To Be A Human

[p_magno]

The Tower stood like a silent sentinel at the edge of the world, its spires piercing the eternal twilight that blanketed the land. The winds screamed as they twisted around its jagged peaks, carrying shards of ice that glittered like broken stars. Inside, the throne room was a cavern of frost, its walls sheathed in crystalline ice that reflected the dim blue light of the hovering moon above.


Emdragon sat upon her throne, a figure carved from majesty and sorrow. Her white hair fell in cascades over her shoulders, and her piercing, frost-blue eyes were dimmed by tears. The droplets froze as they left her chin, falling to the cold, unyielding floor in a rhythmic symphony of grief.


"When did it come to this?" she murmured, her voice brittle as the ice beneath her feet. Her fingers traced the carved arms of her throne, the edges sharp enough to draw blood—a symbol of her own isolation. "How did I come to be trapped in this endless cycle?" Her voice rose suddenly, a raw scream tearing through the silence. It reverberated off the walls, making the ice tremble.


"I just want to be like them," she whispered, her voice breaking as she clenched her fists. "The humans who wander into this cursed kingdom. I want to see their world, to understand what it means... to live." Her gaze fell to her hands, delicate and pale as snow, yet brimming with unimaginable power. "I want to be human."


The creak of heavy doors shattered her reverie. Emdragon's head snapped up, her tear-streaked face hardening into an impassive mask. The towering doors at the end of the throne room groaned open, revealing five figures cloaked in furs and leather. Their breath frosted the air as they stepped cautiously into the chamber.


"Humans," she realized, her icy gaze narrowing. "How did they get past my sentinels? Did my emotions disrupt the wards again?" With a thought, she suppressed her mana, activating her camouflage—a rare technique that rendered her presence undetectable. Her form shimmered, becoming one with the shadows.


The group hesitated, their voices carrying in the frigid air.


"What part of the tower is this?" one of them asked, his voice shaky.


"It's too cold," another muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around him.


"Is this the boss room?" a third wondered aloud, his eyes darting to the imposing throne that loomed over the room.


"It has to be," the leader said, his scarred face grim. "But why is it empty? We didn't encounter a single monster on our way here."


Emdragon watched them with detached curiosity. The humans were an odd mixture of confidence and fear, their eyes darting to every shadow. She noted the trembling hands of one hunter and the unwavering poise of their leader. Her gaze, however, darkened when she saw their captives—a woman and her child, bound and sobbing.


The child clung to her mother, her thin frame shivering in the cold. The mother whispered soothing words despite her own fear, her breath hitching as tears froze on her cheeks.


Emdragon's anger flared, a silent storm brewing within her. What are they planning? she thought, her hands clenching.


The leader turned to his comrades, his voice low but firm. "Prepare the ritual. We'll need to use the sacrifices to draw out whatever power is hiding here."


The hunters moved swiftly, dragging the woman and child forward. Their muffled cries echoed in the chamber, breaking something deep within Emdragon. She allowed herself to materialize, her presence flooding the room like an arctic gale.


The temperature dropped sharply, and a deathly silence fell over the chamber.


The hunters froze, their eyes widening as a figure emerged on the throne. Emdragon's gaze burned with an icy fury, her posture regal and commanding. "Who dares defile my domain?" she demanded, her voice reverberating with an unnatural resonance.


The leader recovered first, though his face betrayed his fear. "Who... who are you?" he stammered.


Emdragon stood, her figure illuminated by the cold light of the moon. "I am the Frostfall King, the lord of this desolate realm. You tread on sacred ground, humans. Why have you come to commit such atrocities here?"


The leader sneered, drawing his blade. "You're just another monster," he growled. "We've killed plenty before you."


Emdragon's lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. "Mongrels," she said softly, her voice carrying an edge sharper than any blade. "You never learn, do you?"


With a flick of her wrist, the air around her crackled and darkened. "Dark Frost Destruction Technique: Frost Annihilation," she intoned, her voice a harbinger of doom.


The chamber erupted into chaos as black ice surged from the ground, twisting into jagged spires that encased the hunters in an instant. Their screams were cut short as the ice pulsed with destructive energy, reducing them to silence. The throne room trembled, the sheer force of her power leaving the air heavy with death.


Only the woman and her child remained, trembling as they stared at their savior.


The mother fell to her knees, her voice shaking. "Thank you, my liege," she whispered, her tears falling freely.


Emdragon approached them, her movements slow and deliberate. She knelt before the child, her expression softening. "Do not fear," she said gently. "You are free to go. Live your lives in peace."


The child hesitated, then threw her arms around Emdragon, her small frame trembling. "Thank you, miss," she whispered.


A faint smile graced Emdragon's lips as she patted the girl's head. "You're welcome, little one," she said softly.


As they left, Emdragon returned to her throne, the weight of her solitude settling over her once more. She sighed, her voice barely audible. "Back to being alone..."


A sudden flash of light interrupted her thoughts. A holographic screen appeared before her, its luminescent text flickering.


[SYSTEM]
LOADING…


Emdragon's eyes widened in shock and curiosity. "What... is this?" she murmured.


The screen flickered again, its message changing:


[SYSTEM]
CRITERIA COMPLETE…


Her breath hitched. "Criteria? For what?"


[SYSTEM]
WISH GRANTED…


Her heart raced as realization dawned. "My wish..." she whispered, hope and fear warring within her.


The screen displayed a final message:


DO YOU STILL WISH TO BE HUMAN?
[YES] / [NO]


"Do I still wish?" She murmured, her breath catching as something deep within her was saying otherwise, This strange light asks for the dream she had desired for so long, The sheer impossibility of it made her think that this must be another trick of the tower, a fever dream born from her longing. Her mind recoiled, ages of solitude screaming that hope was folly. I don't believe in this. I CAN'T believe in this....


Yet... beneath the crushing weight of disbelief, a forbidden warmth bloomed in her chest. "I've been trying to leave this tower my whole life, always restarting to this throne room, like am a puppet... If this is real, it's my only chance to see the human world. Even if it costs me my immortality, I couldn't care less. What's the use in being immortal if I'm forever alone"


A tiny, desperate ember flared. Maybe... The word slipped like a fragile whisper against the howl of her cynicism. Just... maybe... It was light to hope, but the question itself, spoken to her deepest, most forbidden desire, was a hook in her soul. The dream she had told herself was impossible was now presented on a screen.


Her hand hovered, trembling not just from cold she created, but from the sheer magnitude of the choice between crushing reality and impossible hope.


And with a deep breath, she reached out. Her finger, pale against the luminous screen as she chose.





[YES]


The room filled with blinding light as the system's final words echoed:


REQUEST ACCEPTED. YOU ARE NOW HUMAN.


As darkness overtook her, a faint smile lingered on her lips.


Finally, I'll be free…


Blimp.. Blimp.. Blimp.. B-B-L##-P................

 

[p_magno]

The world was a blur of light, shadows, and muffled voices. Crisp air caressed her skin, accompanied by a gentle warmth that carried a faint, comforting scent of lavender and honey. It was a strange yet soothing sensation—like stepping into a dream. Slowly, consciousness seeped in, a disorienting wave of awareness.


"Where am I?" The question echoed in her mind, heavy with confusion.


Through the haze came a voice, vibrant with elation and tinged with tears. "She's breathing! Our baby is breathing, Derrick!" The sound pulled her closer to clarity, anchoring her in this strange, new reality.


"Vivian, she's alive and breathing," replied another voice, deeper and steadier but no less overwhelmed. The man's tone wavered between disbelief and profound joy.


A third voice, older and weathered by years of experience, chimed in, filled with wonder. "It's a miracle! In all my years as a midwife, I've never seen anything like this."


The voices swirled around her like fragments of a melody, surreal yet undeniably real. Her senses sharpened, though everything remained slightly out of focus. She became aware of her body, small and fragile, a stark contrast to the imposing form she had once possessed. Tiny fingers twitched, toes wiggled hesitantly. The effort of opening her eyes was monumental, but slivers of light and shadow greeted her as they fluttered open.


She caught glimpses—a room bathed in warm sunlight, wooden beams above, and the soft flicker of a nearby oil lamp. The faint crackle of a hearth fire filled the silence between words. Slowly, her gaze fell upon herself. Tiny hands, impossibly small feet, and a body that didn't feel like her own. Panic rose briefly before a strange acceptance settled in its place.


She turned her head, catching sight of the couple who had spoken earlier. Their expressions were a mix of concern and wonder. The man, Derrick, leaned closer, his brow furrowed in thought. "Her brother is crying, but she isn't," he noted, a puzzled yet amused tone coloring his words.


At that moment, the weight of her situation hit her like a crashing wave. A realization dawned, bright and undeniable: I'm human. I'm really human.


Emotion surged within her, overwhelming and uncontrollable. She did the only thing that felt natural—she cried. A sharp, piercing wail tore from her tiny lungs, filling the room and announcing her arrival into this fragile, new life.


Before the couple could react, the door burst open, and a small figure dashed inside with the unbridled energy of youth. "Ellie, careful!" Vivian warned, though her tone was more amused than scolding.


The girl, no older than five, climbed onto the bed, her bright blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stared at the newborns. "Wow! They're so small!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of awe and excitement. After a moment of intense observation, she straightened, puffing out her chest with dramatic flair. "Fear not, little ones! I, Ellie, your big sister, will protect you from everything!"


Her declaration was met with laughter from the adults, their joy filling the room like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Even the midwife chuckled, shaking her head at the girl's theatrics.


The lighthearted moment gave way to quieter contemplation as Derrick and Vivian began discussing names for their newborns. "Ethan," Derrick suggested, glancing at the crying boy swaddled in a blanket. Vivian smiled, her gaze softening as it fell on the baby girl. "And Emma," she added, her voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking the name aloud would make it all the more real.


As the names were spoken, a strange warmth spread through the room, settling like a protective embrace. Emma—the name wrapped around her like a second skin, unfamiliar yet comforting.


From her vantage point, Emma studied them all through half-lidded eyes. Her father, Derrick, was tall and broad-shouldered, his grayish-white hair lending him a distinguished air. His piercing blue eyes, sharp and observant, softened as he gazed at his newborn children.


Her mother, Vivian, was the picture of grace. Dark blonde hair framed her face like a halo, and her pale eyes—an otherworldly shade of white—glowed faintly in the dim light. There was an ethereal beauty about her, as though she didn't entirely belong to this world. Yet the tenderness in her gaze as she cradled Ethan spoke of a love as human as any.


Ellie was a whirlwind of energy, her mischievous grin lighting up the room. She shared her mother's dark blonde hair, though her eyes were a striking blue that mirrored her father's. Her boundless enthusiasm seemed to radiate warmth, filling every corner of the room.


Then there was Ethan, her twin. His cries were strong and insistent, a stark contrast to Emma's earlier silence. Tufts of grayish-white hair framed his small, round face, and his bright blue eyes, though unfocused, already seemed to hold a spark of determination.


The midwife, an older woman with kind eyes and hands weathered by years of hard work, lingered near the door, watching the family with a satisfied smile.


The room itself was humble yet inviting—a small, cozy space with wooden walls and floors that carried the scent of fresh pine. An ornate rug, worn but well-loved, covered the floor beneath the bed. The hearth fire crackled softly, its glow casting dancing shadows on the walls. Outside the single window, the golden hues of a setting sun painted the horizon, signaling the end of one day and the beginning of another.


As the family cooed over their newborns, Emma's exhaustion began to creep in. The day had been overwhelming in every sense, a cacophony of emotions and sensations she hadn't experienced in lifetimes. Her eyelids grew heavy, the world around her fading into a soothing blur of warmth and love.


For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt at peace. This wasn't just a rebirth—it was the start of a journey, one filled with hope, love, and the infinite possibilities of a life she had only ever dreamed of.


And as sleep claimed her, a single thought lingered in her mind: I am Emma. This is my family. And I will cherish this life, no matter what it brings.

 

[p_magno]

The weeks passed in a blur of unfamiliar sensations and endless adaptation. Emma lay nestled in her crib, her tiny fingers reflexively gripping the soft blanket that covered her. The world outside seemed vast and chaotic, a sharp contrast to the tranquil bubble of her newfound existence. Above her, a wooden mobile spun lazily, painted animals moving in circles, casting faint shadows on the pale nursery walls.


Everything felt surreal. "A second chance," she mused, staring at the ceiling as her mind—still sharp despite her infant body—reflected on her bizarre reincarnation. But the novelty of being reborn was wearing thin.


Her twin brother, Ethan, began wailing from the crib beside her, his cries splitting the otherwise serene atmosphere. "Does he ever stop?" she thought in irritation, her tiny hands curling into fists. For all her internal maturity, she was a prisoner of this helpless body—unable to walk, speak, or even quiet her infant sibling's relentless noise. She closed her eyes, summoning every ounce of patience.


The months slipped by, and as Emma's world slowly expanded, so too did her fascination with it. By the time she was five months old, her mother, Vivian, decided to take her and Ethan out for their first real excursion.


The morning sun painted the horizon in soft golds and pinks, illuminating the cobblestone streets that crisscrossed their small town. Vivian walked briskly, her graceful figure wrapped in a flowing pale green dress. She carried Ethan in her arms while Emma was securely fastened to her back in a simple woven carrier.


The town bustled with life. Market stalls lined the streets, their colorful awnings fluttering in the gentle breeze. Vendors called out their wares, their voices mixing with the chatter of shoppers and the occasional clatter of horses' hooves against stone. The air smelled of fresh bread, roasted nuts, and the tangy sweetness of overripe fruit.


Emma's gaze darted everywhere, wide-eyed and curious. Each stall seemed like a portal to another world.


They stopped briefly at a fruit seller's stand. The woman behind the counter had sun-weathered skin and kind eyes. "A beautiful day for little ones, isn't it?" she said warmly, leaning in to pinch Ethan's cheek. He responded with a whimper, which quickly turned into a full-fledged wail.


Emma grimaced, her inner monologue brimming with exasperation. "You'd think he's auditioning for a tragedy," she thought, casting a sideways glance at her brother. Vivian, ever the patient mother, soothed him with a soft hum and a gentle pat on the back.


As they moved deeper into the market, something caught Emma's attention. A blacksmith's forge stood at the edge of the square, its glowing embers casting flickering light on the muscular figure hammering away at a blade. Sparks flew with each strike of his hammer, the rhythmic clang of metal on metal reverberating through the air.


Emma's breath hitched. She watched, transfixed, as raw iron was shaped into a gleaming sword. The blacksmith's hands moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowed in concentration. Her tiny body leaned slightly forward in the carrier, straining to get a closer look.


In her previous life as the final boss of Frostfall Tower, she had wielded legendary weapons, each imbued with unimaginable power. But she had never stopped to wonder how they were made. Now, watching the process unfold before her, she felt a strange sense of reverence. "So this is how it begins," she thought, her gaze lingering on the glowing blade.


The market was a sensory overload. Nearby, a potion seller displayed bottles of vibrant liquids, their contents shimmering like captured starlight. Each vial seemed to whisper promises of transformation—healing, strength, perhaps even magic.


A jeweler's stall boasted an array of necklaces, bracelets, and rings, their gemstones catching the sunlight in dazzling bursts of color. A group of children crowded around a pastry vendor, their excited chatter rising above the din as they pointed at sugary confections shaped like animals.


Vivian paused to purchase a loaf of bread, exchanging a few coins with a baker whose hands were dusted with flour. Emma observed it all, soaking in the details—the texture of the cobblestones beneath her mother's feet, the way the sunlight danced across the vibrant fabrics of the stalls, the murmur of conversations weaving together into a living symphony.


As they passed a cheerful confectioner's stand, Vivian stopped again. She bought a small bag of candies, the sugary aroma wafting into the air as she opened it. Placing one gently in Ethan's mouth, she watched with a smile as his cries finally subsided, replaced by soft coos. Then, turning to Emma, she offered her one as well.


The moment the candy touched Emma's tongue, a jolt of delight surged through her. The sweetness was pure and intense, unlike anything she had tasted before. Her tiny lips curved into a smile, and for the first time since her rebirth, she felt the simple joy of being a child.


