She awoke slowly, the gentle murmur of the river nearby, and soft light filtering through the leaves. The warmth she felt wasn't from the sun, but from Damian's chest beneath her head. She didn't move at once—just stared into his clear eyes as he watched her quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You're awake…" he said softly.
She tried to rise, but his hand gently held her back.
"Don't rush… rest a little longer. You've done enough."
She hesitated, then gave in, sitting quietly, studying his close features.
"I never thought I'd succeed on the first try… I barely understand how to guide the mana. Everything I know is what you explained to me."
Damian's smile faded briefly.
"Don't underestimate what you're capable of, Ophelia. Doubting your strength is the first fuel for failure."
She bit her lip softly and said,
"Even after all this, I don't feel anything has changed. I've seen you before, and now too… so what's different?"
He smiled again, gently gesturing to the space around her.
"Look closely."
She looked around, and then she saw it—mana. Delicate, translucent threads drifting through the air like breath, flowing from her body and responding to her slightest movement.
Ophelia gasped quietly, reaching out her hand, realizing she could not only see the mana but also touch it... and guide it.
"That's not all," Damian continued, "you can also tap into a part of my power. Even when I'm not with you, you can summon my abilities simply by calling my name."
"And what are those abilities?" she asked, holding her palms as if grasping something invisible.
He paused for a moment, then answered:
"As a Silvern—a fusion of two pure spirits—I possess the gift of healing. Not just visible wounds, but even the scars that linger unseen in the soul."
He waved his hand, sending out a gentle wave of light that circled around her, calm and warm.
"You can also manipulate water and light—separately or together. You can shape them into whatever you need… a sword, a shield, a path, or even a veil to hide you."
Then, in a softer tone, he added,
"The power of adaptation… that's what makes me different. The depths of the seas, the heat of light, the cold, the stillness—even places where no spirit belongs—I can exist there, and with me… so can you."
Ophelia fell silent, trying to grasp the magnitude of what lay before her.
"But… are you stronger than a water or light spirit alone?"
Damian shook his head slightly, then said,
"I'm neither stronger nor weaker. A hybrid can't be measured against its origins. I am a fusion that creates something new… a blend that may fail to control its power or surpass all that came before. The difference… is made by the one who guides me."
Ophelia looked at him for a long moment, then whispered,
"And do you think I'm capable of that?"
"That's exactly why I'm here." He said simply, then stood up and continued,
"But only time will tell how far you can go."
Ophelia nodded slowly, still trying to grasp the vastness of what had been placed in her hands. She rose from the grass, brushing the remnants of the ritual off her dress, but felt her steps grow heavier—not with fatigue, but with responsibility.
"What's happening now? Is something changing between me and the world?"
The words slipped out before she could fully think them.
Damian walked beside her, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he answered:
"The world won't see you the same anymore. Spirits will sense you, sorcerers will notice your presence. Even the mana itself will bow to you… if you learn to command it well."
She looked toward the river, where the magic circle was still faintly traced on the edges of her cloth.
"Can they feel you? The other spirits?"
"Yes. And now your bond with me is a clear mark… some will see you as an ally, others will warn against you. Not all welcome a hybrid."
She looked at him: "Because you're… different?"
Damian smiled that quiet smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Because I don't belong to a single law. I don't follow their order. The old spirits believe in purity… and see mixing as weakness."
Ophelia took a step forward, then said slowly:
"But I'm not seeking their approval. All I want… is not to be just a shadow."
Damian stopped beside her, his gaze lingering long and steady.
"Then you won't be," he said, as if making a solemn promise. He continued, "But your path won't be easy. If you want to understand my power—or even wield half of it—you'll have to pay the price."
She met his eyes sharply. "What price?"
Damian paused briefly, then looked at her with serious eyes:
"The power granted to you is not merely a gift… it's a responsibility. Using my strength requires not only understanding it, but mastering control over yourself first."
Ophelia furrowed her brow slightly. "What do you mean?"
He answered simply:
"I'm a blend of two elements that rarely coexist. Light follows stillness, while water never ceases to move. If you want to use this power as it should be, you must balance these opposing forces within you. Don't let one overwhelm the other."
She looked at him silently, as if reading the unspoken, then murmured softly:
"So… it's not just summoning—it's readiness."
Damian nodded. "Exactly. And everything that comes after now… depends on that readiness."
When Ophelia returned to the palace, a heavy silence hung over the vast hallways. She had barely stepped through the gate when she spotted Adelia, who rushed over and embraced her tightly. Her voice carried a mix of relief and curiosity:
"Ophelia! Are you alright? Did… something happen?"
Ophelia looked at her with an expression hard to read, then quietly raised her hand.
"A better thing happened—something I never expected."
In an instant, a small flame of mana flickered above her palm, glowing as if alive, pulsing with a hidden energy.
Adelia's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth in shock.
"What is that? How…?"
But soft footsteps cut through the moment. Ophelia quickly snuffed out the flame and turned.
Their mother stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, one brow raised in suspicion.
"Out again? Are you sure you haven't made some new foolish mistake this time?"
Ophelia didn't respond, only gazing at her indifferently before turning back to Adelia:
"How about we go out today? To the city… maybe the market. It's been too long."
Adelia glanced hesitantly at their mother, then said,
"Yes… I want to go out for a bit. It's okay, right?"
Their mother sighed, half-turning as if conceding the argument beforehand:
"Do what you want… but don't cause a scandal."
Ophelia smiled faintly and whispered to Adelia as they moved away:
"It won't be a scandal… at least, not today."
In the next room, Adelia twirled before the mirror wearing a green dress the color of her eyes. Every movement added a touch of lightness, as if she had stepped out of a fairy tale.
Ophelia, meanwhile, kept it simple with a plain black dress. She paid little mind to fashion, but in her simplicity there was a quiet strength impossible to ignore.
When they reached the market, lanterns were already lit, casting colors over the stone façades and bathing the alleys in a warm, gentle glow. They wandered through the stalls, the vendors' voices mingling with the scent of fresh bread and spices.
Ophelia's attention was caught by a small jewelry shop, and she entered with steady steps. She headed straight to the men's bracelet corner, searching carefully until she stopped in front of a simple bracelet—white threads like Damian's hair, blue stones like his eyes.
She lifted it, studied it for a moment, then decided,
"This is the one."