Elara's POV
The tomato plant died in my hands.
I knelt in the dirt, staring at the withered stem that had been green just yesterday morning. Around me, my entire garden was turning brown and brittle, like someone had sucked the life right out of the soil.
My stomach growled so loud it hurt.
Three copper coins left. That's all the money I had in the world. Not enough for bread. Not enough for anything.
I pressed my dirty hands against my face and tried not to cry. Crying wouldn't help. Nothing helped anymore.
You're pathetic, I could hear Adrian's voice in my head, sharp and cruel. No wonder your magic abandoned you.
Three years. It had been three whole years since the worst day of my life.
I could still see it so clearly—standing on the ceremonial platform in my white dress while hundreds of people watched. The Coming of Power ceremony, where every twenty-three-year-old in the kingdom revealed their true magical ability. My parents stood in the front row, beaming with pride. My fiancé Adrian held my hand. My younger sister Seraphina gave me an encouraging smile.
The High Mage called my name. "Elara Thorne, daughter of the great magical researchers Marcus and Helena Thorne. Show us your power."
I'd reached deep inside myself for the golden magic I'd felt my whole life. I'd prepared for this moment for years.
Nothing happened.
I tried again. And again. Desperate, terrified, I grabbed for any spark of power.
Still nothing.
The crowd's whispers started soft, then grew louder. I heard someone laugh. My mother's face went pale. My father looked confused, then disappointed.
Adrian dropped my hand like I'd burned him.
"I can't marry someone without magic," he announced right there on the platform, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Our engagement is over."
He walked away. Just like that. Three years of promises, gone in three seconds.
The ceremony officials declared me powerless. Broken. The first Thorne in five generations without magic.
I'd run off that platform and kept running until I couldn't breathe.
Seraphina found me crying behind the ceremonial hall. She hugged me tight and whispered, "Don't worry, sister. I'll take care of everything."
I thought she meant she'd help me.
I was so, so stupid.
Six months later, our parents died in a "magical accident" in their laboratory. At the inheritance meeting, I learned that Seraphina got the family estate, the research archives, the fortune—everything except this cottage. This forgotten, falling-apart cottage on the edge of the dangerous Veil forest that nobody wanted.
"You understand, don't you?" Seraphina had said sweetly, while her eyes gleamed with triumph. "You can't handle the family legacy without magic. I'm doing you a favor, really."
Adrian started courting her two weeks after the funeral.
Now here I was, alone and starving, with dead plants and three copper coins.
I stood up on shaky legs and looked at the sun setting behind the dark Veil forest. The trees there were twisted and wrong, full of dangerous magic that leaked into my land. That's why the cottage was worthless. That's why my garden was dying no matter how hard I worked.
Tonight was different though. Tonight I was desperate enough to try something crazy.
I stumbled into my cottage and pulled out my grandmother's old spell book from its hiding place under the loose floorboard. My hands trembled as I flipped through the yellowed pages.
There. A simple summoning spell to call helpful forest spirits. They could cleanse magical corruption from land and help things grow.
I'd tried magic exactly once since the ceremony—a tiny spell to light a candle. It had failed, and I'd been too scared to try again.
But I was out of options. No magic meant no food meant death anyway.
"Please," I whispered to the empty cottage. "Please let this work."
I gathered everything the spell needed: salt for the circle, lavender from my dying herb patch, a bowl of water from my well. As twilight deepened into night, I carried everything outside to the garden.
The full moon was rising, huge and silver.
My hands shook so bad I could barely draw the salt circle. I arranged the lavender and water exactly like the book showed. Then I knelt in the center and pressed my palms against the earth.
The spell words felt strange in my mouth, old and powerful: "By moon and earth and growing things, I call for help. Send me aid to heal this land. Send me protection. Send me hope."
At first, nothing happened.
Then I felt it—a stirring deep inside my chest, like something waking up after a long sleep. Not the golden magic I remembered. This was different. Silver and wild and huge.
Too huge.
"No, no, wait—" I gasped, but the power was already pouring out of me, flooding into the circle.
The salt lines exploded with blinding silver light. The ground beneath me shook. Magic erupted from my hands in waves I couldn't control.
This wasn't right. The spell was only supposed to summon a tiny garden sprite. But the magic flowing through me felt massive, like I'd opened a door to something enormous.
The light grew brighter and brighter until I had to close my eyes. Wind that shouldn't exist whipped my hair around my face. The air crackled with so much power it made my teeth hurt.
Then suddenly—silence.
The light vanished. The wind stopped.
I opened my eyes slowly, afraid of what I'd done.
A man stood in the center of my garden.
Not a garden sprite. A man. Tall and dangerous-looking, dressed in black robes embroidered with silver symbols I recognized from my childhood: the mark of the High Battle Courts.
His eyes were cold and dark as winter ice. Magic crackled around his clenched fists like barely controlled lightning.
When he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet.
"What. Have. You. Done?"