The walk home was peaceful. The cobblestone streets, now bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon light, seemed less bustling as the market began to wind down. Ethan, finally content, rested quietly against Vivian's shoulder.


Emma, nestled securely in her carrier, let out a soft sigh. The day had been a revelation. The sights, the smells, the intricate lives of the people around her—it was all so vibrant, so alive. For someone who had once been confined to the cold, dark halls of Frostfall Tower, this world was nothing short of a miracle.


She glanced at the horizon, where the setting sun painted the sky in fiery oranges and deep purples. Somewhere in that vast, beautiful world, her destiny awaited.


"I'm ready," she thought, her tiny hand reaching up to grasp the fabric of Vivian's dress. "For whatever comes next, I'm ready."


The rhythmic sound of her mother's footsteps on the cobblestones lulled her into a peaceful slumber, the world around her fading into a warm, comforting blur.

 

[p_magno]

The passage of time in the manor was marked by the rhythms of daily life. Morning light seeped through ornate curtains, painting the wooden floors in golden hues. Three months had passed since the market trip, and in that span, Emma's curiosity about the world around her had grown insatiable. Her small hands itched to explore every corner of the house, a boundless determination hidden beneath her cherubic appearance.


One afternoon, as the warmth of the sun gave way to the soft coolness of late day, Emma seized her chance. Vivian was preoccupied with the clatter of pots in the kitchen, and Derrick was buried in his study, his deep voice occasionally drifting into the halls as he muttered to himself about numbers and trade. With the stealth of a tiny adventurer, Emma crawled out of the nursery, her movements deliberate and practiced.


The path to the library was no small feat for someone so small. Plush rugs muffled the sound of her tiny hands and knees against the floor, and towering doorframes loomed like gateways to unknown realms. At last, she reached her destination—a grand oak door slightly ajar, beckoning her inward.


Inside, the air shifted. It was cool and faintly tinged with the scent of old paper, polished wood, and ink. The library was unlike anything Emma had encountered in either of her lives. The walls were lined with shelves that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, each brimming with books of various sizes and colors. Sunlight filtered through a high window, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow across the room, while a heavy desk sat in the corner, cluttered with scrolls and an unlit oil lamp.


Emma's wide eyes roved over the titles embossed in shimmering gold and silver on spines of deep green, crimson, and black. Her tiny fingers brushed against the smooth leather covers as she pulled one out—a tome nearly too large for her to hold. It slipped from her grasp and thudded softly onto the plush carpet.


With great effort, Emma opened it. The parchment crackled faintly under her fingers, and intricate illustrations leapt to life on the pages. A castle rising against a blood-red moon, a forest shrouded in ghostly mist, and a map etched with strange symbols filled her vision. The text, although unreadable to her infant eyes, seemed alive, as though each stroke of ink carried the weight of the stories it told.


She turned more pages, her small hands trembling slightly as she uncovered glimpses of the world outside her home. One particular passage caught her eye—a detailed illustration of a towering tree, its roots coiled like serpents and its branches cradling the clouds. Next to it, a faint sketch of a giant, its features fierce and noble, loomed large on the page.


Her mind painted vivid pictures of what the book described. The Elf Kingdom of Elverian, hidden behind the veils of the Misty Forest, whispered promises of ancient magic and perilous journeys. She imagined the forest alive with danger—thorns sharp enough to pierce steel, shadows that moved when no one was looking, and an eerie silence broken only by distant whispers.


The Assalion Fortress, home to the reclusive Dwarves, stood proud and impenetrable to the south. Its defenses were legendary, its walls a patchwork of ingenuity and indomitable stone. Emma envisioned dragons with hollow, glowing eyes, circling its skies, their wings darkening the sun as they answered the call of the Dwarf Necromancer.


Then there was the Vermonthy Kingdom, eastward past the Hermagon Mountains. Her gaze lingered on the sketch of the World Tree, its immense roots spreading far and wide, birthing life on a colossal scale. The thought of the Giants, their steps shaking the earth, filled her with both awe and trepidation. They were said to possess strength unmatched, and their culture, though alien, spoke of an enduring connection to the world itself.


Emma's breath hitched. This was no ordinary world. It was alive, vast, and waiting to be uncovered.


Her wonder deepened as she flipped to a different book she had pulled from a lower shelf. This one depicted alchemical symbols and tools. It was filled with vibrant sketches of glowing potions, some bubbling, some swirling with eerie, unearthly light. She could almost smell the tang of the ingredients they described. One page showed an elaborate diagram of a brewing station, complete with labels for everything from dragon's breath essence to crushed phoenix feathers.


"This place is... it's like a treasure trove," she thought, her baby-like lisp betraying her adult mind. She grinned at the sheer absurdity of her words. For the first time since her rebirth, she felt truly at peace, immersed in the thrill of discovery.


But her moment of awe was short-lived. The sound of Vivian's voice echoed faintly in the hall, growing closer. "Emma! Where are you, sweetie?"


Panicked but unwilling to leave the books in disarray, Emma hurriedly pushed the fallen tome back into place. Her fingers lingered on the smooth cover for just a moment longer. She glanced back at the library, its shelves towering over her like silent sentinels.


"I'll be back," she murmured under her breath, her voice filled with quiet resolve.


The door creaked open, and Vivian stepped inside, her expression softening with relief when she saw Emma near the shelf. "There you are!" Vivian scooped her up into a warm embrace, brushing a stray curl from her daughter's face. "What have you been up to, little one?"


Emma leaned against her mother, her small hand clutching a corner of Vivian's blouse.


Nothing much. She thought to herself though her heart raced with the secrets she now held.


Vivian carried her back to the nursery, humming softly as they moved through the halls. Emma glanced over her mother's shoulder, watching the library door grow smaller until it disappeared from view. The scent of old paper and ink still lingered in her mind as she was tucked into her crib, the soft mattress cradling her small form.


As her eyes closed and the world dimmed around her, Emma's thoughts were alive with possibilities. The library was more than a room. It was a gateway, a promise of knowledge and adventure waiting to be unlocked. She smiled faintly, already dreaming of the day she would return to delve deeper into its mysteries.


This world, with all its secrets, was hers to explore. And Emma—small, curious, and determined—would leave no page unturned.

 

[p_magno]

The days that followed Emma's first encounter with the library were marked by failed attempts and thwarted plans. Vivian, ever-watchful, seemed to appear out of nowhere, her voice scolding and maternal:
"Emma, this is no place for little ones. Off you go now."

But today was different. The house was unusually quiet. Vivian had gone out on an errand, leaving Derrick absorbed in his work, his study door firmly shut. Emma's opportunity had come.

The nursery door creaked open as the little girl peeked into the empty hallway. Shadows from the late afternoon sun stretched along the wooden floorboards, casting intricate patterns. Emma moved with purpose, crawling silently, her tiny hands pressing against the cool planks. She paused at the corners, her wide eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

Finally, she reached the library door. Its dark wood loomed before her like the gateway to another world. With a determined push, the heavy door groaned open, and she slipped inside.

The library was a realm of quiet majesty. Towering shelves stood like silent sentinels, each row brimming with books of all shapes and sizes. The air was heavy with the scent of aged parchment and leather bindings. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, dust motes drifting lazily in its golden beams.

Emma crawled to the nearest shelf and reached up, her small fingers brushing the spine of a particularly thick book. With a grunt, she tugged it free, the weight nearly toppling her backward. She giggled softly, her laughter swallowed by the library's vast silence. Settling on the floor, she opened the book, the pages crackling with age.

Her tiny fingers traced the illustrations as she studied the intricate map of the Human Kingdom, Eldo-Clearoth, to the west. The text spoke of the Saturn of Lily Valley, a sprawling meadow filled with celestial flowers believed to bloom only under a full moon. Legends claimed it was the birthplace of Aurora, the goddess of dawn, though the book offered frustratingly few details.

Emma huffed, her lips pursing in frustration. "I want to know more," she muttered, flipping to the next page.

As she continued to read, the book described the Human Kingdom's grandeur—a land brimming with life, its cities a patchwork of bustling marketplaces, grand castles, and peaceful villages. Emma's brow furrowed as she tried to picture it, the imagery sparking her imagination.

Her exploration was momentarily interrupted by an itch. Tugging at the edge of her diaper, she grumbled, "Curse this thing. How can anyone focus like this?"

Determined not to be deterred, she turned to the next section, her eyes widening as the text described the Underworld Kingdom, the Netherlands. It was a realm shrouded in mystery, buried deep beneath the earth. The book spoke of Towers—massive, obsidian structures that occasionally emerged from the ground. These enigmatic monoliths were rumored to be harbingers of doom, their purpose unknown but their presence always followed by chaos.

A chill ran down Emma's spine as she read the prophecy:
"When the Towers rise, darkness will spill forth, consuming the surface in eternal night. None above will be spared."

Her tiny hands trembled as she closed the book. "I won't let that happen," she whispered, her voice firm despite her small stature. "I'll grow stronger. I have to."

As she stood to return the book to its place, another tome slipped from the shelf above, landing squarely on her head.

"Ow!" Emma yelped, rubbing the sore spot. Her annoyance faded as her eyes fell on the title embossed in golden script: "Basic Magic Theories" By Henry Watchers.

Her heart raced as she opened the book, the pages revealing strange diagrams and arcane symbols. The text described the basics of magic—how it could be harnessed through focus, willpower, and understanding. This book wasn't just about magic; it was a potential map to a new power, a way to replace what was lost. Could this be the key she needed? A theoretical magic of humans to rebuild her strength? A way to protect the world and face the darkness foretold?

She leaned closer, absorbing every word, when a sudden shadow loomed behind her. A chill crept up her spine.

"Emma," a voice whispered, low and sharp, sending her heart into her throat. She turned slowly, fear gripping her chest.

Ellie stood there, her expression a mixture of astonishment and exasperation. Her hands rested on her hips as she tilted her head. "What are you doing here?"

Emma let out a shaky breath, relief washing over her. Ellie!... she exclaimed, her voice a touch too loud in the hushed library.

Ellie knelt, lifting Emma into her arms with practiced ease. Her tone softened, though the scolding remained. "This is no place for you. Come on, back to bed."

Emma pouted but didn't resist as Ellie carried her out of the library. The older girl's voice was a constant stream of chatter, recounting her day and the stories she had shared with her friends. Despite Ellie's lively tone, Emma's mind was elsewhere.

The book on magic lingered in her thoughts, its pages a promise of potential and power. She resolved to return, her determination burning brighter than ever.

"I'll be back," she whispered under her breath as Ellie tucked her into bed.

As the soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, Emma drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were a tapestry of kingdoms and magic, prophecies and danger. The library had unveiled a world of wonder and mystery, and she was determined to uncover its secrets.

Tomorrow held the promise of new discoveries, and Emma was ready. She would grow, learn, and face whatever challenges the world had in store for her—one page at a time.

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[p_magno]

Days passed in the tranquil rhythm of the village, and with each sunrise, Emma's thoughts swirled more fervently around the concept of magic. The word itself carried a weight of mystery and possibility that she couldn't ignore. Crawling aimlessly around the house, her infant mind raced with questions: What was magic? How did it work? Could I wield it someday?


Her questions found an unexpected answer one quiet afternoon. The sun dipped lazily in the sky, casting long, golden beams through the windows. As Emma ventured into the corridor, a faint hum of energy drew her to Ellie's room. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she saw her sister sitting cross-legged on the floor.


Ellie's eyes were closed, her face serene, as though she were listening to a melody only she could hear. The sunlight caught her hair, turning it into a halo of soft amber, and the room itself seemed to pulse with an unspoken power. Intrigued, Emma crept closer, careful not to make a sound.


Her curiosity deepened when she noticed a faint glow emanating from Ellie's midsection. It started as a dim flicker, like the first light of dawn, before solidifying into a radiant orb. The small sphere shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors—fiery reds, brilliant golds, and streaks of pale white that danced within its core.


Emma's breath caught, her small hands gripping the edge of the doorframe. She leaned forward, her eyes wide as the energy within the orb swirled like a living thing. The red hues pulsed with a heartbeat-like rhythm, vibrant and alive, and the golden light bathed the room in a warm, ethereal glow.


"Wow," Emma whispered, her tiny voice barely audible over the faint hum of energy.


Suddenly, the air shifted. A gentle breeze stirred within the room, ruffling Ellie's hair and lifting the edges of her tunic. Her expression changed, her brows furrowing in concentration as she lifted a hand and spoke in a calm, commanding tone.


"Wind Technique—Levitate."


The words seemed to hang in the air, resonating with an unseen force. In response, the breeze intensified, swirling around Ellie in playful currents. Slowly, as though cradled by invisible hands, Ellie's body began to rise. The orb of light at her core flickered, and the winds carried her a few inches above the ground.


Emma watched, captivated by the sight of her sister defying gravity. Ellie's expression was one of fierce determination, her lips pressed into a firm line. But the winds faltered. The glow dimmed, and with a sudden rush of air, Ellie dropped to the floor, landing on her bottom with a soft thud.


"Ow! Not again," Ellie muttered, rubbing the sore spot with a sheepish smile. Despite the mishap, there was no frustration in her voice—only a quiet resolve. She took a deep breath and returned to her meditative pose, her hands resting lightly on her knees.


"I have to keep trying," Ellie murmured, her voice firm but soft, as though she were speaking to herself. "I must grow stronger. Strong enough to protect Ethan and Emma."


Her words struck a chord in Emma's chest. Watching Ellie's earnest efforts to master the mysterious power left her both awestruck and inspired. A spark of determination flared within her—small but steady, like the first flicker of a flame.


"I want to learn too," Emma thought, her tiny fists clenching with resolve. She turned away from the room, her heart racing as she crawled toward the stairs. The library beckoned her like a lighthouse in the dark, its shelves promising answers to questions she didn't yet know how to ask.


Descending carefully, she reached the familiar heavy door and pushed it open with a soft grunt. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings enveloped her, filling her lungs with the essence of knowledge and secrets.


Emma crawled to the shelf where she had last seen the book titled Magic. Her hands brushed against the spines of other tomes as she searched, their textures rough and cool under her fingers. Finally, she found it, its golden title glinting faintly in the dim light.


Settling onto the floor, she opened the book, her eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and looping script. The pages spoke of energy flows, focus techniques, and the ancient art of drawing power from the very air around oneself.


"This is it," Emma whispered, her voice filled with quiet awe. "This is the key."


The library seemed to hum in agreement, the silence wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Each turn of the page deepened her resolve, the words and illustrations painting a world of endless possibilities.


"I'll learn," Emma murmured, her tiny fingers tracing the image of a glowing orb. "I'll grow stronger, just like Ellie. I'll protect them... all of them."


The room, silent and watchful, seemed to acknowledge her promise. The soft creak of the shelves and the whisper of pages felt almost alive, as if the library itself was rooting for her.


With a resolute smile, Emma closed the book and carefully returned it to its place. She glanced back at the towering shelves, her eyes alight with purpose.


"I'll come back," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of a passing breeze. "I'll unlock my potential. I will protect my family."


As she made her way back to the nursery, Emma felt a shift within herself—a stirring of something greater, something that would one day grow into a force strong enough to shape the world. For now, she was small, her journey just beginning, but a spark of fire burned bright in her heart.


The library held the promise of answers, and Emma was ready to uncover them, one page at a time.

 

[p_magno]

The first rays of dawn spilled over the village, painting the modest rooftops in hues of gold and amber. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of the small home where Emma stirred, her tiny frame shifting beneath a blanket.

The memory of the previous day burned brightly in her mind—a glowing sphere of magic, swirling winds, and her sister's unwavering concentration. That moment had ignited something in her, a flame of curiosity and ambition she could not ignore.

Awake now, Emma's small hands pushed the blanket aside as she began her familiar crawl through the house. The cool wooden floor creaked under her movement, each sound swallowed by the quiet stillness of early morning. Her destination was clear: the library.

