Legends speak of an ancient race.
They were a people who could converse with the heavens and the earth, listen to the whispers of the wind, and perceive the rhythmic pulse of all living things. They called that invisible yet tangible force "Mana," and with it, they conjured miracles, shaping the formidable power known to the world as "Magic."
The strength of their magic was enough to shatter mountains, part rivers, and rewrite the very patterns of the weather. However, it was precisely because of this power—that arrogance began to take root.
This race grew unsatisfied with merely coexisting with nature. They dared to challenge higher powers, attempting to shake the absolute authority of the Gods themselves. Consequently, a conflict erupted that nearly overturned the world—the God War.
The conclusion was decided before it even began. Before the true Gods, their strength was ultimately insignificant. Most of their kin were utterly annihilated, even the traces of their existence erased from memory; the survivors were exiled, scattered to the far corners of the world—hiding in the darkness or retreating into self-imposed isolation.
One such branch, claiming to be innocent remnants of the race, settled in a secret valley cradled by towering mountains. There, they established a secluded village, far from the world and its conflicts.
They call themselves "witches" — not as a gendered title, but as the name of their race. Though a few males exist among them, it is the women who possess overwhelmingly greater magical power.
Silent years flowed by. Generations rose and fell in succession. Until one forgotten morning, as the first soft light of dawn broke, a pair of twin sisters was born into the witch clan.
The elder sister was named Somaria.
She was naturally gifted and brimming with mana. Hailed as a genius seen only once in a century, she was the undisputed pride of the clan. However—her radiance was destined to be eclipsed by a presence far more blinding.
That presence was her younger sister.
Selphira.
From the moment of her birth, Selphira possessed a reservoir of mana so vast that even the clan elders could not measure it. Any magic—all she had to do was glance at it once. Regardless of its element, type, or complexity, she could master it perfectly in the blink of an eye.
She was the pride of the clan, the center of every gaze. Surrounded by admirers and looked up to by all, Selphira lived a life akin to that of a princess. Her word was law; whatever she desired appeared before her instantly.
One afternoon.
The white stones by the stream were still damp with morning dew, shimmering with fragmented light under the sun. A young girl kicked a small pebble out of sheer boredom. The stone hit the water, sending out a series of expanding ripples.
"Sister, this is so boring..."
Selphira pouted, her tone thick with impatience. "Why are you still practicing those combat forms?"
Not far away, Somaria was by the bank, dancing with a blade. Her sword-light flowed like water, stirring a gentle breeze. She halted her movements and lightly wiped the sweat from her forehead, her voice tranquil.
"Martial arts are important, too."
"If our mana is ever exhausted, we will have only our bodies to rely on in battle." She looked up slightly, gazing at the distant silhouettes of the mountains. "Master said... peace will not last forever. Perhaps one day, the Gods will descend once again."
"The Gods?"
Selphira rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with contempt. "Wasn't that hundreds of years ago? Has anyone even seen one since?"
She let out a soft huff. "Even if they actually showed up—couldn't we just blast them into oblivion before our mana runs out?"
Upon hearing this, Somaria couldn't help but let out a helpless, wry smile.
"Selphira..."
"The consumption of mana in actual combat is far more intense than during practice."
"Aside from you, no one can maintain high-intensity spellcasting for long periods."
"Tch—"
Selphira waved her hand dismissively, her tone full of unshakeable confidence. "Then just limit the types of magic you use and save mana. It's not that hard, is it?"
Just then—
A gentle voice drifted from behind the two sisters.
"Selphira, stop disturbing your sister's training."
An elderly man dressed in grey-blue robes approached them with measured steps. His hair and beard were white as snow, his expression mild, and his gait composed.
"Aren't you supposed to be with Elder Morvea today, learning Necromancy?"
The sisters turned in unison.
"Master Pheros."
Selphira pouted, sounding somewhat dissatisfied. "Elder Morvea said I've already mastered Necromancy. She said all that's left is for me to practice on my own. That's why I came to find my sister to play!"
Pheros froze for a moment, seemingly surprised by her statement, before slowly nodding. "In that case..."
He paused in thought, his voice regaining its steady pace. "I shall inform Elder Daetherin then. Starting tomorrow, you will begin your studies in Divination magic."
"Ugh..."
Selphira sighed, her face instantly collapsing into a look of dejection. "Isn't Divination even more boring...?"
She looked at Somaria unwillingly, her tone shifting into a coaxing plea. "Can't Sister just play with me for one day?"
Somaria couldn't help but chuckle softly. She reached out and smoothed Selphira's soft hair, her voice patient and tender.
"Be good, Selphira."
"Go play by yourself for a bit, alright? I'll bake a cake for you tonight."
"Really?"
Selphira's eyes lit up instantly, as if stars had been ignited within them.
"Great! Then I'm off to find Lola!"
