I will continue recording my conversation with Lord DeLuna before my courage disappears entirely.
After explaining the history I recorded in the previous page, I hesitantly asked the question that had been bothering me since arriving on this island.
Were they even human?
To my surprise, Lord DeLuna laughed softly.
Not mockingly.
More like someone amused by a child asking whether the moon might fall from the sky.
Then he calmly told me to relax.
According to something he called “DNA analysis,” everyone on Isla de la Luna is completely human.
Unfortunately, the explanation afterward only partially helped.
Lord DeLuna simplified the concept for me as follows:
“What people call ‘pure blood’ or ‘dragon blood’ is merely a strong and intact Thread of Ancestry.”
“If that thread weakens, breaks, or intertwines with another lineage, then variations appear.”
“Half-elves. Tieflings. Unusual talents.”
“Hereditary illnesses are damaged threads passed from one generation to the next.”
“And sometimes an ancient thread sleeping within a bloodline awakens unexpectedly.”
I understood approximately half of that explanation.
Possibly less.
But the important part was this:
They were human.
Completely human.
For reasons I do not fully understand, that realization physically relieved me.
I actually felt tension leave my shoulders.
Which was immediately followed by embarrassment because apparently I had just indirectly asked my host whether his entire civilization was secretly another species.
Thankfully Lord DeLuna seemed entirely unbothered.
He explained that Miss DeLuna, himself, his grandfather, and generations before them were all born in this world.
Naturally, this only created another problem in my head.
So I asked whether everyone on the island belonged to the DeLuna family.
Which would logically mean the entire island consisted of relatives.
To my surprise, Lord DeLuna smiled warmly and told me it was an excellent question.
I cannot properly describe how validating that felt.
This island contains too many people capable of discussing philosophy casually before breakfast.
Receiving intellectual approval here feels dangerously rewarding.
Lord DeLuna then explained that Isla de la Luna originally belonged to an organization called DeLuna.
Not a kingdom.
Not a noble house.
A research institution.
One focused almost entirely on research and development before the collapse of their world.
According to him, everyone currently living on the island descended in some way from members of that original organization.
Different lineages.
Different divisions.
Different specializations.
But ultimately connected to the same foundational structure.
Then he explained something that quietly horrified me.
The Seven Councils were originally divisions within that ancient organization.
Over centuries, they gradually evolved into the modern council system governing the island today.
I remember sitting there silently trying to process the implication that entire governments here evolved from research departments.
Which somehow explains almost everything.
And absolutely nothing.
Unfortunately, the most dangerous part of the conversation came afterward.
At some point I made the mistake of commenting that the children on this island were terrifyingly intelligent.
Even the three-year-olds here seemed more educated than many merchants working under Roderick Street.
Lord DeLuna then asked whether I understood how leyline concentration and arcane density functioned.
I nodded.
He explained that just as cities built atop strong leyline intersections gradually shape the desires and tendencies of their inhabitants over generations—
The people of Isla de la Luna absorb unusually high concentrations of arcane energy throughout their lives.
Enhancing certain aspects of themselves over time.
Intelligence.
Curiosity.
Memory.
Desire.
At that moment, my exhausted brain unfortunately produced a question before my survival instincts could stop it.
“So that also explains why nobody here seems old?”
The moment the sentence left my mouth, something changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Lord DeLuna’s expression remained calm.
His voice remained gentle.
Yet suddenly I understood with absolute clarity:
I had crossed a line.
Then he said quietly:
“There are some things you would be better not knowing, Ryn.”
“Not because they are secret.”
“But because understanding them would not benefit you.”
That sentence frightened me more than any threat possibly could.
Because for the first time since arriving here, I felt like I had encountered knowledge treated not as power—
But as hazard.
I immediately regretted asking.
And perhaps this is the merchant in me speaking, but I also understood instantly that certain information carries consequences simply by existing inside your head.
After that, the conversation returned to normal almost unnaturally quickly.
Lord DeLuna continued speaking with the same calm politeness as before, as though the moment had never happened.
Which somehow made the entire thing even more uncomfortable.
I think I finally understand why Miss DeLuna became the way she is.
Growing up here would alter anyone eventually.
For now, however, I will stop writing.
Miss DeLuna wants me to accompany her to visit the Undines again.
Apparently this is considered relaxing on this island.
I no longer question these things.
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