Ysa's hand still tingled from the icy touch of the crystal. The light had been so bright, so blinding. But why had there been no color? All the others had seen colors when the light shone for them. Her heart pounded as confusion and fear tightened in her chest. Had she done something wrong?
With her voice trembling, Ysa turned to the Baylan. "Excuse me… is it finished? Should I—should I try again?"
The Baylan shook her head, her face calm but distant. "No, child. The ceremony is complete. You may step down."
Ysa's breath hitched, panic rising. "But… but…" she stammered, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over her.
Disheartened and unsure, Ysa stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Is it finished? Why aren't my parents happy?
Before she could say more, her mother, Lady Lucinda, stepped forward, grabbing Ysa's hand with a sharp tug.
"Let's go," Lucinda said coldly. "Stop drawing attention to yourself. You're making a scene."
Ysa's heart sank further. "Yes, Mother… But the awakening is over, shouldn't we—won't we go out with Sylvia and play?" she asked, her voice small and hopeful.
Before her mother could respond, Greg's voice cut through, harsh and filled with irritation. "Stop it, Ysa. Enough with this foolishness. We're going home."
The sting of her father's words pierced her fragile hope, and Ysa flinched. The crushing disappointment in her parents' eyes silenced her, and with her gaze fixed on the ground, she followed them, the excitement she once felt slipping away into emptiness.
Sylvia, who had been watching from the side, tugged at her nursemaid's sleeve. Her brow furrowed as she looked at her older sister.
Sylvia whispered, "Why are Mother and Father scolding Ate Ysa?"
The nursemaid hushed her gently, not wanting to draw any attention.
"Hush, little one. Your sister is just… tired. Let's not worry about it." Her nanny said.
Sylvia remained curious, her wide eyes still on Ysa, wondering why, today—they were supposed to play today, now they were going home.
—-
As they left the Order of Sanggunian, Ysa trailed behind her parents, her small footsteps heavy with disappointment. Whispers filled the surrounding air—polite smiles concealing judgment, but Ysa could feel the weight of their words. Her parents walked ahead, their silence colder than any scolding.
Ysa's mind raced, desperate for reassurance, for any sign that she hadn't failed them, but none came. She turned toward her parents, her heart clinging to a fragile hope, but her father's arms were crossed, his expression unreadable.
The silence grew unbearable until, finally, Greg broke it with a calm, cold voice.
"We must be realistic, Lucinda," he said, not even glancing back at Ysa. "Ysa's awakening was disappointing, but we still have Sylvia. Her ceremony will come in a few years. She is the future of the Montemayor's name."
Ysa didn't fully understand what her father meant, but she felt it deep in her chest—she had done something wrong.
Lucinda's voice followed, equally cold but confident. "Yes, Sylvia is already special. She is the true heir to this family. We should focus on her."
Ysa's heart shattered. They were mad at her, that much she knew. Tears welled up in her eyes as her slight frame tried to hold back the sobs threatening to spill over.
When they arrived at the mansion, Ysa couldn't hold it any longer. She broke into a run, rushing to find the only person who would comfort her. As soon as she saw her, Ysa flung herself into her nanny's arms, tears streaming down her face.
"Nana, I did something wrong! Father and Mother are mad at me. What will I do?" Ysa's voice trembled, her words catching between sobs.
Nana Maria's face creased with worry. She kneeled down to Ysa's level and gently stroked her hair. "What happened, little one? Tell me, so I can understand."
Through hiccups and tears, Ysa launched into a comical, animated retelling of what had happened at the Awakening, her tiny hands waving around as she tried to explain the bright lights and the strange crystal. Nana Maria listened patiently, already piecing together the situation as Ysa struggled through her story.
By the time Ysa finished her tearful recount, Nana Maria had a clear understanding. She pulled Ysa close, hugging her tightly.
"It's not your fault, dear," she whispered soothingly. "You didn't do anything wrong. Some things are just beyond our control." Nana Maria's voice was calm, her words a balm to Ysa's aching heart.
Nana Maria tucked Ysa into bed, the poor child exhausted from all the tears she had shed. Gently brushing a lock of hair from Ysa's face, she kissed her forehead before quietly closing the door. As she made her way down the hall, returning to her duties, her heart felt heavy with worry.
I don't understand my master, she mused, shaking her head. Ysa is their eldest daughter, yet they are so cold to her. It's as if she doesn't exist. Why don't they treat her like they do Sylvia?
Nana Maria still remembered the first time she had arrived at the mansion. Lucinda had handed baby Ysa to her, and though there had been a certain distance in her gaze, there had also been warmth—just a glimmer of affection for her firstborn. But now, that warmth seemed to have vanished completely. It's as though they don't care for Ysa at all anymore.
As she turned a corner, Nana Maria suddenly heard voices echoing through the hall. She stopped, realizing it was Greg and Lucinda, deep in conversation. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the weight of their words made her freeze in place.
"We've focused on Ysa long enough. We must turn our attention to Sylvia," Greg said, his tone sharp. "There's no point in waiting anymore."
Lucinda's voice followed, "Sylvia is the one who will secure our family's legacy. We need to put our efforts into her now. Ysa…" She paused, her next words cold. "Ysa just isn't what we hoped for."
Nana Maria's heart clenched as she listened. "Poor Ysa… It's unfortunate. The poor thing… Her sister will be an Essentari, but Ysa—she's an Ordani. Her life won't be easy."
Nana Maria stood there, shaking her head, heartbroken for the little girl she had just left sleeping.
As days passed, Ysa could feel the growing coldness from her parents. Unlike before, now they wouldn't even glance at her. At the dining table, their conversation revolved entirely around Sylvia. Whenever they spoke to her sister, Ysa could feel the love and warmth in their voices, even though none of it was directed at her.
Sometimes, when her father would gently pat Sylvia's hair during dinner, Ysa would sit quietly, hoping for the same gesture. She waited for her turn, anticipating the touch that never came. As if all the affection in their hearts was reserved solely for Sylvia, with none left for her.
Months slipped by, and Ysa learned to endure the coldness. She would soon turn six, and though she had grown accustomed to being ignored, the sting never quite faded. All she could do was watch her parents and Sylvia from a distance, her heart aching with envy, hoping that one day she might be included in their love.
Yet, despite the neglect, the hope in Ysa's heart refused to die. She always made sure to be on her best behavior, believing that if she was good enough, maybe her parents would notice her. Even when Sylvia boasted about her upcoming Awakening next year, Ysa remained patient, smiling politely while keeping her quiet longings hidden.
Now, Ysa understood the weight of being an Ordani, a child with no affinity. She would be six soon, and Nana Maria had gently explained that she wouldn't be able to wield the elements like the other children who had undergone their Awakenings. Ysa was like Nana Maria—an Ordani.
But Nana had reassured her, saying, "You shouldn't be sad, Ysa. You can still achieve great things. If you study hard, you could become a scholar."
Ysa held on to those words. She wondered when her parents would send her to school. Maybe then they will notice me… The thought brought a flicker of excitement to her heart. She began to dream of a future where her parents might finally see her, not for what she wasn't, but for what she could become.