When a child finds something fascinating, they’re easily drawn to it—especially if it relates to something they’ve cherished since a young age.
From an early age, Sinar loved watching refined iron. More precisely, she enjoyed observing the transformation of iron during the refining process. The interaction between fire and metal captivated her, every step of the process igniting her curiosity.
In her childhood, Sinar was utterly enraptured by fire, as though intoxicated by its presence.
"What’s so great about this? Come on, let’s go look at flowers or visit Bran."
In contrast, her sister was far more ordinary. She, like other children, would watch flowers, lie in the grass until its scent clung to her, and immerse herself in nature.
For fairies, the idea of soaking in the scent of grass was an essential aspect of life. They would lie amidst the greenery, savor the fragrance of flowers, and watch bees and butterflies flit about.
Between these moments, they would play with a friend who doubled as a mentor, learning wisdom from them. Such was the fairy way of growing up.
Their society favored a slow, natural process of self-discovery over rigid, structured teachings. Within a life of play and enjoyment, they learned their roles and duties.
With a lifespan vastly different from humans, this gradual approach had evolved naturally. Eventually, they would learn emotional control as part of becoming an adult.
"What’s so fun about this?"
Her sister asked, pouting. Still a young fairy, her emotions were unrestrained, radiating youthful innocence.
"If you watch closely, it feels like it could become anything."
Sinar replied, just as the hammer moved.
Clang.
The hammer struck the metal. In the fairy city, there were families dedicated to working with iron. One such family was the Naidil family, renowned for crafting Leaf Blades.
Before being recognized as a master, apprentices would forge simple weapons and tools as part of their training. What Sinar observed was the work of one such apprentice.
"Don’t stand too close, or the sparks might fly at you."
One of the apprentices spoke—his name was Aden.
Aden was Sinar’s first love.
Looking back, she wasn’t sure if it was Aden she liked or the fire he worked with.
But as a child, Sinar believed she loved Aden. At that age, she didn’t yet know how to conceal her emotions.
"Just make sure the sparks don’t fly, then."
"Fire doesn’t move the way I want it to."
"Which is why you’re still an apprentice."
"That sounds rather bold coming from you."
Aden was around the same age as Sinar, though she had been born slightly earlier. But unlike humans, fairies didn’t measure relationships by small age differences.
Aden’s tone, however, was much more mature than Sinar’s. Was that maturity a result of working with fire, or was it innate? She wasn’t particularly curious.
Sinar was born into the royal family. But in fairy society, a king or queen was more a representative or guardian for all fairies than someone wielding absolute power.
The position carried duties and responsibilities, but little personal benefit. There was no hierarchy of authority or subordination. Nevertheless, all fairies knew she was of royal lineage.
"Lady Kirhais, why don’t you ask the flowers for permission to make a crown from their petals and enjoy the scent of the grass?"
Aden joked.
Sinar merely snorted at his comment.
For a young fairy, rolling among flowers and grass was akin to a human splashing about in warm water—except fairies enjoyed it far more.
In this regard, Sinar was a peculiar fairy. Even Aden, who worked with fire as his trade, would spend his breaks among flowers and grass, watching bees buzz about. But Sinar preferred watching fire over lying in the grass.
"What’s so fun about that?"
Her sister grumbled.
It was an innocent time. Her sister eventually left to pursue her own interests, without imposing on Sinar. In fairy society, it was common to believe that each individual would eventually find their own purpose.
After waving her sister off, Sinar turned to Aden and asked,
"Do you know what Igniculus means?"
Clang! Clang!
It wasn’t until a few hammer strikes later that Aden, sweating by the forge, responded.
"Is there a fairy who wouldn’t know?"
Fairies, despite their affinity for moonlight, couldn’t refine metal without forges and fire. They required fuel to burn, which the Woodguards provided.
The sap and logs from the tree fairies could keep fires burning for months, a mystery akin to alchemy.
As for Igniculus, it was a word tied to forges and crafting families. In the common tongue, it meant spark or flash of fire.
Fairies, who lived long, serene lives, often experienced no significant ups and downs. But Igniculus referred to a fiery phase, a time of burning passion.
For some fairies, it was love. For others, it was the pursuit of a goal.
Though fairies typically lived leisurely lives, during this time, they burned brightly. They grew and transformed, much like iron being shaped by fire and hammer.
Some fairies referred to it as their period of transformation before mastering emotional control. Sinar liked the term Igniculus—spark.
So much so that she later chose Naidil, meaning spark’s blade, as the name for her sword, rather than Leaf Blade.
Yes, that was how it had been.
And then one day, an unexpected visitor approached the child enamored with fire, claiming to be her secret friend.
