The courtyard of Ashenford Castle stretched quiet beneath a pale dawn sky. Thin frost clung to the cobblestones, glistening faintly as the first rays of light spilled over the northern walls. Each exhale turned white, dissolving into the air before it could drift far.
Eryn stood in the center of the open ground, her small hands pressed together as she breathed against them. The warmth faded almost instantly, chased away by the cold that seeped into bone and marrow alike.
"It feels colder than usual today…" Her voice was soft, almost swallowed by the air.
The girl's silver hair, bound only loosely, shimmered faintly under the pale light. Her crimson eyes lingered on the protective runes that ringed the training ground, glowing faintly with the ward's steady hum. It had been a week since she had discovered her affinities—or at least the version she allowed others to see.
Outwardly, she was a dual-attribute child of water and wind. It was rare enough to make her remarkable, especially for one so young. Inwardly, however, Eryn carried a truth too heavy to share. Through Energy Manipulation, she bore what the system had called universal affinity. Fire, water, wind, earth—she could wield them all, and even the rarer attributes whispered of in hushed tones: space, void, time.
It was a gift that, if revealed, would not bring admiration, but fear. That knowledge settled heavily in her chest each time she thought of it. And so, she had chosen concealment. Wind and water—rare, but not impossible. Ice, their fusion—powerful, but comprehensible.
The courtyard remained silent. The cold seeped deeper into her fingers, prickling like needles beneath her skin. Ten minutes had passed since the appointed hour. Still, she waited.
Finally, the sound of footsteps broke through the stillness—measured, steady, unhurried.
Leon Ashenford emerged through the faint veil of morning mist. The Duke of the North wore a dark coat lined with fur, his silver hair tied neatly at the back of his head. His presence carried with it the weight of command, as though the very air grew sharper around him.
"You're early," he remarked, voice calm and unhurried.
Eryn blinked once. Her small brows knitted faintly, though her tone remained composed when she answered, "I came at the appointed time."
Leon slipped a silver watch from his coat and clicked it open. The hands were frozen, unmoving, five minutes before the hour. His eyes lingered upon it for a moment, expression unreadable.
"…It seems my watch has stopped." His voice carried no hint of apology, merely a quiet statement of fact. With deliberate ease, he closed the watch and returned it to his pocket.
His gaze shifted back to the child before him. "Let us begin. I must see to Alfred's sword training afterward."
---
Eryn exhaled slowly, crimson eyes steady despite the faint quickening of her pulse. She had trained under Sally's guidance for a week now. The Duchess's methods were precise, structured, but infused with warmth. Today would be different. Leon carried no softness in his voice, no indulgence in his expression. His way would be sharp, direct, like the ice he commanded.
Her small hands curled faintly at her sides. Excitement warred with unease.
Leon's boots pressed lightly against the frost-covered stones as he approached the center of the courtyard. He raised one hand slightly.
"Since your attributes are water and wind, the same as mine, your natural fusion will be ice. It is rare, but not without precedent. Today, I will teach you the foundation."
His eyes flickered, glinting faintly beneath the pale light. "Magic, Eryn, is not chaos. It is order. Those who fail to understand this chase power blindly and end in ruin. But for those who grasp its patterns, its conditions, its logic… magic becomes law."
The words settled deeply into the air. For an instant, the faint hum of the runes seemed to echo them.
From within his coat, Leon withdrew a slim diary bound in dark leather. He held it out toward her.
"This is my record. Notes, diagrams, and the methods I have refined over the years. Consider it a path laid before you. Do not deviate recklessly, but neither should you follow it blindly. Learn, and then think for yourself."
Eryn accepted the diary with both hands, her crimson eyes flickering across the neat handwriting and carefully drawn diagrams within. Each page was filled with precise instructions, runes etched with a steady hand, and annotations that spoke of trial, error, and refinement.
Her gaze lingered on the first lesson.
Step 1: Visualize water in your hands.
Step 2: Shape the water into a sharp form using wind energy.
Step 3: Freeze the form by condensing its energy.
Step 4: Release with intent.
A simple spell, meant to conjure a shard of ice. On paper, the instructions appeared almost effortless. Yet Eryn knew instinctively that even the smallest deviation would cause failure.
She drew in a quiet breath, lowering the book. "I will try."
---
Her small hands rose before her chest. She closed her eyes.
Moisture… she imagined water gathering in her palms, a faint ripple forming out of nothing. Her Energy Manipulation skill responded swiftly, converting ambient energy into the essence of water. Her hands tingled faintly, as if brushed by condensation.
Condition check… her mind supplied the thought automatically. Enough energy—yes. Clear intent—yes. Shape—still unstable.
Her lips parted faintly as she exhaled. Wind stirred gently around her hands, shaping the formless water into the outline of a shard. The edges blurred, trembling, incomplete.
She pushed further. Condense. Freeze.
The image wavered, flickering. Nothing manifested.
