I didn't know what to expect when I placed my hand against the guild's magic stone, but I didn't expect that. The crystal pulsed once, then again, violently. A cold light flared out from its core, the color shifting from brilliant white to deep, pitch black. The examiner took a step back.
"Light… and Dark," he muttered, brows furrowing as he looked from the stone to me, and then to Liriel.
I looked up at her, trying to make sense of her expression. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was more like a strange mixture of surprise and tension, like she was putting puzzle pieces together in her head.
"Unusual pairing," she finally said under her breath, gently taking my hand and pulling me away from the pedestal. "Let's keep that between us for now."
That was the start of something new, not just in power, but in how she treated me. Liriel began training me harder after that day, though it wasn't in a way that felt punishing. It felt intentional, protective, and almost urgent.
The next six months passed like a whirlwind. I learned not only how to shape wind more precisely, but how to temper ice into jagged spears, how to turn flickers of light into blinding flashes, and how to suppress the creeping whispers that came with dark magic. It was hard, it was frustrating, but it also gave me purpose.
Lirial wasn't just a tutor anymore. She became something close to a sister, or maybe the older friend I never had. She'd tease me when I messed up incantations, or throw a twig at my head when I lost focus during meditation, but she also praised me when I mastered a form or reached deeper into my mana pool than before.
She even taught me the four sword styles, each one unique, each one tied to its region's culture. The Northern Style was brutal and straightforward, all raw power and overhead strikes. The Eastern was quick and elegant, weaving around opponents like wind. The Western was more refined, based on stance and counterattacks. And the Southern Style, hers, was unpredictable, dancing between feints and aggressive bursts.
And then one morning, she was packing.
"Where are you going?" I asked her, trying to keep my voice even. I already knew something was off.
"There's someone I have to find," she said simply, folding her cloak. "An old comrade from a war that ended too quietly."
She didn't give me names, just a look, sharp, fond, and full of something unspoken.
"You're ready to learn on your own now, Eris. Don't think I'll be gone forever."
She left the next day.
And just like that, the manor felt quieter. Too quiet.
Weeks passed like whispers after Liriel's departure, fading quietly into the corners of each day. The house, once filled with the rustle of pages and soft footsteps, now felt strangely hollow. My mother didn't mention Liriel's absence, and I didn't ask. Something about the silence between us made it clear, we both missed her, but we were still figuring out how to carry on.
I spent most days either training or staring out the windows, watching the sky change. I kept thinking about what Lirial had told me before she left, about balance, about patience. But it was hard to be patient when your world felt so small. I had learned so much in those months, but there was still so much I didn't know. And something inside me kept pressing forward, like an itch beneath the skin, urging me to move.
One overcast afternoon, I finally stepped outside the estate alone. No escort, no warnings, no plans. Just me. The wind was cool, threading through the fields like it had been waiting to greet me. I followed a narrow dirt trail down past the rear gate, through tall grass and scattered wildflowers, until I reached a sloping hill where an old tree stood off to one side. Its trunk was thick, bark rough with age, and its low branches swayed like arms reaching lazily toward the clouds. I sat at its base, breathing in the scent of earth and distant rain, letting myself just exist.
That's when I heard footsteps two sets. One light, one heavier. I didn't move.
"You always sit around like that, or are you practicing for something?" a voice said.
I looked up, startled. A boy, maybe my age, stood a few feet away with a crooked grin. His crimson hair caught the wind, spiky and wild, and there was something reckless in his posture. Behind him stood a girl, quieter, more composed. Her pale blue hair shimmered faintly in the light, and her eyes scanned me with calm curiosity.
"Didn't mean to interrupt," the boy added. "But you looked like someone either thinking too hard or hiding from their parents."
"I could ask you the same," I muttered, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused.
He plopped down beside me without waiting for permission. "Name's Kael. C-rank across the board. Flame magic's my base, with Dark Lightning and Spatial as my secondaries."
"Dark Lightning?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Yup," he said proudly. "Basically black bolts that punch harder than your average spell and fry your nerves if you mess it up. Dangerous, but awesome."
"And spatial?"
"Still working on that one," he admitted, grinning. "Kind of like trying to fold space with your brain. Hurts like hell when I overdo it."
The girl sat down beside us, a bit more graceful in her movements. "I'm Rina," she said softly. "Water magic core. Ice and Crystal are my secondary types. All C-rank."
I glanced between them. "I'm Eris. My main elements are Wind and Water. Secondary… Light and Dark."
They both blinked. Kael let out a low whistle.
"Well, damn," he said. "You're either chosen by fate or doomed to drama. Probably both."
I gave a half-smile. "I don't even know how to use Ice yet. Or Light. Not really."
Rina tilted her head slightly. "You will. Magic doesn't reveal itself all at once. It unfolds."
There was something oddly reassuring about the way she said it. Like she wasn't guessing, she knew.
We stayed under that tree for a while, conversation meandering from training stories to favorite foods. Kael told a wild tale about eating fire pepper jerky on a dare and ending up breathing steam for half a day. Rina talked about fishing with her brother and how grilled lake trout with citrus was the best thing in the world. I laughed, really laughed, and it felt good,not forced or polite, just real.
They didn't ask where I came from, and I didn't volunteer it. Instead, we just were, three kids, meeting by chance, bonding over magic and strange stories. For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I had to watch my words or hide pieces of myself.
When the sun finally began to dip toward the horizon, Kael stood and stretched. "We hang out here pretty often. You should come back."
Rina gave me a small nod. "Next time, bring food," she added, lips curling in the faintest smile.
Then they were gone, walking side by side down the same trail they had come from, their figures eventually swallowed by the grass.
I remained under the tree, the bark warm behind me, the wind soft in my ears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel alone.