Four months had passed since the incident, but it still hurt to stare at that nasty scar. A grotesque, pinkish mark forever ruptured his face. Ellend was known for poking his nose into matters that didn't concern him, and he seemed to possess a rabid, almost instinctual yearning to help those in need. So Elaine wasn't much surprised when he confessed to everyone at dinner that he wanted to be a Professional Sorcerer and join the Arcanum as a Strix. Just as she hadn't been too surprised when Johnny from next door came shouting through her window that Ellend had gotten himself into another duel. It was the sixth that week. Admittedly, though, her interests were heightened when she learned that his opponent was a noble.

  They didn't get many goldbloods in this neighborhood. According to them, towns and villages like Page weren't worth the hassle of trekking to the countryside. Her father joked that it was nothing but an excuse. Nature terrified goldbloods, as did whatever else they couldn't influence or bend to their will. But she knew there were more noble sorcerers than there were lowborn. Were the rumors true? Were nobles really better at using magic than others? Well, most noble families were composed of exclusively pure-blooded mages. So they inherently had access to more powerful forms of magic as opposed to a common mage or halfbreed.

  So, was it that genetics were superior to training and hard work? If a regular sorcerer practiced magic for years and years and years, would they still be no match against a mage favored enough by Aeris to be born into a family of strong sorcerers? Elaine remembered she had asked herself those same questions on the run into town. She never imagined her answer would come in the form of Ellend losing his first duel since he challenged that no-good Buck Grayson when she was five. This defeat wasn't like that one. At least then, Ellend could walk the day after. She spared a leer at the wheelchair by the footboard. She knew he detested the thing. He'd have to make do until they could procure some farroot.

  "Great Aeris, when was your last shower? It's so musty in here I can hardly breathe," Elaine cringed. His sweaty, sour body odor drenched the room like a thick fog. It flew up her nose, forcing her to pinch her nostrils close. "Let's get some air in here, as well as some sunshine. Elaine opened the window on the opposite end of the room. A gust of afternoon breeze rolled inside, causing her blonde hair to billow like a dancing ribbon as the wind howled in her ears. Rays of sun painted the walls, imprinting gold shadows on the aged wood. "There, that's better. Don't you think so?" His only response was a mutter, or was that a snore? He turned onto his side, an arm covering his head but not quite concealing his scar.

  Elaine smiled at him. Whenever she watched him sleep like that, it reminded her of when they were forced to share the same bed. Aeris spare her, what a nightmare that had been. She'd often awaken when the sky was quiet and the Twin Sisters were high with a foot lodged in her mouth or his elbow stabbing her in the ribs. And she'd consider herself lucky if she didn't wake up on the floor the following morning. Ellend was a capable sorcerer, but he was a horrific sleeper.

  She seated herself on the bedside, brushing some hair out of his eye, a line of drool streaming from his lips, dampening his pillow. She hated seeing him so defeated, so helpless. If only his fate had been different, he could have been off practicing magic right now. Maybe that Lacy would have mustered the courage to confess her feelings. Elaine smirked. Nah, not in a million years. Eventually, her glance landed on the commoner's wand under the bedside table lamp. Ellend's wand. She thought it over in her head: her mother and Liam were gone, Father was outside sulking. I suppose now's as good a time as any.

  Morlow was wrong; she had indeed held a wand before. She also knew how one worked...for the most part. She gripped the wand firmly in her dominant hand, pointing it to the other end of the room—a specific corner where the wall met the floor. Elaine closed her eyes, stilled her emotions, cleared her mind. Concentration, that was the key. Concentration. Elaine had been taught that there was more to magic than simply waving a wand and casting a spell. There had to be, right? Ellend loved magic just as much as herself, if not more so. The bookshelves that enclosed them were filled to the brim with historical texts and academic journals.

