"Come on, Sylvia, this is your last chance to prove you can be of help," Lydia said, her voice sharp.
Her words hit harder than usual today. She meant using my powers, but I couldn't. I didn't know why—I didn't feel anything, not even a spark. I was the only one in the entire kingdom who couldn't wield magic. People whispered behind my back. Some said I was cursed. Others called me a witch, but how could I be cursed if I had no magic to begin with? Every explanation made less sense than the last.
"I can be of help," I said quickly, trying to convince both her and myself. "I can clean and cook, and I'm good with gold. I can… I can manage things. I'm not useless."
Lydia let out a scoffing laugh, sharp and unkind. "Come on, Sylvia. This whole 'I can't use my powers' excuse is just that—an excuse. You can. You will. Or you'll earn the title everyone's whispering about behind your back: useless."
I wanted to hate her for saying it, but deep down, I knew she was half-right. Lydia was my only friend—but sometimes it felt like she was as much an obstacle as anyone else. I could never tell if she truly wanted me to succeed… or just wanted to see me struggle.
"Madam Sylvia, the king would like to see you now," a guard's voice echoed through the hall as Lydia and I entered the castle.
The castle itself was intimidating, more like a living entity than a home. Towering marble pillars reflected the sunlight streaming through enormous stained-glass windows, painting the stone floors with colors that shimmered like liquid. Gold filigree wound up the walls, curling around portraits of long-dead rulers and legendary arcanes. The air smelled faintly of incense and something cold and metallic, like the breath of power.
I stepped into the main hall and froze. The king sat on his throne, towering and cold. His long white hair brushed his shoulders, but it was his eyes that held me—icy blue, sharp as daggers, and piercing through every layer of pretense I'd tried to wrap around myself. His elf ears, adorned with silver piercings, twitched slightly, like he could sense every unspoken thought. And the worst part? He was only five years older than me. Five years. Yet he radiated authority and fear in a way I could never imagine matching.
"H-Hello, my kin—" I started, but my voice faltered.
"You are a powerless elf, correct?" His words were blunt, merciless. I looked down immediately, wishing I could melt into the marble floor.
"Yes," I whispered, my throat tight.
"Then why are you in this kingdom?"
"What?" My brain scrambled. I barely understood the question.
"You heard me," he said, voice flat, unwavering.
"I… I was born here. I'm an Arcane," I stammered, trying to sound brave.
His cold gaze sharpened. "Are you really an Arcane? Last I checked, Arcanes had powers."
A chill ran down my spine. Am I really an Arcane? The thought had never crossed my mind like this before. Trembling, I tried to form an answer, but nothing came.
"Leave. Don't return until you have found a way to use your powers," he said, his voice now carrying the weight of finality.
I froze. For a moment, I thought he simply meant to leave his presence. Then the truth hit me like a jagged rock in a river—I wasn't just being dismissed. I was being banished. Exiled. Cast out from the only home I had ever known.
Where would I go? How could I survive? And why me?
The panic inside me flared hotter and faster than I could control. "Use your powers! I can't! No! No! No!" My mind screamed in chaos. Everything collided—fear, confusion, shame, and despair. My legs moved almost on autopilot as I bolted from the hall.
"NOW!" the king bellowed, and I ran faster than I thought possible. Tears streaked my face, catching the sunlight in quick glimmers as I tore through the castle halls.
Lydia caught up with me outside the massive gates, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly. "Where are you going?" she called, breathless.
"I'm leaving," I said, barely able to speak. "Forever."
"I suppose… so," she said softly, her voice trembling too. "Good luck. Please… come back."
Her words were laced with worry, but I didn't stop. I ran past the golden gates, past the cobbled streets, the market stalls, and the bustling townsfolk who glanced at me with shock and curiosity. Somewhere deep down, I knew Lydia cared—but I couldn't stop. Not yet.
As I ran into the dark woods surrounding the kingdom, the shadows seemed to wrap around me like a cloak. The trees whispered, the wind hummed against my ears, and the path ahead was uncertain. The forest… the forest knew my name. Somehow, it felt like it was calling me forward, beckoning me into the unknown.
As I stumbled deeper into the forest, the shadows thickened and the air grew colder. Then, out of nowhere, a faint glow appeared between the twisted trees—a light that pulsed as if it had a heartbeat. My heart raced. Could it be magic? I hadn't felt anything like it before. Hesitant, I stepped closer, and the glow flared brighter, almost like it was calling my name. Sylvia… The whisper wasn't in my head, not entirely. It was alive. And in that moment, I realized something terrifying—and thrilling—was waiting for me. Something that might finally change everything.