ONE DAY
Lena stood in the Dunham estate training grounds, her sword aimed at the training dummy. Her father, James, called out instructions, urging her to put more force into her strikes.
James:"Put more force on your swings, and... STRIKE~!"
He commanded. With a determined yell, she obeyed, unleashing a powerful attack.
Lena:"HYAH!"
The blow landed with precision, carving a hole in the dummy's chest. The sound of impact echoed through the area, showing the intensity of her training. Her father was full of pride as he watched his daughter's impressive strike, the hole in the dummy's chest a testament to her power. He beamed, a proud smile on his face as he praised her.
James:"Wow...! That's my girl! You really outdid yourself!"
He exclaimed. Lena acknowledged her father's praise with a gracious smile, her eyes filled with gratitude.
Lena:"Thank you, Father,"
She replied softly. With the training session concluded, James wiped the sweat from his brow and gave a satisfied nod.
James:"Enough training! Let's have lunch,"
He announced, stretching his arms. While Lena, breathing steadily after the intense practice, straightened her posture and nodded with a small smile.
Lena:"Yes, Father."
The two walked side by side from the training grounds toward the mansion. The sun hung high above them, casting warm shadows across the path. Despite her composed expression, Lena's mind quietly buzzed—today's progress felt real... but so did the weight of what she remembered about Jason... and what was coming next..
Lena:"Father... How did you become close with the Drans?"
She listened intently as her father spoke, his voice warm with nostalgia. She tilted her head slightly, absorbing every word—this was new information. The bond between their family and the Drans wasn't just political... it was personal.
Lena:"So they weren't always like this? They actually... chose to be close?"
Her father chuckled and ruffled her hair gently as they walked.
James:"People forget that even duchesses were young once too," he said with a soft smile. "Back then, Luna wasn't 'Her Grace' to us—she was just a loud, impulsive woman who scared the life out of me during our first meeting."
He paused, glancing toward the mansion where Amelia and Luna had once shared tea in the garden.
James:"But one day, she showed up unannounced—with flowers for your mother—and said, 'I've never had a real friend before... do you think we could try?'"
She blinked in surprise.
Lena:"...Really?"
James:"Mmhmm, Your mother cried. I nearly dropped my tea."
A small smile tugged at Lena's lips.
Lena:"(Maybe... not everything in this world followed the game's script after all.)"
Her father reached into the basket and took a bite of the homemade sandwich provided by Amelia, his expression one of contentment. Between bites, he proposed a challenge to Lena, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.
James:"How about a spar, Lena? I want to see how much you've improved."
He asked with a playful smile on his lips. Lena, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion, nodded eagerly.
Lena:"Sure!"
She agreed, readying herself.
A competitive glimmer danced in both James' and Lena's eyes as they squared off across from each other. They stood around a meter apart, their stances steady and alert in anticipation of the match about to begin.
Her father held a rock aloft, its weight a mere indicator of the start of their sparring session.
He glanced at Lena, who was poised and ready, her hand gripping her wooden sword with determination.
James:"When this rock touch the ground, we start,"
He announced, his words carrying a hint of excitement.
Lena:"Yes father!"
The rock hit the ground with a soft thump, marking the unofficial start of the sparring match. James wasted no time. He lunged forward with a quick strike, his eyes locked on Lena as she dodged gracefully to the side.
Not one to be outdone, Lena retaliated with a kick aimed at his legs, hoping to disrupt his balance. But James swiftly leaped away, keeping just out of reach of her blow.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent her sword flying out of her hands. As she stumbled to the ground, James closed in, his wooden sword posed at her neck.
She pouted slightly as her father extended a hand to help her up. She took it willingly and allowed him to hoist her to her feet.
Lena:"I lost again,"
She mumbled, disappointment coloring her words. Her father chuckled, a glimmer of pride in his eyes.
James:"But you have improved a bit, Just keep training and you'll get better."
The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly shattered as a butler sprinted towards them, panting profusely. His voice was filled with a mixture of panic and urgency, alarming both James and Lena.
"My Lord!"
The butler exclaimed, his breath ragged from running.
"There are... there are monsters approaching the orchard!"
Her father immediately tensed, his expression hardening. He turned to the butler, his voice firm.
James:"Monsters? Describe them."
The butler managed to blurt out a response between gasps for air, his voice shaking slightly.
"F-flaring wolf pack!"
