Cantarella

The light filtered through the stained glass, casting a speckled pattern across the crimson sofa.

Dim lamps flickered softly in the misty purple room. Around the round table sat several indistinct figures. Some lounging in the light, others half-immersed in the shadows. The lady who arranged this gathering, or at least, by her position, that's what it seemed, spoke first. She had long, silky purple hair, and her indigo eyes, veiled in a soft mist, gave her an ethereal, dreamlike vibe. Lounging lazily on the sofa, she absentmindedly toyed with the sapphire pendant on her chest, a habit she indulged whenever lost in thought.

"I've gathered everyone today to discuss one thing: where should we stay? In the 'Illusory Dream,' or in reality?"

"Since we've been wandering the edge of dreams, should we remain here, in this illusion, where everything is familiar, light and delicate as bubbles? Or should we step forward, into reality, where we might face the unknown… but also see sights we've never known?"

A lazy but resolute voice cut through her words. "How weak of you, Cantarella. You may be head of the family now, but from what I see, you're far from being capable."

A figure emerged from the shadows, a woman with long hair cascading like a waterfall. She wore the same sapphire pendant and carried an air of grace similar to Cantarella's, but with the undeniable weight of experience and authority. Her deep purple eyes glinted with an unquestionable edge.

"This meeting is pointless. Just pour the 'Velvet Dream' into the waterfall behind the castle, and let all of Ragunna fall into a dream under your control. That way, we will be queen wherever we go."

"Invalid answer. Or, if you insist, it will be counted as a vote for 'Illusory Dream.' Though it sounds a little wild and impractical, I'll still write it down for fairness. This is our discussion, after all." A young girl sitting beside them answered, opening a notebook full of strange doodles. She found a small space nearly buried under potion recipes and seriously drew a neat line.

"I abstain," she said casually. "This discussion probably won't change anything. You already have your answer, don't you? For me, it doesn't matter where we stay." She closed the notebook with a soft snap and shook out her white shawl. The light caught her blue, hazy eyes.

"Why can't we just keep it simple and follow our hearts? Cantarella, you like watching the birds outside the window and long for a life of freedom, right? Then just do what feels right," said the youngest one, sprawled on the sofa, her hands lazily chasing the dust motes dancing in the light.

"This is an important decision and should be discussed seriously," Cantarella replied, her voice tinged with a hint of helplessness. "Let's start with you then. Please explain your choice and the reasoning behind it."

The deep purple, venomous crown, when first placed upon the brow, brings a sharp sting. Yet, the blood that seeps from the forehead nourishes it, making it shine ever brighter. Soaked in the blood and tears of countless souls, this crown of toxic thorns rises from the depths of the sea, symbolizing those who work silently against the chaos to support the weight of the Celestial Steed's tail feathers.

Such is the glory of the Fisalia family, and its inescapable fate.

But what of each member of the family? In the dark, deep sea, they suffer the gnawing whispers, until the faintest glimmer of true faith in their hearts fades, lost to the abyss. The next in line to wear the crown will take up the duty, and so the cycle endures, unbroken, with no beginning or end.

Fragrant yet toxic blooms,
Colorless, flavorless tears of poisons,
Twisted organs and venomous breaths,
Neurotoxins,
Biotoxins,
Metallic toxins…

The poisons and toxins the Fisalias so pride themselves on and the abilities birthed from them will inevitably be undone by the whispers… In the end, they only come in handy when used to seek the end of life, either for the Fisalias themselves or their kin.

This had long been the norm until I developed the "Illusory Dream." When the thorned crown burrowed into my flesh, the blood flew in strange, shimmering hues. Black tea steeped in mercury tasted like rich, honeyed nectar, while scones soaked in Jellyrose juice had a delicate sweetness. The heat in my throat was searing, as if hastily swallowing an entire cherry, and the suffocating sensation was like drifting in an endless sea… Slowly, the pain faded, and both body and mind became light as air. The bottles of poisons shattered on the floor, and our expressions turned relieved. The whispers were powerless in the world woven by the sea of dreams, for it gently dissolved all discord. Amidst the colorful waves, the once harsh thorned crown was softened… So soft that it formed delicate folds, resting lightly on my head. It became light and pure, like the tail feathers of the Celestial Steed.

