The sunset bled like a fresh wound, staining the forest in layers of crimson and gold as the shadows grew long and supple. Selphira tilted her chin up, a mischievous and brilliant light dancing in her eyes, as if she had cornered a fascinating prey. "Marry me? I know what that means—are you saying you want me to be a mother? You must be joking!"
Evan stared at her, the rest of the world losing its color until only the girl before him remained. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling but anchored by an unshakeable resolve: "Selphira, I am serious. As the Third Prince of the Kingdom of Lunaris, I possess the power and wealth to give you anything you desire".
"Anything?" Selphira cocked her head, her smile sweet yet hiding a playful edge. "What if I want something new and strange every single day?"
"I will command men to scour the world for rare treasures and deliver them to your hands daily".
"And I want to eat delicious food every day!"
"I will hire the finest chefs to prepare feasts for you every day".
"I also want to play every day—no lessons, no work".
"You may play as much as you wish," Evan replied, his voice softening involuntarily. "I will stay by your side and ensure every day is filled with joy".
Selphira's smile brightened further, an eccentric spark flashing in her eyes. "Then... what if I want the moon from the sky?"
Evan froze for a heartbeat, his breath hitching, before he gritted his teeth and said, "If the bounty is high enough, someone will find a way to bring it down for you".
"Silky fool." Selphira covered her mouth and laughed, her voice as clear as wind chimes. "I have no interest in the moon". She turned gracefully, her skirt tracing a soft arc in the evening breeze. "I'm going home now".
"But you haven't answered me..." Evan reached out, but his hand caught only the fading wind.
The girl's light laughter echoed through the trees like silver bells carried away by the gale. Selphira's heart raced—Evan felt different, like someone who truly could offer her the whole world. Yet beneath that sweet flutter of excitement, a nameless unease lingered, as if saying "yes" would cause her destiny to deviate forever. For the first time, she chose to run away.
Evan stood motionless at the forest's edge, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the direction where she had vanished, as if the swaying leaves still held her scent and laughter.
A soldier approached cautiously, whispering, "Prince, the men you sent to follow the lady have not yet returned... Shall we send more squads to search?"
Evan snapped out of his trance, his focus sharpening. "Yes. Take two squads into the forest. Remember, treat whoever you meet with the utmost respect—I do not want Selphira's family to have a single misunderstanding about me".
"As you command." The soldier bowed and retreated into the darkening woods.
Evan turned back to the forest where night was beginning to fall. In the clash of twilight and moonlight, his gaze was deep and obsessed, a silent prayer in his heart—no matter what, she would eventually be his.
The night deepened, and moonlight poured into the wooden cottage like water, casting a cold, milky glow across the floor and the bed. Somaria sat cross-legged at the edge of her bed in meditation, her breathing steady and long.
The door creaked open, and Selphira tiptoed inside, moving like a small creature of the woods unwilling to disturb the night. She reached out and gently shook Somaria's shoulder.
Somaria half-opened one eye, her gaze still holding the lingering stillness of meditation. Her voice was low and carried a hint of weariness. "What is it?"
"Somaria..." Selphira's voice was hushed, as if testing the waters. "Do you think... being a mother is a good thing?"
Somaria's brow furrowed slightly as she pulled her focus away from her meditation to look at Selphira's face. "Why are you asking that?"
"No reason," Selphira said, hugging her knees. Her tone was light, yet it held a touch of childish earnestness. "I just feel like mothers don't have to do anything, they're always doted on, and they can even make Father listen to them."
Somaria couldn't help but let out a small laugh, her cold expression softening. "Hehe, well, of course being a mother is the best."
"You think so too?" Selphira's eyes lit up, and a trace of pride and small expectation surfaced in her smile.
"However," Somaria tilted her head, a sliver of suspicion returning to her gaze, "why are you suddenly asking about this?"
Selphira leaned in closer and lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. "Actually... today Evan said he wants to marry me and make me his wife."
Somaria froze, her eyes snapping into full clarity. "Evan? The one you mentioned yesterday, the one who lives outside the village?"
"Yes!" Selphira nodded vigorously, her tone brimming with irrepressible excitement. "Today we watched a jester performance together, and we ate the most delicious cake!"
Somaria shook her head slowly, her warm expression tightening into a look of serious concern. "Wait a minute... you said he wants to marry you?"
"Yeah," Selphira giggled, as if telling a novel and amusing story. "He said he'd give me anything I wanted."
