Cateline had never ached the way she ached today. Not once had her fragile bones been distorted in the way they had been, never had something of such power grasp onto her and divide her into two opposing elements.

Only four days after awakening was she told to get out of bed, and that the Mistress was calling for her. The Princess was hardly scarred from her accident, but it still felt like a ton of bricks had smashed against her bones repeatedly until she was left a broken mess. Each step she took across the academy was slow and uneven, her right leg limping with her strides.

As she turned a corner, her eyes rested on Thaddius and Varin who sat on an old wooden bench. Varin looked weak in the eyes, his strong stare now replaced with one that looked deprived of sleep. Thaddius, on the other hand, looked as he always did with his bright and dramatic expressions. The satyr shrugged his shoulders in response to whatever Varin was saying before turning his head, his gaze widening at the sight of Cateline. As she approached them, she used the stone walls to support her.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Thaddius said with a grin. Varin looked at her with an unimpressed grimace, shaking his head.

“You look weak still, what are you doing up and about?”

“Leolina wanted to speak with me,” Cateline responded. The two of them furrowed their brow towards her before nodding. Thaddius’s lips twitched before he let out a sigh.

“Well, consider yourself lucky.”

“Or incredibly unlucky,” Varin shot back. “The Mistress only calls those in who are deemed worthy… or dead!”

Cateline let out a dry laugh, her eyes flickering between the two of them in hopes either of them would chime in with the fact that they were joking. Unfortunately, each of them looked at her with straight mouths and uninterested stares.

“Well, I’ve survived plenty in the past. What is another obstacle to tackle?”

“You won’t be tackling much of anything,” Varin said with a sigh, standing to his feet. When he raised, his eyes narrowed and he sucked in a breath. “I have to go lay down. Consider yourself lucky, Cateline. Not many would see another day after that little mishap of yours.”

Cateline scoffed, watching as the man walked by her while holding the bridge of his nose. Every word he said to her seemed to drip with scorn as if he doubted her ability to do much of anything.

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just having a day, it seems magic isn’t on the poor Lord’s side today.”

Humming, she walked past the satyr without response and hobbled towards the library. Cateline was met with the Mistress’s back facing her, a pile of old books scattered across the table she stood in front of.

"I am glad you are walking again, Cateline.”

Leolina turned her head just enough to reveal her profile, her angular cheekbones reaching outward as if to meet the point of her ears. Those golden irises glowed against the candlelit torches, the flame’s shadows cavorting across her pale skin. Cateline cleared her throat in response, shuffling towards a seat to give her back a rest.

"I have been studying,” Leolina continued. “There haven’t been cases of mana taking flight in the way it has with you, Princess Cateline.”

“I don’t think you would have to do much research to figure that, Leolina. What is it you called me here for?”

The Mistress turned to face her head-on, her expression narrowed at her fiery response. “I need you to tell me exactly what your parents have done to you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Leolina let out a cackle that vibrated against the walls, echoing throughout Cateline’s ears in an irritating ring. The Elf thought Cateline was fibbing, telling a tale of deceit. “Listen closely, Cateline.”

The tall woman walked towards her with a frown, her hands placed behind her back, and eyes glistening with a curious twinkle. Cateline gulped.

“I am not one to stand idly in the face of deceit. The power you hold is great, but yet you cannot master it—even when placed in the masterful arms of Aiora. Instead, your body attempts to vanquish itself. Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Mistress.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Still so dubious, I see. Let us pretend you truly do not know the answer to my question, and instead focus on the way your parents reacted when they first found you had magic within you?”

Cateline trailed each of her words, and although she was being condescended and doubted, she felt a draw towards her every syllable. Her formalities felt familiar, reminded the Princess of home, but there was this aura about the Mistress that resembled ambiguous strength.

“I was only a child,” Cateline responded after hesitation. “They had doctors come in and out for years until I was safe.”

“Doctors?”

Cateline nodded. The Mistress hummed and walked away from her, opening one of the ancient encyclopedias that rested atop the table. She turned a few pages, her long fingernails trailing the text written on the paper before nodding curtly.

“Perhaps it is true you do not know, Cateline. There is much to discover.”

Cateline furrowed her brow. Leolina was so eloquent, yet almost awkward, with her wording. Every sentence seemed more rhetorical than inquisitive, like she was a walking riddle.

Leolina picked up a golden goblet that laid on the center of the table. She swirled around whatever liquid was inside and wafted the scent, her eyes closing as the aroma took over. Cateline cleared her throat and pinched the fabric of her gown in an attempt to make sure this wasn’t all some strange dream. The Elf approached the girl again and rested the goblet on the table to her right, gesturing for Cateline to pick it up.

The Princess first looked at the Mistress with distaste before peering into the chalice. Inside was a green liquid that had embers bouncing across the surface, bubbles arising and popping sporadically.

“And what is this?”

Leolina sighed. “Drink it, Cateline, it has healed many wounded warriors in my days. I need you well so I can figure a way to resolve this issue of yours.”

Cateline was no warrior, she was but a girl who could only freeze the people and items that surrounded her, not to mention that this capability was unreliable at best. When she picked the cup up, the scent overtook her with a wave of putrid stench. It could only be compared to a frog cooked atop a fire, left to rot over a course of three months.

“What is in this?” Cateline asked with her lips pushed together in disgust.

“A few herbs and a spell meant to heal, Cateline. Nobody said magic was pretty. Now, drink up.”

She brought the chalice to her lips and closed her eyes, unsure if she should trust Leolina. She had been nothing but welcoming to the girl and seemed genuine in her attempt to help and understand the issue at hand, but anybody of power would have had to burn a few bridges to get where she was. Leolina was anything but royalty, but she exuded confidence of higher status that could put any aristocrat to shame.

When the liquid touched the skin of her lip, it burned. As it flowed down her throat, it burned. Cateline turned her wrist to look at the vein which glowed green, as if acid was coursing through her veins instead of blood. She let out a wavering breath, looking at the Mistress with fear.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, dear. This is only a side effect, it all will go away with hours.”

“Hours?” Cateline squeaked, her throat dry from the liquid that absorbed any substance of saliva in her mouth. She slammed the chalice on the wooden table and stood, waving her finger in the face of Leolina. “I will come after you if you have poisoned me! And if I cannot, my family will!”

Leolina’s eyes raked down to Cateline’s legs, letting out a chuckle before nodding. “As you wish, Princess. But, before your call to arms is heard, I beg you to consider the pain you feel right now. Or, the lack thereof.”

Cateline choked out a gasp, clenching her hands into fists as she frowned. There was no reason to show distaste towards her words, after all the Mistress was correct. Cateline’s pain that resided in her leg and back had all but disappeared. Still, it was in her nature to loathe the idea of being so reliant on the care of somebody else.

“Drink water, Cateline, and by the end of the evening you should be back to normal with minimal ache. Perhaps it would serve you well to keep that mouth of yours closed a while, anyway. I will call you when I have an answer to your issue of physicians, but I beg that you avoid any sort of magic in the meantime.”