NOVPUBWhen the sun sets in the west, and the city lights begin to illuminate the streets, as the bustling crowd gradually disperses, the solemn and majestic Great Monastery regains its serene, devout tranquility.
The night ceremony begins.
The priests form a line and walk towards the altar, holding freshly picked moon branches. They stand solemnly in front of the pure and flawless statue of the goddess, softly chanting hymns that have been passed down for thousands of years.
Candlelights flicker in the wind, casting reflections on every face anticipating the festival fireworks. On this day, Saint Kray Temple is undoubtedly the place closest to the Moon Goddess in the entirety of the Cerryti Empire.
When the sky turns completely dark, the moon lanterns are released, fireworks soar into the sky, and the High Priest performs the prayer dance.
At Elliot Square.
"It's gotten colder, hasn't it."
Isatia rubs her palms together, exhaling a white mist.
As night deepens, the temperature drops noticeably, and it seems as though a light snow begins to fall from the sky again.
Earlier, she had joined her elder sister and daughter in the Main Hall to eat some snacks from Saint Kray Temple, and then the three had wandered to the square and streets in front of the Eliot Building, now lined with temporary food stalls.
Initially, because the queues in front of the popular stalls were too long, she decided to take her sister to a place without lines to get something to eat first.
Now, everyone is focused on finding a good spot to watch the festival. There aren't as many people buying snacks anymore.
"Mom, fix your scarf properly."
Hyperion untied Isatia's scarf that was starting to fall off, re-wrapped it layer by layer around her.
Ever since Tamisha teased her in the Shadow World about being bad at taking care of children, she'd sought advice from the Bingxue Witch on how to look after younger generations. As it turns out, that advice came in handy.
The only odd thing was that the one being cared for ended up being her mother, Isatia, whom she cherished wholeheartedly.
"Ah, being taken care of by you feels a little embarrassing, but deep down, I think being your mom is wonderful."
Isatia squinted contentedly, letting Hyperion fuss over her like a newfound dependent.
Not only could Hyperion steer her so she wouldn't get lost, feed her bite by bite, or even carry her if she grew tired—they seemed to do it all. Thinking this way, laboring through ten months of pregnancy to give birth to Hyperion had really been worth it.
"I can rest easier now—feels like you've both grown up."
Talia chewed on a grilled fish skewer, her paper food box still holding plenty more. She spoke casually to the other two.
It felt more as though Hyperion and Isatia looked out for each other now, sparing her from holding both hands at all times.
Back in Capital City Ekrite, when the weather cooled, she would help Hyperion wrap her scarf, but now, Hyperion had stepped up to wrap Isatia's instead.
The three of them had enjoyed themselves immensely in Brilda today—it was relaxing, carefree, a day where Talia could move from spot to spot while solely focusing on eating, relieved from any major worries about Hyperion or Isatia.
"Sister! You're not allowed to retire; you still have to keep taking care of us—mother and daughter."
Just as Isatia finished having her scarf adjusted, she lunged toward Talia's side, hugged her tightly, and said teasingly while snuggling up to her.
She gave a look to Hyperion.
Hyperion immediately caught on and ran to claim the other side of Talia.
"Tata, you still have so much to teach me."
Hyperion said seriously to Talia.
"Alright, alright… just let go of me first; I don't want to get sauce on you."
Talia worked to maneuver the grilled fish skewer away from them, agreeing with their antics.
Of course, she couldn't simply ignore Hyperion and Isatia.
"Sis, your body is so warm—it's truly enviable for that boy."
Isatia hugged Talia even tighter, growing sleepy in her embrace.
"..."
Hyperion hesitated for a moment.
She had to admit that Isatia had a point, for even she agreed that hugging Talia was a blissful experience.
But still, it felt a little strange to hear aloud.
"No, no, hugging my daughter brings equal happiness! Just thinking about that boy hugging her in the future makes me furious."
It looked as though realization had hit Isatia like a bolt of lightning—she hastily tried fixing her words as to treat both scenarios equally, alluding to 'fairness.'
Under Lanci's careful guidance, she'd successfully adapted terms, but swapping 'brother' for 'that boy' had only added to her unease. No matter what she said, it felt like she was in an awkward no-win situation. What kind of mother talks like this about 'giving away' their daughter?
"Enough, Isatia—you're making things messier the more you speak."
Talia continued nibbling on her grilled fish undistracted.
After sorting things out in the past with Hyperion, the two of them had long moved past any lingering concerns between them. No matter how her relationship with Lanci might develop in the end, Talia knew undoubtedly that she and Hyperion would never plot against each other and would always remain each other's closest kin.
"That's right, Mom! As long as you don't bring up 'that boy,' we won't feel awkward. Actually, Tata and I have a fairly clear grasp of our connections to him. You, mom, are the only one who keeps throwing things out of alignment."
Hyperion recollected their times in both the Nanwantina territory and Royal Capital Ichrite, reminiscing on how they used to hang together daily without overthinking familial ranks. Only when Isatia joined the group did her involvement seem to bring chaos into their dynamic.
"Okay, got it. I'll stay away from mentioning 'big brother,' then."
Isatia agreed sincerely.
"Big brother?" 𝒏𝒐𝒗𝒑𝒖𝙗.𝒄𝒐𝒎
Hyperion felt like her proficiency in Cerryti language fell apart suddenly—even resorting to translation magic couldn't salvage meanings when words got tangled like this.
"No, no—let's just call him Lanlan."
Isatia covered her mouth while correcting herself.
She pondered endlessly but couldn't figure a perfect designation for this situation—resorting back to casual nicknaming instead felt most seamless after all.
Thus, dramatically playing on her elder aura, she gave the label for Lanci.
When among outsiders and pseudonyms were used out of privacy habits, Talia had first coined calling Lanci in "Lanlan-style," then before long, naturally all continued practicing that.
"'Lanlan-style' fits decently."
Hyperion mused, agreeing after everything seemed, at last, coherent-momentarily.
Whether through mere intuition pinpointing unbalanced dynamics otherwise, subtler yet whenever observing Isatia interact together uniquely around certain moments gone astray alongside entirely rarified circumstances then—it baffled Hyperion having such mom-characteristics temporarily reverting beneath youthfulness becoming reversed unexpectedly needing steered anew again when Lanci neared-by scene disrupted.