Lena's eyes widened in surprise at the news. A pack of monstrous wolves? That would certainly pose a serious threat. James, his expression stern, nodded grimly.
James:"How close are they?"
The butler, still struggling to catch his breath, glanced back in the direction of the orchard, estimating the distance with a quick calculation.
"About... about fifty meters away,"
He panted, his words coming out in quick gasps.
"They're approaching fast."
The mention of the orchard triggered a pang of concern within James. A protective instinct flared up, reminding him of those early days when Amelia used to venture into the unforgiving wilderness in search of herbs. He recalled the worry he felt each time she left the safety of their estate.
But he had taken precautions. He had built an orchard for her, providing a safe space to cultivate her beloved herbs. She had been touched, her gratitude and joy palpable as she began nurturing the plants with tender care.
His daughter beside him, her thoughts raced as the gravity of the situation set in. The orchard was where her mother spent countless hours cultivating medicinal herbs, carefully tending to each plant with love and diligence. The thought of a pack of monstrous wolves destroying that labor of love sent a shiver of worry through her.
Lena:"(If those wolves reached the orchard... the damage they could cause was devastating.)"
The atmosphere tensed as James issued his order, his voice firm and commanding.
James:"Stay here, I'll handle these monsters."
He instructed Lena, his eyes serious. Then, turning to the butler, he commanded,
James:"Gather the guards."
The butler nodded, his face stoic with determination, before rushing off to round up the estate's guards.
Lena watched as James and the butler rushed off, leaving her temporarily alone in the training grounds. The sudden silence that had settled was jarring.
She stood there, the echoes of her father's orders and the butler's footsteps still reverberating in her mind. Concern tugged at her, but she pushed it aside. Her father had told her to stay. She glanced toward the orchard, then away—her father's order echoing in her mind. But with nothing else to do and restlessness gnawing at her, she decided to pass the time.
Lena:"Should I go to the library? Yeah... reading might help,"
She murmured, already turning toward the mansion. With a soft sigh and a lingering glance in the direction of danger, Lena headed off—toward books, quiet shelves... and perhaps answers hidden between pages. For now.
***
Her eyes fell upon a title that piqued her interest: "Sword Dancing." Her gaze lingered on it, her mind working through the possibilities. She loved dancing, and her recent skill with a sword made the topic all the more alluring.
Lena:"I do love dancing... and I've been training with the sword, Maybe this is something worth trying."
With a soft touch, Lena withdrew the chosen book from the shelf, cradling it to her chest like a precious treasure. Its pages, filled with knowledge about sword dancing, seemed to sing with promise.
Leaving the library, her steps echoed in the halls as she carried the book, a determination growing with each stride. Her mind was alight with the potential of what this book could teach her, and the thought of combining sword training with dance... now that could be interesting.
***
James entered the grounds, weary from his recent victory over the monstrous wolves. His hands were adorned with minor injuries, and he wanted to heal them before Amelia noticed and gave him a scolding.
Before proceeding, he decided to check on Lena, knowing she probably got bored by now. Little did he know she was engrossed in her book and practicing sword dancing nearby.
James stepped into the training grounds, intending to call out to Lena. But what he encountered was beyond his expectations. There, in the training field, Lena stood, sword in hand, her movements graceful and precise as she danced with the blade. It was an unforeseen sight...
James watched with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. Lena's sword strikes were not the typical, ungraceful swings of an amateur. Instead, each move was like a dance - fluid, elegant and almost mesmerizing.
As Lena danced, her every motion a seamless blend of elegance and precision, something extraordinary began to unfold. The sword twirled through the air with a life of its own—caught again in her hand as if drawn back by an invisible thread.
Then it happened.
A soft pink streak in her hair started to shimmer, pulsing like starlight. Her eyes flickered with the same radiant glow, and delicate butterflies—translucent and luminous—began to swirl around her in silent arcs. They trailed behind each step, born from the rhythm of her dance and the unseen energy building within.
She didn't notice.
Not the glow.
Not the magic weaving through the air.
Not even her father's stunned silence at the edge of the field.
Lost in focus, lost in flow—she was no longer just practicing sword dancing.
She was creating something new.
Lena stopped mid-motion, her sword poised at the height of a strike. The sword gleamed in the fading light, its tip adorned with a single, delicate butterfly.
Her eyes widened as she took in the sight—a soft smile tugged at her lips.
Lena:"So pretty."
