Elysia
Chapter 14: A Name and an Echo of the Past

Weeks melted into a peaceful, timeless rhythm within the Aurora Palace. For Elina, each day was a revelation. Her world, once confined to the grey misery of the orphanage, had expanded into a universe of quiet wonder. Under Elysia’s unconventional tutelage, she was flourishing. The frail, timid child was slowly being replaced by a healthier, more curious girl whose steps were lighter and whose eyes held a new, inquisitive spark.

The grand library had become her second home. She would spend hours there, touching the glowing crystal orbs and immersing herself in the living, holographic stories they contained. She learned of soaring dragons, of sunken cities, of the intricate politics of the Dwarven clans, and of the star charts of ancient mariners. The world’s System, gently guided by Elysia's will, continued to pour knowledge directly into her mind. She could now read and comprehend texts that would challenge seasoned scholars.

One quiet afternoon, Elina was engrossed in a particularly fascinating story—a history of the Elven kings. She watched as the hologram depicted a legendary hero from a forgotten age, a loyal knight who had served the first Elven king. His name was simple, mentioned only in passing: Jun-ho. It was a name without any particular significance in the grand tapestry of the story, but the sound of it lingered in Elina's mind.

Elysia was nearby, reclining on a chaise lounge woven from mist, seemingly engrossed in her own silent contemplation. In truth, she was observing Elina. The quiet focus of the child had become a pleasant, predictable part of her new routine. It was a silence filled with purpose, a stark contrast to the empty, lonely silence of the millennia before. Elina’s presence did not disturb her peace; it had, strangely, become a part of it.

"Lady Elysia?" Elina’s soft voice pulled Elysia from her reverie.

Elysia’s eyes opened, her gaze as calm and deep as a winter lake. "Yes, Elina?"

"I was just reading about all the kings and their long names," Elina began, a thoughtful frown on her small face. She looked at Elysia, her expression a mixture of awe and genuine curiosity. "You have such a beautiful and grand name, 'Elysia von Silbernebel'. Did you always have that name?"

The question was innocent, born from a child's simple desire to understand the world. But for Elysia, it struck with the force of a physical blow, bypassing nine thousand years of armor and striking a chord so deep and so old she had forgotten it existed.

Elysia von Silbernebel. A name she had crafted for herself. A title. A beautiful, cold mask made of 'Silver Mist' to hide the abyss behind it. It was her present. It was her reality.

But the question was about the past. Did you always have that name?

The question triggered something deep within her. It wasn't a memory. A memory would have been too clean, too simple. This was a phantom sensation, a glitch in her soul. On the very edge of her hearing, she could almost perceive a sound. Two syllables. A name that felt like a foreign language she once knew. It felt like an old coat, one that no longer fit and was riddled with the ghosts of emotions she no longer possessed—the fiery ambition of youth, the warmth of a shared meal, the sting of a scraped knee, the pride in a parent's smile.

The phantom name carried with it a profound sense of loss, a hollow ache that was intensely uncomfortable. It was the feeling of a void, an emptiness where a person used to be. Who was she, before she became the survivor? Before she became the Ruler? The question didn't just ask for a name; it highlighted the terrifying emptiness where that name used to be.

For a fleeting second, her carefully constructed composure faltered. A flicker of deep, ancient pain crossed her eyes. The air around her grew colder, and the soft, ambient light of the library dimmed perceptibly.

Elina, who had grown sensitive to the aura of the palace and its master, felt the shift immediately. The comforting peace was replaced by a sudden, sharp coldness that made the hairs on her arms stand up. She knew instantly that she had asked the wrong question. She had trespassed on sacred, sorrowful ground.

"I'm sorry, My Lady!" she stammered, her eyes wide with fear as she took a step back. "I didn't mean to! It was a stupid question! Please, forget I asked!" She thought she had angered the magnificent being who had given her everything.

The sight of Elina’s genuine terror was the anchor that pulled Elysia back from the precipice of her internal chaos. Her primary directive, re-established over the past few weeks—to maintain her peace—now intrinsically included maintaining Elina’s. The child's distress was a disturbance. It had to be rectified.

She took a slow, calming breath, and the light in the library returned to its normal, soft glow. The oppressive cold receded.

She could not speak the old name. It was a ghost, and giving it voice would give it power. So, she chose to answer Elina’s question not by revealing the past, but by cementing the present and defining the future.

She looked at the terrified child, and a strange new softness entered her voice. "That name," she said, referring to the ghost name Elina had unknowingly summoned, "is no longer important." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze holding Elina's, firm and absolute. "Now… my name is Elysia."

The finality in her tone was unmistakable. It was a declaration. But she didn't stop there. She needed to fill the void her reaction had created. Her eyes, now gentle again, held Elina’s. "And your name is Elina. Just Elina?"

Elina, still shaken, could only nod. She was an orphan. She had no family name, no lineage.

"No," Elysia said, the word simple but carrying the weight of a royal decree. A decision had been made in that instant, a monumental choice framed as a simple correction. "That will not do. From this day forward, you will use my name."

She paused, letting the statement settle in the silent, magical library.

"Your name is Elina von Silbernebel."

The world seemed to stop for Elina. She stared at Elysia, unable to process what she had just heard. A name. Not just any name, but her name. The name of the most powerful and beautiful being she had ever known. All her life, she had nothing. She was defined by what she lacked: a family, a home, a name. Now, in a single moment, she had been given an identity, a connection. She had been given a place.

Tears began to well up in her large, golden-brown eyes. They streamed down her cheeks, but for the first time in her life, they were not tears of sadness or fear. They were tears of a joy so profound and overwhelming she didn't know how to contain it.

Seeing the child's tears, Elysia felt that strange, uncomfortable warmth spread through her chest again. She did not know how to react to this display of emotion. Awkwardly, she stood and turned to look out one of the nebula-windows, giving them both a moment to compose themselves.

Elina wiped her tears with the back of her hand and whispered her new name to herself, testing the feel of it on her tongue. "Elina… von Silbernebel." It sounded like music. It sounded like belonging.

Elysia stood silhouetted against the swirling starlight, a silent, majestic figure. She had just answered a question about a forgotten past by forging a new future. She had defined who she was now by giving a name to the child who had become the center of her new, quiet world. In the ashes of one name, a new family had just been born.