Before her words had even faded, she had already turned and sprinted away. Her footsteps were light and her laughter crisp, echoing through the woods like silver bells.
Only after her figure had completely vanished did the gentleness on Pheros's face gradually sink into a heavy somberness.
He turned to Somaria, his voice low but carrying a weight that could not be ignored.
"Somaria."
"Your aptitude is indeed remarkable."
"But—compared to Selphira, the gap remains far too vast."
He paused, his voice growing even deeper.
"If you do not redouble your efforts..."
"There will come a day when she leaves you far, far behind."
Hearing those words, Somaria's fists clenched involuntarily.
Somaria straightened her back, her gaze steady. "I understand, Master." "I will work even harder."
Pheros let out a soft sigh, offering no further lecture. "Good." He turned away, his voice returning to the cool, rigorous tone of a formal lesson. "Then, today we shall discuss why the Binding Curse is classified as a branch of Mental Magic."
The sun gradually dipped toward the west. The stream continued its gurgling flow. It felt as though nothing had ever changed.
However— No one noticed. Within the heart of the young girl, cocooned in adoration and praise, a microscopic shift had quietly taken root. Like a seed. Buried in the darkness. Waiting to sprout.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window lattices, casting a warm glow inside the wooden cottage. Yet, it could not disperse the tension thickening the air. Two flushed faces confronted each other in the shifting light and shadow.
"Stupid Lola!" Selphira stood with her hands on her hips, glaring huffily at the girl opposite her. "I told you, if you just put a wraith into the puppet, it'll start moving!"
Lola, her hair tied in twin braids, was equally red-faced. She shot back, refusing to back down. "Selphira is the stupid one!" "That's not a magic golem at all!" "That's just a haunted doll!" "Nobody does things that recklessly!"
The two stared each other down. For a moment, the air felt as taut as a bowstring. Neither was willing to yield an inch.
Just then— The door was pushed open softly. A middle-aged woman dressed in deep green robes walked in. Her features were gentle as her eyes swept the room, tinged with confusion. "What's the matter with you two?" "Why the sudden shouting?"
"It's Lola's fault!" Selphira immediately pointed at the other girl, her tone laced with grievance and annoyance. "I said that as long as we put a wraith inside, her puppet would have intelligence! She just won't listen!"
"Mama, listen to me!" Lola stamped her feet in frustration, her voice trembling on the verge of tears. "She insisted on stuffing a wraith into my puppet and said that's the only way to make it 'smart'!"
Hearing this, the woman let out a helpless sigh. First, she gently patted Lola's head to soothe her. Then— Her gaze settled on Selphira.
"Lola." Her voice was kind, yet it carried an unmistakable bias. "Didn't Mama tell you before?" "Selphira is the genius of our village." "If she suggests a method, there is naturally a logic behind it."
Turning to Selphira, she offered a doting smile. "However, Selphira." "Necromancy isn't something everyone can handle, after all." "If you want a puppet to move, you can actually use a Mana Core to drive it."
She smiled warmly, her tone tender and considerate. "How about this—?" "Auntie just happens to have a spare golem core here." "You take it and play with it, alright?" "I need Lola to stay and help me with some chores."
Selphira took the core, which shimmered with a silvery-blue luster. As her fingertips brushed the surface, the light flickered slightly, yet it failed to ignite any emotion in her eyes.
"...Alright." Within her voice, there was a faint, almost imperceptible trace of disappointment.
She shot a sidelong glance at Lola and let out a small huff. "I'm going to find materials. Tomorrow, we'll compete again—and we'll see who makes the better one."
With those words, she turned and left. Her steps were crisp, and she did not look back.
Lola stuck her tongue out at Selphira's retreating back, but ultimately remained silent.
"Mama..." Lola pulled gently on her mother's sleeve, her eyes filled with a trace of grievance.
The middle-aged woman sighed, her tone soft yet helpless. "If only your aptitude... were even half of hers." She paused, as if offering comfort or perhaps making excuses for reality. "But... it's not your fault."
"Our family specializes in Golemry; we have almost no heritage in Necromancy." Her gaze dropped slightly, her tone becoming nonchalant. "Perhaps when you grow up... marrying someone skilled in the dark arts would be another way to carry on the lineage."
Lola lowered her head. She did not argue. She did not say another word.
Deep within the dense forest.
The sunlight was sliced into fragments of broken gold by the thick foliage, scattering haphazardly across the dirt and moss. Selphira walked alone. Her pace was casual, her direction aimless.
As she walked, she grumbled to herself, her voice thick with impatience and a growing sense of isolation.
"Everyone is such an idiot..."
"Why spend so much time learning things that are beyond simple?"
"No one will even play with me..."
Without realizing it, she had wandered quite far—so far that even the trees surrounding her had become unfamiliar.
