Sylia, the Dark & Light Saint

The morning sun kissed the golden shores of Sanctara Isle, a shimmering enclave hidden between time currents and spirit tides. It was Sylia's island—crafted by the Spirits of her Flock, a miracle gifted by the Divine. And today, it was all hers.

The air smelled of salt and wild lemons. Pale pink birds sang from the cliffside cypress trees, and everywhere was laughter—mostly children's laughter. Sylia's own children raced down the private beach alongside the Slums kids she had brought with her. Sand flew, hands clapped, and toes dug deep into warm earth as spells of joy rolled through the breeze like confetti.

Sylia reclined on a lounge covered with fine silk. In one hand, a wide crystal glass shimmered—a Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri Cocktail decorated with Magic Fruits slices. She sipped slowly, allowing the flavor to dance on her tongue.

"Now this is a vacation," she said aloud, to no one in particular.

But of course, someone heard. Everything heard her. She was Sylia, Saint of Dark and Light, Avatar of multiple Gods, and on her island, even the wind took notes of her words.

After a long moment of watching the children giggle on the beach, a hungry thought nudged its way to the front of her mind.

"Sashimi."

Grilled fish too. But the sashimi… oh, the sashimi. That was what made summer real.

With the casual grace of someone who had once torn a Demon God in half with her bare hands, Sylia rose and walked to the water's edge. Her cocktail still in hand, she stepped into the shallows. The ocean sighed under her feet. The tide pulled back. The world hushed.

Then, she called them.

She used no Spell. No Magic Command. Just a gentle whisper sent into the deep sea—one that only Magic Fish could hear. But not just any Magical Fish. An ancient enchanted and intelligent race, both whimsical and wise. Originally born of Spirits, fed on moonlight, known for their conversational skills and oddly political debates.

The sea shimmered.

Suddenly, the water erupted into bubbles and laughter as dozens of Magical Fish leapt toward her in playful spirals. They came in every shape and hue—striped, glowing, feather-finned, cloud-bodied. Some spoke telepathically, some with their mouths.

And they seemed to already know what she wanted.

"Pick me, Lady Sylia! I'm tender and ethically fattened!"

"I taste like mango with a hint of oak!"

"Take me! I've lived a fulfilling life and always wanted to be sashimi!"

Sylia laughed heartily, charmed and curious. She waded forward, surrounded by chattering fish who spun circles around her ankles.

From the sand dunes, her son Danielu stared, scandalized.

"Mom! You're not actually going to eat them, are you?!" he yelled, his face turning red. "They're cute! They talk! They have their own opinions and dreams!"

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The other kids stopped their splashing. Some looked worried. Others just thought this was another weird saintly ritual.

Sylia turned her head and raised an eyebrow. "Darling, sashimi is sacred. And it is one of the Dark Lord's favorite dishes. You know this."

"But they love you! One even proposed a new magical system last time! You used his ideas! You said you respected their intelligence."

"I respect them," she replied, a glimmer of divine mischief in her eyes. "That's why I want to eat a few."

Danielu threw his hands up. "That makes zero sense!"

Suddenly, a hush fell over the fish as something peculiar floated toward them across the waves.

It was an old fish—hunched, slow-moving, his scales dulled to silver moss. He walked on top of the water with a cane made from driftwood and wore a threadbare scarf like an old sea poet. The other fish parted for him with reverence.

He coughed. Then cleared his throat.

"Lady Sylia, please," the old fish said, in a deep, gravelly voice. "Pick me."

She narrowed her eyes, amused. "You look too old. Why would I eat you?"

"I may be a bit old," he said, adjusting his scarf with a flipper, "but I'm rich in flavor, low in guilt, and high in Omega-13s."

Sylia paused, one hand on her hip, the other still holding her drink. "Why do you really want me to pick you?"

The fish's eyes gleamed. "Because if you don't, I'll lose my powers from old age. I am already losing my position next week anyway, and the others say I smell like an old fish. At least this way, I will start over with dignity. Garnish me with lime. Dip me in sacred soy sauce."

Danielu stared, horrified. "Mom, you can't. These are intelligent and magical fishes."

"It's fish culture," Sylia replied. "He's volunteering."

She knelt down, and for a moment, time stopped. Her divine aura pulsed softly in the air. She reached toward the old fish—

Then paused.

"Actually," she said thoughtfully, "you wouldn't suit as sashimi. Maybe… bouillabaisse?"

The fish gasped. "I am not that old, my Lady!"

She laughed.

Behind her, her daughter teleported more beach chairs. Two Slums kids were making a castle that floated on a levitating tide pool. Spiritus giggled in the sky.

Sylia looked at them all, then at the old fish.

"…I am not sure you will make a good meal. Maybe you would do as stew, soup or even a grilled dish. Let me think about it," she sighed. "Now, everyone. Listen. I shall pick those fit to become my sashimi. Just gather around me. Of course, adults only as volunteers. Don't even try cheating like last time."

The fish all cheered. However, Sylia's son Danielu, started sulking.

Sylia eyed the sad old fish more closely. Something in his too-saggy fins and exaggerated hunch made her pause.

"I know you're pretending to be old," she said flatly, raising an eyebrow. "Are you that desperate to have a new body?"

Much to her son's growing chagrin, the old fish nodded solemnly.

"Yes, my lady," he said with a sniff. "I want to have a new body like the others. You never pick me because I'm not fattened enough. I've tried so many times, though."

He looked down, ashamed. "Even if I am the leader… you must eat me."

That's when her son understood.

He turned toward Sylia, eyes wide. But she was already gazing down at the fish with a soft sigh. Too many had gathered and looked excited.

"Fine, there are many of you but I can make an exception, " she said. "Today we have guests, so we need more fish."

Her voice rose slightly, ringing out over the water.

"Now, get closer. I will transfer you to new bodies."

The fish erupted in a cheer, scales glimmering in the sun as they gathered in a semi-circle around her. Some splashed with excitement, others waved tiny fins in joy.

Sylia raised one hand and murmured the words of the Spell—low, resonant syllables that vibrated with divine warmth. From her palm, shimmering lights spilled forth and touched each of the fish in turn.

As the Spell passed over them, a new fish body appeared next to many of the existing ones—sleeker, fuller, vibrant with youth and magic. The new bodies wiggled happily in the water.

"Thank you, Lady Sylia!" several of them called out at once. "Bless you! I can feel my tail again!"

The old fish, now looking far less fragile, was already stretching his new fins like someone testing a fresh suit. "Ohoho, I look magnificent!"

Sylia turned to her son, her voice quieter now.

"Do you truly think," she asked gently, "that I would eat intelligent and magical creatures that have a long life ahead of them?"

Danielu said nothing. The wind tugged gently at his sleeves.

"No, my son," Sylia said. "This is our way. We take the old bodies and we give them new ones. This way, we complete the circle."