Prologue

Prologue:

The Light

A girl who couldn’t be older than seven

walked carefully along the open corridor beside a large garden.

Her small hands brushed the stone wall as she passed,

sunlight flickering through the tall windows

and catching in her messy chestnut hair,

making her pointy ears shimmer.

The garden stretched wide to her right—

flowers in rows,

green grass trimmed so perfectly

it looked like someone had cut it one blade at a time.

Ahead, by the rose archway,

stood a taller girl—

like a teenage version of the smaller one,

wearing the same gown style.

But her hair was golden-brown,

brushed smoothly,

trailing like a ribbon past her waist.

A young woman in a maid’s uniform stood frozen,

head bowed in front of her.

“Sorry, Miss Lina,” the maid whispered.

Lina looked down,

her face tight with disdain.

“Do you have any idea

how much

this dress cost?”

“N-no, milady…

I’m really sorry.

It won’t happen again.” Her voice trembled.

“You’d have to work your entire life

to afford even half of it.”

Lina clicked her tongue.

“You’re lucky

I’m feeling generous today.

I won’t tell Mother—

this time.”

“Thank you for your mercy, Miss Lina.” The maid bowed low.

She turned and hurried toward the castle,

wiping the corners of her eyes as she passed.

The smaller girl slowed her steps.

She looked back,

first to the door the maid had passed through,

then at Lina,

who was walking in her direction.

She whispered with a small smile:

“Morning, si—”

Lina barely turned her head.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

“Hanna…

you can’t even

conjure

a single beast.

Even after my father

pitifully hired tutors for you,

months wasted

on something beyond repair.

That’s why it’s our mother

who makes the decisions.

If she hadn’t been away at the time,

she wouldn’t have even considered

wasting her time on—” she glances down, then up, in Hanna’s direction.

“You’re a disgrace to our name.

Now move,

don’t waste my time.”

With a flick of her wrist,

she stepped past

silk brushing against stone,

vanishing down the hallway.

Hanna stood still.

She slowed her breathing.

Let her hands fall to her sides.

Then she turned,

walking toward the forest behind the estate.

No sound followed her steps.

Only her heart.

Beating fast.

Hanna walked with her head low,

hands gripping the hem of her soft blue dress,

its pale color nearly vanishing against the tall, aged trunks that surrounded her,

almost fading into the forest itself

one pale shape among many.

Her grip tightened

until her small fingers throbbed red against the fabric.

The corridor behind her,

fading with each step,

was no longer visible

or making any noise.

But her sister’s voice…

seemed to echo in her head.

“I’m not a failure,” she said out loud.

“I know I can’t summon beasts like the others...

but they don’t

even…

give me a chance.”

“I’m not a failure,” she whispered,

softer this time, as if trying to convince the trees.

She nudged a clump of dirt with the tip of her shoe,

then kicked it harder,

scattering pebbles across the path.

One rolled ahead

and came to rest on a thin strip of light

cutting across the ground.

Frustration bubbled behind her eyes,

but it came out quiet,

locked in every breath she swallowed.

“I’m not…” she muttered,

almost pleading.

“I’m not a failure!”

She stomped her right foot down hard,

dust lifting in a sharp puff from the packed earth.

She wiped her tears with her forearm.

A faint, almost transparent blue light

bloomed in her left hand.

“See?

I’ve learned how to use ice spells.”

The ground,

once dry and scattered with leaves

now shimmered beneath a thin layer of frost.

Hanna stared at it, a gleam of pride on her face as she watched the blue and white circle around her.

I can even use fir—”

Her heel slipped.

She landed with a soft thud,

arms flailing,

a small fireball bursting from her hand

and vanishing into the woods.

There was not a single sound in the forest at that moment.

She blinked,

lying there,

staring into the space where her magic had vanished.

“I wish someone could see me

once.”

She mouthed the words.

A crow screeched!

It shot up from a branch nearby,

its wings slicing the air in a burst of noise.

Then the trees shook.

Not from wind.

From something moving.

Something large.

The ground beneath her buzzed faintly.

A low, guttural snort echoed from the dark ahead—

antlers, tusks, or something worse

broke the shadows.