  If using magic was so simple, then why did throngs of magihistorians and Reachers devote their lives to unraveling its complexities? What drove Professional Sorcerers—those towering figures at the apex of magical mastery, individuals who represented the very pinnacle of what any practitioner could aspire to achieve—to relentlessly hone their skills and delve deeper into their ancient texts and scrolls? Even in this Era of Magic, a multitude of mysteries surrounding the mystic arts remained tantalizingly out of reach for humanity as a whole. Elaine’s mother was staunchly opposed to the study of magic, fearing its unpredictable nature and the dangers it could pose. If it wasn't mixed in a potion or an elixir, she yearned for no part of it. Yet, her brother Ellend, bless his kind heart, understood her fervent desire to learn and her insatiable passion for the arcane. Against their mother’s fervent wishes, Ellend took it upon himself to introduce her to the foundational elements of magic. Their secret lessons would unfold in the attic’s dusty corners or behind the towering shelves of potion ingredients, where the smell of herbs filled the air and the flickering candlelight created a comforting atmosphere.

  Often, they would pretend to be immersed in the precise science of potion-making, even when their hearts soared at the prospect of spellcasting. They had been caught a couple of times, each incident resulting in stern lectures and weeks confined to their bedrooms, but the thrill of magic kept their spirits high. Elaine vividly recalled the moment when Ellend guided her in casting her very first spell. She stood there, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the slender wand, its surface cool and smooth against her palm. She shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the other, and with a deep breath, she focused on the incantation. With each word that rolled off her tongue, she felt an exhilarating surge of energy, a connection to something much larger than herself starting to bloom.

  "Light Magic," she said softly, "Ina Lucio."

  The tip of Ellend's wand radiated a vivid burst of energy, extending fifteen inches in front of her like a beacon of magic. She felt a sliver of Essence unravel from within, streaming forth gracefully, fluidly, as if water were winding and weaving through the twists and turns of a meandering river. The Essence particles, tiny, shimmering specks of turquoise-colored energy, danced around her, causing her hair to ripple, each particle tickling her skin with the gentle touch of a feather. This sensation of wielding magic, it was a profound sense of freedom, as though she could lift away from the very fabric of the earth and soar high into the brilliant blue sky above.

  A few feet in front of her, a tiny speck of brightness began to materialize, conjured into existence with a frantic spark that crackled. The energy gradually coalesced, swirling together into form, and there it hovered quietly in mid-air—a luminous orb of radiant light, pulsing softly as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Elaine felt the corners of her mouth twitch with the urge to smile, but she quickly restrained a giggle behind tightly pressed lips, knowing she needed to maintain her focus and composure just a moment longer. Focusing on the spell, Elaine ordered it to float, and it did, higher and higher, until the glowing sphere had reached eye level. This time, she couldn't vanquish her grin. Her skills with magic were getting better, slowly but surely.

  Why stop there?

  She tried again, her voice steady and firm as she uttered, "Light Magic: Ina Lucio." With a graceful flick of her wrist, she whirled Ellend's wand overhead, the wood catching the light as it danced, before lashing it fiercely toward the orb suspended before her. The orb pulsated like a balloon on the verge of bursting, its surface shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors. It split into two, then three, then four spheres, each bursting forth with energy. Elaine's smile widened, a surge of excitement bubbling within her, and she erupted into laughter that filled the room with a jovial rhythm, echoing off the walls. She could barely contain herself, hopping in place as the once-dull space transformed into a breathtaking display. The room was now awash with a constellation of fallen stars—glittering orbs that shimmered like exquisite diamonds, casting a vibrant glow all around her.

  The illumination enveloped her, banishing every shadow that had lurked in the corners and crevices, those dark, amorphous shapes that once seemed to cling tenaciously to the walls. Instead, those dreary spots were exorcised and replaced with brilliant tendrils of golden light that painted the room with warmth and joy. Elaine reveled in the newfound brightness, though she decided to keep the window open, as the soft breeze would carry away Ellend's oppressive odor—an affront to her senses—while inviting in the gentle kiss of the sun's rays.

  "I have to hand it to you, sis." With how quickly Elaine spun, she was surprised that she hadn't sent herself to the floor, nearly tripping over her two feet. His grin gleamed behind the scarred mask as Ellend sat up on the bed. He poked an orb floating over his lap, causing it to collide—and fuse—with another nearby. "This is some wake-up call. I realize I'm a heavy sleeper, but jeez, this is a bit overkill, don't you think?"

  One by one, the orbs popped out of reality, inflating to their capacity and then exploding as flickering shards. And as they vanished before her eyes, they took the brightness along with them, his bedroom returning to its regular, lifeless hue. Normal yet somehow depressing. Elaine felt the fatigue dwindle her spirits, a nagging cramp piercing her stomach. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she stepped to the bedside, falling with a plop atop its sheets. "I'm nowhere near as good as you. I need more practice," she replied with a slight chuckle. She set his wand back where she found it. "Sorry for using it without permission."