Her crimson eyes opened slowly. "Error," she murmured under her breath.
Leon's gaze did not change, though the faintest arch of his brow suggested approval at her honesty. "Again."
She obeyed, closing her eyes once more.
This time, she sharpened the visualization, crafting each detail as though drawing it with precision. The water took shape again, wind pressing against its edges, forcing it into form. Cold gathered, clinging to the air.
A thin, fragile icicle formed in her hand. It trembled as though about to collapse, yet it existed.
Her eyes widened faintly. "…It worked."
Leon's voice was steady, approving yet restrained. "Good. Magic responds to conditions. Fulfill them, and it obeys. Neglect even one, and it rejects you. Precision is not optional—it is absolute."
The icicle cracked, shattering into frost that scattered across her palms. Eryn exhaled, crimson eyes flashing faintly with determination.
So it truly is like code, she thought silently. Each step is a condition. If even one fails, the entire execution collapses. But if I master them… I can write my own.
She repeated the process again and again. Some shards formed sharp and bright, only to collapse moments later. Others failed before they could even manifest. Each error, however, she treated as data—something to be catalogued, analyzed, refined.
By the time the sun had fully risen, her small hands produced a blade of ice, short but steady, balanced upon her palm. The reflection of light within it glimmered faintly, like glass forged from frozen rivers.
Her lips curved faintly in triumph, though she forced the expression into composure when Leon's eyes met hers.
The Duke of the North studied the result for a long moment before finally speaking. "Enough. You have done well for a first lesson."
He closed his hands behind his back, voice calm. "Study the diary. Practice with discipline. When you understand the logic, you may then attempt to innovate. Not before."
Eryn lowered her gaze respectfully. "…Yes, Father."
The courtyard slowly emptied of frost as the sun climbed, though the chill lingered, stubborn and sharp. Leon had already departed, his stride steady and unhurried as he made his way to where Alfred awaited with sword in hand. Only the faint glow of the runes and the prints upon the stone tiles remained as proof of his presence.
Eryn stood in silence, clutching the diary against her chest. Her crimson eyes traced the faint shimmer of magic still suspended in the air. A shard of ice melted in her hand, dripping down her fingers before dissolving completely.
"Patterns," she whispered to herself.
Her gaze lowered to the book. Each page within was filled with diagrams of circles, runes, and annotations. Yet beneath those layers, Eryn saw more than symbols. She saw instructions, sequences, requirements. Conditions.
Step one, step two, step three. Failure at any point meant collapse. Success required alignment at every stage. Wasn't this the same as the codes she had once studied in her old world? A failed line of logic here, an unclosed bracket there—and the program unraveled.
Her small fingers brushed across the neat handwriting. Leon's logic was sound, his methods precise. But even in this, she could feel the boundaries. He taught what could be taught. She would seek what lay beyond.
---
The following days passed in a rhythm that felt at once exhausting and exhilarating. Each morning, Leon appeared at the courtyard. His instructions were sparse, yet each word carried weight. He demonstrated sparingly—an icicle forming at a flick of his hand, a wall of frost rising in silence. He explained the gestures, the flow of energy, the balance between wind's shaping and water's density.
"Don't overthink," he would say, his voice calm as the snow that never melted in the north. "Control, but not rigidity. Let it flow, then guide it."
To Eryn, however, not overthinking was impossible. Each time she formed a shard, her mind split the process into parts.
Gather water essence—stable? Yes.
Wind pressure applied evenly—correction, left palm angled five degrees.
Condensation speed—too fast, cracks forming, adjust output.
Her crimson eyes sharpened with each attempt. Each failure was logged silently, dissected, corrected. To Leon, she appeared as a quiet, diligent student. To herself, she was an experimenter—debugging, rewriting, refining the very code of magic.
---
Two weeks slipped by. The frost on the courtyard stones grew familiar beneath her feet. The hum of the runes became a rhythm that settled into her pulse.
Her spells, too, transformed. At first, they had been brittle shards, trembling and unstable. Then they became sharp icicles, firm enough to embed in stone. Later still, she shaped three shards at once, balanced in the air like soldiers awaiting command.
Leon's instructions grew shorter with each day. He watched with eyes that revealed little, save for the faint narrowing whenever she succeeded too quickly.
On the morning of the thirteenth day, he instructed without demonstration, simply folding his arms. "Three shards. Release them simultaneously."
Eryn closed her eyes, crimson gaze shuttered from the world.
Her hands rose, palms outstretched.
Shard one—temperature stable.
Shard two—symmetry corrected by angle adjustment.
Shard three—condensation slowed for density balance.
The air shivered. Three perfect blades of ice shimmered into existence, suspended above her hands.
She opened her eyes, lips curving faintly.
Leon observed in silence before finally speaking. "…Good."
A rare approval. His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned away. "Continue practicing. I will not guide you further today."
His footsteps echoed softly as he departed.