A boar.

Bigger than she’d ever seen.

Its outline swayed,

massive,

pushing through the trees,

getting close.

Hanna pushed up on her elbows,

still half on the ground.

“That’s…

definitely

not what I meant.”

She had no one to see.

No one to call.

And even if she did...

She murmured quietly.

“They probably wouldn’t listen.

Or worse,

pretend not to.”

She didn’t scream.

She slipped,

hit the ground hard,

rolled onto her belly,

hands over her head,

fingers locked.

Like a turtle bracing into its shell.

Silent.

Behind her.

Heavy steps crashing through the bushes!

Getting closer each second.

Inside her shell, her voice trembled out, barely louder than breath.

“Another one...

someone,

plea—”

A voice cut through the trees, loud, sharp. Words she didn’t understand.

“Taes’varketh Dular’eth

…

kethar’o ha’ena tharn’eth”

And the ground in front of her shuddered

A foot slammed down hard!

Inches from her head.

She opened one eye, looking up…

A girl stood between her and the boar.

Taller, and shaped like stone.

Not bulky,

but shaped like something meant to last.

Firm.

Unmoving.

All Hanna could see was this shape in front of her

arms open,

weapons steady,

a presence that filled the path so completely that even trying to look past her would’ve meant circling wide, breaking position.

Hanna wasn’t just behind the girl,

she’d been removed from sight.

The boar snorted,

but the girl didn’t flinch.

She didn’t move,

not tense

not relaxed.

only set,

like she’d always been meant to stand there.

With dark hair tied back in a ponytail,

her skin was like amber held to the sun, warm, solid and still.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

She looked like something shaped

not by tools,

but by time.

Hanna couldn’t tell if she was looking

at a person or something ancient.

Something the world had made…

and then decided not to change.

The girl turned over her shoulder,

just enough to glance at Hanna.

Keeping her stance like she knew

the boar wouldn’t dare take the opening.

She, calmly.

“Hi.”

Like charging boars were a normal Tuesday.

“I saw a bright light,

so, I ran as fast as I could.

Are you okay?

Sorry if I startled you.

By the way,

my name is Jane.”

Hanna blinked,

her mouth opening slightly,

but no sound came out.

Ahead of them,

the boar twitched.

It snorted again,

not gone and not done.

Jane kept her smile for a second longer,

tilted her head forward.

Not fast.

Not sharp.

Just a shift.

Hanna caught only the corner of Jane’s face as it turned.

A glimpse of something

colder, heavier,

like the warmth had been quietly folded away.

Jane gave a single slow step forward.

Not big, just enough to press her boot into the dirt, marking it fresh,

maybe a finger’s width ahead of where it was before.

The frost Hanna had left on the ground

started to crack softly under her boot.

Not loud.

Not showy.

Just that brittle, breaking sound of something giving way,

like the ice itself had sensed her strength and decided not to resist.

The ground under Hanna gave a soft tremble,

a breath of pressure.

Jane met the boar’s gaze,

no motion, just sharp focus.

She didn’t shout.

She didn’t raise her weapon.

She only stared

and said softly, almost like a whisper.

“Ha’ena tharn drekvar”

The boar froze.

Its breath hitched, low and uncertain.

Like something in its blood remembered Jane’s kind,

it held her stare,

then snorted again, lower this time.

Not in defiance, but almost in apology,

as if grateful for the mercy.

It turned, disappearing into the forest.

Jane slowly lowered her shield

; (at the same time)

Hanna was brushing off her dress,

patting at the dirt,

her head slightly bowed.

Hanna’s voice came quiet

“…Thank you

for helping me.

But…”

“…I don’t

have much

to give yo—”

Jane took Hanna’s hand

and gave it a solid shake.

“Oh, Hanna?

That’s a cool, cute name.”

She grinned.

“How old are you,

three?”

Hanna blinked, startled.

“No! I’m six

and a half!

I’m just a bit smaller than my siblings.”

Jane leaned in with a curious hum.

“Oh… So, you’re almost my age.

I’m eight.

And I’m also smaller than my people.”

Hanna scanned Jane, up and then down.