  "Kind of difficult to ask someone a question when they're sleeping," Ellend commented in an irritatingly snarky tone. The sulmo spoke like that just to annoy her. Sunder him, but it always worked!

  Elaine exhaled. "I suppose..."

  "So, El," he started. She could tell he was reluctant by the way he fiddled with his fingers and bit his bottom lip. "Have you told them yet? About what..."

  "The fact I'm breathing right now should let you know I haven't," Elaine cut him off.

  "Right, right..."

  "Honestly, Ellend. You should be the one to tell them, not me. I mean, it's kind of in poor taste to murder a cripple, isn't it?"

  Ellend laughed. "You can try telling Ma that after she's thrown me into the Shadow herself. Good luck."

  "I'm being serious."

  "As am I." Ellend emitted a long, dry sigh. He let the silence linger for a while longer after that, not professing a word until he looked up to acknowledge her pleading stare. A look he couldn't withstand. "Let's be realistic here, El. Even if I wanted to..." Ellend trailed off, gripping the bed sheets tightly. "Anyways, it's not important. I can't, in good faith, accept their offer, not in my current condition." He raised the covers and peaked underneath, extinguishing another dissatisfied sigh. "Training to be a Professional Sorcerer ain't easy. It's a long and arduous race. How can I be expected to compete when I can't even stand at the starting line? I'd be laughed right off campus."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Don't lose hope, brother." Elaine placed a palm over his, giving him a reassuring nod. "You've still got a shot. If I can just get some farroots we could—"

  "Swindle some Medical Mage we don't even know to try and concoct something that will supposedly fix...fix me? Yeah, we can hardly afford to keep the shop open as is. We need a real solution."

  "Like what?"

  Ellend repositioned himself, leaning so close Elaine felt his warm breath drizzle on her cheeks. "You," he said softly. "Don't you see, El? You're our ticket out of this mess."

  *

  * *

  "Liam, what's wrong? You haven't so much as touched your breakfast." Her voice was enraptured with the loving concern only a mother could offer, accented by mild curiosity. Elaine kept washing the dishes in the sink, scrubbing off muck and food with a poor excuse for a sponge.

  Next, she heard Liam yawn. He'd been like this for the last few days. It wasn't like him to be so drowsy. That kid had more energy than the foxes she'd see on occasion dashing and hopping across the meadows encompassing Page. Elaine hid a leer. He was up to something. That, she was sure of. "It's nothing, Ma. Really," he said, putting on a fake grin. Not a very convincing argument. Elaine counted several additional yawns in that short response alone, and his half-opened eyelids, coupled with how he constantly slanted his head, told her everything she needed to know. Elaine kept on scrubbing.

  "No point in keeping secrets, son. Believe me, she'll always dig them out," Father warned, sipping on a glass of orange juice. "Might as well come clean about it now while you still can."

  "Okay, fine. I was trying to sleep but...but...I just couldn't. El's snores were too loud. It kept me up all night."

  That did it. Elaine slammed the dish into the sink, soapy water erupting savagely. "You grimy gargoyle! I don't snore!" she argued, louder than she would have otherwise intended.

  "Do too!" the snot-nosed troll shot back, poking out his tongue. "You were so loud, and Milo even had trouble sleeping. Didn't you, boy?"

  The dog's response came in the form of an unenthusiastic grunt. He returned to his food thereafter, kibble smearing the white fur around his snout. He looked like a pile of lard more than anything. If it weren't for his wagging tail and four paws, Elaine would have trouble convincing anyone that he was a living creature and not some strange house decoration. One that moved and barked and smelled like damp, fresh-cut grass.

  The legs of a wooden chair scraped against the worn floorboards, creating a sharp sound that momentarily echoed through the small kitchen. Mother carefully carried a stack of dishes, the clinking of ceramic mixing with the soft hum of the morning. She set them beside the sink, her hands steady despite the burden. Darah Harwood had once possessed a delicate frame in her youth; Elaine had often admired the faded photographs of her mother from her school days, where her slender silhouette was effortlessly elegant. However, it was only after giving birth to Liam that Elaine truly recognized the subtle transformation in her mother’s figure. This didn’t imply that Darah was overweight; rather, she had achieved a graceful balance, embodying the natural softness that came with motherhood.

