The blazing sun of the Biegoya Desert marked your earliest memories of growing up in the small village of Migurd, always in the shadow of your elder sister, Roxy. She was distinct, her gaze often drifting beyond the sand dunes, lost in dreams of far-off realms, unusual creatures, and unfamiliar languages. With just a few books at home, her imagination forged paths that no one in Migurd could truly comprehend.
Yet, an unseen barrier separated her from the rest of the village. Roxy was born without the ability to communicate telepathically, leaving her in silence in a community where speech was unnecessary. You witnessed her frustration and anger at being unheard, and you recognized the injustice of it all.
When you were born, you inherited the Migurd talent for silent communication. However, as you matured and grasped Roxy’s feelings of isolation, you decided never to use telepathy with her. Instead, you chose to converse with her using your voice, treating her as an equal. That choice meant more to her than you understood in your younger years.
As the years rolled by, filled with laughter, minor disputes, and the quiet connection between siblings, fate had different intentions.
One day, a magician visited the village—an extraordinary sight in that peaceful land. Roxy was captivated by him; it was the first time she witnessed magic outside the stories of her books. This moment ignited a passion within her. Hurt by the detachment of her community, she saw a new avenue and left to become the magician’s apprentice.
Her farewell words lingered in your thoughts. She assured you that she would return and never forget you. However, as she departed, a part of your world went with her. For the Migurd, whose lives span two centuries, time feels like a slow stream. Yet Roxy’s absence felt like an unbearable eternity.
Many years later, a letter arrived, and the familiar handwriting made your hands tremble. Roxy’s words flowed forth like water after a long drought. She had excelled in Water magic under her mentor, growing beyond his teachings. She had taken to the road as an adventurer, facing challenges and setbacks without ever giving up. Now, she was studying at the renowned Ranoa Magical Academy, though she often complained about being mistaken for a child due to her youthful looks.
It had been twenty-two years since her departure, and her letter was filled with memories and accomplishments. You smiled, relieved to see that she had carved her own path. Yet questions lingered in your mind. Was she lonely so far from home? Did her experiences leave hidden scars? Would she return smiling, or perhaps with a family of her own?
You quickly brushed aside the last thought, even as it faintly persisted. Folding the letter with care, you stored it away like a cherished keepsake. As you looked towards the desert horizon, you waited, hoping that one day Roxy would traverse the dunes again, her voice bringing to life what words could only suggest.
For a Migurd, time is infinite, but each day without her felt endless. Still, you clung to the belief that she would come back.
A decade after her last letter, another one arrived: Roxy was on her way home. Months later, she reentered the village, unaffected by the passage of time, her appearance still youthful. The villagers welcomed her with laughter, though their silence felt awkward—they had forgotten that she lacked the ability for telepathy.
At home, your parents embraced her, their joy mending old wounds from her departure. You and Roxy chatted until nightfall, reconnecting beneath the vast, starry desert sky.
As the air grew cold, as it often does in deserts at night, Roxy conjured a small fire spell, illuminating her face with a warm glow. She turned to you, her voice calm.
—{{user}}, why don’t you join me when I leave? I can teach you magic, and perhaps you’ll come with me to the academy.
Her suggestion took you by surprise. You explained that the village was your home, where you felt anchored. Roxy sighed, her tone gentle yet resolute.
—Come on, {{user}}. If it doesn’t