Someone who could probably knock out a grown-up with one punch.

“Eight?

…You’re

small?” frowning.

Jane nodded, without blinking.

“For a Vanatari?

I can at most reach the shoulders of the other kids of my age.

That’s why I left my hometown,

I’ve been trying to find a place where my not-so-huge strength could still be helpful.”

She tilted her head, looking up.

“Speaking of small things…

did you come here because of the red light?

I’ve never seen anything like that in a forest.

And believe me

I’d know.”

Hanna’s voice came barely above a whisper.

“That, was me…”

Jane’s eyes narrowed, brow twitching.

“What… was that?”

Hanna stepped forward, rolled her hands as her voice rose.

“That was me!”

“I was just sad and used my fire spell, and the—”

“REALLY?!” Jane’s question echoed through the trees.

Hanna slapped her hands over her ears, wincing.

The shout sent birds flying around them.

Realizing her volume, she cleared her throat quickly,

then grabbed Hanna’s hands with renewed excitement.

“Really, that was you?!

That’s awesome!

Even baby elves

can use magi—”

Hanna’s eyes went sharp.

Her face flickered hot.

She pulled her hands away, and with the motion, blue light surged. Ice bloomed beneath them.

“I’m not a baby,” voice pressed through clenched teeth.

Jane flinched.

Hands halfway raised in apology.

She looked down.

“I… I didn’t mean it like that.

I just…” Her voice caught.

“I haven’t seen anyone in almost a year.

I think I forgot how to talk to people.”

With a blank expression, she turned and sat down by the nearest tree.

The shield rested across her knees, tracing slow circles with her fingers along the edge.

After a moment, she mumbled under her breath, not meant for anyone to hear.

“Maybe I’m just weird…”

Hanna stepped closer.

She reached up… and gently patted Jane’s head.

Jane blinked,

startled.

Hanna smiled softly.

“You’re not weird, trust me.

I live in a castle,

and I don’t talk to anyone either.

And when they do talk to me,

it’s usually to yell…

or ask why I’m still there.”

“But you?!

You stood between me and that boar.

That piggy could’ve stomped me flat.”

She gave Jane a slightly crooked grin.

“So yeah.

You’re not weird.

You’re a hero.”

Jane blinked, almost confused by the words, her lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Hanna added with a playful nudge.

“Just…

don’t call me ‘baby’ again,

okay?”

Jane laughed. Not loud, soft.

Breathless and smiling.

“Deal.”

The word left her lips in a soft and light tone.

Jane let her head tilt slightly, a breath escaping.

Her posture softened,

enough to let her notice the chill seeping into the ground beneath her.

Her fingertips brushed the edge of her shield, then drifted to the grass near her boot.

She touched it, her hand flinched.

“Ow—

why’s it so,

cold…”

She blinked,

then traced it again, slower.

A thin shimmer of frost laced through the blades like veins of silver.

Jane sat up straighter, scanning the clearing.

She looked at the trees. Then the canopy. Finally, the sun.

“Ice?” she muttered. “In the middle of a forest?”

She turned to Hanna, squinting slightly, puzzled.

“Have you… ever seen ice just appear like this?”

Hanna blinked.

“You’ve never seen ice before?”

Jane smirked faintly.

“Not here.”

She gestured around them.

“No lakes.

No mountaintops.

No blizzards.

Only…

trees, dirt

and sun.”

Her voice softened.

“Where did it come from?”

Hanna winced slightly,

then gave a small nod.

“…Also me, kinda?”

Jane stared at her, not scared, just trying to make sense of the pieces.

“You’re using fire and ice?”

Hanna shrugged.

“I don’t… mean to.

I don’t really control it.”

She glanced down at her hands.

“The fire happened when I was crying last time.

The ice…

sort of…

happens when I get mad.”

Jane leaned back.

Brows pulled low in thought.

“That shouldn’t be possible.”

Hanna tilted her head.

“Why not?”

Jane pressed her palm into the frost again, watched it crack slightly beneath the warmth of her skin.

“You ever heard of…

Twin Magic?”

Hanna shook her head.

“Twin Magic, it’s when a mage is born with two elements and keeps them.

