Elara Fors
Nowadays, my grandson is behaving quite strangely.
He used to be such a quiet child, content to observe the world around him. But suddenly, he became a whirlwind of activity, always on the move, always curious about something. He started begging me to go outside more, his enthusiasm for exploring the gardens and the surrounding fields seemingly boundless. And the part that hurt most: his alchemy, his passion, his meticulous attention to detail, all of it seemed to have slipped away. His hands, once so steady, now trembled slightly as he ground the herbs, his focus wavering.
And most importantly, he started asking questions about things he never cared about before. I heard from the maids that Sieg had been asking about his eyes, their color. I suppose it was natural at his age to become curious about such things, but still… This constant questioning, this insatiable thirst for knowledge, threatened to disrupt the carefully laid plans we had for his upbringing. I had intended to shield him from the truth and complexities of the world until he was at least ten or twelve years old.
I couldn't help but remember when he was a baby, such a tiny, helpless creature. His hair, that almost silvery-white shade of blonde, was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I knew then that he would grow up to be a handsome man. That's why I had been so meticulous in his upbringing, so determined to guide him down the right path. The last thing I wanted was for him to turn out like those spoiled noble brats, pampered and useless.
I couldn't expect my kindhearted husband or my foolish daughter to understand. I still vividly remembered the day my daughter, in her boundless enthusiasm, had tried to teach him how to punch when he was barely three months old. But my heart nearly stopped when I saw my husband toss my little Sieg ten feet into the air in a fit of playful exuberance, completely oblivious to the terror that I felt in those moments.
Raising Siegfried was my duty, my responsibility. I would not make the same mistakes I had made with my own children. That's why I knew I had to be firm but loving, to guide him with a gentle hand but also with unwavering resolve.
"Granny"
But whenever he calls me "Granny" in his cute voice with that adorable face, it's impossible to maintain a serious face. My heart melts every time.
That's why I fear leaving him alone even more. Luckily, my daughter isn't getting in any mischief with him lately. From what I heard from Emma, he started spending hours in the library. Here I thought these books were going to rot as no one ever touched them.
As days went by, Sieg's interest in the world around him seemed to grow exponentially. He started showing a particular interest in magic, spending hours watching the soldiers practice in the arena, his eyes wide with fascination. I knew he couldn't wait to be awakened. I remembered how I felt when my own crucible first manifested, the thrill of discovering the magic that flowed within me.
I could tell he was eager to learn more, to understand the world around him.
Before, we had limited his exposure to the outside world, primarily due to concerns about his eye. But with his growing curiosity and his increasing independence, I started taking him into town more often. Whenever I was busy, Throvald would take him to the fields, introducing him to the rhythms of life on the barony. He would be the lord of this land one day, and it was crucial that he took his responsibilities seriously, unlike his mother…
Ever since Zayn arrived, he had been taking Sieg with him into the forest for their training sessions. I knew Zayn was trying to awaken Sieg's Soul Crucible, and that he would only be staying for a month, but seeing Sieg return with bruises and scrapes every evening made my heart ache. I desperately wanted to stop him, to shield him from the harsh realities of training. But then I would look into his eyes, see that fierce determination burning within him, and I knew that interfering would only hinder his growth.
I couldn't help but worry, though. Leaving the fact of who he really is aside, Zayn was an S-Rank adventurer, one of the very few in the entire empire. My daughter had met him during her early days as an adventurer, when she had first graduated from the university. I knew he was a reliable companion, a skilled warrior, from the tales she had often shared of their adventures together. But still, I wished he would take it a little easier on my grandson.
Still, as I tended to his injuries, my brow furrowed with worry, he would look at me with a tender smile and say, "It's alright, Granny. It doesn't hurt at all."
And I couldn't help but smile in return. "My dear Sieg."
Seeing his adorable smile, a wave of warmth washed over me. Everything, I realized, would be alright.