Chapter 5: Chapter 5 : years pass

It was a quiet morning when I found the mirror.

I wasn’t supposed to be snooping, but the door to my parents’ room had been left slightly ajar—and curiosity was a powerful force. I stepped inside, tiptoeing past tangled sheets and clothes scattered in a way that suggested... chaos. Maybe a battle had taken place? I could feel some residual aura in the air, warm and heavy. The room smelled like... something unfamiliar. I had no idea what it was, but I knew instinctively I shouldn’t ask.

I tried not to think about it too hard.

On my way in, I noticed a painting on the wall. A portrait of a woman with calm, regal eyes and golden hair that flowed like the sunrise. There was something about her… something that reminded me of Aspher. The likeness was uncanny. A shiver ran through me.

But then I saw it — the mirror.

And with it, a reflection I hadn’t seen until now.

A small girl stared back. Short golden hair, messy but soft-looking, and wide amber-gold eyes that didn’t blink. Her features were still rounding out, but there was a faint sharpness, something buried beneath the surface.

“...So this is me.”

I tilted my head. She copied.

It was strange. I didn’t recognize her — not in the way I expected. Was this how I looked before? Or… was I relieved that I didn’t?

I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t like not being sure.

I A V A I

Time moved on, steady and strange.

The world outside grew larger with each passing day. I learned of other races: elves who whispered to trees, beastkin who could run like the wind, dwarves who shaped stone like it was paper. I learned that magic wasn’t a gift — it was a rule. Everyone used it, even when they didn’t realize it.

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People spoke with magic.

Not spells or incantations — just… speech. Every word had a hint of mana in it. It was like their voices carried emotions directly into your soul, and your soul translated it into meaning. I didn’t understand it at first, especially not Father's words. His language felt dense and foreign. But one day, I understood him perfectly. Just like that.

My body had begun to adapt.

I had no name. That became more noticeable over time. The village children all had names. They ran around shouting them, calling each other with laughter and playful insults. But no one called me anything.

I was always just “that girl.”

The distance grew. I couldn’t tell if it was them pushing me away… or me pulling back. Maybe both. After all, I wasn’t like them.

And they weren’t like me.

I A V A I

Then, one night, Mother woke me.

Her touch was gentle but insistent, like the wind before a coming storm. I blinked at her silhouette in the moonlight.

“M-Mom? What is it?” I asked, groggy.

She didn’t answer — just smiled, and took my hand.

Outside, Father and Aspher were seated around a low fire. The flames cast long shadows on their faces, and the silver moon loomed full above, bathing everything in a pale, divine glow.

Mother sat me down beside her and brushed my hair behind my ear.

“In my tribe,” she began, “children are not given names until their fifth year.”

I blinked.

“Why?”

“Because the gods need time to recognize you,” she said with a calm certainty. “And only when they do — when your soul has settled and your magic has begun to stir — are you truly ready to be named. The silver moon bears witness. It reflects the soul of the one being named.”

I looked up. The moon seemed to shine brighter just then.

“So… tonight, I’ll get a name?” I whispered.

She nodded.

“Your hair shimmers like moonlight… and your eyes reflect its glow. You were born under this very moon — the one we call Ar'cen, the Silver Flame. It is a rare night. A rare name.”

Ar'cen.

It rang in my ears. Foreign, yet familiar. It didn’t sound like anything from my old world — no association with fire or destruction or the things that name used to mean. Here… it was sacred.

My name. Finally.

I smiled. Not the forced, polite kind — but a small, real one.

“Does this mean I can stay up later?” I asked.

She laughed softly. “Nice try.”

I puffed out my cheeks and turned away with a practiced “hmph!”

Aspher and Father made the “aww” sounds I had expected — rare currency in this household.

But Mother only raised an eyebrow.

“Six out of ten,” she said, unimpressed. “You’re getting rusty.”

“Wha—? I perfected that pout!”

“Maybe last week. You’ve gotten cocky.”

I stuck my tongue out. Then yawned.

The fire crackled beside me. The moonlight kissed my skin.

And before I knew it, I had drifted off — named, warm, and just a little more certain of who I was becoming