Martha

Sekalia. An unremarkable agricultural town in the northeast of the Starry Country, so obscure you could hardly even find it on a map. Its name came from Lord Sekalia, who had cleared and reclaimed this land a thousand years ago; only because this forgotten noble put down roots and raised a family here did the area ever become inhabited. Trace their bloodlines back, and eighty percent of the town's residents carried the blood of that lord. It was only half a year ago that this agricultural town was finally registered on the newest map of the Starry Country. Prior to that, even the most detailed military map would merely note a continuous expanse of fields here—as if fields could sprout crops all on their own. Dawn had barely begun to break when Martha had already gotten up and neatly folded her quilt. Perhaps due to her advancing years, she had been sleeping less and less over the past year, sometimes lying quietly in bed until first light. She went out to the courtyard to draw well water to wash up. It was not as though they lacked tap water, but well water was free. A light chill hung in the air. Martha measured out a mix of coarse grains and concentrated feed, then carried the feed bowl and water basin to tend to the chickens. Once their breakfast was sorted, she watered her balloon vines; on occasion, she would pick their tender leaves to cook with. After that, she drank a cup of lightly salted water, put on a light jacket and a pair of spotless running shoes, and stepped out into the morning mist. It was neither the busy farming season nor time for the factory shifts to begin, so there was hardly anyone on the road, save for an occasional dog barking in the distance. Though nominally an agricultural town, Sekalia was virtually indistinguishable from a rural village. Apart from two general stores, it possessed almost no other amenities, and buying fresh produce required traveling to a market an hour away. As Martha jogged past one of the general stores, a middle-aged man sitting outside—who appeared to have been drinking all night—hollered a drunken remark at her that no one could decipher. His companion immediately pulled him back, however, and the two burst into loud laughter. Accustomed to this, Martha paid them no mind. She jogged in a loop around the fields, a circuit that took a solid half-hour or more, not turning back until she reached the entrance to the highway. This highway had only been connected to Sekalia six years ago; before that, reaching the nearest paved road meant trudging along a dirt path for half an hour. On her way back, instead of brightening, the sky grew even darker. *Oh dear, it's going to rain,* Martha thought. Sure enough, the moment she reached home, a drizzle began to patter down. She hurried to bring the laundry hanging outside into the back room and fastened the chicken coop securely so the chicks would not escape. By the time she finished scurrying about, she was soaked through and could not help sneezing. Seized with anxiety, Martha swiftly changed into dry clothes and brewed a cup of hot tea. Only after her body warmed up did she start preparing breakfast: two eggs, a carton of milk, three slices of bread, along with some chicken breast and a banana. To be frank, Martha had little appetite. Her stomach had always been weak, and she usually preferred vegetables, but she still forced herself to finish the meal. In the past, she would already be heading to work at the factory by this hour. Although her daughter had repeatedly urged her to resign, Martha had never found the job exhausting. She had done it for decades and could do it with her eyes closed—what was so tiring about that? Sitting cooped up at home all day was pointless anyway; chatting with her coworkers was much better. She knew her daughter wanted her to enjoy life, but her time wasn't worth much anyway, so why not trade it for a little money? Sipping hot tea to aid her digestion, Martha looked out at the curtain of rain. Dark clouds flooded the sky like a rising tide. In years past, it would never have rained at this time of year, but after the sky shattered, the weather patterns had shifted. Temperatures no longer changed every three months, and the sowing times, crop varieties, harvest seasons, and so forth were all altered... The world Martha had once thought eternal and unchanging, the life she had grown accustomed to for decades, had been completely upended by that skyfall. Yet what the skyfall changed was not merely the world, but her own life as well. Since she could not exercise outside in the rain, Martha had no choice but to postpone her morning workout routine to the afternoon. Putting on her spectacles, she activated her miracle bracelet, and a message instantly popped up. She squinted at it and could not help a knowing smile. It was a photo from Adele, who had defeated her first opponent in the Meteor Tribulation and happily shared the news with her. Martha carefully drafted a congratulatory message and sent it back. Adele did not reply, likely still asleep. Although her daughter's classmates reached out from time to time, the one Martha was most familiar with and fond of was the lively, cheerful Adele. This city girl was even more boisterous than the countryside girls, reminding Martha of her own daughter's mischievous childhood. Once, Martha had thought her daughter had an obedient, gentle disposition—until other parents came knocking on her door, and she realized the girl's minor scrapes and bruises had not come from accidental falls. She had refused to believe her daughter would bully others, yet Martha was not a capable, assertive mother who could stand tall. She could only shut her daughter inside the house to keep her out of adults' affairs, while she herself bowed low, apologized to the other parents, and offered