Chapter 9: Memories Carved into the Heart of the Mountain's Stones (3)

  "Year 130,456: Mastered mind magic and mirage magic..."

  "Year 158,098: Discovered magnetism magic and current magic..."

  "Year 187,809: Reached Level 48. Had another dream. Saw my father watching the afternoon news...

  Reporter: "...Six fatalities confirmed so far. Firefighters and rescue teams are doing everything they can, but the situation remains critical..."

  Anchor: "Ms. Azola, could you update us on the fire's spread? How much ground has it covered, and what's the containment status?"

  Reporter: "Yes, unfortunately the blaze has expanded rapidly due to wind conditions, already consuming three small towns and several villages in the northern forest region. More emergency crews are being deployed, and winds are expected to die down by sunset, which should help slow the progression..."

  Anchor: "Thank you, Ms. Azola from Lairn Province. Beyond the tragic loss of life, many uninsured homes have been destroyed, leaving survivors in limbo. We now go to Governor Freemoor for..."

  My father sighed deeply, his eyes distant. He'd been a firefighter once—before PTSD forced him out.

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  "Dad, why do you keep watching this? It only upsets you!"

  He gave me that tired smile, the one that never reached his eyes.

  "Sometimes I think fire's the only escape from pain... But you wouldn't understand, Nai. I hope you never do."

  Even broken, he still tried to protect me with dark humor. I never grasped his meaning... Maybe I never will...

  The dream faded."

  ***

  "Year 210,784: Developed sound magic..."

  "Year 245,042: Mastered wave magic..."

  "Year 287,456: Unlocked metal magic..."

  "Year 309,886: Reached Level 56. Dreamed of Mother reading to Nova...

  Every night, she'd tell my little brother stories—science-fiction tales woven with magic. Her gentle voice belied the exhaustion of her hospital shifts. What kept her going? Our family was a catalog of wounds: Father's PTSD, Nova's rare blood disease requiring weekly transfusions, my crippling social anxiety...

  "There are worlds where pain is just a story... Maybe you'll build your own someday."

  Nova's eyes widened. "Like video games?"

  Mother's mysterious smile. "Not quite. You'd get to make the rules. Now—where was I? Ah yes. The dark god boasted that he'd forged all creation, that dominion was his right. The hero, enraged, challenged him..."

  "What happened next? Did the hero win?" Nova bounced impatiently.

  "With the Sunblade, he struck down the god and restored light to mankind," Mother concluded, "then ruled as a wise king..."

  Nova clapped. "Awesome! But I wish he hadn't killed the mountain dragon!"

  "Why?" Mother blinked.

  "Because dragons are cool!" he declared.

  I scoffed. "Cool? A glorified lizard with no fire breath?"

  Nova grinned. "But its will to survive was epic! Even with all his powers, the hero barely won!"

  Mother watched us banter, then kissed our foreheads.

  The dream ended—too soon, as always.

  A shallow tale with flat characters... yet Nova's joy was real. Not from the story, but from sharing it with us.

  Are shared joys the only true ones?

  ...I still don't know."