『Episode 6: Centrellus, Chapter 12』のカバーアート

Episode 6: Centrellus, Chapter 12

Episode 6: Centrellus, Chapter 12

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10月19日まで。※適用条件あり
Chapter 12: Ashes and Awakenings (Raisa's Story, Part 1)OneThe common room was a pocket of warmth carved out of the mountain’s perpetual chill. Firelight from the stone hearth pushed back the damp shadows that clung to the corners where the mortar had crumbled. The air was a thick blend of woodsmoke, drying herbs hung from the beams, and the earthy, mineral scent of the stone itself. A clay pot of tea simmered by the fire, its lid rattling softly with each bubble.The furniture wasn’t just old; it was a record. The oak table bore a deep, dark stain where Raisa’s grandfather had once spilled a whole jug of wine during a storytelling fit. The chairs had their personalities: one rocked stubbornly on a shortened leg, another had arms worn smooth by decades of anxious hands. The walls, uneven and cool to the touch, were a patchwork of soot stains and pale spots where tapestries had hung before being sold for seed.In the center of this worn, beloved space, seven-year-old Raisa stood like a conqueror. She held a stripped willow branch—her scepter—clutched in both small, grubby hands. The fire painted her in gold and dancing shadow. Her hazel eyes weren’t just bright; they were fierce with concentration, reflecting the flames. A spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks stood out against skin flushed pink from the heat and her own racing heart. Her dark brown hair, forever escaping the frayed green ribbon her mother had tied it with, fell in a wild cascade over the shoulders of her hand-me-down tunic. She wasn’t just playing a magician. In that moment, with her parents’ smiling faces turned up to her from their old, worn couch, she *was* one. The queen of this snug, smoky kingdom. She took a deep breath, inhaling the pine-scented air, and raised her scepter high."Behold!" Raisa proclaimed, her voice carrying all the exaggerated drama of a child's imagination. "The Great Raisa will now turn this pebble... into a diamond!"She placed a plain pebble, dull gray and smoothed by river water, onto the center of the scarred wooden table. With an elaborate gesture of her stick, she tapped the stone, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Her small hands trembled slightly as she focused, her lips pursed as though willing the magic into being.The room seemed to hold its breath. Suddenly, a faint shimmer enveloped the pebble, a flickering light like the dance of fireflies on a summer night. The glow was fleeting, but undeniable.A soft gasp escaped her mother, a woman of quiet beauty with dark, almond-shaped eyes and a nurturing warmth that seemed to radiate from her. "Did you see that?" she whispered, her voice trembling with surprise and just a hint of fear.Raisa's father leaned forward, his weathered face illuminated by the firelight. His broad shoulders, hunched from years of hard labor in the fields, seemed to tense as he studied the pebble. His dark eyes, sharp yet kind, narrowed slightly. "What was that, Raisa?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a cautious curiosity.The shimmer faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the pebble unchanged. Raisa's bright excitement dimmed, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. "It didn't work," she murmured, her fingers curling tightly around the stick.Her mother quickly offered a reassuring smile, smoothing a strand of hair from Raisa's face. "It's alright, darling. Magic tricks take practice," she said, though her gaze flicked briefly to her husband, a silent exchange of concern passing between them.Her father chuckled, though the sound was uneasy. He picked up the pebble, turning it over in his rough, callused hands. "Yes, even then, they're just illusions," he said, his expression thoughtful. His tone carried an edge of forced normalcy, as if trying to convince himself as much as his daughter. "You've got quite an imagination, Raisa. That's a good thing."The tension in the room was subtle but present—an undercurrent Raisa was too young to fully understand. To her, the moment simply felt incomplete, as if her parents were holding something back.Her mother broke the silence, her tone cheerful as she ruffled Raisa's hair. "Now, how about some hot cocoa? It's getting late, and you'll need to be up early tomorrow to help your father."The promise of cocoa lightened the mood, and the family settled into their evening routine. The fire crackled on, casting a comforting glow over the room. But as her parents moved about the tasks of tidying up, Raisa remained by the table, her small fingers flexing and unflexing.She couldn't shake the memory of the faint shimmer, the tingling sensation still lingering at her fingertips. She looked down at her hands, turning them over as though they might hold the answer. Deep down, she felt a strange certainty—a whisper of something hidden, waiting to be discovered. The glow had felt real, more than just a trick of the firelight.As the warmth of the hearth wrapped around her and the promise of cocoa hung in the air, ...
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