Her voice was almost a whisper, the words carrying a sense of awe and wonder. She was completely oblivious to her father's stunned observation and the display she'd inadvertently put on.
James:"Lena-!"
Her father's voice, laced with surprise, cut through the quiet, finally breaking the spell that surrounded Lena. Her eyes snapped up to see her father at the edge of the field, a mix of disbelief and amazement on his face.
Caught in the moment, Lena's cheeks flushed with a soft blush. She must've been quite a sight—butterflies pirouetting around her, the sword poised perfectly in her grasp, her gaze wide.
Lena:"Y-yes, Father?"
She stammered.
The butterflies faded away like dust on the wind, their shimmering dance coming to an end. The soft glow in Lena's eyes and hair dimmed, the magic receding.
Then her father was suddenly there, his grip firm on her shoulders. His eyes flicked over her, taking in the aftermath of what he'd witnessed.
James:"Lena, what... what just happened?"
She stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she looked up at her father. Her eyes, now back to their normal hue, shimmered with uncertainty.
Lena:"I-I was just doing sword dance!"
She insisted, voice quivering. James's grip tightened ever so slightly—not out of anger, but urgency—his own breath still uneven from what he'd seen.
James:"And the butterflies? They appeared around you! "
He searched her face, heart pounding beneath his calm exterior. She looked down at her blade—still cool in her hand—and then to the spot where the butterfly had perched.
Lena:"I don't know..."
She whispered again—but this time, a spark flickered deep inside. Something had changed... and neither of them could pretend it hadn't happened. James exhaled slowly, his expression shifting from shock to something quieter—realization, maybe even awe. He loosened his grip on her shoulders, but didn't let go.
James:"...You must have triggered your powers,"
He repeated, voice softer now. Lena blinked up at him, confusion etched across her face.
Lena:"Powers?"
She echoed, the word foreign on her tongue. Lena looked down at her hands—still ordinary-looking—but the memory of the glowing streak in her hair and the butterflies lingered like a dream she couldn't wake from.
James:"Yeah, Magic doesn't just appear outta nowhere... especially not like that. It's tied to you—your emotions... your soul."
He gave a small half-smile.
James: "Looks like my little girl's not so little anymore."
Her fingers instinctively rose to touch the pink streak in her hair—now dull and ordinary again. Her breath came a little faster as she tried to piece it together.
Lena:"But... why butterflies? And how did I even trigger it?" she asked, voice tinged with both wonder and worry.
He studied her closely, his expression serious but not unkind. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
James:"I'm not certain, But they appeared the moment your hair started to glow... same with your eyes. It was like the dance woke something inside you."
He paused, then added quietly.
James:"Maybe... it's not just training anymore. Maybe this was always meant to happen."
Lena fidgeted, biting her lip as she tried to hide the pink streak in her hair. The words—am I different?—echoed in the air, heavy with uncertainty. James immediately softened, seeing the anxiety in her gaze. He stepped closer, his grip on her shoulder firm but reassuring.
James:"No, It's okay to be different. Don't ever doubt that. And..."
He took a deep breath, recalling the sight of her dancing and the butterflies swirling around her...
James:"Your dancing was beautiful."
He gently pulled her hands away from her hair, holding them in his own. His voice was warm, steady—anchoring.
James:"And don't cover your streak, It's not dangerous. Not at all. If anything... it's part of you now."
She looked down, fingers twitching slightly in his grip.
Lena:"...Will they appear again?" she whispered—the butterflies, the glow, the strange power—still so new, so unknown.
Her father smiled then—not a forced one, but the kind that crinkles the corners of your eyes.
James:"Maybe. And when they do... I'll be watching."
A beat passed under the dusky sky—quiet and full of promise—before he added with a wink:
James:"Just try not to scare the garden gnomes."
The last light of the day softened above them as James patted Lena's head. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field.
James:"Let's go home,"
He echoed, a smile softening the words. Lena nodded, her eyes lingering on the training grounds one last time before following her father's lead—back toward the mansion that stood regal on the horizon, waiting.
Tonight, something in the Dunham family's world had shifted... and Lena felt it as keenly as a change in the air.
***
The moment they stepped into the house, a shrill sound echoed through the hall--Mona's crying. They exchanged a glance, then dashed toward her room.
When the door swung open, the scene inside was somewhat chaotic. Thomas and Louise were huddled over Mona's crib, trying their best to soothe her wails.
James:"What happened?"
He demanded, his voice a low rumble.
