As Sister Mary urged me to rest and recover from my injury, I found myself unable to comply. The revelation of her healing magic had sparked a whirlwind of thoughts and questions in my mind, leaving me restless and eager for answers.
Lying on the makeshift bed in the orphanage, my mind raced with possibilities. What if I, too, possessed some latent magical ability, waiting to be awakened? In the world I came from, tales of transmigration and extraordinary powers were the stuff of fiction, but here, in this unfamiliar realm, anything seemed possible.
Lost in my musings, I began to speak aloud, voicing my thoughts and speculations to the empty air. Perhaps my magic lay dormant, waiting for some grand quest or adventure to awaken it. Or perhaps I was simply a regular boy, destined for a life devoid of such extraordinary abilities.
As the hours passed, I tested every conceivable theory, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't summon even the slightest hint of magic. It seemed that I was just an ordinary boy, trapped in an extraordinary world.
With a sigh of resignation, I finally allowed myself to succumb to exhaustion, drifting into a fitful sleep haunted by dreams of adventure and magic. And though I may not have possessed any supernatural abilities, I knew that the journey ahead would be filled with wonders and challenges beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
The following day, after completing our chores around the church, I approached Sister Mary with a burning question on my mind. How was it possible for her to perform magic? It seemed like an impossibility, yet I had witnessed it with my own eyes.
As I voiced my inquiry to her, Sister Mary's laughter rang out like tinkling bells, her eyes twinkling with amusement. With a gentle smile, she explained that magic was a gift bestowed upon the noble and blessed by the gods themselves.
In that moment, a piece of the puzzle fell into place. Sister Mary's mother had been one of the blessed, a noble with the ability to wield magic. It was through her lineage that Sister Mary had inherited this extraordinary gift, a legacy passed down through generations.
As Sister Mary spoke, her words filled me with a sense of wonder and awe. To think that such mystical powers existed in the world, accessible only to a select few, was both exhilarating and humbling.
Though I may never possess the ability to wield magic myself, I felt privileged to be in the presence of someone who did.
As Sister Mary and I concluded our conversation, Joshua's energetic voice cut through the air, calling out to me with infectious enthusiasm. Without a moment's hesitation, I joined him in the playful pursuit of childhood bliss.
We darted across the orphanage grounds, our laughter echoing in the crisp morning air as we reveled in the simple joy of companionship. But as we reached the edge of the clearing, my playful demeanor faltered, replaced by a sudden sense of unease.
There, nestled amongst the surrounding foliage, stood the oak tree – the very same one that had caused my fall the previous day. Its sturdy trunk and sprawling branches cast long shadows across the ground, a silent sentinel bearing witness to our innocent antics.
A chill crept down my spine as I stared at the tree, a gnawing sense of deja vu gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. How could it be standing there, unchanged, as if the events of yesterday had never transpired?
Joshua, sensing my unease, paused in his play and looked up at me with concern etched upon his youthful features. But before I could articulate my thoughts, a soft voice called out from the orphanage, beckoning us back inside.
Reluctantly tearing my gaze away from the enigmatic oak tree, I followed Joshua back towards the safety of the orphanage walls, the mystery of the tree lingering in the recesses of my mind like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Little did I know, this encounter would be the catalyst for a journey filled with wonder, danger, and unimaginable discoveries.