The heavy wooden door stood tall and imposing, but Emma approached it with purpose. She leaned her weight against the door, pushing it open just enough to slip inside. The library greeted her with its usual hush, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and leather bindings. Dust motes floated in the streams of sunlight that pierced the room, giving the space an almost otherworldly glow.
Emma's gaze fell upon the magic book she had claimed the day before, its leather cover weathered and faintly cracked. She crawled to it, her small hands brushing against the spine as she pulled it closer. Settling onto the floor, she opened it with a mix of reverence and anticipation.

The first words she read felt like they were written just for her.
"In this world filled with magic, there are three types of magic users: Augmenters, Casters, and Specialists."

Emma's small voice echoed softly in the quiet room as she repeated the passage, her awe growing with each word. Her fingers traced the illustrations on the page—depictions of warriors clad in armor, mages surrounded by glowing sigils, and individuals wielding powers so strange they defied description.

"Augmenters," she read, her voice rising with excitement, "are magic users capable of enhancing their physical or tactical abilities. They excel in combat and defense or in specialized skills that interact with the physical world."
She paused, her mind conjuring images of towering knights with fists that could shatter stone or nimble fighters whose movements were too fast for the eye to follow.

"Casters," Emma continued, her fascination deepening, "focus on spellcasting, manipulating elements, summoning, and shaping battlefields to support their allies. They are the architects of magic, weaving the fabric of the world into tools and weapons."

Her finger moved to the final section, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Specialists, often called Mutants, possess unique and unpredictable magical abilities. Their powers are unconventional, often born of genetic mutations or mysterious origins."

A shiver ran through Emma as she imagined what it might mean to wield such rare and enigmatic powers. The possibilities seemed endless, each path more fascinating than the last.

Turning the page, Emma found a diagram of a glowing sphere set within a person's midsection—the Ki Core.

"Magic in this world can only be manifested by channeling the life force, which they call the Ki Core," she read aloud, her voice filled with reverence. Beneath the diagram was a list of core stages, each accompanied by its own color.
"Black for Beginning or Impure," Emma murmured, her tiny finger hovering over the text. "Red for Awakening. Orange for Rising. Yellow for Gathering. Green for Settling—the stage most people reach."

She leaned closer, her breath catching as she continued.

"Silver for Rocket. White for Pure—the pinnacle of mortal achievement. And…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, her heart racing. "Colorless. The Ascended Stage. Limitless. Achievable only by gods or deities."

The weight of the words pressed against her chest. Emma closed her eyes for a moment, imagining what it would feel like to reach those heights, to wield power that transcended mortality.

With trembling hands, she turned to another book nearby. Its title, Awakening of Magic, gleamed faintly in the light. Opening it, she eagerly devoured the text within.

"Magic Awakening often occurs in children between the ages of five and ten," she read, her lips curving into a wry smile. "I'm not even a year old yet." The thought of awakening so early filled her with both amusement and resolve.

"To awaken one's Ki Core," she continued, "cultivating is key. One must channel all the energy outside and within their body to the origin of their life force. For some, the process occurs naturally. For others, late awakening may require deliberate training and effort."

The instructions were simple yet profound. Emma stared at the diagrams of children sitting cross-legged, their expressions serene as energy radiated from their cores. She mimicked the pose instinctively, her tiny hands resting on her lap as she closed her eyes.

For a moment, the world fell away. The distant hum of the village faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of her own breathing. In her mind's eye, she imagined the Ki Core within her—a small, dormant ember waiting to be ignited.

But the moment was fleeting. The creak of the front door snapped her back to reality, and Emma's eyes flew open. Panic surged through her as she realized her mother must be home. Hastily, she closed the book and returned it to its place on the shelf.

As she crawled back to her crib, her mind buzzed with thoughts of the future. The library's secrets had planted a seed within her—a vision of herself as a magic user, standing tall and strong, with the power to protect those she loved.

Lying in her crib, Emma stared at the ceiling, the soft glow of twilight casting shadows that danced like specters on the walls. She imagined the feel of magic coursing through her veins, the weight of power in her hands, and the possibilities that awaited her.

One day, she would harness the forces of this world. One day, she would ascend. But for now, she would dream. And in those dreams, the flickering flame burned brighter than ever.

 

[p_magno]

The village lay wrapped in the gentle embrace of early autumn, the air crisp with the faint tang of fallen leaves and the promise of rain. Morning dew clung to the cobblestone paths, glinting like tiny jewels under the pale sunlight. Within the modest confines of the family's home, Emma stirred in her crib, her small, determined mind already racing with plans for the day.


Her sanctuary lay not in the bustle of the household but in the moments of quiet before the sun fully claimed the sky. These were the precious hours when she would sit cross-legged in her crib, tiny hands resting on her lap, and focus inward. The faint hum of energy in her chest—her undeveloped Ki Core—felt like a flickering ember waiting to ignite.


Each morning, she worked tirelessly to cultivate that spark, visualizing the energy coiling and pooling within her. She imagined it as a tiny seed buried deep in fertile soil, yearning for light and water. Her breaths were slow and deliberate, the rhythm steady like the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.


But the house was rarely silent for long.


Ethan, her baby brother, would inevitably interrupt her meditation with his piercing cries. His wails echoed through the house, demanding attention like a miniature overlord. With a sigh of resignation, Emma would crawl over to his cradle, her small hands reaching through the bars to pat his back gently. The warmth of her touch often calmed him, and his cries would subside into soft gurgles.


Other days, it was Ellie, her older sister, who derailed her practice. Ellie had a knack for bursting into the room with boundless energy, scooping up Ethan and Emma for impromptu play sessions. The three of them would tumble across the floor, their laughter mingling with the faint rustle of leaves outside the window.


Yet despite these interruptions, Emma's resolve never wavered.


At nine months old, Emma's world brimmed with curiosity and the relentless drive to conquer the simple act of walking. Her mind, sharp beyond her years, understood the mechanics of balance and movement, but her small, underdeveloped body refused to comply.


It was on a particularly dreary afternoon, with rain tapping softly against the windows, that Ethan decided to upstage her. The family had gathered in the sitting room, the cozy space illuminated by the warm glow of a crackling fire. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the earthy aroma of rain-soaked wood.


Emma watched from her usual spot on the floor as Ethan, barely steady on his chubby legs, wobbled forward. His tiny feet slapped against the floorboards, his arms outstretched for balance. The room erupted in cheers as he crossed the space between their parents with a triumphant giggle.


"No way," Emma muttered under her breath, her small fists clenching in disbelief. "He beat me to it?"


Her parents showered Ethan with praise, their voices brimming with pride.


"Look at him go!" Derrick, their father, beamed as he scooped Ethan up and spun him around.


"Wuhoo! That's my boy!" Their mother's laughter filled the room.


Ellie clapped enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement. But as her gaze shifted to Emma, she noticed the quiet disappointment etched on her younger sister's face.


Ellie knelt beside Emma, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "Hey, don't be sad," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm. "You'll start walking soon. Mom and Dad always told me I didn't walk until I was almost a year old. You're already amazing in so many ways, Emma. I believe in you."


The warmth in Ellie's words wrapped around Emma like a comforting blanket. She managed a small smile, crawling forward to hug her sister tightly.


Nightfall brought with it a blanket of stillness. The house, now dimly lit by the dying embers in the hearth, seemed to exhale in collective rest. But Emma was far from ready to sleep.


Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of a low table as she pulled herself upright. The cool wood beneath her palms anchored her as she took a tentative step. Her legs wobbled like saplings in a storm, but she pressed on, determined to follow in Ethan's footsteps—literally.


"I must walk," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the silence. "If Ethan can do it, so can I."


Step by step, she moved along the wall, her fingers brushing against its rough surface for balance. Each movement was an exercise in focus, her small frame swaying precariously. When she finally let go, trusting her legs to hold her weight, she managed three shaky steps before toppling over with a soft thud.


"Ouch," she muttered, rubbing her knees. But her resolve remained unbroken.


Time blurred as she repeated the process, each attempt ending in failure. The sound of her falls was swallowed by the night, her frustration mounting with every setback. On her 50th attempt, exhaustion finally caught up with her.


"I give up," she sighed, collapsing onto the floor. Her tiny body felt heavy, her limbs too tired to try again.


But as she lay there, Ellie's earlier words resurfaced in her mind. I believe in you.


The flicker of hope reignited. Emma pushed herself upright, her determination blazing brighter than ever. This time, she steadied her breathing, her focus razor-sharp. She took one step, then another, her movements slow but deliberate.


When she finally stood without falling, a triumphant grin spread across her face. "Yes, I did it!" she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion. Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she lowered herself to the floor, her heart swelling with pride.


Later that night, her mother woke suddenly, an inexplicable sense of unease pulling her from sleep. She slipped on her glasses and padded softly down the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the worn rug.


Panic surged through her when she saw Emma's empty crib. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on the small figure curled up on the floor, fast asleep.


Relief washed over her as she bent down to scoop Emma into her arms. Cradling her daughter close, she whispered, "Goodnight, my brave little one."


As she tucked Emma back into her crib, the baby stirred slightly, a contented smile gracing her lips. In her dreams, Emma saw herself running through fields of gold, magic swirling around her like a living aura. Step by step, she would forge her path, unyielding and unafraid.

 

[p_magno]

The small village of Windfield stood as a tranquil beacon amidst sprawling emerald plains. Cobbled streets wove through tidy rows of thatched-roof cottages, their chimneys puffing gentle streams of smoke into the crisp morning air. The gentle hum of life—chirping sparrows, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the distant chatter of villagers—created an idyllic backdrop to the steady rhythm of change that marked the years.


It had been three years and three months since Emma and Ethan had taken their first tentative baby steps, and in that time, life had evolved quietly but profoundly. Ethan, who once filled the home with cries and demands, had grown into an exuberant, cheerful boy whose laughter now brightened every corner. His boundless energy and unshakable optimism were a source of endless amusement—and occasional exhaustion—for the family.


Ellie, their elder sister, had blossomed into a dedicated student of magic. Now a Red Stage Caster specializing in Wind Magic, her abilities were maturing swiftly under the rigorous tutelage of her school. Often, Emma would watch Ellie practice in the evenings, the swirl of air around her sister's fingers a mesmerizing display of precision and power.


As for their parents, Emma had recently uncovered the depth of their abilities, a revelation that left her in awe. Her mother, a Yellow Stage Caster, wielded the dual disciplines of Healing and Wind Magic with elegant efficiency. Her father, a rare Dual-Type Yellow Stage Awakened, balanced the roles of augmenter and caster, his mastery over Ice Magic both intimidating and inspiring.


Emma often marveled at them. To think, I'm part of a family with such potential. It's incredible… she mused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Yet her own aspirations had grown equally ambitious. Every morning and evening, she retreated to a quiet corner of the family's modest library, dedicating herself to the cultivation of her Ki Core. Her focus was unwavering as she worked to channel the latent energy within her, yearning to awaken her potential at an early age.


Despite her youthful appearance, Emma's mind carried the wisdom and experiences of her past life, a stark contrast to her current existence. The dark frost she once commanded—an elemental mastery she had honed to god-like precision—was now a distant memory. This world, however, offered entirely new opportunities. Magic, ki, and other mysterious forces beckoned her, promising a fresh start, free from the shadows of her previous existence.


The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains in golden streams, warming the wooden floorboards of the small bedroom Emma shared with Ethan. She stirred awake with a soft yawn, stretching her small limbs before slipping out of bed. The routine of brushing her teeth and bathing followed, the mundane tasks offering a moment of quiet reflection.


As she emerged from her room, the serenity of the morning was quickly shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps. Ethan, his silver hair tousled and his blue eyes wide with concern, bounded towards her like a whirlwind.


"Emma!" he called out, skidding to a halt in front of her.


Emma raised a brow, amused by his dramatic entrance. "What's the rush, Ethan? You look like you've seen a ghost."


He shook his head, his expression serious. "Have you seen Mom, Dad, or Ellie? I've been looking everywhere, but I can't find them."


She leaned slightly to pat his shoulder, her tone calm and reassuring. "Relax, little storm. Ellie's still at school, remember? As for Mom and Dad, they've probably gone out for errands. They'll be back soon, no need to panic."


Ethan hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. Emma could sense his unease lingering despite her reassurances. She made to head toward the library, her sanctuary for reading and meditation, but Ethan grabbed her hand, his touch firm yet pleading.


"Emma," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I know you don't like to play much…"


You're supposed to! she thought, biting back a wry smile as he continued.


"But Ellie's not here, and… I was wondering if you'd play with me today?" His deep blue eyes shimmered with hope, his expression earnest.


Emma froze, caught off guard by the request. Her instincts leaned toward declining—her meditation and cultivation took precedence—but as she looked into Ethan's eyes, she felt a pang of guilt. Her thoughts turned inward.


If you knew who I used to be… a heartless deity with no time for trivialities… you'd never ask.


But that life was gone. This world, this family, was her second chance. Emma exhaled softly, a smile breaking across her face. "Alright, Ethan," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Let's play."


Ethan's face lit up with delight, though he batted her hand away with mock indignation. "I'm not a kid anymore! No more hair-ruffling!, and besides we are twins" he declared with a grin.


"Sure, sure," Emma teased, following him as he pulled her toward their play area.


The rest of the morning unfolded in joyful chaos. They began by building towers with blocks, though Emma's mischievous streak led to more towers being knocked over than completed. Ethan protested loudly each time, his voice a mix of exasperation and laughter.


"Stop destroying them!" he groaned as she toppled yet another structure.


"Force of habit," Emma replied with an innocent shrug, though her smirk betrayed her amusement.


Next came hide-and-seek. At first, Emma found it tiresome—a game far beneath her—but as Ethan's delighted giggles echoed through the house, she couldn't help but be drawn in. The thrill of searching and being sought, the challenge of finding the perfect hiding spot—it was simple, yet unexpectedly fun.


They even attempted some of Ellie's magic tricks, though the results were… less than stellar. Ethan's attempt to summon a breeze with a mock incantation resulted in little more than a faint puff of air, while Emma's try ended with a toppled vase and a hastily mumbled apology to her absent parents.


Through it all, Ethan's laughter rang out, filling the home with a warmth that Emma hadn't realized she needed.


As the day wore on and the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson, Emma found herself sitting with Ethan on the front porch. They watched the wind dance through the tall grass of the fields, the moment steeped in quiet contentment.


Looking at her brother's beaming face, Emma felt a profound sense of gratitude. The morning's games had been a reminder that life wasn't just about mastering magic or cultivating power—it was about connection, about cherishing the bonds that made life worth living.


"Thanks, Ethan," she said softly.


"For what?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion.


"For being you," she replied with a smile.


Ethan blinked, then grinned. "You're welcome, I guess?"


As the first stars began to dot the evening sky, Emma silently vowed to strike a balance between her ambitions and the simple joys of family life. Both, she realized, were vital to shaping her path in this new world.

 

[p_magno]

As the amber hues of the setting sun bathed the village of Windfield in golden light, long shadows stretched across the cobblestone paths and wooden fences. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming wildflowers from the surrounding fields, mingling with the distant sound of a wind chime softly clinking in the air. In the yard of a small cottage nestled at the edge of the village, two figures lingered—Emma and Ethan, twins whose bond was as unbreakable as the roots of the oak tree shading their home.

Emma glanced at the horizon, the light quickly fading into twilight. The cool evening air brushed against her skin, carrying with it a faint unease. She turned to her twin brother, who was busy examining a particularly interesting rock he had found. "Ethan, it's getting dark," she said gently. "Let's head inside and wait for them to come home."

Ethan looked up, his silver hair catching the last rays of sunlight. "Alright," he said with a nod, dropping the rock and dusting his hands off.

Together, they walked toward their home, the wooden porch creaking slightly under their footsteps. As Emma reached for the doorknob, she hesitated for a moment. The house, usually alive with light and warmth, stood eerily quiet, its windows dark. But as they stepped inside, the silence shattered in an instant.
The lights flickered on, illuminating the cozy living room in a warm glow. Before them stood a sight that left both twins momentarily stunned.