"WHY IS SHE CRYING!?"
Lena and James both echoed the same question in unison, their voices almost overlapping. Mona's wails filled the room like a shrill alarm, and both of them instinctively covered their ears.
Thomas looked up, his expression a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He hesitated, glancing at Louise with wide, slightly accusing eyes.
Thomas:"She was sleeping peacefully just now, but..."
She flinched under the attention. Her face turned pink as she clutched a stuffed rabbit to her chest like a shield.
Louise:"I... I opened the door, And—oops—I stepped on one of her toys..."
A sharp squeak pierced the air—a squeaky duck, flattened under Louise's shoe—which had apparently been Mona's favorite comfort toy.
No wonder the baby was furious.
James and Lena both dropped a hand to their faces with perfect, exasperated timing—smack. Thomas just sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked at Louise like she'd doomed them all. Louise shrank back, holding the deflated squeaky toy like evidence of a crime.
Louise:"I didn't know it would scream like that when stepped on..." she mumbled.
Mona, red-faced and indignant, continued wailing—each cry somehow louder than the last—as if personally offended by the duck's betrayal. Their father's voice boomed through the room, urgency laced in every syllable.
James:"WE BETTER CALM HER DOWN, OR ELSE WE'LL BE THE ONES WHO WON'T BE ABLE TO SLEEP TONIGHT!!!"
A heavy silence followed—broken only by Mona's unrelenting cries—but everyone in the room instantly nodded in grim agreement. The truth was undeniable: if this didn't stop now, it'd be them pacing hallways and whispering prayers to any god who'd listen at 3 a.m.
Lena glanced at the baby with wide eyes. Thomas straightened up like a soldier receiving orders. Louise clutched the squashed duck like it held the key to peace.
Operation: Soothe The Tiny Tyrant had officially begun.
As everyone wracked their brains for a solution, Lena's eyes darted around the nursery. Her gaze landed on Mona—red-faced and determinedly wailing—and then flicked to her own hands. The memory of the butterflies from earlier returned: the glow, the flutter... The possibility.
With a quiet gasp, her hands suddenly came together in a quiet clap. Her pink streak flickered and...
...A single butterfly, glowing a vibrant pink, flitted into the room. Mona went silent, watching it with wide eyes. This was unexpected but it was a start.
The butterfly perched on Mona's nose for a brief moment before the unexpected happened: she giggled. It was the first break in the relentless wailing of the last few minutes... and it seemed to be because of the butterfly. But as soon as the insect touched her, the baby scrunched up her face and—
ACHOO!
She sneezed. The butterfly fluttered away, landing on Lena's finger instead. Lena raised it close to her face, studying it closely. Lena smiled softly at the butterfly perched on her fingertip, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lena:"Thank you."
As if acknowledging her gratitude, the butterfly gave one final gentle flutter—then dissolved into tiny pink specks of light that shimmered in the air before vanishing. Silence settled over the room. Mona blinked up at Lena with wide, curious eyes... then cooed.
Everyone exhaled—Louise flopped dramatically onto the floor, Thomas wiped his brow like a man saved from execution, and James let out a relieved chuckle.
Thomas:"...Well, Looks like we've got two miracle workers in this family now."
He murmured. Louise shot upright, eyes wide as saucers, pointing at the spot where the butterfly had vanished.
Louise:"What was that, just now?!"
Her voice snapped everyone back to reality—Thomas blinked rapidly, James stiffened mid-relief, and Lena instinctively pulled her hand close. The room fell silent again—but this time, not because of a crying baby. No... this silence was heavier. Charged.
Lena looked down at her still-glowing pink streak—now dimming fast—and then to her empty palm where the butterfly had just disappeared.
She opened her mouth...
But no answer came.
Because she wasn't sure she had one. James' eyes met his daughter's—a silent exchange between them—and he sighed softly.
James:"I'll explain after we have dinner,"
He said, his voice quiet but steady. The others nodded, though it was clear that questions were already simmering under the surface. The entire scene had been more than a little strange after all.
With a final glance at the now-calm Mona—who'd curled up and was starting to doze off—they left the room, closing the door gently behind them. Just as they reached the hallway, a maid appeared, breathless but composed.
"Master James! Miss Amelia has arrived!"
His face lit up—relief and warmth replacing the earlier tension.
James:"Amelia is here! Let's greet her—together!"