"Huh?" She stopped and looked around, her brow furrowing slightly. "What is this place? I don't think I've ever been here."
Just then, the sound of conversation and laughter drifted from up ahead. It was foreign, yet clear. Selphira immediately held her breath and lightened her step. She crept closer, parting the leaves to peer through.
There, in a forest clearing, stood a boy dressed in noble finery. He was handsome and focused, his hands steady as he drew a longbow, his eyes locked on a target ahead. Behind him, two burly, middle-aged guards stood at attention, flanking him like shadows. Their breathing was steady, their eyes vigilant.
"Whirr—"
The bowstring snapped. The arrow pierced the air, and in an instant, it accurately struck a small beast darting through the woods.
A flash of bright joy ignited in the boy's eyes. He couldn't help but jump up, his expression ecstatic. The two guards followed with applause and cheers, their faces wearing smiles of genuine admiration.
This scene sparked a level of curiosity in Selphira's eyes she had never felt before. She stopped hiding and walked straight out into the open.
"What are you all doing?"
Her crisp voice rang through the forest. Almost the instant she spoke, the faces of the two guards twisted in alarm!
Swords cleared their sheaths! With a flash of movement, they stepped in front of the boy, shielding him.
"Who goes there?!"
In their sharp interrogation, a flicker of killing intent flashed by. Selphira, however, noticed nothing of the sort; she simply tilted her head and watched them.
The boy was momentarily taken aback, his gaze lingering on her. After a brief silence, he raised a hand slightly.
"Stand down."
His tone was calm, yet it brooked no argument. The two guards exchanged a glance; though their wariness remained, they slowly slid their swords back into their sheaths and retreated to the boy's flanks. Their eyes, however, remained locked on Selphira.
For a heartbeat, the forest air grew taut.
Selphira, meanwhile, simply tilted her head back, staring directly at the boy. This was her very first time seeing an outsider.
The boy stepped forward with a measured pace, a warm and practiced smile gracing his lips. He took Selphira's hand with elegant precision, leaning down slightly to press a light kiss upon the back of her hand. His voice was cultured, carrying the distinct grace and poise of high nobility.
"Beautiful young lady."
He looked up, his eyes glimmering with a smile. "I am Evan Virselis."
"We are currently in the midst of a hunt," he explained smoothly. "Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"
Selphira had never experienced such a gesture. Moreover, the boy before her was exceptionally handsome, his features as gentle as spring water, radiating an almost irresistible charm. In that instant, she felt her pulse quicken, and a faint crimson flush crept onto her cheeks.
"My name is... Selphira Vesperis," she murmured. "Um... that 'hunt' you mentioned... what is it?"
Evan blinked, seemingly surprised by the sheer innocence of the question.
"Hunting," he explained with a chuckle, "is when one enters the forest to track and kill beasts. Like that fox I just struck."
Selphira tilted her head, her clear gaze searching his with unconcealed confusion. "But... why kill it? Did it attack you?"
Evan found himself at a temporary loss for words. After a moment, he offered a somewhat helpless smile.
"It is not for defense," he said. "Hunting is a form of training and a long-standing tradition. It proves one's courage and skill. Sometimes... it is simply for food."
Selphira watched him quietly, as if trying to grasp a concept that was entirely foreign to her world.
"Then... why were you happy after you killed it?"
The question stunned Evan once more. He looked into her eyes—those pure, untainted pupils held no condemnation or unease, only genuine bewilderment.
"Have you... never hunted before?" he asked softly.
Selphira shook her head. "In the village, we have livestock raised for food, but no one ever says that 'killing them' is a happy thing."
Evan fell silent for a moment, then suddenly broke into a laugh, his tone turning light and warm.
"In that case... why don't I teach you how to hunt?"
Selphira's eyes lit up instantly, like a child who had just discovered a brand-new toy. Her excitement was palpable.
"Really? That's great! Everything has been so boring lately... no one will ever play with me."
And so, side by side, the two of them vanished into the depths of the woods.
Sunlight filtered through the branches, flowing around them like liquid gold as a strange encounter quietly unfolded.
Evan stood behind her, gently gripping the hand she used to hold the bow. His voice was low and focused.
"Relax... yes, keep your breathing steady. Aim for that pheasant ahead... and then—release."
"Whirr—"
The arrow sliced through the air but missed its mark, vanishing into the underbrush. The pheasant took flight in a panic, its feathers a blur as it scattered into the trees.
Selphira furrowed her brow, staring at the empty space where her target had been. A sense of bewilderment she had never felt before clouded her eyes.
"Why... why did I miss?"
Evan smiled, offering comfort. "That's just how hunting is. Failure is normal; you'll get it after a few more tries."
But for Selphira—"failure" was a word that had never truly belonged to her.
She bit her lip and said nothing more. She simply raised the longbow again in silence.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Arrows continued to fly, and they continued to miss.