A beautifully decorated cake sat on the table, its frosting adorned with delicate swirls and tiny sugar flowers. Around it stood Vivian and Derrick—Emma and Ethan's parents—and their older sister, Ellie. Their faces were alight with joy, and they held no restraint as they shouted in unison:
"Happy Birthday, Emma and Ethan!"

For a moment, neither twin could speak, their surprise rendering them speechless. Then, as realization dawned, their expressions melted into astonished smiles. Before they could recover, Vivian, their mother, darted forward and wrapped them both in a warm embrace. Her pure white eyes, a hallmark of her magic, glimmered with affection.

"Happy Birthday, my dears," she said, her voice brimming with love.
Derrick followed, his towering figure enveloping them in a protective hug, while Ellie joined in, her arms slung around both their shoulders.

"So, this is what you were planning all along," Emma said, a mixture of awe and amusement coloring her tone. She looked at each of them in turn, her chest swelling with gratitude.

Derrick chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "We had to be sneaky about it, but it looks like we pulled it off."

Vivian rolled her eyes playfully. "It almost didn't happen. Someone," she said, shooting a mock-annoyed glance at Derrick, "forgot the cake in the carriage."

"I went back for it!" Derrick protested, holding his hands up in mock defense.
"Yes, after we realized it was missing halfway home," Vivian retorted, though her grin betrayed her amusement. "And even then, it was gone by the time we returned. We had to buy a new one."

Ethan, his blue eyes wide with curiosity, piped up. "What happened to the first cake?"

Ellie smirked. "Probably stolen by a very lucky squirrel," she teased, earning a round of laughter.

Emma's lips curved into a warm smile. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. She hugged each of them in turn, her heart swelling with appreciation for their effort.

The evening unfolded in a joyous whirlwind. The small family room was alive with laughter and chatter as they shared stories, relived old memories, and teased one another mercilessly. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread, the family enjoying a simple but hearty meal together before moving on to the highlight of the evening—the cake.

The flickering glow of candles illuminated the room as Vivian and Derrick guided the twins to the table. "Make a wish!" they encouraged, their voices brimming with excitement.

Emma closed her eyes, her heart steady as she made her wish. I wish for the strength to protect those I care for… and to find happiness in this life, no matter what it takes.

Beside her, Ethan whispered his own wish, the corners of his mouth lifting in a secretive smile. Together, they blew out the candles, the room erupting in cheers and clapping.

As the festivities wound down, the family retreated to their rooms, leaving the house wrapped in the quiet hum of contentment. Emma lay on her bed, staring at the wooden beams above her. The day's events replayed in her mind like a comforting melody, the love and warmth of her family filling her chest with a sense of belonging she hadn't known in her previous life.

"I made the right choice," she murmured, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. A faint smile played on her lips as she whispered to herself, "To Be A Human."


..........


But as the cottage settled into peaceful slumber, far away, in a dimly lit chamber cloaked in shadow, a scrying ball pulsed faintly with an eerie glow. Within its glassy surface, the image of the twins' celebration shimmered, distorted but visible.

A figure cloaked in black leaned forward, their face obscured save for the faint outline of a wicked smile. Their voice was a low murmur, dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning," they whispered, their words curling like smoke in the oppressive darkness.

The scrying ball dimmed, leaving the figure enveloped in shadow, their intent clear as they disappeared into the abyss.



END OF ARC_0: TO BE A HUMAN

 

[p_magno]

The village of Windfield woke to another tranquil day, its streets bathed in the warm light of dawn. Golden rays spilled over the rooftops, glinting off the dew-kissed leaves of the trees that swayed gently in the breeze. Inside a modest but cozy house at the edge of the village, sunlight pierced through a set of half-drawn curtains, illuminating a small bedroom.

The light struck Emma directly in the eyes, rousing her from a restless sleep. She groaned, pulling the blanket over her face in a futile attempt to block the invasive brightness. Her silver-white eyes fluttered open reluctantly, their gleam dulled by fatigue.

"What's this? Why does my body feel so weak?" Emma muttered to herself, her voice hoarse and barely audible. She shifted to her side, the effort sending a dull ache coursing through her limbs. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, one laced with disbelief. "Impossible. I, Emma, former Lord of Frostfall Tower, do not feel weak."

Despite her bravado, her body betrayed her. Her legs wobbled as she pushed herself out of bed, and every step felt as though she were moving through molasses. Determined, she shuffled through the hallway, her pale silver hair disheveled and her pajamas slightly askew. She emerged into the backyard, drawn by the thought of the sun's warmth washing away her strange ailment.

The garden was alive with vibrant colors and fresh scents. Rows of budding roses and violets lined the cobblestone path, while a tall oak tree cast a sprawling shade over a wooden bench. Vivian, her mother, was crouched near a bed of tulips, trimming the overgrown grass with meticulous care.

The moment Vivian glanced up and saw Emma, her serene expression shifted to one of concern. Emma's pallor was unmistakable. Dropping the trimmer, Vivian rose to her feet and approached quickly.

"Emma, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Vivian's gentle voice carried an undercurrent of worry.

Before Emma could respond, Vivian placed a hand on her forehead. Her sharp white eyes glimmered as she assessed her daughter's condition. "You're running a fever," she said with a small chuckle. "This is the first time since you were born."
Emma's thoughts raced. A fever? That's absurd! I've never fallen ill, not even once in this new life. She frowned, her mind snapping to a possible explanation. Wait… Ethan had a fever just a few days ago. Could it be contagious?

Vivian interrupted her musings by gently guiding Emma back inside the house. They settled on the sofa in the living room, a cozy space adorned with warm hues and bookshelves filled to capacity.

"Hold still," Vivian instructed as she removed her glasses and set them carefully aside. She brought her hands close to Emma's head, and a soft green glow began to emanate from her palms. The light pulsed rhythmically, like the gentle ebb and flow of the tide, before seeping into Emma's skin.

Warmth spread through Emma's body, chasing away the fever's grip. The numbness in her limbs dissipated, replaced by a soothing calm. She blinked up at her mother, a flicker of awe in her gaze. "Healing magic can cure a fever?"
Vivian chuckled, slipping her glasses back onto her nose. "Yes, dear. Healing magic is versatile. It's not just for treating injuries."

Emma tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "What else can it do?"
Vivian smiled, her expression softening. "It can remove curses, mend broken bones, restore stamina, and even regenerate lost limbs." She hesitated, then added with a playful chuckle, "Though the last part is a bit advanced for someone your age to fully understand."

Emma's lips twitched into a wry smile. If only you knew… I've seen, and caused, far worse than dismemberment in my past life. She held her tongue, opting instead to nod politely.

"Thank you, Mom," she said, standing up and planting a quick kiss on Vivian's cheek. "I'm heading to the library. There's something I want to study."
Vivian watched her daughter with a knowing smile. "Before you go," she called out, "did you hear? The royal bookstore is opening to commoners this weekend."
Emma froze mid-step, her heart skipping a beat.

Vivian's grin widened, noticing the glimmer of excitement in her daughter's eyes. "Would you like to go?"

Emma turned, her face alight with enthusiasm she couldn't conceal. "Yes! Of course, I'll go." Her voice brimmed with anticipation, and her mind began racing. The royal bookstore… The wealth of knowledge there must be unparalleled. Books on magic, history, secrets of this world—they could all be within my grasp.
Vivian chuckled softly as Emma disappeared down the hallway, her steps quickened by her eagerness.

Inside the library, a sanctuary of silence and wisdom, Emma settled into her favorite corner. The room was dimly lit, with towering shelves of books creating labyrinthine rows that stretched to the ceiling. Dust motes danced in the air, illuminated by the light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

Emma pulled a thick tome from a nearby shelf, her thoughts consumed by the possibilities the royal bookstore promised. What mysteries will I uncover there? What secrets lie hidden in its depths?

As she opened the book and began to read, her mind was already leaping ahead, envisioning the doors of knowledge that were about to open. The fever was forgotten, her goal reignited. This world had so much to offer, and she intended to claim it all.

 

[p_magno]

The afternoon sun cast a warm, orange glow over the quiet village of Windfield, signaling the day's slow descent into evening. The light filtered through the small stained-glass windows of the library, painting the wooden floor in hues of red, gold, and green. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, undisturbed in the tranquil silence.

Emma sat at a polished oak desk, a book propped open in front of her. The leather-bound tome smelled faintly of aged paper and ink, and its intricate illustrations shimmered faintly in the sunlight. She was completely engrossed, her silver-white hair catching the light like spun moonlight as her pale fingers traced a line of text.

The sudden knock at the door startled her. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, revealing a young girl with blonde hair that shimmered like sunlight and eyes as deep and vibrant as the ocean.

"Emma, still buried in books?" Ellie teased, stepping inside with a bounce in her step.

Emma glanced up, her expression softening. "Welcome back, Ellie," she said, setting the book down and straightening in her oversized chair. The plush cushions seemed to engulf her small frame.

Ellie closed the distance between them, reaching out to ruffle Emma's hair playfully. "You really love hiding away in here. Don't you get bored?"
"Not at all," Emma replied with a faint smile. "How was school?"

Ellie's eyes lit up, and she pulled a chair from the corner of the room, dragging it noisily across the wooden floor until it was beside Emma. She plopped down with a dramatic sigh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"It was great!" Ellie said with a grin. "I learned something amazing today. Want to hear about it?"

Emma tilted her head, masking her lack of enthusiasm behind a polite nod. "Sure, tell me."

Ellie beamed, clearly excited. "Okay, so today we learned about a place called Saturn of Lily Valley. It's this huge, sprawling meadow where these celestial flowers grow. They're said to only bloom under the light of a full moon. Isn't that cool? And there's more! It's also rumored to be the birthplace of Aurora, the goddess of dawn."

Emma's silver eyes widened in mock surprise. "Really? That sounds fascinating," she said, leaning forward as though hearing it for the first time. Saturn of Lily Valley… The name stirred memories in her mind, four years ago she read a book that mentioned such place.

Ellie didn't notice her sister's faraway look. "It's amazing, right? I wonder what it would be like to see it for real."

"Is the goddess of dawn still alive?" Emma asked, feigning curiosity.
Ellie blinked at the question before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Emma, that's silly! Deities don't live alongside humans." Her laughter was light and infectious, filling the quiet room.

Emma leaned back in her chair, contemplating. So that's the belief here? That gods don't live alongside humans? The thought was both amusing and sobering.
"What about their home?" Emma asked after a moment. "Where do deities live, if not with us? Castles? Celestial palaces?"

Ellie frowned thoughtfully, tilting her head as though trying to conjure an answer from thin air. "I don't really know," she admitted. "But maybe they live in the sky above us, watching everything from afar."

Emma smiled faintly, but her thoughts were less whimsical. Nah I don't think so, it's unlikely they're just 'watching.'


Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Ethan appeared in the doorway, his dark blue eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of them. His expression was neutral but softened slightly as he spoke.
"Emma, Ellie, dinner is ready," he said simply before turning to leave.

"We'll be right there!" Ellie called after him. She stood up, stretching her arms above her head before glancing back at Emma. "Come on, let's not keep everyone waiting."

Emma nodded, sliding the chair back and rising to her feet. The two left the library, their footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor as they walked through the house.

The dining table was set with care, the flickering light of candles illuminating the steaming dishes that filled its surface. The smell of roasted vegetables and fresh bread wafted through the air, mingling with the comforting hum of quiet conversation.

As Emma took her seat, she found herself reflecting on Ellie's tale. Saturn of Lily Valley… celestial flowers under the moon… the birthplace of a goddess, I'll go there one day.

A part of her, buried beneath layers of mortal life, stirred at the thought. There was still so much to uncover in this world, so many threads to pull. Emma's lips curved into a faint smile as she reached for her plate, her mind already spinning with possibilities.

 

[p_magno]

The morning sunlight poured through the curtains of Emma's room, painting the walls in hues of gold and amber. Today was a special day—the Green Festival of Windfield Village, a cherished three-day celebration of the season's bounty and the vibrant spirit of the community.


Emma stood by her window, the early rays reflecting off her silver-white hair. She gazed outside, her white eyes sparkling with anticipation. The village square would soon come alive with music, laughter, and the mingling scents of fresh produce and blooming flowers. Despite her excitement, a question lingered in her mind: What is this festival really about? She hoped attending would help her uncover its deeper meaning.

She opened her window, letting in the crisp morning air. Her gaze fell on the lush garden behind their home, where flowers of every color swayed gently in the breeze. The orange-yellow glow of the sunrise bathed the vibrant greens and bright petals in a serene light.

Emma stepped out of her room and walked through the house, her bare feet padding softly against the cool wooden floor. When she reached the garden, she paused, taking in its beauty. This was Vivian's garden, a living masterpiece meticulously tended by her mother. The air was fragrant with the mingling scents of earth, flowers, and herbs.

Today's festival required everyone to bring something green to symbolize life and renewal. Vivian and Derrick had already prepared their contributions—a giant green watermelon sat prominently on the kitchen counter, its glossy skin glinting under the sunlight. Ellie had outdone herself by crafting emerald-hued vegetable candies, sweet and savory, their scent wafting through the house.
Ethan… well, Emma wasn't entirely sure what her twin brother was planning. He'd been unusually secretive all morning, but Emma suspected it wouldn't be anything too extravagant.

And then there was her.

She frowned slightly, looking around the garden. Her family had already brought unique and thoughtful offerings. She wanted hers to stand out, not simply blend in. Wearing a green dress for the occasion didn't feel like enough. She needed something extraordinary, something distinct.

Her sharp eyes scanned the rows of flowers and crops. She considered picking one of Vivian's vibrant green lilies but quickly dismissed the idea. No, I can't take one of her precious flowers; they're too obvious.
That's when she saw it.

A mid-sized green magic grasshopper flitted gracefully through the air, its translucent wings shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. It landed delicately on the stem of a crop, its body blending seamlessly with the greenery around it.
Emma's lips curled into a faint, triumphant smile. Perfect. Just what I need.

Her mind raced as she imagined presenting the creature at the festival. A living, magical symbol of vitality and harmony with nature—it would surely be a unique offering. She crouched low, careful not to startle the grasshopper, and began to plan her approach.

For the first time that morning, Emma felt a surge of confidence. Today, she would bring something truly unforgettable to the Green Festival.

 

[p_magno]

Magic grasshoppers were creatures Emma had often read about in the books that lined her library shelves. According to the pages of lore, they were unlike their ordinary counterparts.

They were significantly larger, with shimmering green bodies resembling raw emeralds.

They possessed unparalleled agility, vanishing in an instant with a faint burst of light.

Most importantly, they wielded teleportation magic, making them nearly impossible to catch.

Now, standing in the garden, Emma was face-to-face with one of these extraordinary creatures. Its antennae twitched rhythmically, as though sensing danger, and its iridescent wings glistened faintly in the morning sun.

Emma crouched low, her silver-white hair falling across her face as her white eyes focused intently on the creature. She moved slowly, silently, a predator stalking her prey. Her heart raced as she inched closer, her hands ready to snatch it in a single, decisive motion.


Bong!

In the blink of an eye, the grasshopper vanished, leaving behind a faint green trail of light. Emma froze, blinking at the empty space where it had just been. It had teleported several feet away, now perched on another crop.

Her lips pressed into a determined line. She wasn't about to give up.
Again, she crept closer, adjusting her stance with the precision of a seasoned hunter.


Bong!

The grasshopper teleported once more, teasing her with its effortless movements.

And so the pursuit began.

Each time Emma closed the distance, the grasshopper would leap into the air, teleporting just out of her reach. Green trails of light filled the garden, a visual testament to her repeated failures.

On the sixty-second attempt, Emma collapsed onto the soft grass, utterly exhausted. Her arms and legs sprawled out, she stared up at the sky, her chest heaving with labored breaths. The grasshopper, as if mocking her, teleported one final time, vanishing beyond the garden and out of sight.

A sigh escaped her lips as she sat up, brushing strands of silver hair away from her flushed face. So much for that idea.