compensation, begging for their forgiveness... But the moment Martha turned around, her daughter dashed outside, banging two food basins together from one end of the village to the other, shouting, "Sterling, I'm sorry I hurt you! You're a big eight-year-old kid, so please forgive a little five-year-old like me!" Everyone had watched her daughter and laughed, and the boy's parents had been quite satisfied, while only Sterling chased after her in tears, begging her to stop shouting. From then on, no one ever came to complain to Martha again. She never knew whether her daughter had learned to behave or if the other children simply felt too humiliated to admit they had been bullied by a girl several years younger. Martha tapped "Basic Education" on the light screen, took out paper and pen, and resumed yesterday's lesson. This miracle bracelet had once belonged to her daughter, and these courses were naturally the very ones her daughter had taken. As a child, Martha had only received the most rudimentary general education; she had never encountered any knowledge that wasn't useful for buying groceries. Consequently, studying these foundational courses was exceptionally arduous for her, and a one-hour lecture took her two hours just to grasp the gist of. And that was only because she did not need to take examinations; if she had to pass exams, she would have had to enroll in the "Advanced Courses" within the program as well. After turning seven, whenever she wasn't doing farm chores, her daughter had spent whole days immersed in studying—apart from watching a play or film now and then—all to thoroughly master these courses. In truth, Martha had never wanted her daughter to live such a bitter life... Born into a family in such a remote corner, born as her daughter, the girl would have plenty of hardships to endure once she grew up. She had hoped her daughter could at least enjoy a happy childhood. Yet as her daughter grew older, Martha understood her thoughts less and less, and the girl's temper grew increasingly fierce. Once, when Martha interrupted her studying, her daughter had knocked over a water cup in a frenzy, scolding, *Why do you always bother me?* while venting about how hard it already was being born into this household. Martha had meekly wiped the floor dry, only daring to dab away her tears in secret. Martha felt she did not deserve such a wonderful child. No matter how hard she worked, she could never provide good conditions. If only her daughter had been born into a better family... so no matter how her daughter yelled at her, she felt she had it coming. But the very next day, her daughter had silently followed her out to help with the farm work. It was then that Martha had quietly resolved never to become a burden to her. That was why she had quit her job, trained diligently, changed her diet, and begun studying the basic curriculum from scratch. Everyone else assumed she had gone mad from grief, but Martha's goal was clear and simple, identical to her daughter's when she was young—she wanted to become a sorcerer. Because only sorcerers could pass through the Void Gate to reach other countries. Martha did not know whether she would ever be able to leave Sekalia, nor did she know what other conditions were required to go to other lands. Regardless, she had to become a sorcerer first. Only by taking this step would it be possible for her to leave the land she had lived on for decades and search for her daughter in a foreign realm. She couldn't just keep wiping away tears forever, being a burden for the rest of her days. Outside, the wind and rain grew fiercer, droplets drumming sharply against the windowpanes. Martha took off her spectacles, rubbed her tired, stinging eyes, and resumed her study. Suddenly, a violent gust of wind whipped up outside. Worried that the chicken coop might be leaking, she had just stood up when a knock sounded at the door. *Who could it be? A reporter?* There had been a period half a year ago when many strange reporters flocked to her home to interview her, though that had soon been brought to an abrupt halt. Still, only strangers knocked; neighbors would simply call out her name. Yet with such heavy wind and rain outside, why would anyone come calling at this hour? While Martha hesitated, the knocking grew more urgent. Calling out that she was coming, she walked to the door. As her hand gripped the handle, an unexplainable tremor surged through her heart. When Martha opened the door, the uninvited guest swept inside along with the howl of the storm. He wore a trench coat with the hood up, half of his face concealed in shadow, looking shady and hardly like an upright man. Yet his clothes were remarkably dry, without bringing in a single drop of water. However, the stranger's appearance failed to capture even a sliver of Martha's attention. From the moment he stepped across the threshold, Martha stared blankly at the young woman he carried on his back. She, too, wore a hood, from which strands of red hair spilled out on either side. She rested quietly against the stranger's back, just like a little girl exhausted from play. Martha reached out a finger, but before touching the girl's cheek, she drew it back as if stung by an electric shock—as though terrified of popping this fragile, bubble-like dream. The stranger closed the door and considerately lowered the girl's hood, revealing her breathtakingly beautiful sleeping face. Yet in a mother's eyes, no matter how grown or gorgeous her child became, the moment she fell asleep, she would always return to that innocent, endearing baby she once was. Martha gingerly caressed her feverishly hot cheek. The girl's nose twitched faintly, her expression identical to when she was little. "Where is her room?" Yaxiu asked. Martha cast a complex look at him, turned, and said, "Follow me."