The morning air was cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of wet grass and blooming wildflowers. Sunlight poured over the mountain ridges, casting bright patches on the slopes and the wooden beams of the small house near the summit. The house stood alone, its walls aged and rough from years of weather, isolated from any other settlement. Smoke rose steadily from its chimney, smelling faintly of burning wood, and the soft whistle of the wind rattled the loose shutters. Around the house, the clearing was dotted with patches of wildflowers and short grass, the ground still damp from the morning dew.
A young girl stood in the open area beyond the house. The spring breeze caught her orange hair, tossing it across her face and neck. She raised a hand to push it aside and inhaled deeply, feeling the fresh air fill her lungs. Her muscles tensed as she exhaled and then relaxed briefly before she opened her eyes. Her irises glowed crimson, reflecting the sunlight directly into the clearing.
Ahead, multiple targets were set at different distances. Some lay flat on the grass, wooden boards painted with black circles, while others were tied to the branches of dead trees, swaying lightly in the wind. She adjusted her stance, pressing her feet into the soft soil, and stretched her arm forward.
Heat surged up her arms and prickled at her fingertips as flames suddenly erupted, engulfing both of her hands. The air around them shimmered with intense heat, and the flames licked her skin without burning it. She took a sharp breath, narrowing her focus, and the wild fire condensed, coiling tightly around her fingers. With a precise motion, she shot the concentrated fire forward. Each projectile streaked through the air and struck its mark, hitting the boards or branches. Smoke billowed immediately, carrying the sharp scent of burning wood and dry leaves. Birds scattered from nearby bushes at the sudden burst of heat and sound.
When the last target burned, she lowered her arm, feeling the residual warmth fade from her hand. She inhaled slowly, letting her heart rate settle. Her eyes returned to their natural crimson color, no longer glowing. The breeze carried away the smoke, leaving the quiet sounds of the mountain—rustling grass, distant bird calls, and the faint whistle of wind around the isolated house.
She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, still feeling the faint warmth lingering in her fingertips. She turned toward the house, and there, standing in the doorway, was a middle-aged woman. Her hair was streaked with gray but tied back neatly, and her eyes were calm yet sharp. She gave the young girl a small, approving nod.
"Yes! Finally—I controlled my flames! Awesome!" Nora exclaimed, her voice bright and slightly breathless. She bounced on her toes, the exhilaration of success making her chest tighten in excitement.
"You've done well, Nora," the woman said, her tone steady and warm. She gestured toward the doorway. "Come inside and eat breakfast. You need energy after all that work."
"Yes, Master Morgana," Nora replied, a broad grin still on her face as she started toward the house. The ground beneath her boots was soft with morning dew, and each step released the faint scent of wet grass.
Master Morgana held the door open, letting a wave of warm air drift out. Inside, the smell of freshly baked bread and simmering stew filled the space. The wooden floor creaked lightly as Nora stepped in, and the faint crackle of the hearth mixed with the occasional rattle of the shutters from the breeze outside.
The kitchen was simple but inviting—a small table set with bowls, plates, and steaming food. Nora's stomach gave a loud growl at the sight, making her cheeks flush slightly. She couldn't remember the last time breakfast had looked so good after a morning of training.
Morgana closed the door behind them, shutting out the cool mountain air. For a moment, all Nora could think about was the comforting warmth, the smell of food, and the quiet satisfaction of progress well-earned.
"Wow, this looks so amazing," Nora said, practically drooling as she slid into the chair. "Well then… time to dig in!"
She tore a piece of bread from the loaf, the crust warm and slightly crisp beneath her fingers. Steam escaped as she bit into it, and her eyes widened. "Mmm—this is tasty! And the bread is so fluffy!" she said between mouthfuls.
She dipped the rest of the piece into the steaming bowl of stew, the rich aroma of herbs and slow-cooked vegetables filling her nose. Taking a spoonful, she let the savory broth coat her tongue, the warmth spreading through her chest. "This stew is amazing, too," she added with a grin before taking another eager bite.
"You have really grown up, haven't you… my dear little Nora," Morgana muttered to herself with a faint smile as she watched her apprentice eat.
But as her eyes lingered on the girl, her thoughts grew heavier. Sadly enough… it's time.
After they finished their meal and cleaned up the table, Morgana called Nora outside. The breeze carried the scent of the forest into the clearing, and the soft crunch of grass came under their boots as they stepped away from the house.
"You wanted to speak with me, Master?" Nora asked, her head tilting slightly.
"Yes, I do," Morgana said, her voice calm but tinged with something harder to read. "I wanted to tell you that your training has been a success. And… there is nothing more left for me to teach you, Nora."
Nora's crimson eyes blinked in confusion. "What do you mean by that, Master?"
Morgana's gaze softened, though her words carried a quiet finality. "After all these years we've spent together… it's time to say goodbye."
Nora's posture stiffened. "Wait—slow down a bit! Where are you going, Master Morgana?"
"As you should have known by now, it's my calling to guide lost witches," Morgana said, her tone steady but firm, "just like you once were—those who had lost hope, who filled their hearts with hatred, and who nearly plummeted into the despair of this corrupted world… both fiends and humans alike."
Her eyes held Nora's, unflinching. "Even though the Netherworlder's blood runs through your veins, you are now fully able to keep the gifts it brings under control. And remember—no matter if they classify you as a witch, or as a fiend—it is only your heart that shows who you truly are."
"This is all so sudden… and I'm at a loss for words," Nora said quietly, her voice trembling. "But I'm grateful for everything you've done, Master. Not only did you save me from darkness, take me in, and raise me from a very young age… but you also gave me the strength and the chance to save my little brother."
Her crimson eyes softened, though her tone carried a faint ache. "It will be really lonely without you in my life."
"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure you'll find company better than me," Morgana said with a faint smile.
""That's a lie and you know it," Nora said, forcing a smile. "No one cooks like you, and you know I can't even boil water without setting something on fire."
"At a time like this, you still think of your stomach?" Morgana chuckled, shaking her head.
Her expression then turned serious. "Well… it's time for me to go. But before I leave, I want to remind you of something I told you many years ago. The only witches who exist today are female—our bodies can withstand the blood of the Netherworlders. Men, however, die shortly after birth. That means there's next to zero chance your brother is still alive. So… will you still go searching for him knowing that?"
Nora's reply was immediate. "That means I still have a chance. "Then it's not nothing. And if it's not nothing… it's enough."
Morgana's lips curved slightly, as if she'd expected the answer. "I thought you might say that. Then I can only hope you do find your brother. Please be careful—the place you're going is crawling with fiends."
"Farewell, Nora."
A bright light enveloped Morgana's form, and within seconds she vanished into the air.
Nora's shoulders dropped. "There she goes again… and this time, she won't be back." Her voice was quiet, but determined. "Always disappearing in the blink of an eye… I don't even get the time to say goodbye."
She straightened, looking out at the mountains beyond. "Well… I guess I'll start my own journey, and venture beyond these peaks." Her hands clenched into fists then she exhaled with a crooked grin. "Wait for me, Soren. I will definitely save you." Her voice had a lilt to it, almost teasing, as if daring the world to try and stop her. The spring air felt lighter somehow, and she gave a little bounce on her heels before marching forward.