She glanced around the garden, searching for an alternative offering for the festival, but nothing seemed quite as unique. Deciding to explore further, she rose to her feet and left the garden, following a cleared path that meandered through the surrounding greenery.

The sounds of chirping birds filled the air, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves swaying in the cool morning breeze. Butterflies flitted gracefully among the wildflowers growing at the edges of the path, their colorful wings catching the sunlight.

As Emma reached the edge of her family's compound, she paused. Her gaze wandered to the neighboring houses, the distant tree lines, and the quiet streets of Windfield. The world beyond felt vast and unfamiliar.

Taking a hesitant step forward, she walked a short distance down the path before quickly retreating. She repeated the motion—venturing out, then returning to the safety of the fence—four times.

Frustration bubbled within her. What am I doing? Am I scared?
She shook her head, chastising herself. "I can't let fear control me," she murmured, though the words felt hollow. Her title—former Lord of Frostfall Tower—came to mind, but the memory only deepened her uncertainty. What strength was there in clinging to the past?

Steeling herself, she turned back toward her compound, intent on regaining her composure.


CRASH!

The sharp sound of splintering wood and clattering wheels echoed through the air. Emma froze mid-step, her ears straining to pinpoint the source of the commotion. It had come from the road beyond the fence.

Her heart quickened as curiosity and concern flared within her. Turning back toward the sound, she hesitated for only a moment before moving cautiously in its direction.


The path opened up to reveal...

 

[p_magno]

The sun hung low in the sky, casting hues of amber and crimson across the quiet village of Windfield. Shadows stretched long across the cobblestone streets as Emma walked toward the source of the crash. The air was cool, the day nearing its end, and the faint scent of woodsmoke lingered from nearby chimneys.

As she approached the street adjacent to hers, the sight of the carriage came into view. Its polished black surface gleamed faintly in the waning sunlight, though one of its large wheels lay detached a few meters away.

The carriage's ornate design suggested wealth—its edges gilded in gold and its doors etched with elegant floral patterns. Two sleek black horses stood tethered to the front, their glossy coats catching the evening glow.

A middle-aged man dressed in a simple driver's uniform—Gary, Emma overheard his name. He was inspecting the damage. His weathered hands ran along the horses' reins, ensuring they were unharmed, before turning his attention to the broken wheel.

"Gary, what's going on out there?" came an impatient voice from within the carriage. The speaker was unmistakably young, her tone sharp with irritation. "This is a new carriage. Why on earth did the wheel fall off?"

Gary, already retrieving the wheel from where it had rolled, replied in a respectful tone. "Apologies, Miss. It seems the rough road loosened the screws. I'll fix it right away."

He hurried to the back of the carriage, rummaging through a small compartment before pulling out a toolkit. Kneeling beside the broken wheel, he attempted to reattach it. The metallic screech of the screwdriver echoed faintly as he worked.
Emma lingered at a distance, her curiosity piqued. She observed silently, her silver-white hair catching the last rays of sunlight as she stayed hidden behind the corner of a nearby fence.

Gary's voice broke the silence. "The screws won't tighten. Holy goddess, they're slacked!"

"What do you mean they're slacked?" the girl snapped, her voice tinged with frustration. "I have places to be before the festival starts, and now I'm stuck here!"
Gary rubbed his forehead, visibly flustered. "Don't worry, Miss. I'll head to the market and fetch a replacement. But... who will stay with you? It's not safe to leave you alone in an unfamiliar village. We don't know much about Windfield."

"I told you before, Gary, I don't need a guard," the girl replied firmly. "This town is peaceful enough. Just go quickly—I don't want to be late."

Gary hesitated but eventually nodded. "As you wish, Miss. I'll return as fast as I can." He set off briskly down the cobblestone street, disappearing into the distance.

Emma exhaled softly, turning back toward her own street. This has nothing to do with me, she thought. The village festival was just around the corner, and she had her own preparations to finish. She began walking home, her boots clicking softly against the stone path.

A faint green light caught the corner of her eye—a magical grasshopper, flitting lazily through the air. Its shimmering trail glowed faintly as it passed her. Emma's lips twitched in a wry smile, but she let it go. Her earlier pursuit felt far removed now, like a distant memory.

As she walked on, the stillness of the evening was shattered by a sudden, piercing scream.

Emma froze, her eyes widening. The sound came from the direction of the carriage.

Her heart quickened. What now? she thought, glancing back over her shoulder. The amber hues of the sunset cast long shadows over the street, but the carriage remained visible in the distance, its elegant silhouette outlined against the fading light.

Another scream echoed, this one louder, sharper—filled with unmistakable fear.
Emma's hand instinctively tightened into a fist. She hesitated for a brief moment, torn between caution and curiosity. Then, with a deep breath,


she turned .....

 

[p_magno]

The scream lingered in the air, sharp and unnerving. Emma hesitated, her heart pounding. She glanced at the dark carriage across the street, shadows spilling over its ornate frame in the sunset's warm glow.

"This isn't my problem," Emma muttered under her breath, turning slightly away. Yet, the words felt hollow. Her thoughts raced. Is this how humans behave? Aren't they supposed to help each other in times of need? She recalled Derrick and Vivian—Her parents—always stepping in to aid their neighbors, no matter how small the task.

With a sigh, she turned back. The golden-orange hues of the setting sun painted the cobblestones as she rushed toward the carriage. The horses stamped nervously, their glossy black coats shimmering. As she neared, she saw the door swung open, and there on the ground was a young girl about her age, sitting in a crumpled heap.

Her white dress, delicate and finely embroidered, was smeared with dust. Strands of dull white hair clung to her flushed face, and her deep green eyes were wide with panic. Her pointed ears—a feature Emma instantly recognized from her books—marked her as an elf.

The girl sat there, breathing heavily, her hands trembling as she muttered, "Now how can I get back in the carriage? It's such a disgrace if anyone sees me like this."

Emma stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. "Do you need a hand?"
The elf's gaze darted to her, then quickly away as though embarrassed. After a pause, she muttered, "Yes, please."

Emma extended her hand, but paused. The girl's legs seemed unnaturally thin and delicate, as if they bore no strength. Frowning, Emma asked, "Sorry if this seems rude, but... you can't walk, can you?"

The elf's gaze dropped to the ground, and she shook her head. "No, I can't."
"Where are you heading?" Emma pressed.

"Just a few blocks from here," the girl replied. "It's still a little far…"

Emma studied her for a moment. Despite the elf's fragile appearance, there was an air of dignity about her, though now overshadowed by vulnerability. "Alright," Emma said, her voice steady. She crouched down and turned her back toward the girl. "Get on. I'll carry you."

"What? Carry me where?" The elf's voice rose, tinged with disbelief. "You can't! You're just as small as I am. Don't try to do something beyond your limits!"

Emma's lips twitched into a wry smile. "Try me," she said simply, her tone laced with quiet confidence.

The elf hesitated, her green eyes searching Emma's face for signs of doubt but finding none. "Before we go," she said finally, "may I write a note for my driver? I don't want him to think I've been kidnapped or something."

Emma raised a brow. Kidnap? Really? she thought but nodded. "Sure. Where's the paper and ink?"

"In the carriage," the elf said. "First seat on the right."

Emma approached the carriage, her curiosity momentarily piqued. Its interior was as lavish as she'd expected, with seats of finely polished leather that glowed faintly in the golden light. An ink pot rested in the corner of the first seat, and a stack of parchment lay neatly beside it. She grabbed them both and stepped out.
The elf took the items and quickly scrawled a note, her delicate handwriting flowing smoothly across the page. She handed it back to Emma.

"Gary, I found someone to help me get home. Don't worry—I'll be alright," it read.
Emma returned to the carriage, carefully placing the note and ink back where she'd found them. Then she crouched once more in front of the elf. "Alright. Let's go."

The elf climbed onto Emma's back hesitantly, her arms wrapping lightly around Emma's shoulders. For a moment, Emma was surprised by how little she weighed, as if she were as fragile as she looked.

"Which way?" Emma asked.

"Straight, then left at the big oak tree," the elf said softly.

Emma began walking, her boots crunching lightly against the cobblestones. The weight on her back was barely noticeable as she moved, the cool evening breeze brushing against her face. The village streets stretched out before them, bathed in the warm glow of the sunset. Lanterns hanging from wrought-iron posts began to flicker to life, casting soft pools of golden light.

The distant sounds of the Green Festival echoed faintly—laughter, music, and the clatter of market stalls. The air carried the faint scent of roasted nuts and freshly baked bread, mingling with the earthy aroma of the cobblestones and grass.

Emma's gaze flickered to the sky, where the first stars began to twinkle against the deepening twilight.

"You're stronger than you look," the elf murmured after a while, her voice soft.
Emma smirked. "Told you."

As Emma carried her charge through the cobblestone paths on the first day of the Green Festival. She couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of satisfaction. Helping someone... this really does feel human.

 

[p_magno]

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, its warm hues giving way to the deep blues of evening. The cobblestone paths of Windfield glimmered faintly under the first flickers of the magical streetlamps, their greenish glow shimmering like distant fireflies. The lamps, fueled by some arcane mechanism unique to the village, lit up one by one, marking the approaching night.

Emma carried Anna on her back, her footsteps steady against the cobblestones. The cool breeze wove through the streets, carrying with it the scents of blooming flowers, faint wood smoke, and the tantalizing aroma of festival treats being prepared. The elf girl's silvery-white hair fluttered in the wind, mingling with Emma's own as they moved past neighborhoods tucked behind carefully tended hedgerows and wrought-iron gates. Emma's own home, with its familiar wooden gate and ivy-strewn walls, passed by on her left, but she didn't pause.

The silence between them felt heavy, broken only by the occasional creak of Emma's boots against the stones. Finally, Anna spoke, her voice soft but clear. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah," Emma replied, her tone casual. "Just a few blocks back, to the left."
She hesitated before asking, "Sorry if this seems rude, but... were you born like this?"

She felt Anna's weight shift slightly on her back. Glancing over her shoulder, Emma noticed the girl's expression darken, her green eyes clouded with sorrow. Emma quickly added, "You don't have to answer if it's too personal."

Anna sighed, her voice quieter now. "Yes... I was born this way."

"Oh," Emma murmured, unsure of what else to say. The girl's sadness seemed to seep into her, and for a moment, the weight on her back felt heavier. Wanting to shift the mood, she asked, "What's your name?"

Anna's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Anna. And you?"

"Emma."
They fell into silence again, the quiet only interrupted by the rhythmic crunch of Emma's steps and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead. The path wound leftward toward the towering oak tree that stood like a sentinel at the crossroads.
Emma broke the silence this time, her curiosity getting the better of her. "So, did you come here for the Green Festival? Or was it something else?"

Anna's voice brightened slightly. "It's kind of both. My family's lineage traces back to the founders of Windfield. For generations, we've celebrated the Green Festival, even though we don't live here permanently. My parents told me they used to bring my older siblings every five years, but this is the first time I've been able to attend."

The faint hum of festival activity in the distance was growing louder. The sounds of cheerful chatter, music, and the clinking of mugs carried on the evening breeze. The Green Festival had begun in earnest, and Emma's thoughts drifted to her own family. They'd be expecting her soon, and if she didn't return, they'd undoubtedly worry.

Anna's voice pulled her back to the moment, soft and almost inaudible. "This is my first festival, and yet... all I'll do is sit and watch. I'm just pathetic."

Emma felt Anna's head droop against her back, and something about the girl's quiet despair struck a nerve. Without thinking, she shifted her shoulders sharply, causing Anna to jolt slightly and bump her head against Emma's back.

"Ow!" Anna protested, clearly annoyed. "Why did you do that?"

Emma grinned, glancing back just enough to catch the elf's indignant expression. "Don't feel sad while you're on my back. It makes you heavier."

Anna blinked, momentarily stunned, before muttering a soft apology, though her head drooped again. Emma rolled her eyes and shifted her shoulders once more, shaking her passenger.

"Stop that!" Anna said, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

"If you think you'll be all alone when you sit there, don't worry," Emma said firmly. Turning her head slightly, she added, "I'll sit next to you."

Anna's eyes widened in surprise, and she hesitated before responding. "But we just met. Why would you want to sit with me? I'm... I'm not any fun to be around."

Emma sighed, shaking her again for good measure.

"Please stop shaking me! It's making me dizzy!"

Emma chuckled, her tone softening as she spoke. "I'm not sitting with you because I feel sorry for you. I'm doing it because I want to. It doesn't take just one day to get to know someone, and I'd like to know more about you."

Anna's voice was barely a whisper when she replied. "Oh..."

The massive oak tree came into view, its sprawling branches silhouetted against the indigo sky. Beneath it, the cobblestones glimmered in the soft glow of lanterns strung among the branches.

The hum of the Green Festival drew closer, the air alive with the promise of celebration. Emma adjusted her grip on Anna, her steps steady and sure. Together, they continued toward the heart of Windfield, their journey illuminated by the magic of the evening and the quiet understanding that had formed between them.

Under the canopy of the Green Festival, a friendship began to bloom.

 

[p_magno]

A cool evening breeze rustled the leaves of the massive oak tree as the sun's last light faded, casting long shadows across the village. The path Emma followed led her to a sight that took her breath away. Standing before her was one of the most unique homes she had ever seen in this world—a grand house carved seamlessly into the shape of an ancient oak tree.


The roots of the oak rose to form the base of the home, with a massive door nestled at the tree's base, its polished wood engraved with intricate patterns of leaves and vines. Lanterns hanging from the lower branches glowed softly, illuminating a front garden bursting with colorful flowers—reds, yellows, and purples that seemed to shimmer faintly under the magical streetlamps. The lawn, meticulously trimmed, spread like a green carpet, while the air was filled with the light chirping of birds nesting in the tree's upper canopy.

Emma stood at the wrought-iron gate, Anna still perched on her back. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight, muttering to herself, This is the fanciest place I've seen since I got here.

"You can go in. The gate's open," Anna said softly, her voice breaking Emma's awe-stricken silence.

"Are you sure?" Emma asked, glancing at Anna, who nodded firmly.
Emma hesitated but then pushed open the gate, its hinges creaking slightly. The path leading to the door was lined with smooth white stones that crunched faintly under her boots. As she approached the grand door, it opened suddenly, and a woman rushed out.

The woman bore a striking resemblance to Anna. Her hair was the same silvery-white, flowing down her back like moonlight, and her deep green eyes radiated both worry and relief. Dressed in an elegant gown of forest green, she had an air of refinement that seemed perfectly suited to her majestic home.

"Anna!" the woman called, her voice trembling with emotion as she hurried down the path.

Emma instinctively crouched to let Anna down. The elf woman immediately scooped her daughter into her arms, holding her tightly. "Anna, my darling, where have you been? The carriage was supposed to bring you hours ago!"

Emma stood awkwardly to the side, unsure if she should stay or slip away quietly. She took a step toward the gate, but Anna's voice called her back.


"Emma!"

Emma turned, startled to hear her name. Anna smiled softly and looked up at her mother. "Mum, the new carriage had an accident. One of the wheels came loose, and Gary had to go find a replacement. He didn't want to leave me alone, but I told him it was fine. Then… well, I fell out of the carriage, and Emma helped me. She carried me all the way here."

Anna's mother turned her gaze to Emma, her eyes scanning the young girl's simple clothes. Emma felt a pang of discomfort under the woman's scrutiny, her fists clenching briefly as she suppressed the urge to pluck her eyes out. How can you look at me like that.....

However, the woman's expression softened into a warm smile.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely."

Emma blinked, caught off guard by the gratitude. She quickly bowed her head slightly, trying to appear polite. "No need to thank me, Miss," she said, her voice steady but modest.

"Please," the woman continued, "won't you come inside? I'd like to thank you properly, with more than just words."

Emma hesitated. The sky above was already darkening, stars beginning to peek out, and the sounds of the Green Festival drifted faintly on the breeze. She thought of her family and the festival she was eager to attend.

"Thank you, Miss, but I really don't need much," Emma said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just a little favor."

The woman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A favor?"

"Yes," Emma replied, her tone light. "I just need something green to bring to the festival. That's all."