Lena straightened up instantly. Thomas smoothed his coat, Louise fixed her hair in a panic, and even the baby seemed to sense the shift in mood. As one little family unit (and their very confused tutor), they hurried toward the entrance hall—the weight of magic and glowing butterflies momentarily set aside...
Because Mother was home. Amelia glided into the entrance hall, her eyes immediately landing on James with a warmth that could warm the coldest day.
Amelia:"Hello, darling~"
Her husband stepped forward to greet her, a warm smile spreading across his face.
James:"Welcome back! How was work?"
His wife returned the hug warmly, leaning into James' embrace for a moment. When they drew back, she looked up at him with a slightly rueful smile.
Amelia:"It was fine, but the new beauty product I've been working on... it's not quite finished yet."
James just nodded—knowing not to press too much on her work. After all, her beauty line was Amelia's pride and joy. If something was off with the formula, she would work on it until it was perfect. Lena stepped forward with a small bow, offering her mother a soft smile.
Lena:"Welcome back, Mother."
Amelia's expression melted into tenderness. She reached out to brush a strand of hair from Lena's face, her gaze gentle.
Amelia:"Hello, Lena how was your training?"
She hesitated, then looked down at her boots with a slight pout.
Lena:"It was fine... I still lost to Father though..."
She mumbled the last part like it hurt more than it should have—though not nearly as much as the memory of glowing butterflies and pink streaks she hadn't yet explained. Amelia smiled warmly, her hand gently patting Lena's head like she used to when her daughter was just a little girl.
Amelia:"You'll win next time, Just keep training."
Her touch carried the quiet magic of a mother's reassurance—simple, but enough to lift the weight from Lena's shoulders. Lena looked up, meeting her mother's kind eyes, and managed a small nod.
If only Amelia knew...
The real battle might not be with swords—or sparring matches—any longer.
Thomas and Louise appeared in the hallway, drawn to the sound of Amelia's voice just like everyone else. They chorused a greeting— "Welcome back, Mother" —their words almost overlapping. Amelia smiled at them fondly.
Amelia:"Hello, you two,"
She replied, her eyes brightening in that way they always did when all her children were together. Louise bounced over for a hug, while Paul hung back, trying (and failing) to be cool about it.
Louise""Our day was boring,"
She said, her voice slightly muffled against her mother's dress. Thomas looked exhausted, his usual calm demeanor slightly frayed around the edges.
Thomas:"It was fine, but a little stressful."
Louise mirrored his weariness, stretching her arms with a weary sigh. It had clearly been a long day. Amelia noticed their exhaustion, her eyes softening with concern. She reached out to touch Thomas and Louise's shoulders gently, assessing them with a mother's eye.
Amelia:"You both look a little worn out,"
She remarked, her voice gentle.
Amelia:"Well... let's go to the table and eat! I'll make some steaks for today ".
At the mention of food, Thomas and Louise lit up, their exhaustion momentarily replaced by the promise of steak.
Thomas/Louise:"Yay!"
They chorused, their voices mixing together like a little harmony. Amelia chuckled, shaking her head slightly at their enthusiasm.
Amelia:"Let's head to the table,"
She said, looping her hands through their arms as she began guiding them out of the entrance hall.
Amelia:"Steak for dinner tonight."
Lena watched as her mother steered the group toward the dining room, the warmth and cheer a little too bright—just enough to feel intentional.
She's definitely changing the subject... just to lighten the mood, Lena thought, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. But it's working.
James fell into step beside her, hands tucked casually behind his back. He caught Lena's eye—and gave her a tiny, knowing wink.
That's my wife for ya~
No grand speeches. No heavy questions about glowing hair or magic butterflies.
Just love served quietly—with steak on the side.
***
The group entered the dining room, taking their usual seats. Thomas wasted no time picking up his utensils with a grumble and a grumble stomach.
Thomas:"I'm so hungry... I could eat right now!"
His mother tsked in mild reproach from her place at the head of the table, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Amelia:"Thomas, please, We say a prayer first, and then we eat."
The table quieted as everyone bowed heads in prayer, their hands folded together respectfully.
Amelia:"Dear Lord, We thank you for the food we are about to receive, and for the loved ones gathered here. Bless us and keep us. Amen."
"Amen,"
Everyone echoed, their voices a quiet chorus. When they lifted their heads, the dinner table was suddenly filled with the clink of silverware and the sound of a hungry stomach growling—Thomas' stomach, to be precise. Louise stared wide-eyed at Thomas, who was already halfway through his second helping of steak and mashed potatoes—fork moving like lightning.