  Despite the changes, her intrinsic beauty remained untouched. Standing slightly shorter than her husband, Darah still rose over Elaine by several inches, her round face framed by stray wisps of light brown hair that she had expertly twisted into a bun atop her head. Her skin held a hint of warmth from the sun, a beautiful, partial tan that complemented her striking dark green eyes, which mirrored Liam’s gaze. The familiar pale yellow house dress she adored was adorned with smudges from the day’s tasks. Of what? Elaine couldn't tell. Some were red, others green, and one smudge was even...blue? Elaine would make certain to wash it for her later.

  "How is Ellend doing? Liam told me you spoke with him yesterday, and he seems to be in a much better mood this morning," the woman said, opening the kitchen window—the chirping songs of birds prancing in.

  Elaine shrugged. "Nothing much. We just...talked. You know, normal sibling stuff."

  "How incredibly vague."

  "Well, it takes a certain level of intelligence to comprehend the intricate and nuanced consultations between a brother and his sister. I'll try to explain it to you when you're older."

  She laughed, an adorable little giggle that could fill a stomach with butterflies. Chuckling herself, Elaine made space for her at the sink, and the woman was quick to nab one of the plates she had already cleaned. Her eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, they were. As well as she had a habit of being thorough, explicitly so. "You've been chasing after those farroots again, haven't you?" she asked, spiraling a washcloth round and around on glass until her reflection practically shined back at her on the plate's gleaming surface.

  "And so what if I was?" Elaine asked, rinsing a collection of cutlery under the faucet.

  "We can't afford them, you know we can't."

  "So it's better that we just give up?" Elaine tempered her frustration when she met her mother's defeated grimace. She took a breath before she spoke again, ensuring not to raise her voice when she didn't mean to. Sometimes, though, she found doing so incredibly difficult. "You taught me no matter how much the cauldron grumbles, bubbles, or roars, that it was our duty, our responsibility, to endure its churns until the potion shines. That is the hallmark of a true potion-maker. Sure, Ellend's situation is...complicated, but he's family. We owe him to try at least try, right?"

  "Giving up and accepting reality are too different things, Elaine." The woman stopped cleaning. After a while, Elaine also stopped her scrubbing. Like Father, she noticed that her mother was much more tired these days. Tired and disheartened.

  On top of their Ellend situation, Harwoods Potions and Elixirs was losing a lot of good business, most of their usual customers moving to other cities or cutting ties with them outright. And that wasn't a good position to be in, especially in such a small town where neighboring businesses typically competed with one another. But the Harwoods raised her to be an optimist, as they were themselves, or at least, they tried to be. Hope was a fleeting thing these days. They had faith that things would pick up once fall arrived but...Elaine had her doubts. She didn't want to, nevertheless she had them.

  "Mother," Elaine exhaled, hands submerged in soapy water turned gray. "I just...I have to tell you—"

  A knock.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It cut into their conversation, as did it drive Father from pecking at his meal—the scrambled egg punctured on his fork pausing halfway from his mouth—whilst Liam jumped out of his seat, causing poor Milo to choke on some of his food.

  "Customers?" Father asked, wearing an astonished expression that mirrored her own. "Customers? This early?"

  Nobody knew what to do, this was an unprecedented, highly out of the ordinary circumstance. More knocks preceded the first, coming in waves of four distinctive thumps at a time.

  "I'll get it," Elaine said, trying the best she could to recompose herself before her fingers grasped the handle and pulled the door open. "Hello?"

  Two men were standing on the front porch, men she'd never seen before. Strangers. "A pleasant good morning, young madam," the first started, bowing at herwith an arm bent behind his back. He had a head of well-kempt, darkish brown hair. "It is to my understanding that this is the Harwood Residence, yes?"

  Elaine wasn't certain how long she had remained frozen in place, her eyes wide and unblinking, as if she were a mesmerized infant. It felt as though time stood still, leaving her grappling with the complexities of common social interaction that suddenly seemed insurmountable. Gathering her wits, she took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and forced a hesitant stammer to spill from her lips. "Y...Yes...ah...you're in the right place."