The woman's surprise was evident, and she studied Emma for a moment before speaking. "Are you sure that's all you want? It's such a small request for someone who helped my daughter.

Emma nodded firmly. "That's all I need, Miss."

The woman called into the house, summoning a maid who appeared swiftly. She whispered something to the maid, who disappeared inside the oak tree. A moment later, the maid returned, carrying a small object wrapped in green cloth.
The maid handed the item to Emma, who accepted it eagerly. She unwrapped it slightly to peek inside—a polished green crystal stick, shimmering faintly under the lamplight.

"Thank you very much, Miss—uh, what should I call you?" Emma asked, glancing back at the woman.

"Vera," she replied with a smile.

Emma nodded. "Thank you, Miss Vera." She turned to Anna, still cradled in her mother's arms. "I'll see you at the festival later, Anna. And don't forget—I promised to sit with you."

Anna's cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

With a wave, Emma turned and made her way back toward the gate. As she disappeared into the evening shadows, Vera glanced down at Anna, her smile soft.

"You've made your first friend here, Anna," she said warmly.
Anna nodded, her voice quiet but hopeful. "I hope we stay friends forever."

"Come now," Vera said, shifting Anna in her arms. "Your father and siblings are waiting for you inside. Let's get ready for the festival."

Together, they entered the grand oak tree house, their laughter and conversation fading as the door closed behind them. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the garden, and the evening air seemed to hum with quiet joy.

 

[p_magno]

The cool evening breeze swirled through the cobblestone streets of Windfield Village as the night descended fully. The magical streetlamps along the way flickered gently before blooming into steady light, casting a warm glow on the houses and cobbled pathways. Emma dashed through the streets, her small feet pattering on the stone as her heart raced in her chest. She clutched the green-wrapped object she had received, panic rising with every passing second.


She had lost track of time. The Green Festival of Windfield Village had already begun, and her parents were undoubtedly worried. Her thoughts churned with guilt.
I didn't tell them where I was going, I didn't come home on time, and I've probably ruined their evening.


Her breaths came quick and sharp as she rounded the corner leading to her street. Her family's modest but cozy home stood ahead, its wooden gate slightly ajar. The light spilling from the windows illuminated the garden, where wind chimes sang softly in the evening breeze.


Emma slowed as she pushed open the gate and hurried to the front door, her pulse quickening when the door creaked open. Inside, her family awaited her, each face etched with a different emotion.


Vivian, her mother, stood at the forefront, her arms crossed and her expression stern, her usually gentle eyes now shadowed by worry and anger. Ellie, her younger sister, hovered beside her, visibly relieved yet tense. Ethan, her brother, leaned casually against the wall, his face unreadable. But the one she dreaded the most was not present yet—her father.


Vivian's voice sliced through the silence.
"Young lady, where have you been?" she asked, her tone low and controlled, though her worry was evident beneath the surface.


Emma swallowed hard. In that moment, she no longer felt like the former Lord of Frostfall Tower, the once-feared wielder of great power. She was just a child caught in her mother's stern gaze.


She shifted her weight uneasily and finally spilled everything. "I... I wanted to find something unique for the Green Festival. I found a magical grasshopper but couldn't catch it. Then I heard a crash—there was a carriage accident! So, I went to check, and I found an elf girl who needed help. I carried her home, and her mom gave me this as thanks."


She held up the green-wrapped object in her hands as if it might shield her from her mother's displeasure. "That's why I'm late," she finished, her voice trembling.


As she spoke, Emma allowed tears to well up in her striking white eyes, her bottom lip quivering just enough to appear pitiable. Ellie's concern overcame her as she darted forward to hug Emma tightly.





"You did great," Ellie murmured. "Mom's not mad. She was just worried about you. Don't cry, okay?"


Emma hesitated before glancing up at her mother. Vivian's expression softened, and a sigh escaped her lips. She ruffled Emma's hair, her anger melting into maternal warmth.


"I wasn't angry, Emma," Vivian said gently. "I was scared something might've happened to you. Let's forget about all this, shall we?" She crouched slightly, her kind smile returning. "Come on. A dress for the festival has been prepared for you. Would you like to see it?"


Emma's heart leaped, her guilt evaporating in the face of her mother's affection. Her family had already made preparations for her, even when she had been so careless. She beamed brightly, her previous fears replaced by excitement.


"Yes, Mom! I'd love to!"


Her mother chuckled softly, standing as she placed a hand on Ellie's shoulder. Ethan, who had remained quiet throughout, finally smirked and said, "Good. Because you'll need it if you don't want to look like a stray at the festival."


"Ethan!" Ellie protested, glaring at him.


Emma laughed, her spirits lifted. Together, they moved inside, the warmth of their home wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. As the door closed behind them, the sound of laughter and chatter echoed softly in the night air.


The Green Festival awaited, but for now, Emma was home—and she was loved.

 

[p_magno]

The house stood as a shimmering beacon of green in the soft glow of the magical streetlamps outside. Every corner seemed to celebrate the theme of the festival—the chimney wrapped with garlands of emerald vines, the rooftop adorned with verdant banners, and even the doors of each room decorated with intricate patterns of green silk and ivy. The scent of fresh leaves and blossoming flowers filled the air, blending with the faint hum of festival music wafting through the village.

As Emma walked through the passageway with her mother, Vivian, and her elder sister, Ellie, she couldn't help but marvel at the transformation of their home. Despite the beauty around her, Emma's thoughts drifted to her father.
"Where's Dad?" Emma asked, glancing at her mother.

Vivian smiled softly as she adjusted the hem of her dress. "He's already gone out. He wasn't too worried about you, dear. In fact, he said it was a sign you were growing up—stepping out of the library for once." Her eyes sparkled with a touch of humor. "He always joked that you might grow up to be a scientist instead of a child."

Emma blinked in surprise. Does Dad really think that about me? she wondered, a faint smile creeping onto her lips.

Ellie, trailing behind them, chimed in with a cheerful voice. "You should come out with me more often! I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

Emma turned her head slightly, offering her elder sister a small, genuine smile. "Maybe I will."

They stopped before the door to Emma's room. Vivian pushed it open, and Emma's breath hitched as her gaze fell on the dress hanging just inside her wardrobe.

The gown was stunning. Its vibrant green fabric shimmered faintly under the glow of the magical chandelier. The design was elegant yet simple—a long, flowing gown tailored to fit perfectly, adorned with delicate green flowers embroidered onto the shoulders. A slim, green fabric belt cinched the waist, adding a touch of refinement. Beside it, a pair of matching green shoes sat neatly on the floor, their glossy surface reflecting the light like polished jade.

Emma couldn't tear her eyes away. She stepped forward, her heart swelling with awe. "Is this the dress?" she asked, turning to her mother with a wide, childlike grin.

Vivian nodded, her own smile warm with pride.

Ellie clapped her hands excitedly. "Mom made it herself! She made all the festival outfits for the family."

Before Ellie could finish her sentence, Emma threw her arms around Vivian, dragging Ellie into the hug by grabbing her leg since she wasn't tall enough to reach her. "Thank you! I love it!" Emma exclaimed, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder.

Vivian laughed softly, wrapping her arms around both girls as Ellie chuckled in delight. From behind them, Ethan her twin leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. "You should put it on already," he teased, "before a magical sheep mistakes it for grass."

The room erupted in laughter, and Ethan and Ellie walked away, leaving the Emma and their mother to the moment. Vivian helped Emma into the dress, zipping it carefully at the back.

As Vivian stepped back to admire her handiwork, Emma turned, her hands smoothing the fabric. "When we get to the festival, I want to sit next to the elf girl I met," she said earnestly. "I promised her I would."

Vivian nodded approvingly. "If that's what you'd like, then you can sit wherever you're most comfortable."

Emma's face lit up with gratitude. "Thanks, Mom."

Vivian stepped back further, looking her daughter up and down. "You're beautiful," she said, her voice filled with motherly pride.

Emma glanced at her mother with a mischievous smile. "You're beautiful too."
The family soon regrouped in the main hall, each member clad in their festival attire. Ellie's dress sparkled with green crystals sewn into the edges, the light catching on them to create a dazzling effect fit for royalty. Ethan's ensemble was simple yet dignified—a tailored green suit with a bow tie that gave him an air of maturity.

But it was Vivian who stole the show. As she stepped out, the siblings' jaws dropped. Her dress was a masterpiece—a flowing green gown imbued with shimmering textures that seemed alive. The fabric sparkled as she moved, like tiny fireflies had been woven into the design, though there were none. The gown seemed to glow faintly with a gentle, enchanting light.

"It's imbued with healing magic," Vivian explained with a chuckle at their stunned expressions. "Anything that's dying during the Green Festival can be revived with just it's presence."

Emma's curiosity bubbled over. "Can magic really do that?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Vivian smiled, her eyes twinkling. "It can. I'll teach you one day—when you've awakened."

Emma nodded eagerly, and the family shared a moment of quiet admiration before they made their way out.

As they passed through their garden, fireflies danced in the air, their soft glow blending with the moonlight. The flowers, freshly bloomed, seemed to hum with life under the festival's magic. The family walked gracefully toward the gate, their hearts light with anticipation for the night ahead.

Emma glanced up at the sparkling sky and whispered to herself,


"Life sure is beautiful."

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[p_magno]

The cozy evening breeze carried the tantalizing aroma of festival delicacies, mingling with the faint hum of laughter and music. The Green Festival was in full swing, and the heart of Windfield had transformed into a vibrant tapestry of color, life, and celebration.

At the center of it all stood the Elder Tree—a towering giant of nature that dwarfed every house in the village, its massive trunk adorned with cascading vines and glowing emerald ribbons. Lanterns shaped like blooming flowers swayed gently from its sprawling branches, casting soft, shifting hues of green light over the venue. Fireflies danced in mesmerizing spirals around the tree, their golden glimmers weaving into the festival's ethereal glow.

The villagers moved about with unbridled joy, their faces alight with cheer. Groups of friends laughed as they shared mugs of glowing green ale; couples swayed to the lively music of fiddles and flutes; children ran barefoot, their laughter ringing out like silver bells. Everywhere, the world seemed alive, vibrant, and harmonious.

Emma and her family stepped into the venue, their festival attire blending seamlessly with the sea of green. Her elder sister Ellie gasped audibly at the sight of the glowing tree, while Ethan, her twin brother, let out a low whistle of admiration. Emma simply gazed in silent wonder, her unique white eyes reflecting the soft glimmer of the fireflies.

Vivian, their mother, glanced toward a cluster of adults gathered near the edge of the venue. "There's your father," she said, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
The siblings turned to see their father standing among his friends, laughing heartily. His deep, rumbling voice carried faintly through the crowd as he gestured animatedly, clearly enjoying the company.

"He seems happy," Emma murmured softly. But her thoughts soon shifted, reminded of her promise. "I want to go now," she told her mother, her voice filled with a quiet readiness.

Vivian nodded, resting a hand lightly on Emma's shoulder. "Be careful," she said.
Ellie opened her mouth to offer to accompany Emma, but Vivian stopped her with a shake of her head. "She needs time with her new friend," Vivian said gently. Ellie reluctantly agreed, her lips quirking into a small smile. Ethan had already bounded off to join a group of children playing a boisterous game near the venue's playground, and Ellie soon spotted her own schoolmates, rushing off to join them with a wave.

Emma was left to navigate the vibrant venue on her own. The sights and sounds around her were overwhelming yet enchanting. She moved past the bustling crowds, her gaze drawn to every detail of the festival.

On her left, rows of food stalls filled the air with mouthwatering aromas. She caught sight of a chef flipping green-stewed beef over a sizzling grill—an unusual dish that smelled deliciously rich. Nearby, a roasted turkey lay artfully arranged on a platter, its golden skin garnished with crisp lettuce leaves. Skewers of barbecued fish shimmered with a glossy green glaze, and steaming bowls of emerald-hued vegetables were set out in neat rows.

Emma's stomach growled faintly, but she resisted the pull of the food stalls, reminding herself of her task. She turned to her right, where green canopies were arranged in neat rows, their interiors bustling with people. This area was clearly intended for the festival's main events—the night celebrations and the exchange of gifts.

She made her way toward the canopies, clutching the small green stick she had brought as her own contribution. Though it was simple, she hoped it would be appreciated. The gift-drop area was a long table covered with soft, green cloth, and it was piled high with an array of offerings: verdant trinkets, shimmering fabrics, potted plants with glowing leaves, and even intricate sculptures carved from emerald stone.

Emma hesitated for a moment, feeling almost embarrassed by the simplicity of her gift compared to the others. But she placed it on the table with quiet reverence, clasping her hands together briefly as if in prayer before stepping back.
As she turned away, her eyes were drawn to the scene beneath the canopies.


Rows of green-clad villagers sat at polished wooden tables illuminated by standing lamps at each corner, their warm light adding to the magical atmosphere. The flickering lamps cast shifting patterns across the canopy fabric, making it seem as though the stars themselves had come down to join the celebration.

She couldn't help but admire the harmony of it all, the way the villagers' laughter intertwined with the music, the way the decorations seemed to glow with life. It was as if the festival had turned the ordinary into something extraordinary.

Lost in the splendor of the moment, Emma nearly jumped when she heard a voice call her name.

She turned toward the sound and saw Anna, the elf girl she had helped earlier, sitting near the front row of the first canopy. Anna's green eyes sparkled with joy as she waved energetically, her face lighting up with a broad smile.

Emma's lips curved into a soft smile in return. She raised a hand and waved back, her heart warmed by the sight of her new friend.

The festival, with all its wonder and beauty, suddenly felt even more special.

 

[p_magno]

The festival night unfolded in an unbroken rhythm of joy. Beneath the sprawling green canopies, laughter echoed and stories flowed like rivers. People dressed in varying shades of green leaned close to one another, their faces lit with merriment. Their worries, burdens, and sorrows had all but vanished, swept away by the magic of the evening.

Emma moved through the crowd, her gaze flickering from one happy face to another. The warmth of the atmosphere was contagious, and she found herself smiling. It felt like the kind of night that might stretch into eternity, a memory carved in the amber glow of lantern light.

As she made her way toward Anna, her eyes scanned the gathered guests, searching for Vera, Anna's mother. Despite the mingling villagers and the hum of conversation, she couldn't spot her. Emma wondered briefly where Vera might be before turning her attention back to the elf girl seated in the front row of the first canopy.

When Emma approached, her eyes caught a small detail that made her pause: a vacant chair next to Anna, set slightly apart from the others.

"You can sit here," Anna said brightly, patting the empty seat. "I kept it for you." Her smile was as warm as the festival lights.

Emma's lips curved into a soft smile as she sat beside Anna. Their gazes met briefly before they both broke into a fit of laughter.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't come," Anna admitted, giggling softly.

"Did you really think I wouldn't show up?" Emma teased, leaning forward slightly.

"Well…" Anna tilted her head playfully. "It was fifty-fifty. But I had a feeling you'd come."

The laughter between them quieted, replaced by a moment of easy silence. Emma glanced around the venue again, the magical glow of fireflies casting shifting patterns across the canopy above.

"Oh, by the way," Emma said suddenly, "I already dropped the green stick as my gift."

Anna's face lit up. "That's wonderful," she said, her tone as light as her smile.

Emma hesitated before asking the question that had been on her mind since she first received the gift. "What is the green stick, exactly? I mean, why is it so special?"

Anna's eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and reverence. "It's one of the rarest magical bamboos from the inner depths of the Enchanted Forest," she explained. "Legends say that when it's burned or gifted as a blessing, it emits a healing glow infused with the power of Povia, the goddess of nature. And if you're lucky, it can even summon magical rain that makes all crops grow abundantly and blessed."

Emma's eyes widened in shock. "Something that precious… And your mother just gave it to me?"

Anna laughed, her voice soft and melodic. "My mother always says that a human life is more valuable than any riches in the world. After you helped me all the way home that day, she wanted to give you something special for the Green Festival."

Emma's expression softened, and a quiet warmth bloomed in her chest. "That's… really kind. Thank you."

Anna shook her head, brushing off the gratitude with a smile. "It's nothing."

