Aiora was polishing a sword outside of Gerard’s home, the metal only a dull glow from the enchantment that was fading. Her eyes wandered the greenery that surrounded, the subtle splash of water kissing the shoreline in the distance. He lived away from the town, nestled into the woods alongside the lake that lived in fog. Nobody dared to venture into this forest, most notably due to the ignorance of villagers and Sirs who didn’t understand the differences between this stretch of greenery and the whispering woods. To a guard defending his homeland from the unknown, anything that went beyond Lighthelm was evil and not to be ventured into unless ordered. This was good for Aiora’s friend, Gerard, who preferred the serenity of birds chirping and waves rippling.

Just a few yards north, across a shallow river and a decrepit bridge, was a stretch of land that was seemingly inhabited. Those who were so courageous to explore the whispering woods hardly returned in one piece, and those that did had lost the sanity that made them human. Rumor said that area was only for the brothers and sisters who had been banished by their kings and queens, waiting to resurrect the power within and take back the land that had them exiled.

Rumors were often more exciting than reality, though, and Aiora oftentimes spent her free time with Gerard in hopes his wisdom would bleed answers. More often than not, his words led to nonsense and further confused the experienced mage.

Setting the sharp weapon on the bench, Aiora stood and walked towards the wooden home, the windows radiating a blue hue as her mentor finished the potion he had been brewing for the past few hours. When she walked inside, the aroma of potatoes and lavender filled her airways, creating a recoiling reaction to cross her features.

“I do not believe flowers and potatoes go well together, Gerard.”

“Ah,” he snapped with a toothy grin, one of his teeth missing and the others crooked. “Thank you for reminding me, Aiora. I nearly forgot about my potatoes.”

He crossed back into the adjacent room, stirring the stew that roasted over a fire before removing it from heat. Aiora rested her focus on a cauldron that was centered in the room, the smoke shifting from green to gray as it dissipated into the air. She walked towards it, the lavender scent growing stronger and transitioning into hints of woodsy musk that made her nose scrunch. She knew little of potion-making but took every opportunity to learn more when she was around Gerard. Oftentimes, he preferred preoccupying his time brewing herbs over casting spells. Whenever she inquired why he refused to answer.

“What is it you are brewing now, Gerard?”

“Lavender, clearly, with the roots of ginger—though, I added a bit of mug worm for a bit of protein,” he joked with a wink. “It is a potion for clarity, my dear. It is for you and your future adventures.”

“What of my future adventures, Gerard?” Aiora said with a grin. Gerard snatched the decaying leaf from the Mistress’s enchanted plant, returning it to her grasp with care.

“The ones to come, of course. You have to keep it near you at all times.”

She rubbed the leaf between her thumb and forefinger, watching as bits of it crumbled apart and fell to the floor. “You said you worried the Mistress was taking Cateline under her wing with ill intent. What made you say this?”

He side-eyed her before sitting at a wooden table, sipping at his stew before answering. “I told you she didn’t need to use a plant to create an object that circulated such power like that. She can use anything, but she needs a source. Often, mages use something of magical nature to source their spells and enchantments. Those objects will die out, though, leaving behind a useless host that no longer does what it was intended to do.”

“In this scenario, the plant?”

He nodded. “Precisely, Aiora. I have known the Mistress for a while, she is not evil, but she has goals.”

Aiora stepped across the room and rubbed the binds of ancient potion crafting books, dust coating her fingertips. “How did you and she meet?”

When Aiora turned to look at Gerard, he was smiling at her with a bit of potato stuck in the middle of his bottom teeth. “A curious cat today, you are. Why must you know?”

“A manipulative witch mentoring the inexperienced is one thing, but if I want to make sure Traburg is safe, I need to know why you do not trust her. You took me under your wing, and if I can do the same for Cateline I will.”

His smile faded before he cleared his throat. “We met during a time of battle. She and I were two mages responsible for giving the kingdom a competitive edge, a young pair inexperienced enough to do dangerous magic without question. Once we explored this power, and harnessed the idea of light and dark energy, we differed greatly. It caused conflict, and each time Leolina pushed towards something more dangerous in nature, she masked her intentions behind the idea of light magic. I believe her mind is skewed, but once I found she would never come to realize her faults, I left.”

Aiora sat across from him, her eyes wide. “What battle? Surely, it was not…”

“It was. You forget how old of a man I am,” he said with a roaring laugh. “The Forbidden War was long ago, and it mustn’t be spoken of at Lighthelm. I fear what Leolina will do if she finds you know of her involvement.”

“The Mistress has never talked of her time in battle.”

“What has she talked of?”

Aiora remained silent, pursing her lips before nodding. It was true that Leolina refused magic in the eyes of her scholars, only awakening her groundbreaking power when danger reared its ugly head. With such discipline and reserved communication, Aiora would have never expected Leolina to be a warrior. Her stomach churned, and the skin of her arm raised into goosebumps as she wondered what happened between Gerard and Leolina, what political torment they had experienced in the war that happened nearly four decades ago.

Without much of a word, Aiora stood and bid Gerard a farewell. Before she left, he bottled a vial of the potion and handed it to her with a string through the cork. He instructed her to wear it, but only when her ‘pursuit towards adventure’ began. She left, but not without nervous chuckles as he spoke nonsense of what was to come. Aiora sometimes wondered why it was she agreed to be mentored by such an old, misspoken man.

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

When she arrived back to town, she made way towards Lighthelm and watched as the residents closed their storm shutters and doors, the sun shining between the mountain peaks, setting into the horizon. As she approached the gates of Lighthelm, a woman and two men stood alongside the entrance, their arms crossed and their eyes frozen on Aiora, breathing in her every move as if their lives were dependent on it.

The girl, with her long blonde hair and glowing eyes, took a step forwards and waved her hand, each finger curling as her lip tugged into a smile. Aiora slowed her pace, but when she felt the urge to turn and walk the opposite direction, her feet stuck to the ground like boulders. The women before Aiora laughed, finally taking long strides until she was just inches from Aiora.

“Hello, Aiora. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Unfortunately, it seemed your friends had less than cordial introductions.”

“Friends? Who are you?” Aiora attempted to say but hissed with narrowed eyes as no sound permeated into the air. The woman’s green eyes never faltered from Aiora’s, cocking her head as if she heard the soundless response.

“I am Arabelle, I am from the Kingdom of Theaven.”

Aiora clenched her hands into fists, her muscles tensing with each move she attempted to make. It was like she was frozen in time, the world around her still and motionless. Theaven was not a Kingdom Aiora had ever heard of, and she doubted the legitimacy of this woman. She appeared more of a ghoul, or ruse, than a living person.

“I have been watching over Lighthelm for many years, awaiting my time to build a team of warlocks and witches. I think I finally have them, and it is so fortunate they all came together all at once. How convenient for me, Aiora.”

The woman circled her like a hawk, each word oozing out like a lullaby that eased her anxieties. The hoods of her eyes grew heavy, and the only thing keeping her from falling over was the spell they had cast on her to keep her still.

“You will serve well in the coming months, Aiora. I will return soon with what you need to do next, but for now, you will remain silent. You will tell nobody about this.”

The word silent echoed throughout Aiora’s mind, her entire world turning black as she felt her knees gave way, falling to the ground with a thud. The leaves around her crunched, the footsteps distancing before everything grew still, the silence somehow reassuring her that she would be alright. That the woman, Arabelle, was a figment of her imagination and not a reason to fear for her life.