---
The courtyard returned to silence, save for the whisper of wind.
Eryn remained where she stood, the shards still hovering. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her fingers. The shards spun, crossing paths, circling one another like dancers in a silent performance.
Her heart quickened. Each gesture felt like writing a new line of logic, testing a different execution path. She layered wind differently, condensed water faster, adjusted timing. Some shards shattered midair, scattering frost. Others shot forward, embedding in the runes with faint cracks.
Every success carved excitement deeper into her chest. Every failure only fed her understanding.
To anyone else, it might have been training. To Eryn, it was discovery.
Magic is code, she thought. Code written into the world. If I understand its conditions, I can rewrite it and I can finally create my own.
Her crimson eyes reflected the shards that spun in the air, a faint, dangerous light gleaming within them.
---
By the end of the second week, the changes were undeniable.
When Leon instructed her to summon three shards, she formed five. When he showed her how to harden ice for defense, she shaped it into a rotating disc that hovered steadily, spinning like a shield with its own will.
Leon's expression did not change outwardly, but the faint pause before he spoke betrayed his surprise. "…Very good."
Alfred, who sometimes lingered near the courtyard during sword practice, would glance over in awe. His blue eyes reflected both pride and a faint trace of unease. He would not say it aloud, but even he sensed it: Eryn's progress was unnatural.
Sally, too, watched from the balcony once. Her crimson eyes softened as she saw the child form shards with ease, though a shadow flickered briefly across her expression—an unspoken thought, swiftly hidden.
The castle whispered quietly. Servants spoke of the child's rapid learning, her strange talent. Some called it a blessing, others an omen. None dared speak too loudly when Leon's shadow passed by.
---
That evening, beneath a fading sky painted in amber and violet, Eryn stood in the courtyard alone. Her hands were raised, palms steady, as a thin blade of ice spun above them.
Unlike the brittle shards of before, this one was balanced, smooth, spinning endlessly without collapse. It caught the last light of dusk, scattering it into faint prisms across the frost.
Her crimson eyes did not waver.
Leon watched from the archway, unseen. His expression was as unreadable as ever. Yet for a brief instant, a faint curve touched his lips—pride tempered with caution. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
Eryn lowered her hands slowly, the blade dispersing into frost. A quiet smile lingered on her lips.
"This is only the beginning…"
Her voice was soft, yet in the empty courtyard, it carried.
---
Night fell. The castle grew quiet, torches burning steady along the halls.
Eryn lay upon her bed, silver hair spilling across the pillow. The diary Leon had given her rested open beside her, pages filled with his notes. Her crimson eyes lingered upon the runes for a long moment before she closed it carefully.
"…One month," she whispered to herself. "In one month, I've reached this level."
Her hands pressed lightly against her chest. Beneath skin and bone, her soul thrummed with power—vast, but heavy, straining against her small human frame.
She closed her eyes, calling silently. "System."
Ding.
Host's progress: above projected rate. Warning: Soul capacity vast, but human vessel fragile. Excessive strain risks collapse.
Her breath slowed. "…How do I reduce the fatigue?"
Ding.
Two paths available:
Path One: Energy Manipulation. Steady conversion of ambient energy into Soul Energy. Slow, concealable, safe.
Path Two: Dragon Evolution. Activation of dormant Dragon DNA. Awakening of true form. Growth rapid, strength overwhelming. Risk: Exposure.
Her small frame trembled faintly. The words pressed into her like a weight.
"…So I could become a dragon now."
Ding.
Affirmative. Dragon Form = permanent true form. Host may alternate between human (active) and dragon (dormant) freely. Risk factor: extreme.
Her crimson eyes opened slowly, catching the faint gleam of moonlight that spilled through the curtains. Her fingers curled against the sheets.
Not yet. Not here. To reveal such a truth within these walls would be to bring danger upon the very people she now called family. Sally, Leon, Alfred—the warmth they gave her would turn to ash if others came seeking what she was.
Her lips parted, whispering into the still air. "…I'll wait. For now, I'll focus on Energy Manipulation. I'll draw from water, from wind, from sunlight itself. I'll expand my soul slowly, safely."
The system hummed softly.
Ding.
Objective Updated: Phase One — Mage Foundation. Duration: Six Months. Goals: Mana Control, Soul Energy Expansion, Space Creation. Dragon Evolution delayed until safe environment established.
The words echoed in her mind like commandments.
Her breath steadied. Her crimson eyes closed once more.
"…Space creation," she murmured. The idea was already forming. A place sealed away from prying eyes. A pocket of reality no entity could invade. A sanctuary where she could evolve freely.
The thought brought a strange calm, even as sleep slowly claimed her.
When dawn came again, the courtyard would welcome her once more. But in the silence of her room, beneath the watch of the moon, Eryn's resolve deepened into something unshakable.
One day, she would not merely wield the functions given to her. She would write her own law upon the world.
And no ordinary mage would ever match her.