  "Ah, perfect," he said, relief exterminating the sternness he had carried on his face. "I don't often come to the countryside, you see. It is as alien to me as the Celestial Realm. For a moment there, I thought we had the wrong address. That would have been a real misfortune." He boasted a self-satisfying smirk at the man posted behind him, elbowing him in the shoulder. "See, Raze? You should have more faith in my navigational prowess. All of that complaining just for us to reach where we needed to be regardless."

  Yup, he was definitely a noble. She could tell from his well-articulated, if not a little cheerful, manner of speech that flowed like a gentle stream, drawing her in rather than imposing on her. He didn’t appear to be much older than her father, but the wisdom in his eyes hinted at experiences beyond his years. On the contrary, he seemed rather young—perhaps in his late thirties or early forties, if she were to take a random guess. Before her stood a figure dressed in attire that spoke of his station; a crisp white long-sleeved shirt, meticulously pressed, was draped elegantly by a brown coat that bore the subtle shimmer of fine fabric. His dark trousers hugged him just right, and his polished black boots gleamed as though reflecting a hidden pride. She imagined that such garments were not the kind to be found in their modest domain; he must have captured quite a few puzzled stares and intrigued glances as he made his way through Page, a town unlikely to see the likes of him so brazenly attired.

  There was a warmth and generosity terminating from this goldblooded stranger, a quality that felt refreshing and was often absent in the other nobles she had encountered thus far in her brief, yet poignant life. Instead of the cold aloofness, she had come to expect, his presence exuded a genuine interest, making her feel seen rather than overlooked in the savage ocean of social hierarchies. For starters, he didn't hold up his nose at her as if to translate, "A creature such as yourself doesn't deserve to be in my presence. Know your place, lowborn scum." No, sir, he was staring straight at her with his dark blues, not bothered in the slightest.

  She wished she could say the same for his associate. Raze, was it? The taller man was decked out in a jet-black cloak that covered his entire body save for his head, neck, and mudstained boots. He was like a skeleton with his bony, pale skin, hollowed-out cheeks, and sickly yellow eyes. Fortunately, Aeris hadn't cursed him to be bald—his dark, wavy hair dangled down the sides of his face like a cluster of expired seaweed—otherwise, some folks might have mistaken him for a reanimated skeleton.

  What immediately stood out about the two, other than their status as nobles, of course, were the wands holstered on the sides of their waist. They weren't typical commoner's wands like Ellend's, nor were they the kind you'd purchase from an ordinary magic shop or guild. But she also wouldn't say they were similar to a noble's wand either. Based on their appearance, Elaine realized they were instead crafted from the bark of a thistlewood tree, a species you could only obtain from off the continent.

  Elaine gulped, a horrible chill coursing through her. There was no denying it. These men were Professional Sorcerers. Were they with the Arcanum, or were they from a special branch of the Military? Had her family done something wrong? All the questions her brain compiled had distracted her so much—causing her breath to taste pungent and her heart to race—that she hadn't noticed the sorcerer snapping his gloved fingers in front of her, expressing a look of bewilderment with a raised brow.

  "Ah! S...Sorry," Elaine stammered. "Could you repeat that for me, please...?"

  "I was merely introducing myself, dear," he chuckled. "My name is Orion Valerian, headmaster of Glyph Academy."

  W...What? Elaine stepped back inside her house, a numb hand having yet to release the door handle from its grip. Gl...Glyph Academy? No way...But if they're here...Ellend...

  "If I may, what business does a headmaster like yourself have with us?" Mother asked, appearing beside her.

  To her question, Orion reached into his coat and pulled out an enclosed letter marked with a blue insignia—it captured a griffin inside of a rim of golden stars, its wings unfolded, beak split open, and talons bared. "We came here," he said, "regarding Ellend Harwood's offer to attend Glyph Academy for the upcoming semester. To my knowledge, he was permanently wounded due to a duel. As such, I sought to speak with him, as well as his caretakers, directly."

  Mother's lower jaw practically plummeted to the floor; Elaine hadn't seen the woman so astonished since she caught Liam trying to climb the oak tree in their backyard. He almost broke his neck that day, and yet she still hadn't been as voicelessly astounded as she was at present. "His what...?" she gasped.

  Elaine winced, blanketing a flammable cringe with her palm. There it was, Ellend's secret had been unveiled.