For a while, they simply sat together, letting the beauty of the festival wash over them. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the canopy fabric. The hum of laughter and the distant notes of a fiddle filled the air.

Anna broke the silence, her voice tinged with wonder. "This might be my first time here, but it feels like this is my birthplace. Even if it's not where I was born, it's the kind of place I'd want to stay—a place where happiness flourishes."

Emma turned to look at her, smiling softly. "Me too."

Her eyes drifted to the intricate chair Anna was sitting in. It was beautifully crafted, the frame adorned with carved vines that seemed to grow along its edges. But what stood out most were the wheels attached to its base.

"Your chair," Emma said after a moment, tilting her head curiously. "It has wheels. Is it… moveable?"

Anna laughed lightly. "It is. It's called a wheelchair—pretty straightforward, right? A chair and wheels combined."

Emma nodded thoughtfully, a playful glint sparking in her eyes. "In that case… Let's go exploring."

 

[p_magno]

"Exploring?" Anna repeated softly, her voice carrying a hint of surprise. Her hands rested on the armrests of her wheelchair as though unsure whether to refuse or agree.

Before she could respond, Emma smiled and leaned forward. "Don't worry about it," she said reassuringly. "I'll move the wheelchair. And if you're worried your parents might look for you, just leave them a note. That way, they won't worry."

Anna hesitated, her delicate brows furrowing in thought. Then, after a moment, she said, "Why don't I just ask one of the servants to tell them where I've gone if they ask?"

Emma considered this and nodded. "That works."

Anna waved over a nearby servant, a young elven woman who stood discreetly at the edge of the green canopy. The servant approached swiftly, her posture respectful yet curious.

After explaining her request, the servant glanced at Emma, then back at Anna. "Should I accompany you, just in case?"

Anna shook her head with a calm but firm smile. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. Just let my parents know where I've gone if they ask."

The servant hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. "As you wish, Miss Anna." She stepped back into her position by the canopy, and Anna turned to Emma..

"Ready," she said with a small smile.
Emma stepped behind the wheelchair, gripping its handles gently. She began to push, guiding them away from the vibrant canopy. The bustling festival streets stretched out before them, a tapestry of life, magic, and celebration.

The air was alive with the mingling scents of roasted meats, spiced greens, and sweet pastries. On one side of the path, cooks prepared steaming dishes, their hands moving with practiced ease. Pots bubbled over open flames, sending waves of enticing aromas into the air. On the other side, green-lit lanterns cast an enchanting glow over clusters of festival-goers who laughed, sang, and swayed to the lively music played by a group of elven minstrels.

Emma couldn't help but notice the diversity of the crowd. Though most of the attendees were elves, there were a fair number of humans, their differences blending seamlessly into the festive atmosphere. Children darted between the adults, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, while vendors shouted cheerfully, displaying wares that shimmered with faint magical auras.

"Look at them," Anna murmured, her voice tinged with awe. Her eyes followed the movement of a group of dancers, their long green robes flowing like water as they spun in perfect synchrony.

Emma smiled but said nothing, content to let Anna take it all in.
As they moved further down the path, something caught both their attention—a fountain nestled in a quiet corner of the venue, near the edge of the playground.

The fountain was unlike anything Emma had ever seen. Water cascaded from its topmost tier in glowing droplets, each one shimmering with an iridescent light before merging into the pool below. The air around it was cool and serene, as though the fountain exuded an aura of calm.
"It's beautiful," Anna whispered.
They weren't the only ones captivated by the sight. A small group of humans and elves stood nearby, their faces reflecting the soft glow of the fountain. It was as if the fountain's magic had drawn them into a shared moment of quiet wonder.

After a while, Emma gently pushed the wheelchair again, steering them toward the playground.

Here, the festival was even livelier. Children ran about, their laughter carrying over the sound of the music. Some were building elaborate sandcastles that seemed to defy gravity, the grains of sand held together by faintly shimmering magic. Others performed small magical tricks—conjuring lights, shaping water, or making flowers bloom from seemingly barren soil.
Anna's gaze lingered on the children, her smile fading ever so slightly. The joy in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, heavier. Emma noticed immediately.

Her chest tightened as she watched Anna, her small hands resting still on the armrests of her chair, her expression quietly wistful.

I didn't think bringing her here would make her sad, Emma thought, guilt curling in her stomach. If I'd known…
Almost Instinctively, Emma stepped closer . She leaned over Anna, wrapping her arms around her shoulders slowly, in a firm but gentle hug. Their cheeks were nearly touching, and Anna's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Emma pointed toward the children in the playground. "One day," she said softly, her voice steady and filled with quiet meaning, "you'll be out there Anna. Walking, running, using magic. Laughing. Having the best time of your life."

Anna's breath hitched, and tears began to well in her deep green eyes. They spilled over silently, tracing glistening paths down her cheeks. She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement, and then, to Emma's relief, she smiled—a soft, genuine smile that carried a glimmer of hope..

"Thank you," Anna whispered, her voice barely audible over the festival's hum. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and straightened slightly in her chair. "Let's keep going. There's still so much to see, right?"

Emma nodded, her own smile returning. "Right."

She stepped behind the wheelchair once more, her hands steady as she began to push. Together, they left the playground behind, the glow of the magical fountain fading into the distance.

Ahead of them lay the rest of the festival, a world of beauty and wonder waiting to be explored.

 

[p_magno]

The festival glimmered with joy, every corner of the venue alive with laughter and song. Even the cool breeze that occasionally swept through the gathering went unnoticed, lost amid the infectious cheer of the crowd. It was as though the night itself had been enchanted, each moment imbued with a sense of wonder and unity.


Yet, as Emma pushed Anna's wheelchair along the quieter path by the magical fountain, the air between them felt different—silent, contemplative.


Anna remained unusually quiet, her gaze fixed ahead, though Emma couldn't tell what she was truly seeing. The distant sound of festival merriment echoed softly around them, but the silence between them lingered, heavy and unspoken.


Finally, Emma broke the quiet. "Anna," she said gently, "can I ask you something? Something… personal?"


Anna blinked and glanced up at her, her expression open and curious. "Of course."


Emma hesitated for only a moment. "Has your family ever tried healing magic?"


At first, Anna chuckled softly, the sound light but tinged with sadness. "Yes," she began, "we've tried every kind of healing magic you can think of—advanced, buff, even curses meant to counteract other curses. None of them worked."


Emma frowned, her brow furrowing. "Healing magic didn't work?" she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to Anna.


Anna continued, her voice steady but quieter now. "The last healer my parents brought me to was supposed to be one of the best in the world. He looked at my legs and said it was useless to try healing magic. When my parents asked him why, he couldn't give an answer. After that, they had no choice but to give up."


Emma felt a pang of frustration on Anna's behalf. "There has to be something," she said firmly. "Some other kind of magic that could help."


Anna shook her head, her voice soft but resolute. "I don't think so. And, Emma…" She paused, her tone shifting to something more vulnerable. "Please don't waste your time trying to find a way to heal me. I've… accepted it."


Before she could say more, Emma leaned forward and lightly tapped Anna on the head with her fingers.


"Ouch!" Anna exclaimed, blinking up at her in surprise. "Why did you do that?"


Emma grinned mischievously. "Because you don't get to decide what I do," she said, her voice playful but firm. "And besides, we're both still young—well, you are, and I'm… young in some ways, I guess." She laughed softly before continuing. "What I'm trying to say is, there's still hope. So cheer up, alright?"


Anna stared at her for a moment before a small smile crept onto her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.


At that moment, the sound of cheering reached their ears. Emma turned her head toward the commotion and saw a crowd gathering near the canopy path.


"Oh, it's already time!" she exclaimed, quickly pushing Anna's wheelchair toward the source of the excitement.


As they approached the heart of the venue, the atmosphere grew even more electric. The central clearing was packed with people, their anticipation palpable. Somehow, Emma managed to maneuver the wheelchair through the dense crowd, finally reaching the front.


The scene that greeted them was breathtaking. A massive elder tree stood at the center of the clearing, its ancient branches sprawling like a protective canopy over the gathering. Fireflies swarmed the tree, their tiny bodies glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Each movement of their wings seemed to scatter faint sparks into the air, casting the area in a magical glow.


As the crowd settled into a hushed silence, the fireflies' light intensified. The elders of Windfield, including Anna's mother and father, stood closest to the tree. They began to hum—a low, melodic sound that resonated deeply, like the voice of the earth itself.


The crowd joined in, their humming weaving together in harmony. Even Emma and Anna found themselves humming along, the sound flowing effortlessly from their lips as if the melody had always been within them.


The fireflies moved in unison, their glowing bodies forming intricate patterns as they danced around the elder tree. Then, one by one, they began to descend toward the piles of green gifts laid at the tree's base. Each gift was touched by the fireflies' light, and as the crowd watched in awe, the gifts faded away, dissolving into shimmering particles that rose into the air and vanished.


Emma's breath caught in her throat. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her words lost in the symphony of humming.


One firefly broke away from the swarm and fluttered toward Emma and Anna. It hovered near Emma's face before landing lightly on her nose. She giggled, the sound soft and full of wonder, as she raised her hand to the tiny creature. The firefly lingered for a moment on her outstretched palm before flying away, its glow fading into the sea of light around them.


Suddenly, a soft drizzle began to fall from the sky. But this was no ordinary rain. Each drop shimmered with a faint green light, and as it touched the earth, the elder tree responded, its leaves glowing brighter and its branches blooming with vibrant, magical flowers.


The rain fell on everyone in the clearing, its touch cool and invigorating. Laughter bubbled up from the crowd, their voices mingling with the melody of the rain and the hum of the fireflies.


"This is the Green Festival of Windfield," Emma murmured, more to herself than to Anna. "A place of singing, dancing, and joy. A place where worries are forgotten, and bonds grow stronger."


Anna turned her head slightly to look at Emma, her expression soft and peaceful.


Emma smiled down at her. "What a beautiful way to bring people closer," she said, her voice full of quiet wonder.


As the magical rain continued to fall, the festival seemed to glow brighter, a living testament to the strength of the bonds that tied the people of Windfield together.


This was the end of the first chapter of their journey—a celebration of friendship, love, and hope that would carry them forward into whatever lay ahead.


[END OF ARC 1: BOND]

 

[p_magno]

Two days had passed since the magical three-day Green Festival of Windfield. The festival's final days had been just as enchanting as the first. Emma found herself reminiscing about the joy and warmth that filled those hours. They had eaten to their hearts' content—though Ethan, as usual, managed to doze off mid-meal, his head nearly landing in his plate. Ellie, on the other hand, hadn't eaten much at all, instead slipping her food to Emma and Ethan with a quiet smile. Emma had tried to refuse at first, but Ellie's persistence won out, and eventually, she had no choice but to accept.

Emma and Anna had spent those days exploring every corner of the venue, their laughter often ringing out above the cheerful hum of the crowd. They had joined the singers in their melodies, tried the strange but delicious green cakes, and marveled at the glowing decorations that transformed the venue into a dreamlike wonderland.

The highlight, however, had been introducing Anna to Emma's family. Her parents had welcomed Anna warmly, their genuine kindness making her feel right at home. Ellie and Anna had shared a quiet but heartfelt conversation, while Ethan had lingered at a distance, sneaking shy glances. Emma couldn't help but smirk—she had her suspicions that Ethan might have developed a crush.

Anna's father, Mr. Smith, had been an impressive figure. With the same silver-white hair as his daughter and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold decades of wisdom, he had an air of quiet authority. Anna had proudly revealed that he was a General in the Hero Association and a Dual-Type Green Stage Awakened, with mastery over Earth Magic. Her mother, Vera, was equally remarkable, a Yellow Stage Awakened Caster who wielded both Water and Plant Magic with precision. Emma hadn't even known Plant Magic existed before, but hearing about it fascinated her. She had eagerly shared stories of her own parents' abilities, brimming with pride as she recounted their strengths.

The magical rain that fell during the festival had left a lasting impression on the village. The next day, news spread that those who had been ill were miraculously healed, and every crop in Windfield had ripened overnight, ready for harvest. It was as if the rain itself had carried the blessings of the elder tree, weaving its magic into the fabric of the village.

These had been some of the best days of Emma's new life—a life that, for all its complexities, was proving to be more wonderful than she had ever imagined.

The weekend arrived, bringing with it a special occasion: the grand opening of the Royal Bookstore to commoners.

Emma had been buzzing with excitement ever since she first heard the news. While the Royal Bookstore had long been a treasure trove for scholars and nobles, this was the first time its vast collection would be accessible to people like her. The prospect of discovering new books, of learning more about the world she now called home, filled her with a sense of giddy anticipation.

The morning sun cast a golden glow across her room as Emma opened the curtains. Already dressed for the occasion, she adjusted the collar of her simple yet elegant dress and let out a breath of excitement. Just as she was about to grab her comb, her mother's voice called from outside her door.

"Emma! Are you ready? We're going to be late!" Her tone carried an edge of impatience.

Emma cracked the door open slightly and called back, "Yes, Mom! I'm coming!"

She turned to the dressing table, where her comb waited. Her silver-white hair, still slightly tangled from days of neglect, glinted in the sunlight. Bracing herself, she began to work through the knots. The task wasn't without its moments of pain—her scalp protested at the occasional tug—but the end result was worth it. Her hair, now smooth and shining, framed her face beautifully.

Satisfied, Emma stepped out of her room, her footsteps light as she hurried to meet her mother. Vivian stood near the doorway, her arms crossed, already dressed and waiting. Her dark blonde hair was neatly pinned up, and her sharp white eyes fixed on Emma with mild disapproval.

"Young lady," Vivian began, her tone stern, "when did I call you?"

Emma hesitated, offering a sheepish smile. "Uh… about eight minutes ago?"

Her mother's stern expression softened slightly, though she still gave a small sigh of exasperation. "You shouldn't keep people waiting, Emma. Now come on, we need to leave before we're late."

"Yes, Mom," Emma replied, falling into step beside her as they exited the house.

The streets of Windfield were already bustling with activity. The remnants of the festival lingered in the vibrant decorations and the lingering smiles of the villagers. As they walked toward the center of the village, Emma's excitement grew. This wouldn't just be a trip to the bookstore—it was also an opportunity to see more of the Eldo-Clearoth Kingdom, a place she was only beginning to understand.

The kingdom's capital awaited, its spires gleaming in the distance, promising new discoveries and adventures.

"I can't wait to get there," Emma murmured to herself, a small smile playing on her lips.

And so, with her mother by her side and the thrill of possibility in her heart, Emma began another chapter in her journey—a journey that had only just begun.

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[p_magno]

The soft creak of the wooden gate echoed as Emma and her mother stepped out of their house. The golden morning sun bathed the entire village of Windfield in a gentle, warm hue, painting the cobblestone streets and quaint homes with a radiant glow. The scent of dew-kissed flowers lingered in the air, a refreshing reminder of the magical rain that had fallen days before.

Waiting by the gate was a private carriage, its polished dark brown frame gleaming in the sunlight. The horses—majestic creatures with sleek white coats and carefully braided manes—stood tall, their harnesses adorned with subtle gold embellishments. The driver, a man appearing to be in his late forties, tipped his hat with a polite smile.

"Get in, ladies," he said warmly, gesturing toward the carriage door.

Emma followed her mother into the carriage, settling onto the intricately designed leather seats. The craftsmanship was remarkable—delicate patterns were woven into the upholstery, and the faint scent of aged leather filled the space. The roof's interior bore carvings of stars and moons, giving the space an almost ethereal feel. Emma ran her fingers lightly over the designs, marveling at the attention to detail.

The carriage jolted gently as the horses began their steady trot down the village streets. Windfield unfolded before them, a tapestry of rustic charm and vibrant life. They passed rows of houses, each unique in style. Some bore simple thatched roofs, while others were adorned with decorative woodwork or painted shutters.

Emma's gaze lingered on a few houses that seemed different—built into or around trees, their walls covered in flourishing green vines. "I wonder if those belong to elves," she thought, her curiosity piqued. The delicate blend of nature and architecture seemed fitting for the mystical beings she had only read about.