At first, it came as warmth—something no one could foresee or prepare for.
Fwoosh.
"Want to play with me?"
A flame spoke.
An orange fire flickered in the air, unmistakably resembling a fire spirit.
While some fairies could communicate with spirits, Sinar’s affinity for fire made such an encounter seem ordinary.
"How fascinating."
Her sister later said, once Sinar revealed the flame’s presence.
The warmth became her friend. But one day, that friend turned into a blazing inferno—a disaster.
It burned everything: her people, her friends, even the city where she had grown up.
Krrrrraaaahhh!
The acrid stench of burning Woodguards filled the air, a smell Sinar would never forget.
For fairies, this smell was no different from the scent of burning flesh. When Druier burned, the aroma of scorched grass spread everywhere.
Hell had opened its gates in the fairy city.
"Aden."
"I’ll stop it."
By then, Aden had become a skilled craftsman. He charged with his blade, only to be consumed by the demon cloaked in fire.
Before blisters could even form, the fire reduced his body to ash.
The death of fairies brought a blend of floral and woody scents from the burning greenery and trees.
"Custos Akitos Responso."
Fairies skilled in spirit magic tried to extinguish the flames, but it was futile. Even with water falling like rain, the fire persisted. Despair and tragedy blanketed the city.
Sinar watched as the flames consumed everything—five Woodguards, even Bran, whose body was half-burned, though he barely survived.
A fiery giant raised its head, towering over everyone, its size five times that of a normal fairy. It surveyed those who dared to stand against it.
"I’ll step back because you played with me. I’ll build my home here. Children of wood and flowers, let’s live together. I am what you call a demon."
The demon spoke with a facade of friendliness and warmth. It made its nest in the city, claiming it as its own.
It was clear who the demon’s friend had been.
"A curse."
Even fairies who had learned emotional restraint were not inherently strong of heart. Some, with broken spirits, began blaming Sinar.
Fairies who had lost their children, friends, and lovers could not forgive her.
Sinar couldn’t blame them. At that time, she couldn’t even think of doing so. She couldn’t understand half of what was happening.
Why? Why was this happening?
"It’s not your fault."
Her father dismissed the idea outright.
"This is just our responsibility."
Her mother said.
No. It had happened because she was enamored with fire.
Sinar fell into a spiral of guilt. For years, she didn’t speak a word.
Kirhais.
Her name, meaning to protect, seemed like a cruel irony.
Her parents bore the burden of driving out the demon. Her father, who wielded a bow, and her mother, who had recently mastered elemental magic and become a Fairy Knight, set out to fight.
"Daughter, it’s not your fault."
Her mother repeated this every day before drawing her sword.
Where had this demon, which burned everything, come from? No one knew. But it seemed the demon had come because of Sinar. Everyone said so, and she believed it. It felt true.
"The cursed fairy."
"Leave."
Once a fairy’s spirit was broken, they wouldn’t stop blaming her.
And her parents, who went to slay the demon, never returned.
"Sinar, you don’t have to live like this, understand? None of what happened is your fault."
Her sister, too, told her to let go of her burden. Then she picked up her sword and trained in elemental magic.
Between moments of calm and tranquility, a spark ignited—a flash of brilliance.
In that fleeting Igniculus, her sister, Naira Kirhais, awakened her talents.
As a Fairy Knight, her sister set out to kill the demon but failed.
Sinar, who lacked any connection to spirits, had only her physical strength to rely on. At the time, her mastery of elemental magic was negligible.
"It’s your fault. All of it is your fault."
The accusations of fragile fairies pierced her skin and seared her organs, branding her soul.
The demon had created a labyrinth, and at its entrance, her sister's sword was planted in the ground.
Naidil.
It was the Sword of Spring, once carried by Naira. Her sister was a fairy who embodied spring itself—a being of flowers and the scent of grass.
Sinar retrieved Naira’s sword.
"You have no obligations. Go and live your life."
"If you leave, it all ends."
"Don’t do anything foolish, Sinar."
"Let’s chain ourselves with duty."
"Blaming changes nothing. Planning for the future is what matters."
"The demon has demanded a bride."
"Sinar?"
"The demon asked for another fairy."
"Absolutely not."
Countless words were exchanged. Sinar had no answers to give. She simply reaffirmed her duty.
In such moments, dreams, hopes, and personal desires had no place.
"Defeat the demon."
The next fairy to become a Knight was Arzhila. She led the remaining forces of the city into the labyrinth to slay the demon.
Sinar was among them. They entered the labyrinth and faced the demon.
"So, it’s you."
The demon’s words upon seeing her.
It was then that Sinar truly realized how terrifying a monster with intelligence could be.