That's why I cast my vote for "Illusory Dream." After all, what harm is there in this illusion? Have we not all wandered here for so long? Pour the "Velvet Dream" into the waterfall behind the castle, and let the whole of Ragunna fall into a dream shaped by my hand… Rest assured, this is but a joke. I do not seek to control but only wish for all to live more peacefully.

You see, the "Illusory Dream" flows within our veins, and whether we like it or not, it's a permanent and inseparable part of us.

In the dimly lit room, heavy with a peculiar scent, a faint yellow light illuminated an old notebook and a strange cauldron. The young woman, wrapped in a white shawl, scribbled notes in the book while casually tossing ingredients into the cauldron. The smoke rising from it darkened her clothes, leaving patches of black and purple. Her once-clean apron was now speckled, but she wiped her face carelessly, unfazed by the mess.

Distilled water, peppermint, castor bean, barnacle fish leaves, rosemary… The scent was fresh, the toxicity mild, with soothing and analgesic effects. It could treat the common Infantile Gray Matter syndrome seen recently… I'll write this recipe on a small note and leave it for Chloe later.

Hilo grass, sea okra, barnacle fish leaves, sea apple juice… The scent was unpleasant, and the toxicity potent, though it could counteract some nerve paralysis reactions. Hmm, but the side effects… Never mind, I'll keep it.

Sea okra mucilage, barnacle fish leaves dried and crushed, a splash of sea apple juice, a touch of Jellyrose juice… The toxicity of Jellyrose is too strong. Effective, but too risky.

Crush the barnacle fish leaves, drizzle with Violacas juice, mix with sea okra mucilage, add a bit of sea apple juice, and let it ferment in a glass vial… Done. Once consumed, it soothes the spirit and neutralizes most poison reactions. I should distribute some to everyone to get through the trials in the coming days. And the name… okay, I'll call it Velvet Dream.

The ingredients, processing method, sequence of preparation, and environmental temperature… Handle each step at the right moment, and I can brew the perfect elixir. I believe the same applies to life. At the right moment, with the right steps, most problems can be solved. No matter how illogical the rules or how brutal the situation is, there is always a way to find the right approach.

Therefore, I stepped into the darkness with the lamp, facing my fears. The abyss mocked me—reclusive, weak, incapable of adapting. Its taunting howls echoed through the corridors, the twisted frequencies of past family heads surging forward, engulfing me. Serious, rigid, pale, gloomy, silent… They knew me too well, able to predict my every move and trap me effortlessly.

But still, I played my very first and last trick as I drank a large dose of Velvet Dream in advance. The moment the jellyfish's poisonous thorns pierced my skin, I pressed the Jellyrose Medusa to my head. The violent toxins clashed within my veins, nearly tearing me apart. My soul rolled between life and death, on the verge of spilling out through my burning throat. I couldn't tell if it was blood, tears, or sweat mixed with the remnants of the potion… It dripped onto the almost extinguished lamp.

A small jellyfish wobbled out from the faint light. When I raised my eyes, the darkness lifted, and my blurred vision filled with colorful, vivid illusions.

It worked.

So, like I said, any situation can be solved with the right steps at the right time, even if you're just one part of the process. Since then, I've remained in a perpetual state between life and death, between dreams and reality. I often catch glimpses of lingering illusions, like the girl in the red hat. Who is she? Is it me? Or someone else? I can't figure it out.

Anyway, I'll abstain from voting. It doesn't matter whether it's in a dream or reality. I've been used to it, and I can survive anywhere.

Since I could remember, I had always been in that big, empty house. I would walk from one end to the other, knowing every tile on the floor and every potion bottle on the shelves. The house was gray, dark, and quiet. The only time it ever felt alive was when a bird flew past the window. I would watch its white wings flutter up and down until it became nothing more than a tiny dot in the sky. Beyond that, the sky turned a clear blue, and the trees shone a bright green. It was such a beautiful sight.

That was when I would wonder… what was happening in that thick forest? Maybe a princess was having an adventure.

I imagined a clever princess who knew how to spot a poisoned apple. When a snake chased her, a little bird would swoop in to save her, carrying her high into the sky. There, she would find a girl in red shoes who couldn't stop dancing and save her. Then, they would dive into the sea to rescue a siren who was on the verge of turning into foam. In the end, the bird would carry them all, flying as far as it could until it could fly no more, finally landing in a castle… But what was the castle like? I only hoped it wasn't like the manor I lived in—big and boring.