The streets gradually gave way to open fields as the carriage left the heart of the village. On either side of the sandy road stretched vast farmlands, their crops thriving under the golden light. The farmers worked tirelessly, their faces lit with smiles that spoke of gratitude and pride.

The first fields were filled with towering corn stalks, their golden tassels swaying gently in the breeze. Farmers moved deftly among them, plucking the ears of corn with practiced ease. Nearby, clusters of ripe, red tomatoes were being harvested with delicate care to avoid damaging the unripe fruit still clinging to the vines.

Emma leaned closer to the window, her eyes widening as she spotted an enormous potato being hauled out of the earth. It took six burly men to lift the massive tuber, each of them laughing as they carefully maneuvered it onto a cart. "That's incredible," Emma murmured, a smile tugging at her lips.

Further down the fields, banana trees swayed gently. Workers harvested the fruit in careful bunches, slicing the trunks in half to make way for new shoots that would sprout in the coming season. Beyond them, another remarkable sight caught Emma's eye: fields of magical wheat.

The wheat shimmered faintly in the sunlight, each seed glowing softly with a golden hue. Farmers moved through the fields with reverence, their hands expertly cutting the stalks while murmuring quiet thanks. The glow seemed to radiate joy, as if the land itself was alive and celebrating the harvest alongside its caretakers.

Emma's heart swelled as she watched the scene unfold. The land had yielded a bountiful harvest, a testament to the magical rain and the hard work of the villagers. There was a palpable sense of unity in the air, a collective joy that seemed to bind the people of Windfield together.

The carriage continued its journey, the rhythmic clatter of its wheels blending with the distant laughter and chatter of the farmers. Emma leaned back against the seat, her mind swirling with thoughts.

"This village," she thought, "it's more than just a place to live. It's alive—a living, breathing tapestry of nature, magic, and human spirit."

She glanced at her mother, who sat beside her with a serene expression, her white eyes reflecting the sunlight. This moment, this journey, felt like the beginning of something new—a road leading not just to the Royal Bookstore, but to greater discoveries, deeper connections, and a brighter future.

The lands of Windfield had thrived this year, and so too, it seemed, had its people.

 

[p_magno]

The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels filled the air as Emma and her mother, Vivian, left the lively heart of Windfield Village behind.

The bustling market they had passed moments ago had been alive with color and chatter—merchants shouting about their wares, children darting between stalls, and the tantalizing aromas of freshly baked bread and roasted spices wafting through the air.

Now, the scenery shifted dramatically. The cobblestone paths gave way to dirt roads flanked by dense forests and jagged stone formations. The thick canopy of leaves above filtered the sunlight, casting dappled patterns onto the rocky terrain. It was a serene, almost haunting beauty, but not nearly as vibrant or joyous as the village they had just departed.

Emma leaned against the window of the carriage, her unique white eyes gazing curiously at the forest. The towering trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The occasional chirp of birds broke the quiet, accompanied by the distant rustling of small animals moving through the underbrush. Though it was her first time seeing such an untamed landscape, it quickly began to feel monotonous.

Vivian, noticing her daughter's distracted expression, smiled gently. "Are you enjoying the journey so far?" she asked, her voice warm and soothing.

Emma turned to her mother and nodded briefly, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Mom, where are we going to pass through next?"

Vivian adjusted her posture, her elegant demeanor undisturbed by the bumpy ride. "Next, we'll reach Mount Lily," she explained. "It's a mountain range, but from there, we'll stop briefly—about fifteen minutes—before continuing to the air-train boarding station."

Emma tilted her head in confusion. "What's an air-train?"

Her mother's lips curled into a knowing smile. "You'll see for yourself soon enough," Vivian replied. "It's going to be magical."
Magical. The word sent a spark of excitement through Emma. Her fatigue vanished as she leaned closer to the window, eagerly watching the scenery change. The dense forest seemed to thin out slightly, revealing rocky outcrops that jutted into the sky like ancient monuments.

The "rocks," as Emma had initially thought of them, grew larger and more intricate the further they traveled. Some were sheer cliffs with jagged edges, while others were weathered smooth, with patches of moss and grass clinging stubbornly to their surfaces. Here and there, dark openings gaped within the rocks—caves that seemed to stare back at her like ancient eyes.

"What are those holes in the rocks?" Emma asked, pointing toward one particularly large opening in the distance.

Vivian glanced out the window and adjusted her thick glasses. "Those are caves," she explained. "They're not just random holes. According to historians, most caves were formed during the Deformation Period of our world."

Emma's curiosity deepened. "The Deformation Period? What's that?"
Vivian's gaze grew thoughtful as she began her explanation. "The Deformation Period was an era of great upheaval, a time when the gods of our world walked upon its surface. They waged war against otherworldly invaders who sought to claim our land. The battles were cataclysmic, shaking the very balance of the planet."

Emma listened intently, her eyes wide as her mother continued.
"Mountains cracked open, and molten lava surged to the surface, leaving scars on the land that we now see as caves and chasms. Entire regions were transformed—deserts formed where once there were forests, and rivers shifted their courses. The gods' victory ensured the survival of our world, but the scars of their battles remain, etched into the earth itself."

Vivian paused, a faint smile gracing her lips. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, dear?"

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully before offering a small, teasing smile. "A little."

Her mother chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle Emma's silver white hair. "A little, hmm?" she repeated. The two shared a quiet laugh, their bond evident in the way they eased into each other's presence.

As the carriage continued its journey, the sunlight broke through the treetops, illuminating the rocky landscape in a golden glow. Emma leaned back in her seat, her thoughts filled with images of ancient gods and battles, of caves formed by molten fire and a world reshaped by divine conflict.

For the first time in a while, she found herself looking forward to what lay ahead—not just the air-train station, but the mysteries and wonders that seemed to wait around every corner of this vast, magical world.


Under the brilliance of the sun, the journey continued.

 

[p_magno]

The carriage creaked gently as it rolled along the uneven path, surrounded by the rustling trees and the occasional chirp of unseen birds. Flashes of vibrant plumage zipped across the sky—emerald greens, fiery reds, and golden yellows.

The birds flitted between the trees and distant cliffs, their chirps and cries harmonizing with the soft hum of the forest. Emma's gaze followed their movements, but her thoughts wandered elsewhere.

She found herself pondering the tales her mother had shared earlier, about the gods and their war against the otherworldly invaders. Her mind churned with questions. Were humans even around during that era? If they were, did they participate in such a divine conflict? Could they have been strong enough to fight alongside gods?

The questions gnawed at her, unanswered and relentless. She turned to Vivian, her mother, who had been watching her daughter's reflective silence with a knowing smile. "Another question, I take it?" Vivian said, amusement flickering in her eyes.

Emma chuckled softly, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Did humans exist during the war between the gods and the otherworldly beings?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Vivian tilted her head, considering the question. "From what I've read, the books don't mention humans playing any role in that war," she replied. "If they had existed during that time, I imagine they would have been recorded in the histories, don't you think?"

Emma nodded but wasn't fully satisfied. "I suppose so," she said thoughtfully. "But if humans did exist back then, wouldn't they have joined the fight? Or at least tried? Though," she added with a wry smile, "I doubt they'd survive long. Humans don't exactly have the strength to rival gods."

Vivian chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Emma's hair. "Your father always said you'd grow up to be a scholar or a scientist," she teased.
Emma grinned. "Maybe," she said. If becoming a scientist will help me uncover the truths of this world, then why not? she thought to herself, though she kept the sentiment private.

The conversation faded, and Emma returned to gazing out the window. Her unique white eyes scanned the passing landscape, searching for anything of interest. The forest had thinned, giving way to a rocky expanse.

The jagged cliffs stretched skyward, their surfaces marred by deep cracks and patches of moss. A few hardy plants clung to life here, their roots snaking into the crevices of the stones.

Suddenly, the carriage driver's voice broke through the stillness, firm and serious. "Best if you keep your head inside, young lady," he warned. "The road ahead is dangerous, especially if you're sticking your head out like that."

Emma blinked and glanced at her mother. Vivian nodded in agreement, her expression serious. "He's right," she said. "I was just about to tell you the same thing."

Emma frowned, curiosity piqued. "Why? Where are we passing through?"

Vivian's gaze flickered toward the path ahead, her tone lowering as she muttered,



"The Dome of the Wyvern."

 

[p_magno]

The words Dome of the Wyverns echoed in Emma's mind, leaving an uneasy shudder in its wake. The name carried a weight, a sense of foreboding that settled deep in her chest. As the carriage wheels rolled forward, her thoughts swirled with questions and fears.

There are truly dangerous things in this world... she mused, her unease growing with every mile. The thought of her family—her mother, her father, her siblings—made her heart tighten. Will we be safe? Will this danger find us too? And if it does... what can I do to protect them?
Seeking comfort or perhaps clarity, Emma turned to her mother. "Mom," she asked hesitantly, "what exactly are wyverns?"

Vivian adjusted her glasses, her gaze thoughtful. "Wyverns are reptilian creatures with two legs and two wings," she explained. "They share some similarities with dragons—you know what dragons are, right?"

Emma nodded.

"In the records of history, wyverns began to inhabit this region after the battle between the gods and the otherworldly beings. They possess traits like dragons—strength, cunning, and resilience—but are lesser in stature and might. Still, they are formidable creatures."
Emma's brow furrowed as new questions formed. "But why this region?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do they live here for a reason? Are they... guarding something?"

Vivian gave a small smile but said nothing more, leaving Emma to her thoughts.

As she gazed out the carriage window, trying to dispel the lingering unease, her attention was caught by a flock of extraordinary birds. Their forms resembled doves, but they were larger, with long, elegant tail feathers and a pointed crest atop their heads.

Magical blue dust trailed in their wake as they flew, their faintly glowing eyes shimmering in hues of white and silver.

The birds' melodic chirping filled the air, eerily reminiscent of human singing voices, harmonized in a way that seemed almost too perfect to be natural. Emma's tension eased as she became lost in their beauty.

"Wow," she breathed.

Vivian smiled at her daughter's wide-eyed wonder. "They're called Fettocks," she said. "Beautiful, aren't they? They don't just sing like humans—they can also talk. They're intelligent creatures, known for their voices and their keen wit."

Emma turned back to the flock, counting at least fifteen of the radiant birds. Each one bore intricate, colorful patterns that shimmered like the strokes of an artist's brush.

Unable to resist, she leaned toward the open window and called out, "Hello there!"
The Fettocks all turned toward her in perfect unison, their glowing eyes locking onto her. Then, to her astonishment, they responded in clear, synchronized voices, "Hello! Hello there!"

Emma gasped, her excitement bubbling over into a broad smile. "They really can talk," she murmured, her worries temporarily forgotten.
Suddenly, one of the Fettocks broke from the flock, its graceful flight bringing it closer to the carriage. With a gentle flutter, it slipped through the open window and landed lightly on her lap.

The bird was exquisite. Its feathers glowed a radiant red that seemed to shimmer with an inner light, each plume blending seamlessly into the next. Its glowing white eyes regarded Emma with curiosity, tilting its head as if studying her face.

"Hi," Emma said softly. "What's your name?"

The Fettock tilted its head further, almost quizzically. Its voice, soft and clear, carried an odd but endearing accent. "I... I don't have a name."

Emma blinked in surprise. "Oh, you don't?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully before brightening. "Alright, let me think..."

After a moment of deliberation, she clapped her hands. "I've got it! I'll call you Redi—since your feathers are such a glowing red."

The bird's head bobbed slightly, as if testing the name. "Redi... Redi," it repeated, the word sounding musical in its voice. Then its glowing eyes fixed on her once more. "That is a wonderful name. And you... what is your name?"

"Emma," she replied, her voice warm.

"Emma," Redi echoed, as if savoring the sound. "A lovely name."

For a moment, the bird seemed content to simply sit on her lap, its feathers shifting slightly in the soft light. Then, with a curious tilt of its head, it asked, "May I know where you are heading?"

 

[p_magno]

Emma tilted her head as she studied the vibrant bird perched on her lap. "Where I'm heading? Hmm... Why do you want to know?" A playful smile tugged at her lips, her curiosity mirrored in her glowing eyes.

Redi blinked, tilting his head like a thoughtful child. "You're the first human I've ever spoken to. I'm just... curious," he admitted, his voice soft yet tinged with wonder.

Emma chuckled at his honesty. "Well, my mom and I are on our way to the royal bookstore opening in Eldo-Clearoth Kingdom. Do you know it?"

Redi shook his crimson-feathered head. "No, I've never heard of it. But it sounds like a wonderful place."

Emma nodded, glancing outside at the passing forest. "I haven't been there either, but I've heard it's magnificent. I can't wait to see it."

As the thought of the wyverns loomed once again in her mind, Emma's smile faded. She turned back to Redi. "Do you know anything about wyverns?"

The bird tilted his head again, his glowing eyes reflecting the soft light filtering through the trees. "Wyverns? No, I don't. I've only been alive for a few weeks," he admitted.

"A few weeks?" Emma repeated, her brows rising in astonishment. "That's not long at all."

Before she could probe further, a melodious harmony drifted through the air. The Fettocks flying outside had begun to sing again, their voices like a hauntingly beautiful choir of humans blending seamlessly with the sounds of nature. Redi glanced toward them, his gaze lingering for a moment before turning back to Emma.

"I have to go now," he said gently.

Emma's heart sank as she nodded. "Take care, Redi."

The bird spread his vibrant wings and took flight, joining his flock as they soared toward a mountain peak. There, nestled against the jagged cliffside, stood an extraordinary tree. Its gnarled branches were adorned with glowing leaves, each shimmering like tiny shards of emerald. It resembled an almond tree but exuded an almost otherworldly aura.

Emma leaned closer to the window, captivated by what unfolded next. The Fettocks began perching on the tree, hanging upside down with their long, feathered tails wrapped snugly around its branches. At first, the scene seemed almost whimsical, but then something strange happened.

One by one, the birds began to glow, their radiance intensifying until their forms blurred and shifted. To Emma's astonishment, the Fettocks transformed into luminous fruits, their glowing forms now dotting the tree like jewels.

Her chest tightened, a mixture of awe and sorrow flooding her. She instinctively turned to her mother, her eyes silently pleading for an explanation.

Vivian's gaze softened as she noticed Emma's troubled expression. She adjusted her glasses before speaking, her voice quiet but firm. "Fettocks may appear to be colorful birds, but their lives serve a greater purpose. From the moment they hatch, they are destined to nourish the forest. They feed, mate, and lay eggs like ordinary birds, but after just a few weeks, they return to the Fettock tree. There, they merge with it, becoming fruits that provide vital nutrients. These nutrients are then distributed to the surrounding forest, ensuring its prosperity."

Vivian paused, her tone tinged with reverence. "Legend has it that Fettocks are the salvation of the forest. Without them, no forest could thrive. And without the tree, the Fettocks themselves would wither and die. Each plays a role in maintaining balance, no matter how fleeting their lives may seem."

Emma's throat tightened, and she turned her gaze back to the tree. The luminous fruits swayed gently in the breeze, casting soft, kaleidoscopic reflections across the mountainside. "Why does their life have to end like this?" she murmured, her voice barely audible.

To her, the brief, vibrant existence of the Fettocks felt like a dream, while their true purpose seemed bound to their transformation into the tree's fruits. It was a bittersweet truth that weighed heavily on her.

She slumped back into her seat, a deep sadness settling over her. As she stared out at the distant horizon, the skies above began to darken, heavy clouds rolling in with the promise of rain.

The carriage slowed, the rhythmic clatter of its wheels now muted against the hush that had fallen over the landscape. The driver's voice cut through the stillness, low and serious.

"We've arrived at the Dome of Wyverns," he announced, his tone laced with caution. "From here on, until we pass through, you must remain silent. Speak only in whispers, if you must."

Emma's heart began to pound, her pulse quickening at the weight of his words. The very name of the place sent a shiver down her spine, and now, it loomed before them.




They had arrived at the Dome of Wyverns.

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