The Cornflower Witch
Book 3: Chapter 115: Embracing the Stars
Flipping through these hidden histories, Sylutia more or less understood why Branuir, such a vast city, had never been rebuilt.
Rather than a simple lack of funding, it felt more like some taboo and deliberate distancing.
The Star-Gazing School had developed to such an extreme that Sylutia suspected that even if they didn’t resolve their internal contradictions, the Hours in the heavens would sooner or later intervene.
Although the Mithril Clock inherited a small portion of the Star-Gazing School’s knowledge, it seemed to have completely removed the section about embracing the stars.
In the current shattered state of the world, welcoming the era of the stars was still too dangerous and unreliable. Yet in that fanatic age, rational people were few, and it was hard to prevent others from being swept up.
With the rise of Gold Steam, the Mage Alliance gradually shifted toward this newborn power, and exploration of the alien star slowed and largely stopped. Now only a few factions, like the Mithril Clock, still had any involvement.
For the people of this world, the power of the stars was truly mixed with praise and condemnation — or rather, it brought more calamity than blessing.
It brought life and light to the world, but it also brought trials that felt like disaster.
Finally, Sylutia reached the final page of these books and saw the last line left behind.
“We failed, we ruined everything, but one thing is certain: the True Dragons’ guardianship will be broken sooner or later, and this world will once again welcome the descent of the stars.”
This line was probably written by one of the last members of the Star-Gazing School, prophesying some kind of doom.
Whether the stars’ arrival would mean rebirth or destruction, only future generations would know.
Closing the book, Shao’an glanced out the window; it was already very late.
Her stomach was a little hungry. She had been reading so long she’d forgotten to eat.
She wondered whether the inn still had anything to eat, so Sylutia stood up, picked up a candle, and walked down the stairs step by step to the first-floor hall.
The hall still had its lights on. A few people sat at tables talking. Sylutia approached the front desk to inquire.
In the hazy glow of light, the side of the girl’s face was illuminated. That gentle profile sliced the shadows, and her clear eyes shone like flawless gems flickering in the night.
This unexpectedly revealed beauty stunned the clerk for several seconds before he snapped back to his senses.
“Would you like something to eat? We still have some bread and honey, though it’s a bit cold.” He opened the cabinet beside the front desk and took out the remaining food.
“Thank you.” The girl expressed her gratitude, then put a few silver coins on the counter.
After taking the food, she sat at an empty table, tore off a piece of bread, and ate in small bites.
The hall was rather quiet; occasional voices drifted from afar.
“I’ve saved up some money. I contacted the Sand Lizard School these past few days. They’ll accept me into the sect and teach me the advanced secret art of the Sand Lizard’s power.”
“Are you insane? That sect’s advancement method is a taboo of the Alliance, it’s been banned for ages.” The companion at the same table tried to dissuade him.
“I know it’s forbidden, but do you understand how I feel? I’m almost fifty, still stuck at Second Tier. Am I supposed to wait and die like this?”
“I’ve never made big money, never truly enjoyed life, and nobody ever really loved me. What else can I do? I won’t accept it. Am I supposed to spend the remaining decades of my life so humbly?”
“Come on, Second Tier is already decent. In some small towns you can be a teacher, get married, have children — a comfortable life.”
“Yes, yes, yes, he still understands,” the man replied, shaking his head, pouring himself wine, then gulping it down.
“Your former classmate is now a well-known official member of an established school. You visited him, you’ve seen the life I live.”
“He can sit in a nice, clean room studying what he loves. People ask him to complete works, he has glamorous classmates and teachers, and a bright future. He can sit high on that platform and watch the beautiful performances of the Silver Bell Festival, while I can only stand outside forever, hearing the merry sound within.”
“I so want to be like him, to experience that kind of life.”
“But I can’t become him. I will never become him. This feeling is unbearable, suffocating. I can’t take it. I must advance, I absolutely must. I really want to know what it feels like to possess that power. I don’t want to be ignored and looked down upon again.”
“I’ve seen too many prosperous worlds, too many beautiful things. You want me to return to that little town and be a teacher? I can’t endure that. In that place, full of farmers and foul-mouthed peddlers, no one can talk sense. They don’t understand history and have no idea what’s happening in this world, like uncivilized beasts.”
“That kind of environment is like prison every day. I can’t stay.” He shook his head again, staring blankly at the faint candle on the table.
“Oh, I’m like this candle. There isn’t much time left for me to burn.”
“Taboos don’t matter anymore. I want all that…”
Sylutia finished the bread slowly and tidied the table. She glanced at the two people sitting in the distance. One of them was rather plain-faced, with an untrimmed stubble and a somewhat portly figure, while the man opposite him looked relatively young.
Advancement... not everyone could achieve it, she sighed silently.
Suddenly she remembered the Asra District. The older students there were generally over twenty-six, seldom smiling. They always walked silently past younger apprentices, quietly reading and studying, only occasionally asking instructors questions.
The teachers said these were the fortunate ones who could remain in the Asra District; other students who couldn’t afford to stay had to withdraw and find other means to live.
Even if they couldn’t become formal mages, those mage apprentices still had paths. They could work as assistants in workshops, serve as secretaries and tutors for minor nobles, or join peripheral institutions of mage schools and do auxiliary work.
Compared to ordinary people, their lives weren’t actually bad, and they would never fall to the bottom of society or starve.
Yet even that outcome was hard for many to accept.
They once harbored beautiful expectations — to walk the same path as their classmates, to chase truth and power.
Youthful hopes eventually turned into nightmares in old age. Every time they dreamt of their younger selves, an unspeakable sorrow rose up.
They failed to become who they once hoped to be and lost the infinite possibilities they once had.
So should they admonish themselves to submit to reality and forget the ambitious young man they were?
Or even knowing the road ahead might shatter them to pieces, should they still try?
Some chose the latter.
Once life looks up and sees the stars for the first time, it can never forget that beauty.
In the end, we will march toward the stars.