Molly's Pov:-
I was being charming as always , entertaining the crowds, at the circus show , my crew put together at the towns Square.
I was about do my signature Tarot card magic to wow the crowd, when I see a girl running through the square. I tried to ignore as she was very pretty, her blue curls flowing in the wind. It was as if every one else vanished before me. Time became slow and our eyes locked for a second. I was snapped out of the trance, when one of my colleagues, cheers my name to calm down the now impatient crowd who wanted my whole attention.
But then, I see masked men running after her. I don't know what it was but something in me, skipped , perhaps out of curiosity?, or something else?.
Misty's Pov:-
Two years ago, it was discovered that I had magic crystals in me , it was miracle cause every one thought I will never be able to do magic. I was a very late bloomer. Which to most elite , it's a disgrace . My parenta were advised to transfer me to a magic school in kilon to help boost up my potential and guide my will of magic .
After a year of being taught mostly simple spell spell theories, I was sent a board a ship that will take me to kilon . I exchanged painful good byes with my parents and siblings.The journey half way was fine until a great storm struck and and the ship was wrecked killing all that were on it, except me.
*The sun was a relentless hammer, beating down on the sand as Misty trudged along the water's edge. Her bare feet, cut and bruised from the wreckage, sank into the warm granules with each weary step. *
*The rhythmic shushing of the waves was the only sound, a lonely dirge for the life she'd lost. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a hollow, cramping ache that made her vision swim. She clutched the smooth, cool surface of the moon pendant, its silver chain biting into her skin. It was her last tangible link to a world that no longer existed for her. *
*Tears, hot and salty, mixed with the spray from the sea, tracing paths through the grime on her cheeks. She stopped, her gaze sweeping across the endless expanse of water, then the dense, uninviting jungle that ringed the small beach. There was no sign of rescue, no sign of anyone else at all. The fight just went out of her.*
*The weight of the pendant in her palm felt like an anchor, holding her fast to a reality she had to face. She closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Her parents… wealthy, powerful… surely they would burn the world to the ground to find her. Her brother, and sister with their vast resources, would leave no stone unturned. They would look. The thought was a fragile flame in the encroaching darkness of her despair.*
* But it was a flame nonetheless. It flickered, reminding her of the terrifying truth: she was utterly, completely helpless. Her entire life, she had been pampered, coddled, a princess in a gilded cage. She couldn't even make her own bed, let alone survive on a desert island.*
* A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat, sharp and broken. What good were her mother's lotions and her father's weapons now? What use was her brother's fortune and her sister's medicine profession, if they couldn't find a single, tiny speck of land in a vast ocean?*
*The island became her entire world. The forest, once a terrifying labyrinth of strange cries and unseen eyes, slowly yielded its secrets. She learned which fruits were safe to eat, which roots were sweet and which were bitter, and which plants could soothe the scrapes and cuts that were a constant companion. *
*Her fear of the beasts evolved from a paralyzing terror into a cautious respect. She learned their patterns, the times they were most likely to be near the water, the sounds they made when they were hunting or merely resting. If she stumbled upon one, she no longer just froze; she ran, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, or, if cornered, she fought with whatever she could find—a sharp rock, a sturdy branch, her own desperate strength.*
* Each time she emerged from the treeline, a ritual awaited her. She would carefully tend to her SOS sign on the beach, weaving fresh banana leaves into the familiar pattern, a silent plea cast into the wind.*