Louise:"Wow, you're eating a lot! I didn't take you for a glutton!"
He paused mid-chew, glaring at her over his plate. A bit of gravy clung to the corner of his mouth.
Thomas:"I'm not a glutton, I'm just... refueling after surviving Mona's war cries."
Everyone froze—then burst into laughter around the table. Even Lena snorted into her drink.
Lena:"I'm surprised as well... you usually eat less than this-"
He glanced at Louise, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in his eyes.
Thomas:"I was busy playing with Mona all day..."
He explained
Thomas:"...because she had so much energy during our playtime. It wore me out—and made me quite hungry. I was planning on going to the kitchen for a snack... when someone, ended up stepping on one of her toys."
She laughed nervously, ducking down in her chair.
Louise:"Oopsie."
Their mother sighed.
Amelia:"Louise."
He froze mid-bite, fork halfway to his mouth. The moment the words left his lips, he realized his mistake.
Thomas:"—Sigh— It took us one hour to stop her from crying... It's a good thing that you created a butterfly, Lena. I don't know how you did it... but good job!"
Silence.
Then— their mother's voice cut through like silk over steel
Amelia:"Lena... created a butterfly?"
Thomas' eyes widened. He slowly looked up—first at Lena and Louise glaring daggers at him—and then at James, who merely leaned back with a long, resigned sigh.
A beat passed.
Louise:"Thomas... you idiot."
She whispered under her breath, while James didn't flinch. He set down his fork with calm authority and met Amelia's questioning gaze head-on.
James:"I'll explain after dinner."
His wife studied him for a long moment—then nodded slowly, her expression softening but still sharp with curiosity.
Amelia:"...Alright."
The rest of the meal carried on under a thick, awkward silence. The clinking of cutlery echoed louder than usual. No one dared to speak—not even Louise, who usually filled the air with endless chatter.
Lena kept her eyes down, poking at her mashed potatoes like they held secrets. Thomas regretted everything. James ate like a man preparing for battle.
And Amelia?
She sipped her tea... waiting.
Because in the Dunham house, after-dinner explanations were never just about butterflies.
***
AT JAMES OFFICE
In the dimly lit study, the fire crackling low in the hearth, James finished his tale—of sword dances, glowing streaks, and pink butterflies born from emotion and motion.
A heavy silence followed. Then Louise broke it with wide-eyed wonder.
Louise:"So... Lena can create butterflies!?"
She leaned forward across James' desk like she expected Lena to summon one on command. Thomas stared at his sister with newfound awe. Even Amelia's calm demeanor cracked—just a little—as her eyes flickered toward Lena's now-normal-looking pink streak.
Lena shifted uncomfortably under their stares... but deep down?
A tiny spark flickered—not magic this time—but pride.
Maybe being different wasn't so scary after all. James crossed his arms, the shadows from the firelight shifting across his face.
James:"It was indeed surprising... Her pink streak glowing and her eyes? It's clear that whatever Lena has... it's potent."
His son jumped in, excitement and confusion warring for dominance on his features.
Thomas:"But what do we do? I mean, her power is extraordinary!"
He leaned forward, voice dropping like the flame beside him had whispered a secret.
James:"...Beautiful, yes—but I feel like there's more to her powers than meets the eye."
The room stilled. Even Louise stopped fidgeting. The crackle of the fire seemed too loud now. Amelia's fingers curled gently around Lena's hand.
Amelia:"You felt it too? That energy... it wasn't just magic. It was alive. Like it had... intention."
Her husband nodded slowly.
James:"The way the butterfly went straight to Mona—like it knew what to do? That wasn't random."
Thomas:"So... is Lena some kind of mage now? A spirit dancer? A chosen one?"
Lena blinked at them all—suddenly feeling less like a girl with a pink streak and more like a mystery waiting to unfold.
And somewhere deep inside?
Something stirred again... softly glowing in rhythm with her breath.
Like it was listening. Amelia knelt beside Lena, her voice soft—gentler than the flicker of the firelight.
Amelia:"Lena... how do you feel?"
The room turned to her. Quiet. Waiting. Lena looked down at her hands, then up at her mother's face—so full of love and quiet strength.
Lena:"I don't know, I was born without magic... I never thought I'd be different like this."
She paused, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Lena:"But... I don't hate it."
