The night was deep, and the Temple of Holy Light was so quiet you could hear every breath.
Yisela lay sprawled on the soft bed, sleeping soundly. Her little mouth was slightly pouty, and her small dragon tail was curled around the pillow, completely defenseless.
Seraphina sat by the bedside, divine light flowing slowly from her fingertips, nourishing Yisela’s bloodline.
Sylvanas leaned against the window, gazing at the moon. The atmosphere was abnormally quiet.
“You came here for revenge, but now you’re acting like you’re raising a child.” Sylvanas broke the silence first.
Seraphina lowered her head and said, “Revenge? I stopped thinking about that a long time ago.”
Sylvanas said in surprise, “You don’t? She humiliated you so publicly back then.”
The words seemed to touch a sore spot. Seraphina’s hand paused, but she didn’t answer. She simply lowered her head and tucked the blanket around Yisela.
Her fingers lingered on the soft fabric for a moment. In that instant, a memory from the past surfaced in her mind.
It had also been a night. The stone steps of the Temple were long. She had fallen there, scraping her knee. Blood trickled down her shin. No one came to help her.
The mentor stood at the top of the steps, looking at her, his tone icy. “The Saintess is the perfect vessel of the Goddess. She cannot cry out in pain, nor should she have emotions.”
She didn’t cry. She just picked herself up, straightened her skirt, and covered the wound on her knee.
That year she was seven years old. She had already learned how to wipe away the tears on her face and how to put on that perfect mask of the Saintess.
Seraphina pulled back her hand, her fingertips trembling slightly.
Yisela turned over in her sleep. Her silver dragon tail slipped out from under the covers and swayed by the edge of the bed.
That tail, just like Yisela herself, would unconsciously search for someone when she was half-asleep. Once it found Seraphina’s wrist, it would coil around it. The scales, warmed by body heat, obediently pressed against her skin.
Sylvanas glanced at the tail, then at Seraphina. “You treat her differently than me.”
Seraphina looked down at the tail wrapped around her wrist. She didn’t pull away. Her long hair fell forward, hiding her expression. Then she spoke, as if talking to herself.
“I don’t know if you still remember that day. Yisela, you burst into the Temple, kicked open the great doors, and scared all the believers inside.”
“You rushed up to me, pulled at my skirt, lifted my collar, leaned in to look, and loudly declared that I was a ‘fake Saintess.’”
“You flicked me. At that moment, I was trembling with anger, both embarrassed and anxious, and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.”
“That was the first time in over a decade that I lost my composure in front of others, the first time I felt both angry and wronged like an ordinary girl.”
“But in that moment when the tears fell, I realized that I could actually get angry, feel shy, feel wronged, feel pain.”
“I am not just the Saintess of the Holy Light Kingdom; I am also Seraphina.”
“After that, I kept watching you.”
“I watched you try to use magic power to give life to roses in the garden, only to burn the entire rosebush to ash.”
“I watched you use dragon language to calm a frightened horse, and that horse got so scared it jumped straight into the fountain.”
“Behind all those pranks was a clumsy, well-intentioned desire to do good.”
“You were never the little evil dragon they said you were. You were just a child who hadn’t learned how to use her own power correctly.”
Then she lowered her head and looked at that small, defenseless face.
In her dream, Yisela rubbed against the pillow, and her little hand unconsciously rested on the back of Seraphina’s hand.
That hand was small and warm, belonging to the same person as the little foot that had kicked open the Temple door back then.
Seraphina didn’t move. She simply turned her hand over gently, letting that small hand fall into her palm.
She remembered how Yisela had hidden the cake earlier, stuffing her nightcap under the pillow while saying “strategic reserve,” but her ears were bright red.
And she remembered how Yisela had swept away back then, leaving her standing pathetically on the holy platform, unable to stop her tears.
Back then, you little clumsy dragon, you must not have known how cool you were.
Back then, she had unintentionally helped me, turning me from a cold statue into a living person. Now, it’s my turn to help her.
Seraphina looked up at Sylvanas. Those pale golden eyes no longer held only tenderness; there was also firm resolve.
“The curse inside her can only be stabilized through the harmonization of divine light. Otherwise, she could be devoured by that power at any moment.”
“The Temple of Holy Light is blessed by the Goddess, and there are countless texts on healing evil. There must be a way to cure her curse.”
Sylvanas didn’t answer immediately. She leaned against the window.
“What about your Elder Hall?” The Elf Queen’s tone returned to its usual calm.
“You should know better than I do. Those pedantic, greedy elders are only after power. In recent years, they’ve put plenty of pressure on your Saintess’s Hall.”
“Now that they have this chance, they’ll definitely use the little evil dragon with heretical divine power as an excuse. They might even pull out the ‘Goddess of Holy Light has been defiled’ rhetoric tomorrow, forcing you to hand her over and demonstrate the Elder Hall’s authority to the faithful.”
“It’s fine.” Seraphina’s answer showed no hesitation. She turned and lay down, gently pressing her face close to Yisela’s pillow.
“I won’t back down this time. Both for Yisela and for the Temple’s future. I will never let the Elder Hall harm her under the name of holy light.” She reached out and gently held the small hand that rested in her palm.
“From now on, I will protect her until her curse is lifted.”
Sylvanas didn’t respond. Her gaze passed over Seraphina’s shoulder and landed on Yisela’s defenseless sleep face.
Moonlight leaked through the gap in the curtains, landing right on Yisela’s nose, making her wrinkle it and mutter some indistinct dream words.
The Elf Queen remembered the day this silver-haired brat had caused chaos at the Elf Princess’s coming-of-age ceremony. All the elves were fuming, and she herself had wanted to hang the girl from the Holy Tree.
And now, she was actually keeping watch for this little bastard.
She let out a low hum, turned her face away, and cursed in her heart in words only she could hear.
“I really owe you.”
Seraphina leaned down and tucked the blanket around Yisela.
Yisela seemed to feel the warmth in her sleep. She nuzzled closer to Seraphina’s hand and murmured softly, “Sister Saintess…”
Seraphina’s heart completely melted. She reached out and gently grasped the small hand resting in her palm, continuously sending divine light to Yisela.
“Goodnight, Yisela.”