The next morning felt different. The air in Oakhaven was crisp, but Roya's mind was a burning furnace of ideas.
(Aether. An energy inside the body. How do I even reach it?) she thought, aggressively scrubbing the breakfast pot until it shined. (Do I push it? Do I pull it?)
By mid-day, she had finished her chores and hurried to Madame Clara's tailor shop. Today was payday.
Madame Clara was a severe woman with sharp spectacles and a perpetual scowl, but she had a soft spot for the young girl who worked harder than grown men.
"Here," Clara grunted, tossing a small pouch of copper coins onto the counter. "You did well on the hems this week. Go buy yourself a hot meal, Roya. You're getting too skinny. You look like a walking needle.
Roya's face broke into a genuine, bright smile, her eyes sparkling as she caught the pouch. "Thank you, Madame Clara! You're the best!"
She hurried out into the bustling market. The village square was louder than usual today. As she walked, she caught snippets of gossip from the passing merchants.
"Did you hear the news from Albert?" a blacksmith muttered to a farmer.
"The nearest town? What about it?"
"The Lord of Albert is raising the road tolls again. It's going to cost us a fortune to export grain this winter..."
Roya tuned them out. (Tolls in Albert don't cure diseases. Focus, Roya.)
She approached the bakery. Before she could even point to a loaf, Mr. Barley, Finn's father, slammed his hands on the counter, his face lighting up with aggressive customer service.
"Ah, little Roya! Good morning! We have fresh sourdough! Glazed sweet rolls! Just pulled from the oven! What can I get for you today?"
Roya's polite smile froze on her face.
(Not again,) she groaned internally, her eye twitching slightly. (Look at me, Mr. Barley. Do I look like I have the coin for a glazed sweet roll? I am wearing patched boots. Read the room, old man.)
"Just the cheapest day-old bread, please," Roya said smoothly, handing over a single copper.
Bread secured, she began the walk home. As she left the crowded market behind, the dirt path opened up. To her left, massive, lush rice fields swayed like a green ocean under the wind. In the distance, grand mountains pierced the clear, blue sky. The weather was absolutely perfect, the sunlight warm and golden.
Roya stopped for a second, taking a deep breath.
(Wow... it really is beautiful out here,) she thought, feeling a rare moment of peace.
Then, she shook her head, her face hardening back into her usual realist mask. (Okay, enough sightseeing. The mountains aren't going to save Mom. I have a magic system to figure out.)
She entered her house. The contrast was immediate. The air inside felt heavy and unnaturally cool. Elara was fast asleep, her breathing shallow.
Roya quietly put the bread away, marched over to her clinic corner, and sat cross-legged on the floor. She closed her eyes.
(Okay. Focus. Feel the energy.) An hour passed. The house was dead silent.
Nothing happened.
Roya frowned, opening one eye. (Maybe I'm doing it wrong. Maybe it's like the wizards in the stories.)
She sat up, pressed two fingers hard against her forehead, and glared intensely at a wooden cup on the table. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth.
(Move. Glow. Do something!)
Nothing.
"Ugh!" Roya groaned, dropping flat onto her back on the wooden floor, stretching her arms and legs out in all directions like a defeated starfish.
"What am I doing wrong?!"
A week passed
Nothing worked. No matter how she meditated or strained, she couldn't feel a single drop of Aether.
That morning, after her shift at the tailor shop, Roya headed to the nearby forest to collect firewood. Because she couldn't afford a proper axe, she was forced to wander around, dragging a heavy burlap sack and picking up damaged wood and fallen sticks.
As she reached for a thick branch, she spotted it. A fat, brown rabbit chewing on some clover.
(Meat. Protein for Mom,) Roya thought, her eyes locking onto the target.
She crept forward, holding her breath. She lunged.
Whoosh. The rabbit casually hopped two feet to the left. Roya faceplanted directly into a pile of dry leaves and dirt. The rabbit sat up, twitching its nose at her as if to mock her, before bounding away into the brush.
Roya laid in the dirt for a long moment, spitting out a dry leaf. (I hate the woods.)
The walk home was brutal. The sack of wood dug into her shoulder. Her knees were scraped. And for the first time in two years, the Little Miser couldn't even put on her fake smile.
The weight of the last week was crushing her. (I can't do it. The book was a lie. Or I'm just too weak. She's going to die.)
She was losing the very last shred of hope she had left.
As she crossed the dirt path beside the rice fields, a sudden gust of wind swept through the valley. The sweet, sun-warmed air hit her face, wrapping around her exhausted body. It felt incredibly refreshing, like a warm blanket settling over her skin.
Roya stopped dead in her tracks.
Something clicked.
(Wait...) Roya's eyes widened. (The doctor said Aether is a power everyone has within their body. But I've been trying to project it outward, like a wizard moving a cup! What if I shouldn't push it out... what if I just bring it to the surface?)
Gripping the sack of wood tightly, she sprinted the rest of the way home.
She burst through the door with a loud CRACK. The wooden hinges groaned dangerously under the force.
Roya winced, her shoulders tense. (Oops. Definitely can't afford a new door right now.)
The air inside the house was cold, but Roya barely registered it. Her heart was pounding too fast. She dropped the wood, ran to her corner, threw herself onto the floor, and squeezed her eyes shut.
She remembered the feeling of the wind by the rice fields. The heat. The sweet air. Instead of trying to force energy out of her hands, she imagined pulling the warmth from the center of her chest, letting it slowly spread through her veins, up her neck, and down her arms.
She kept her breathing steady, maintaining absolute focus. She willed the energy to rise from her blood to her skin.
Suddenly, the cold air pressing against her vanished. She felt warm.
Maintaining her deep concentration, Roya slowly opened her eyes.
Her entire body—from her fingertips to her worn-out boots—was covered in a faint, mesmerizing, translucent aura. It was incredibly thin, hugging her skin like a second layer of clothing, but it was undeniably there, glowing with a soft, beautiful purple light.
It was real. Something she had only ever heard of in wild fairy tales was right in front of her.
A warm drop of water fell onto her glowing hand. Then another.
(I'm... crying?)
She hadn't shed a single tear since the day her father died. She couldn't understand why water was pouring from her eyes now. But as she looked at the purple light, her chest tightened with an overwhelming emotion.
It wasn't sadness. It was Hope.
She had found what her father believed in. Even when his memories were stolen by the capital, he had remembered this feeling. This was why he wanted to be a healer.
Roya quickly wiped her eyes, her realist mindset snapping back into place. The purple aura flickered slightly as her emotions shifted, but she held onto the feeling.
(Enough crying. This is just the first step. Dad's diary called it the Aether-Edge. Sharp as a needle. A thin aura won't cut away the Frost-Vein disease. I need to focus it. But I can't practice on Mom...) Roya looked toward the bed, the purple light reflecting in her sharp eyes.
(One mistake could kill her.)