Her eyes flicked to where the butterfly had vanished earlier.
Lena:"To be honest... I agree with Father. They're... beautiful."
Her voice faded into a quiet warmth—and then, without warning, it happened. Her pink streak flared to life, soft and radiant.
Her eyes shimmered with the same gentle glow.
And there—perched on her fingertip—a single butterfly appeared in a flicker of light, delicate wings pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
No dance.
No sword.
Just her—and the quiet truth of what she was becoming.
The room held its breath. Then Louise squeaked
Louise:"...She did it again! On purpose this time!"
Their father smiled warmly at the glowing butterfly, then at his daughter—tired but radiant.
James:"Since your powers aren't dangerous," he said gently, "I don't see a reason to hide them. You should practice... it might help you more than you think in the future."
She nodded slowly, the glow in her hair and eyes dimming as the butterfly fluttered once... then dissolved into soft sparkles. A tiny yawn slipped out before she could stop it.
Lena:"Yay...I'm sleepy..."
Her words wobbled like a child's lullaby—half-formed and full of warmth. Amelia stood and wrapped an arm around her gently.
Amelia:"Come on, little sparrow, Lena let's get you to bed."
Thomas/Louise:"Us too".
Both Thomas and Louise started yawning too, the day finally catching up to them. James chuckled, shaking his head.
James:"Everyone, please go to your rooms,"
He said, his voice warm with the affection that only a father could carry.
James: "It's way too late."
The siblings slowly nodded, their heads drooping like flowers under a heavy rain. Louise leaned over to give Lena a sleepy hug. Thomas ruffled her hair one last time before they all turned to leave—drowsiness making their movements slow and clumsy.
The siblings mumbled their sleepy good nights and left the room with weary steps. The silence settled over the study again like a blanket, the fire casting dancing shadows across the walls. James stood there, lost in thought, as the memories of the night washed over him. After a long moment, he turned to Amelia—her gaze meeting his like a quiet question.
James:"...I have a feeling things are about to get interesting."
Amelia:"More than interesting, I think."
She smiled at that, fingers still laced with his. Amelia's fingers tightened around his, a quiet concern still in her eyes.
Amelia:"But is it really okay for her to not hide her powers?"
He gave her hand a comforting squeeze.
James:"We can't have her hide forever, It'll only cause more harm than good."
He looked back at the closed door the children had disappeared through, a soft smile touching his lips
James:"And besides... her powers are quite harmless. She's not creating poisonous spiders or anything... just a little... beauty."
His wife's breath caught like a trapped butterfly in her chest. Her fingers squeezed James, seeking comfort in the familiar touch.
Amelia:"I know... but what if something happens to her?"
He looked into his wife's eyes and sighed. He pulled her closer, holding her like a promise.
James:"She needs to stand on her own, Amelia, We can't protect her forever. She's growing up. Our little girl is becoming a woman. And she's got her own wings now."
Amelia:"You're right, we can't protect her forever but... if something really happens to her I don't know what to do!".
She covered her face in distress. Already imagining what kind of horrors that her daughter had to face. Amelia's voice cracked, fragile as glass.
Amelia:"You're right... we can't protect her forever. But if something really happens to her, I don't know what I'd do!"
Her hands flew to her face, shielding tears she hadn't let fall in years. Her mind raced—visions of battles, betrayal, a world far crueler than the one inside these walls. James pulled her into his arms without a word.
He held her tight as the firelight danced across their shadows—two parents clinging not just to each other, but to the truth they both feared: Their daughter was stepping into magic... and magic always has consequences.
But after a long silence, he whispered:
James:"She won't be alone. She has us. And she has something even stronger now."
He pulled back just enough to look into Amelia's eyes.
James:"She has herself."
He held his wife tightly, his hands rubbing soft circles into her back.
James:"You're right,"
He said, his voice steady but gentle. Then sighed and thought of the challenges ahead.
James:"She will face more obstacles as she grows, We can only hope she makes friends who will guard her when we can't."
She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering.
Amelia:"And love. I hope she finds love."
James:"Let's just pray for her"
They knelt in front of the fire, hands woven together in a silent plea. The flames licked the air, casting the room in a warm glow. For each silent prayer whispered between them, a promise was woven—not just for safety, but for happiness and courage.
The future was quiet, hidden like a butterfly in a chrysalis.
Only time would tell how Lena's story unfolded... but one thing was for certain:
The path to her destiny was just beginning.