"You didn't agree, did you?" Somaria's voice turned stern as she looked her sister directly in the eye. "We still have two years until we are considered adults."
"I didn't." Selphira shook her head and blinked, her expression innocent. "But I don't really understand what getting married involves anyway. The last time someone in the village got married was two years ago, I think."
Somaria fell silent for a moment, appearing to weigh her words. The moonlight flowed across her profile, highlighting her efforts to appear mature as she thought.
"I've heard..." she began slowly, her voice even softer than usual. "Marriage is when two people decide to stay together forever. It's not just about playing or being happy."
Selphira tilted her head, listening but not quite understanding.
The moonlight, like water, quietly filled the wooden house. The sisters' conversation drifted from "marriage" to childish guesses about "liking someone" and the "future." Their intermittent laughter rippled through the room like wind chimes swaying in the night breeze.
Outside, the forest was far too quiet. The night wind brushed through the leaves with a faint rustle, a sound so low it was almost imperceptible, yet it carried an ill-timed chill. This tranquility was like a thin veil—soft and gentle, but fragile enough to shatter at a single touch. No one knew that beneath this layer of peace, the dark undercurrents of fate had already begun to surge.
The morning sun filtered through the wooden lattice window, casting warm patterns of light and shadow across the floor. Selphira rubbed her eyes and stretched, still draped in the lingering lethargy of sleep.
Suddenly, she remembered something. Somaria's words from the previous night echoed softly in her mind—
"I think you should tell Father and Mother. I remember the adults saying that before getting married, you have to check if the two people's magic attributes conflict."
Selphira froze for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully, as if making a quiet decision in her heart.
On the dining table, steaming wheat porridge emitted a faint aroma, and the crust of the freshly baked bread was slightly crisp. The air was thick with warm, familiar scents. Their father looked at his two daughters arriving late and couldn't help but frown, his voice tinged with dissatisfaction. "Why are you only getting up now? Eat your breakfast quickly and go to class. Otherwise, you'll be late."
As Selphira picked up her spoon, she spoke with a voice as clear as a ringing bell, showing no concern at all:
"Father, Mother—someone proposed to me yesterday. I want to marry him, too."
The moment those words left her lips, the air seemed to freeze for a heartbeat.
Their father stared blankly for a long while, as if unable to comprehend the meaning of the sentence. In the next moment, he suddenly choked and coughed violently. "You... what did you say!? You—you are still far too young!"
Their mother reached out to pat his back, soothing him softly, though her tone was more solemn and patient than usual. "Don't get so agitated. Selphira has reached the age where she says these sorts of things."
She turned to Selphira, her gaze gentle yet maintaining a clear boundary. "However, marriage is something that can only happen after you are sixteen and have completed your coming-of-age ceremony."
Selphira blinked and gave a breezy smile. "I know. Then I'll just tell him—he has to wait two more years before I can marry him."
Beside her, Somaria kept her head down, silently gnawing on her bread. She didn't look up, but her fingertips tightened slightly. A trace of unspeakable bitterness welled up in her heart—no matter what Selphira said or did, the adults always seemed to forgive her with a smile, like sunlight favoring a specific flower.
Their father finally caught his breath, his frown deepening. "Exactly which family's boy is it? Is it that little brat from the Damon family? Or the one from the Thales family? I knew they harbored ill intentions toward you!"
Their mother merely gave a soft laugh, her tone warm and patient. "Ignore your father. Tell me, who is it? And more importantly—do you like him?"
Selphira nodded sweetly, her tone making no secret of her fondness. "Mhm, I think Evan is quite nice. Plus, he's much better looking than any of the boys in the village."
Her father's brow furrowed even deeper. "Evan? Whose child is that? I've never heard that name before."
"Ugh..." Selphira tilted her head, seriously trying to recall yesterday's conversation. "I don't think he's from the village. He said he's from outside... something called the Kingdom of Lunaris."
Clack—
The wooden spoon slammed onto the table, producing a sharp, jarring crack. The once-warm atmosphere froze in an instant, the smiles on her parents' faces turning to stone. They exchanged a look—a brief silence that seemed to communicate a wealth of unspoken information.
"Someone... from outside?" her father asked, his voice low and suppressed, like muffled thunder from deep within his chest.
The air in the room grew stagnant. Both Somaria and Selphira were stunned by the sudden shift.
"Fa... Father?" Selphira spoke up cautiously, her voice laced with hesitation. "What's wrong?"
