Chapter 3. Hera, Emilia, and the Prophecy Book
Sing, of the great epic.
For the sake of our souls.
—Olga Tuvencha
A grand epic is a song for its heroes.
Let it be clearly said where the melody begins: this is a song for Hera Wintail and Emilia Tolyn.
The first note is the lowest tone—darker than a requiem.
It begins with death.
“Hera!”
Year 937 of the Imperial Calendar, the last day of the year.
Hera Wintail, the only daughter of Count Wintail, drew her last breath.
“My daughter, my poor daughter…! How can I go on living when you’ve left so suddenly!”
The countess clung to her daughter’s body and shook it violently.
Usually composed and unreadable, she now wept like any grieving parent.
The desperate cries of a parent who lost their child filled the room.
Like a dirge played in the heart of a deep canyon, the countess’s lament continued to echo.
Yet grief never looks the same on everyone.
Count Wintail stood tall, as if he couldn’t believe his daughter had died so suddenly.
His pitch-black hair—an inherited trait of the Wintail family—looked even darker against Hera’s pale skin.
To him, that black hair looked like the devil’s hand pulling her into the afterlife.
So, rather than beg her to breathe again, he only wanted to remove the strands of her hair clinging to her neck.
As he reached out with a trembling hand to tidy her hair, the countess suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“Bring me the Sword of Ezina.”
“…That’s impossible.”
Her eyes were filled with determination, and life flickered back into the count’s previously lifeless green eyes.
Fear began to pool in them.
“My lady… the Sword of Ezina is a sacred relic. It is not something we can use at our own discretion.”
For generations, the Wintail family had safeguarded the sacred relic known as the Sword of Ezina.
It had been in their possession for over 900 years since the founding of the Ivy Empire. But the exact history of the sword was unknown.
There were only legends: that the relic could manifest two contradictory powers.
A sword that could cut through anything.
So, the sharp-witted countess reasoned: if it could destroy anything, then perhaps it could also restore anything.
Even her dead daughter.
“I can guess what you’re hoping for, but I can’t give you the answer you want. We don’t know what the sword is truly capable of…”
As the count backed away, Countess Bellina Wintail dug her nails into his hand.
Blood trickled from his skin.
“To think you would be such a coward in the face of our daughter’s death.”
“My lady!”
“I’m sick of this family’s indecisiveness. You say the Wintail House stands with no one? That you turn a blind eye in the face of dangerous gambles, calling it virtue?”
Bellina scoffed, a chilling smile appearing on her lips.
“I thought that was just politics—but to hesitate even when your daughter’s life is at stake?”
Count Rary Wintail yanked his hand away in anger, showing his disapproval of her insult to their family.
But that foolish reaction was Bellina’s final straw.
She unwrapped her arms from her daughter’s body and stood up from her kneeling position beside the bed.
As a tall woman, simply standing upright gave her a powerful, commanding presence.
“I, Bellina Wintail, request a divorce.”
“W-what did you say?!”
Rary was shocked by her sudden declaration. He had never been able to truly control his wife.
“Divorce? What nonsense is this now?”
“Do you remember the final clause you agreed to when we signed our marriage contract? The one I specifically requested?”
It was a memory from 22 years ago, but he recalled it instantly—as if it had happened just yesterday.
“I remember. If we were to divorce, I agreed you could take one thing from the Wintail household. Anything of your choosing.”
“Exactly. Anything.”
“…Anything.”
That’s right. Rary had made that promise.
Though their marriage was a political alliance between the Wintail House and the Kingdom of Karen, he had fallen in love at first sight with the princess from the small kingdom, enchanted by her cold beauty.
So he tried to fulfill her every demand.
“Bring me the Sword of Ezina.”
Bellina gave the command in a firm tone, showing no intention of backing down.
“Bellina…”
“Don’t worry. Guarding the relic is your family’s duty, right? What would I even do with it? I’ll return it by tomorrow. Isn’t that a generous request?”
“Bellina. Please…”
Rary’s voice cracked. She felt a pang of sympathy, but turned her head and ignored it.
Her voice became even colder.
“Now, Rary!”
He bit his lip.
Overwhelmed by her cold authority, Rary couldn’t defy her anymore.
He left the room and headed for the northern chamber of the west annex, where the relic was kept.
At the center of that chamber stood a massive vault—so large it could fit twenty grown men inside.
To open it, one had to insert a key, turn it three times to the right and twice to the left, then push it in fully.
After that, one had to press eight specific buttons on the surface—only Rary knew which ones.
Finally, the vault creaked open, revealing the relic, the Sword of Ezina, hanging silently like it were asleep.
“Wise ancestors who bore the Wintail name… forgive me. As the relic’s guardian, I defy the sacred duty and use it for personal gain.”
With trembling hands, Rary grasped the sword.
“Let all punishment fall upon me. Have mercy on my wife and daughter.”
Finishing his short prayer, he hurried back with the sword.
Bellina sighed in relief at the sight of the sword. She clasped her hands in prayer, begging it would work.
Rary laid the sheathed sword on top of Hera’s lifeless body.
The two of them watched anxiously, waiting for a miracle.
But no miracle came right away.
Breaking the long silence, Rary finally said, with hesitation:
“My lady… we’ve done all we can—”
“Rary—Rary! Look! Her skin… it’s warming up!”
Before he could finish, Bellina touched Hera’s cheek and exclaimed.
Her eyes shone with hope.
“It’s working! The Sword of Ezina!”
Rary quickly touched his daughter’s cheek as well. Her body, cold as ice just moments ago, was now radiating a faint warmth.
“This can’t be…”
He covered his mouth with both hands as his heart pounded wildly.
Could she really come back to life?
“She needs more time! She’s going to wake up!”
With joy in her voice, Bellina kissed Hera’s forehead and then pulled Rary by the arm.
“Let’s leave the room.”
“Why?”
“What if the relic’s power affects us too? We should let Hera have it all to herself.”
It made sense. Rary nodded repeatedly.
As they left, Bellina ordered the servants not to go near Hera’s room until she woke up.
That night, Hera’s condition improved rapidly.
At this rate, she might wake before morning.
“The Sword of Ezina… So the rumors were true.”
But then—an uninvited guest appeared on the balcony.
Dressed lightly, the figure carefully opened the balcony doors and entered the room.
[Sacred Relic: Sword of Ezina]
[Can cut through all things and, under certain conditions, repair all things.]
Hovering next to the mysterious guest was a glowing blue book floating in mid-air.
The book flipped pages on its own, then stopped on one.
From the open book emerged a three-dimensional image of the Sword of Ezina—identical in form, only smaller.
“I knew it. It vanished for so long, and to think it was in the Wintail household…”
The intruder spoke as if in conversation with the book. Then, moving with trained silence, they walked toward Hera.
More precisely—toward the Sword of Ezina lying on her chest.
