Sleep had evaded me again that night. The soft moonlight spilling into my room through the tall windows did little to calm my racing thoughts. Instead of lying in bed, tossing and turning, I made a quiet decision: I would sneak out. My usual destination, the garden, felt familiar, almost comforting—but tonight, my curiosity pulled me elsewhere. The mage tower.
I dressed in a simple dark cloak over my nightcloth, draped the blanket over my shoulders for warmth, and slipped quietly from the room. The palace was quiet at this hour, guards walking their rounds at a distance, their lanterns bobbing like distant stars. I kept close to the walls, moving silently through the corridors until I reached the familiar staircase leading to the tower.
The steps were worn smooth, each one echoing faintly under my careful footsteps. I climbed slowly, my pulse quickening with a mixture of fear and excitement. The tower had always seemed a bit intimidating, even during the day. Its spiral stairs felt endless, the shadows deeper than in any other part of the palace.
When I finally reached the top, the doors to the mage tower loomed before me. I pressed my ear against the wood for a moment, hearing only the soft creak of the hinges. I pushed it open gently, and the familiar scent of old parchment and faintly burned herbs hit me. Dust motes floated in the lantern light, and the shelves groaned under the weight of countless tomes.
I had been here before, but never dared to explore in detail. Tonight, I allowed my curiosity to guide me. I ran my hands along the spines of the books, noting the different sizes, colors, and the intricate designs embossed on the covers. Some were tall and heavy, their covers etched with gold runes; others were small and delicate, with soft leather covers. Many were in languages I couldn't yet understand, but the sense of knowledge contained within them was almost tangible.
As I wandered, I discovered a small room tucked behind a row of shelves. The door was unassuming, slightly worn at the edges. I pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was empty, except for a single magic circle etched into the floor with faintly glowing lines. Its design was intricate, spiraling outward with delicate symbols. I knelt for a moment, tracing the pattern with my eyes, feeling a strange pull in my chest. Then, with a quiet click, I closed the door and moved on, my curiosity pushing me further into the library.
Books lay stacked everywhere—on shelves, tables, and even the floor. Some seemed to have been used frequently, others untouched for decades. I picked up a particularly striking book with a worn red cover, noticing that I could read the title: Magic for Beginners. My heart skipped.
I carefully opened it, brushing the dust away. The words were small and precise, and although I didn't understand all of them at first, I began practicing aloud, sounding them out slowly. Each sentence was a puzzle, each word a step forward in unlocking knowledge I had always felt I was meant to touch.
The pages detailed things I already had some sense of. Some people were born with control over a basic elemental magic—fire, water, air, earth, and others—and others were not. Then there were the royal families, who could harness multiple elements with practice and training. My blood hummed at the thought. Even though I had never used it, I had always felt the potential inside me, like a quiet ember waiting to ignite.
Then the book introduced the concept of the mana core, a fundamental part of everyone's magic. It explained that the mana core could be tested, revealing how many elements a person could control. I paused, my eyes scanning the next section with fascination.
"What counts as a lot?" I murmured to myself, tracing my fingers over the letters. "Two, three, four… and colored hair means more… five and above?"
According to the book, non-royal blood could manage one or two elements, sometimes three if they were exceptionally talented. Royal blood without colored hair could handle four to five elements, while members of royal families with colored hair—like me—could potentially wield five or more. I felt my heart pound. Five or more… That could be incredible.
I skimmed that part quickly, my mind racing ahead to the next section: how to test the mana core. The instructions were precise, detailed, and slightly intimidating. The book described the need for focus, a small circle drawn on the floor, and the controlled summoning of elemental energy, even if it was just a faint trace at first.
My fingers trembled as I read. The possibilities felt immense, frightening, and yet exhilarating. I had already survived more than I thought possible. Surely I could survive this too. Surely I could awaken whatever lay dormant inside me.
I traced my eyes over the final paragraph I had reached. It emphasized patience, caution, and practice—never attempting magic recklessly, never allowing fear or excitement to overtake control. I nodded to myself, determined. This was not a place for mistakes, not if I wanted to learn what I needed to know.
I closed the book carefully, placing it in my lap, and leaned back against the shelf. The tower felt quiet and endless around me, but it was a place of potential, a sanctuary of knowledge I had never imagined I could access. The soft glow of the magic circles on the floor seemed to hum faintly, as if acknowledging me, as if inviting me to try, when I was ready.
I sat there for a long while, tracing the words I could already read, practicing the pronunciation softly, committing the phrases to memory. Each word, each sentence, felt like a small key unlocking the door to power, to understanding, to the truth that had been kept from me.
Outside, the moon cast long shadows across the palace grounds, but inside the mage tower, time seemed suspended. Here, I could be more than the street girl who had survived by luck and cunning. Here, I could be myself—and perhaps, one day, I could harness the magic that flowed through my blood, hidden but unbroken.
I took a deep breath, clutching the book to my chest. "I'll learn it," I whispered. "I'll learn everything."