He stared at her, his gaze more serious than she had ever seen. "You... you had contact with someone from the outside?"
Selphira blinked, then offered a nonchalant smile. "Yeah, Evan is really good to me."
Her mother's expression turned icy in a heartbeat. Her voice rose sharply, carrying a rare, harsh edge. "Selphira! Why would you associate with an outsider? Haven't we told you a thousand times—no one except the Elders is permitted to interact with them?"
"Where did you meet? What did you talk about?" Her father's tone grew even heavier, as if he were struggling to suppress a powerful emotion.
Selphira wrinkled her nose, annoyed by the sudden interrogation. "What's the big deal? I just made a new friend. Why are you all so tense?"
Somaria reached out quietly, tugging at the corner of her sister's skirt to signal her to stop. But Selphira brushed the hand away, her voice becoming even more indignant.
"We didn't do anything wrong! Evan just treated me to some delicious food and taught me some fun games!"
Her father remained silent for a moment, letting out a long, weary sigh. The sigh held both helplessness and an inexplicable weight. He slowly drew a dark wand from his waist, his voice dropping.
"Never mind... Selphira. I'll just look at your memories. Recall everything from the beginning."
Selphira pouted, and though she was reluctant, she didn't resist. She gave a small huff and closed her eyes.
"Spirit Light Trace, Memories Revealed."
Her father chanted the ancient, slow incantation. A spark of ghostly blue light ignited at the tip of the wand, like a fine silken thread, and gently vanished into the center of Selphira's brow.
A moment later, the light drifted slowly out of her body, unfurling in the air and spreading in ripples like waves on water. The shadows and light gathered and condensed, finally forming a semi-transparent screen of light that hovered quietly in the room, covering the entire space.
The air seemed to grow heavy with it.
In the next instant, the images sealed within her memory began to surface slowly.
The screen of light flickered with a faint, ghostly blue glow. Selphira's memories flowed through the air like water—the sound of the wind brushing through the forest, the boy's gentle smile, the sweet and enticing food, and the sounds of carefree laughter... the images were so vivid they seemed almost reachable.
Somaria watched without blinking. As the light and shadow shifted, the surprise in her eyes deepened, even carrying a hint of the unbelievable. Noticing her expression, Selphira couldn't help but puff out her small chest proudly, as if boasting silently.
However, she failed to notice—
Her parents' expressions were sinking into shadow as the memories progressed. That shadow grew heavier under the reflection of the ghostly blue screen, like a silently spreading chill.
Until the image froze at the moment Selphira turned to say goodbye and ran into the forest—
The air seemed to turn completely cold.
Selphira lifted her chin and said with a touch of pride, "See? I told you, Evan is a good person—"
Her mother did not respond to her. Instead, she turned to her husband with a grave expression, her voice pressed extremely low. "Dear... perhaps things aren't that bad yet?"
The father rubbed his brow, his eyes as dark as an approaching storm. "Perhaps... they are worse than we imagined."
"I said—" Selphira was about to interrupt, but she saw her mother gently grasp her father's hand, her tone urgent and low. "Perhaps we can still stop them, can't we?"
The father's fingers tightened bit by bit until his knuckles turned white. His voice was so heavy it felt as if it would echo upon hitting the floor. "It's too late. Did you see that boy's eyes? That kind of look... he is determined to have Selphira."
"Maybe... maybe he's just waiting for Selphira to go find him again?" her mother asked, still unwilling to give up, her tone searching.
But her father slowly shook his head, his voice dropping even lower, almost to a whisper. "No. He is the Third Prince, and he has a whole troop of soldiers with him. Even if the illusion magic in the forest causes people to lose their way... if they send out enough men, they will eventually find a trail."
"Father! Mother!" Selphira couldn't help but raise her voice, her tone filled with clear dissatisfaction, yet she seemed completely shut out of their conversation.
Her mother said urgently, "Then we lead them away? If we keep them from finding the village for a few days... perhaps they'll give up—"
The father gave a bitter laugh and shook his head slowly. "These mortals will not give up easily. As long as the Third Prince remains determined, the soldiers will not stop searching. The ones who will truly suffer... are only those following orders."
"Can you two please stop ignoring me!" Selphira slammed her hand onto the table, her voice suddenly spiking.
"Selphira!" her father roared, turning to glare at her with a voice like descending thunder. "Do you have any idea—just how grave a mistake you've made!"