Her breathing grew heavy, yet her gaze became increasingly stubborn. It was an innate pride, a refusal to accept defeat.
Until finally—
"Shhh-t!"
An arrow tore through the air in a perfectly straight trajectory. In the next heartbeat:
"Thwack."
The pheasant fell.
The world seemed to fall silent for a moment. Selphira's eyes widened, and she whipped her head around, her voice bursting with uncontrollable joy.
"I hit it!? I actually hit it!"
Evan couldn't help but applaud, his smile bright and sincere. "Magnificent. You learn even faster than I imagined."
He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. "It seems... beautiful people learn things exceptionally fast as well."
Selphira froze.
"You said I'm... beautiful?"
Her voice was as light as a breeze, and a flush once again stained her cheeks. Evan cocked an eyebrow, his tone as natural as if he were stating the most obvious fact in the world.
"Of course. Don't tell me no one has ever complimented your beauty before?"
Selphira thought seriously for a moment, then shook her head gently.
"No," she said. "Everyone says I'm 'brilliant' or... 'powerful.'"
"Powerful?" Evan burst into laughter. "How could anyone use a word like that to describe a girl?"
"I can't help it," Selphira said matter-of-factly, without a hint of modesty. "I am the strongest in the village."
She spoke nonchalantly, as if stating a fact beyond dispute.
As the words left her lips, the two guards—who had been keeping a silent, watchful distance—stepped forward. One of them leaned down and whispered a reminder into Evan's ear.
"Prince, it is nearly time."
"...Prince?"
The word reached Selphira's ears. She faltered slightly, a look of unfamiliar confusion flashing in her eyes.
Evan's expression stiffened almost imperceptibly, but he recovered instantly, the warm smile returning to his face. He turned to Selphira, his voice soft.
"Selphira, it's getting late... would you like to come back with me?"
Selphira looked up toward the horizon.
The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon of the forest sea, bathing the treetops in a wash of gold and crimson, as if the entire woods had been draped in a layer of warm light.
Suddenly, she slapped her forehead and cried out in alarm:
"Ah! Oh no!"
Evan blinked, taken aback. "What is it?"
"Somaria said she'd bake a cake for me tonight, and I promised her I'd be back!" Selphira said with a touch of panic, her voice carrying a rare sense of urgency.
Evan instinctively reached out a hand, as if hoping to make her stay.
"You... won't you come back with me?"
"Eh?" Selphira blinked, her response a picture of pure, matter-of-fact confusion. "Why would I go with you?"
The question left Evan momentarily speechless.
He froze for a second, then couldn't help but chuckle softly, as if genuinely amused by her bluntness.
"True enough," he said. His tone turned slightly more serious, his gaze warm but flickering with a subtle hope. "Then... at least let me see you again."
He paused, then added with quiet anticipation:
"How about you tell me where your village is?"
Selphira lowered her head and thought for a moment, her brow furrowed as she genuinely tried to recall the directions.
"I can't really explain it," she said, shaking her head honestly. "The village's location... it isn't easy to find."
She looked up, a bright smile suddenly breaking across her face.
"I know—how about I come find you again tomorrow?"
That smile was as pure as the first light of dawn in the forest.
Evan's eyes lit up, his joy nearly impossible to mask.
"Alright," he nodded, his voice solemn. "I will wait for you."
He hesitated for a heartbeat before adding, as if making a profound vow:
"I will definitely wait for you."
Selphira couldn't help but laugh. "Why are you talking like such a dummy?"
She gave a light wave, her tone cheerful. "I'm off, then!"
Before her words had even settled, she turned and leaped into the woods. Her steps were light, her figure flickering through the dappled shadows as if she were one with the forest itself. Her retreating back was untethered and free, like the wind.
Evan stood rooted to the spot for a long time.
His gaze followed the direction she had vanished, as if her image had been burned into his pupils, impossible to erase. Only when the last trace of movement died away deep in the forest sea did he slowly withdraw his gaze and let out a soft sigh.
There was a hint of longing in that sigh that even he had not yet realized.
At that moment, the guard approached again, his voice kept extremely low:
"Prince... do you require me to bring her back?"
Evan remained silent for a while.
As the forest breeze brushed past, his expression became somewhat unreadable in the gathering twilight.
"...That would be for the best," he finally said.
Though his voice was soft, it held a newfound, subtle persistence.
"But do not startle her," he added. "Follow her from the shadows. Simply find out where her village is located."
He glanced sideways, his eyes steady.
"Remember—you are not to be disrespectful."
"Understood," the guard murmured. With a flash of movement, he vanished into the shadows of the forest, as if he had never been there at all.
The other guard remained silently at Evan's side, escorting him away.
The sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the woods were gradually stained with the colors of the night.
The wind began to pick up.
And so, a destiny quietly weaving itself together—
At this very moment, silently began its first act.