”
“This time, extend only your right hand to the side. Bend your elbow at a right angle, like when you wave goodbye to people. But don’t actually move your hand.”
“Like this?”
After speaking, Daphnen laughed, and Isolet laughed too. It would have been impossible for either to see the other.
Yet neither of them considered crossing the wall to face one another.
“Let’s say you got it right. That means ‘take care.'”
“Hearing the meaning, it feels like I must have done it correctly.”
“Next is….”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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