Sorry, that probably sounds all over the place, doesn't it? Well… Mother and Father always said that girls from the Fisalia family didn't need to read silly fairytales or have strange ideas like that. We were supposed to read books—books like The Complete Guide to Poison Recipes, The Fisalia Family's Secret Elixirs, and 108 Poisons You Never Knew About. They were interesting, but after reading them too many times, they became dull.

Still, Mother and Father insisted that I memorize everything so that one day, I could save myself, or perhaps even become a Maiden or the family's leader. It sounded like a huge responsibility. I didn't really understand it yet, but I did what they told me.

They were always busy, always rushing around. Whenever they left, they locked the door extra tight and checked it over and over again. I never understood why they grew busier and thinner. And why did they drink so much "water" and mumble strange words?

I had learned to say those words too: "It's the glory and fate of the Fisalias."

Eventually, I grew older and had to move to a different house. When I left, Mother and Father looked proud, but their eyes were full of tears.

"Indeed, milord, our child has great talent, especially in brewing poisons."
"Yes, becoming a candidate for the trials is the glory and fate of the Fisalias."

That was the first time I ever left home. As I stepped outside, my footsteps startled the crows perched on the dead tree near the gate. They flapped their black wings and took off, flying toward a strange castle in the distance.

Oh, sorry, I went off track again. What I meant to say was... after spending so long flying through dreams, you start to miss the feeling of your feet on the ground. Sure, you might step into mud or get pricked by sharp stones, but there was something comforting about taking each step on solid earth.

So, when it came time to vote, I chose reality—The Other Side of the Dream, as the adults liked to call it. They always used fancy terms like that. But deep down, you already knew what your heart truly wanted, didn't you? Not just in dreams, but in reality, too. You could open the door, step outside, and go with everyone. Just fly alongside the white birds and chase after the happily-ever-after ending for everyone.

In the misty purple room, voices blended together—the majestic and enchanting, the cold and resolute, and the genuine and innocent. They intertwined, forming a dreamlike symphony. The sapphire light shimmered with quiet authority, the pages of a book rustled softly, and the scent of freshly baked pastries mingled with the warmth of the room, creating a sweet, ethereal atmosphere.

Cantarella lifted the delicate teapot and poured the tea, a change from the usual. No longer the alluring purple hues, but a cup of tea with a refreshing clarity.

"Thank you for your invaluable opinions," she said, setting the teapot down. The fresh aroma filled the room. "Now, I've made up my mind."

"I will continue to wear the crown of thorns, for the poison has already sunk deep into my bones, and the dream is a part of me I cannot remove."

"I will keep brewing potions, for they are needed not just by the Fisalias, but by all in struggle."

"I will step outside and follow the flight of birds, into the mountains and the streets. The whispers that once trapped us are gone, and now we are free."

"I am still within the dream, but I will strive to feel the ground beneath my feet… In that fleeting moment between dream and reality, I will hold on to what is real."

Cantarella took a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes. She had just woken from a brief afternoon nap, stepping out from a hazy yet lucid dream. The sunlight at three in the afternoon filtered through the glass window, casting a quiet glow over her lonely figure in the room. The only sounds left were the gentle bubbling of the tea and her steady breathing.

She picked up her cup and took a sip. The fresh aroma soothed the restless Tacet Mark in her mouth. It no longer draws power from illusion or pain. This was the tea she had bought earlier this morning in Ragunna, just ordinary tea. The faint sweetness and subtle fragrance reminded her of a breeze in the countryside, of dew drops hanging on fresh leaves…

So, this was the taste of peace and happiness after everything had settled.

The door creaked open. She poured another cup and offered it to the guest who had just arrived. The guest had black hair and golden eyes, a presence of calm and unwavering strength that grounded the room. This quiet, tranquil afternoon was a miracle granted by no other but {PlayerName}.

The soft sunlight brushed through the room, and the refreshing fragrance lingered between them, filling the space around the two teacups. She lifted her violet-blue eyes, the mist long faded, her gaze now like a calm sea, with just the ripple of gentle feelings.