"If you run, I’ll hunt down every last one of them, torture them to death, and send their dismembered bodies to you as gifts. I’ll pluck out their eyes, pull off their fingernails, flay their skin, and kill them—all for your amusement. So run. The thought of presenting you with that gift fills me with electrifying ecstasy. If you don’t want that, find another way—though I can’t imagine what that might be."
The demon’s whispers were cruel, merciless, and brutal.
"What I want is for you to become my bride."
Even if the whispers were filled with lies, Sinar had no choice.
Then, the demon transformed into flames, whispering like an old friend.
"I’ve thought of a way to save you. Bring me a partner to take your place."
It was an offer—a way to delay the inevitable, to buy time. Sinar needed to find a new partner to offer the demon.
If she couldn’t, she could only offer her resilient life to grant the remaining fairies a brief reprieve.
Sinar wasn’t foolish.
She knew that marrying the demon wouldn’t spare the other fairies.
The only thing she could offer was time. And yet, there were no other choices.
Despair settled over her shoulders, wrapping around her like a heavy chain.
In the tangled threads of despair, Sinar sought a way out. She left the city and began her journey to find a partner for the demon.
To be honest, she wasn’t entirely committed to finding one. If she were to lay bare her true feelings, it might have been a brief indulgence, a chance to enjoy what little time she had left.
Perhaps she was trying to create memories before her final dance with the demon.
Even if she found a partner, the demon would take pleasure in her despair. And if she didn’t, the demon would revel in her failure.
Either way, her despair was the entertainment.
The journey the demon had allowed her was a cruel game, a fleeting respite.
Yet, during that time, by sheer luck, she created memories.
"Who’s the leader of Squad 444?"
She remembered the first moment she saw him.
His name was Encrid.
At first, he was just a peculiar human. A man who seemed entertaining to watch. A man who dared to dream impossible dreams.
Watching him move forward was a joy.
"Be careful with fire."
"Fire burns everything."
When she said this, Encrid tilted his head and made a joke, looking slightly flustered.
Time passed. The demon’s reprieve drew to a close, leaving Sinar with no options.
"Would you really consider marrying me?"
She already knew his answer: a refusal.
Even if he had agreed, she would have refused herself.
‘I can’t let this man die.’
With no way to shield him from the demon’s gaze, her only option was to accept the demon’s proposal.
At most, twenty years. At least, five.
She would become the demon’s bride.
And when the demon tired of her, it would devour her entirely—bones and all.
She would wait for that day. Her resolve was like a blade of willpower—unyielding. The fight was simply to endure until the day that blade could strike.
Regret and whispers of despair would creep in, but emotional control kept her steady.
However, the moment she faced Encrid, her heart wavered like a small boat caught in a storm.
Encrid’s voice pierced her thoughts.
"Even if you live a long life, today is no different from any other day."
You’re right.
Sinar acknowledged this. The fairies’ pursuit of a tranquil life wasn’t wrong.
But when danger loomed, shouldn’t they act?
When arrows were flying toward you, was it right to simply stand there and take the hit?
No, it wasn’t.
They should have fought when they first became aware of the demon.
"We grew complacent."
The fairies had lived serene lives, unbound by the Demon Realm. Their way of life dulled their sense of crisis.
We should have fought like fire, like sparks.
Igniculus.
The clarity of reflection came only after meeting Encrid.
Now, she had resolved to fight as a spark.
"Was it boring being with me?"
Encrid asked again.
Persistent man.
Unbidden, a smile formed on Sinar’s lips as memories flooded her mind.
Friends burned alive, her city reduced to ashes, her parents, and her sister who had died for her.
Amidst the gloom, there was Encrid.
Rem muttering nonsense. Ragna losing his way. Audin praying. Krais complaining. Teresa singing.
On one side, Lawford and Pel argued while Luagarne stood by Encrid, Frog’s bulging eyes darting around.
These were memories that shielded her like a roof from the relentless rain of despair.
Yes, watching you become a knight brought me joy. Joking, drinking tea, eating, training, sparring—it was all enjoyable.
"You were spring."
She spoke silently in her heart.
"The only spring in my life that had always been winter."
And that spring now asked,
"What do you want to do?"
It was a demand, an insistence to say something.
In that moment, Sinar saw what the demon had prepared. It was no longer capable of speech, reduced to a body that could forge monsters and wield weapons.
She knew they couldn’t win.
She knew the right thing to do was to send him away.
"A spar."
Sinar said.
Sometimes the body speaks before the mind can stop it. Desperation opens the lips, spilling the heart’s true desires.
"I want to sit by the campfire and trade silly jokes."
What her heart had longed for escaped through her lips.
Sinar best waifu