Usually they match, like cousins.

Water and Ice.

Fire and Wind.

Earth and Water.

They flow the same way.

That’s why they call it twin.”

She looked up again.

“But Fire and Ice?

They don’t mix.

They’re not twins.

They fight.”

Hanna frowned.

“So, what does that mean?”

Jane shook her head slowly.

“I don’t know.

When I finished my Vanatari training,

I didn’t stay.

I chose my own path.

The Elder who blessed it told me about Twin Magic, but not like this.

He said that when mages are born with more than one element, and those elements match, like water and ice, sometimes the body keeps both.

But when they’re opposites…

like fire and ice…”

She glanced down at the frost still clinging to the grass.

“The body chooses.

It keeps the one that’s safer.

The one it can handle.

The other just fades…

before it does any damage.”

Hanna’s voice came low, almost like she didn’t want to ask.

“So, you’re saying I’m broken?”

Jane looked at her sharply.

“No.

I’m saying your body didn’t choose.

Or maybe it hasn’t yet.”

Hanna biting the edge of her finger.

“...Can it?”

Jane blinked.

“What?”

“Can it choose now?” Hanna eyes locked on Jane.

“I mean…

if I wanted it to.”

Jane leaned her elbows on her knees,

still watching the ice.

“Maybe.

The Elder said magic’s like a river,

if it splits, it tries to find the smoother path.

If you can find the one that flows better…

maybe it’d help you keep control.”

Hanna stepped closer.

“And the other one?”

Jane turned her head to Hanna.

“Maybe…

Let it rest.

Don’t shut it out.

Just…

don’t grab it unless you have to.”

Hanna nodded slowly.

“I think I can try.”

She studied her hand for a second,

like it might do something unexpected.

“That was only the second time

I’ve really used it.

First was last month

when I got yelled at…

and the fire just happened.

This time it was stronger.”

Jane let out a short breath of laughter.

“Yeah.

Strong enough to light up the whole forest.”

Hanna smiled faintly.

“Sorry.”

Jane waved it off.

“Don’t be.

If it wasn’t for the light…

I’d never have met you.”

She pushed herself to her feet,

brushing frost and leaves from her pants.

“Before your body picks fire or ice and tries to cook me—”

Her stomach growled.

“…Speaking of cooking.”

She shifted her weight slightly, half-grinning.

“Wanna help me choose somewhere to fish?”

Hanna blinked, then gave a soft laugh.

“You’re the one who almost fought a boar for fun, and now you're hungry?”

“Almost?

I made that piggy

ran.”

“So... do you know any good spots nearby?”

Hanna shrugged.

“A few.”

Jane raised an eyebrow.

“Is your family going to notice

if you’re gone too long?”

Hanna looked toward the trees.

Her voice was quieter now.

“They usually don’t even listen to me…

let alone notice I’m gone.”

“And if, by some miracle, they do…”

She looked back at Jane, fire flickering in her eyes.

“I don’t care anymore.”

The frost underfoot still hadn’t fully melted.

Jane studied Hanna for a second.

“What you have…

It’s rare.

Even mages with matching twin elements are uncommon,

maybe one in a thousand.

And those don’t usually fight each other.”

Her gaze dropped.

To the place the ice had cracked.

“But yours don’t match.

They shouldn’t even sit in the same body.

It’s different,

ten times rarer,

maybe.”

She let her shoulders drop.

“Not even the old stories,

my dad used to tell me, had anything like this.”

Hanna’s voice came gently.

“And if I don’t tell anyone…

at least until I learn how to control it?”

Jane nodded.

“That’s probably the safest way. But doing it alone could be dangerous.”

Hanna nodded back.

“But I’m not alone.

You can help me.

I mean…

what’s a cube of ice and a candle fighting compared to that boar for you?”

Jane smiled lightly.

“My people have a saying,”

“The one who judges without listening, will never truly see.”

Hanna grinned.

“Wise words.”

She turned toward the trees.

“Alright, let’s find some fish.

Something shark-sized to match your appetite.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

“I’m tall.

Not a giant.”

Jane laughed, full and bright.

Then she stepped after Hanna,

into the quiet woods.