"I didn't!" Selphira glared back stubbornly, her eyes filled with defiance and a sense of grievance. "I only made a friend; I didn't do anything wrong!"
"You dare talk back!" Her father slammed his palm onto the table, making the dishes rattle. "You have put the entire village in danger!"
"What danger?!" Selphira refused to back down, her voice rising even higher. "So what if we're discovered? Evan is a good person!"
Her father leaned his head in his hand, his breathing heavy with rage. Her mother quickly cut in, attempting to de-escalate the situation. "Selphira, you don't understand... people from the outside are greedy and cunning. They will covet our magic."
"They won't!" Selphira retorted instantly, her voice crisp but hardened with stubbornness. "Evan doesn't even understand magic!"
Her father looked at her coldly, his tone low and icy. "They don't understand—because we have hidden ourselves well enough for generations." He paused, a long-buried shadow flickering in the depths of his gaze. "But once... others have intruded here before."
The light and shadows in the room wavered slightly, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Her father's voice fell slowly, carrying an unavoidable chill: "Not once did it end well."
Her mother's eyes grew dim, her tone laced with an irrepressible bitterness. "Once... someone deceived our trust and used us as weapons of war. That time, we lost too many people." She paused, her voice dropping lower. "Others feigned closeness only to steal our magic and our secrets."
"No!" Selphira shook her head violently, tears welling in her eyes as her voice trembled with defiance. "Evan wouldn't do that! He truly likes me! He wouldn't hurt the village!"
Her father stared directly at her, his gaze as cold as frost. "That is only because—he does not yet know the truth. Once those mortals perceive our existence and witness our power, their greed will take root." His voice was low and freezing, each word falling like a heavy stone: "Deception, exploitation, plunder... that is their true nature."
Seeing Selphira about to argue again, Somaria quickly reached out to hold her back. Her own hands were trembling slightly, and she breathed with careful precision, not daring to make another sound. The air felt compressed, heavy enough to suffocate.
"Then... what do we do now?" her mother's voice shook slightly.
Her father let out a long, weary sigh, his eyes sinking into a bottomless gloom. "There is no other choice. I must inform the Elders immediately. If the village's location is truly exposed... the consequences will be unthinkable."
"But if we tell the Elders..." Her mother frowned, lowering her voice. "We won't escape being held accountable either."
"What does blame matter?" her father interrupted sternly, his tone hard and cold. "The most important thing now is to have the Elders strike together—and eliminate every last one of them in the shortest time possible."
"Kill... kill them?" Selphira's pupils contracted sharply, her voice trembling with sudden terror.
Her father let out a cold snort, his expression resolute. "Only the dead truly inspire fear. Only death will force them to abandon their pursuit of this village. Especially that Third Prince—fortunately, he is not the heir to the throne."
"No!" Selphira screamed, her voice breaking in a frantic mess. "Father! You can't hurt Evan! He's my friend!"
"Friend?" Her father's gaze turned freezing in an instant, fury surging in the depths of his eyes.
Selphira rushed forward, reaching out to grab him, but she was violently brushed aside.
"No!" She refused to give up, throwing herself at him again. She gripped his left arm with all her might, her knuckles turning white as tears rolled down her face.
"Let go!"
"No!"
"Let go!"
"No!"
Slap—
The crisp, ear-piercing sound of a strike exploded in the room.
Selphira was sent staggering back by the blow, her steps unsteady as she stumbled and nearly collapsed. A vivid red handprint immediately surfaced on her cheek, burning with a searing, stinging pain.
Her father's face was ashen, his chest heaving violently, but he did not utter another word. He spun around, threw open the wooden door, and his heavy footsteps echoed against the floor with a finality that brooked no return. He vanished into the distance.
"Selphira!" Her mother, losing her voice in shock at the scene, hurried over. She knelt down to support her, her voice panicked and pained. "Does it hurt? Sweetheart... don't cry..."
Selphira did not respond.
She merely sat on the floor, her eyes hollow and out of focus. Every sound around her seemed to have been pulled away, leaving only the sound of her own ragged, chaotic breathing crashing against her chest.
This was the first time she had ever been hit.
The first time... hit by her father.
The burning pain on her cheek felt like fire, but beneath that heat, a different, unfamiliar emotion was quietly igniting in the depths of her heart—
It wasn't simple grievance.
It wasn't sadness.
It was a restless, fierce intensity that even she could not understand—as if something within her had been awakened by that single strike.