Pearline ran through the forest, breath ragged, branches whipping past her as the world blurred. Elysia clung to her back, limp and bleeding, and Pearline's cheeks were soaked with tears.
If anyone had seen her then—just a child—they'd wonder how she was moving so fast. But it wasn't just fear that drove her. It was the blood of a Selus, strong and wild, and the legacy of a magician elf, threaded through her soul like starlight. That, and the sheer terror of losing the only family she had left.
Somewhere along the frantic run, without Pearline realizing, strands of her dark pink hair began turning pale—fading to pinkish white one by one, like a candle burning itself out.
Her head pounded. A piercing ache bloomed behind her eyes, but she pushed through it, feet flying over roots and stone.
Then—she stumbled.
Her knees hit the ground hard, and she gasped, clutching at the grass as Elysia slipped off her back with a soft thud.
"No—no, no, no..." Pearline crawled to her. "Elysia!"
She gently turned her over, hands trembling, eyes wide with panic. The wound on Elysia's side was deep, and the blood hadn't stopped. Pearline pressed her small hands over it, desperate to stop the flow.
"It's okay," she whispered, voice cracking. "You're gonna be fine. Just hang on, okay? Hang in there."
Through tears, Pearline began to whisper the healing spell she knew. Her father had taught it to her once.
Light shimmered beneath her palms—soft, pinkish white—but her body trembled. The spell pulled energy from her far too quickly. The spell demanded energy more than her little frame could give.
Her vision swam, and her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.
"Please... don't go," she kept whispering. "Please, please..."
Her magic flickered. Her fingers were numb. Her head tilted forward.
No. Not now.
"I... need to stay awake... I nee—"
The world tilted.
Darkness pressed in.
And Pearline collapsed beside her sister, unconscious, the forest swallowing the sound of their breathing... the light in her hair still fading to white.
.
.
"Guess you girls are lucky..."
The voice was low, almost amused, as it cut through the haze of unconsciousness. The woman stood over the two girls, her sharp eyes scanning them, especially the one with hair slowly turning a pale white. Her gaze lingered on Pearline.
She crouched down, placing a hand gently on Pearline's forehead. The color shifting from dark strands to a ghostly pale white, creeping slowly from the scalp to the tips. "you were scared huh?" she whispered.
.
.
.
As Pearline slowly opened her eyes, confusion clouded her thoughts. She was no longer in the forest, no longer battling to keep herself and Elysia alive. The room she found herself in was simple yet comforting, a quiet space with soft lighting and the gentle rustling of wind outside the window.
She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit her. The soreness in her limbs was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the gnawing worry in her chest. Elysia.
A voice interrupted her thoughts. "You're awake."
Pearline turned toward the sound. A woman stood in the doorway, wearing a simple dress. Her expression was kind but professional.
With glimmer of curiosity in her eyes "Who—" Pearline's voice cracked, still weak. "Who are you?"
The woman bowed her head slightly. "My name is Lira. I'm a servant here in Lady Amira's household."
Pearline tried to sit up again, her hands shaking. "Where's Elysia? Is she... is she okay? Please, I need to know."
Lira stepped forward, a look of sympathy in her eyes. "if you are talking about the elf girl that came in with you then you dont have to worry about her she's being looked after. She's resting right now, just like you were. We've made sure she's comfortable."
Pearline's chest tightened at the mention of Elysia. "I need to see her... now."
Lira's expression softened, and she shook her head gently. "I'm afraid miss but i cannot allow that because any sound in her room will disturb her also you need to rest as well. Lady Amira will speak with you soon, once you've regained your strength. You've both been through a lot, and it's important you take time to heal."
"Who is Lady Amira?" Pearline asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Lira took a deep breath, then sat down at the edge of the bed. Her expression softened, as if trying to find the right words to explain it all.
"Lady Amira," Lira began slowly, "is the heir to one of the most respected and powerful families in this region—the Laventhren family. They are known far and wide for their mastery of wind magic, and their influence in both politics and battle is unrivaled. Their legacy stretches back centuries." The Laventhren family has a unique bond with the wind, which allows them to manipulate air currents, create powerful storms, and even move at incredible speeds. Their techniques are passed down through generations, honed and perfected with each new heir. But more than that, they've chosen a path of protecting the realm and the innocent, not just wielding their power for their own gain."
.
.
Evening had settled over the Laventhren estate, casting long shadows across the quiet hallways. The soft hush of wind whispered against the windows, like a lullaby only the walls could hear.
Pearline sat near the window in her room, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. She stared out at the fading light, but her thoughts were next door—with Elysia.
She had gone to see her, just once, earlier not inside the room, of course. She didn't wanted to disturb her. Instead, she had stood silently outside and looked at her sister through the glass on the door. Elysia looked so fragile, swaddled in blanket, her brown hair spread over the pillow. Pearline had only stayed a moment… then quietly walked away.
Now, she just sat still, heart heavy with thoughts until a gentle knock interrupted the silence.
She turned, startled, just as the door creaked open.
The figure that stepped inside seemed to glide rather than walk. She was tall, graceful, and almost otherworldly in her beauty. Lavender hair tumbled like silk down her back. She wore flowing robes that caught the light like wind dancing over water.
Pearline didn't need to ask—but the question still escaped her lips, barely above a whisper.
"Who… are you?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but not unkind.
"Amira," she said simply.
Pearline's breath caught. So this was her.
"I—I don't know how to thank you," Pearline said, standing slowly, her voice shaking. "You saved my life."
Amira's eyes moved over her carefully, as if reading far more than words could offer.
"It's not much," she replied, her tone quiet but firm. "The least I could do. There were very few survivors in that fire. You and the elf girl… were among the lucky ones."
Pearline's eyes dropped to the floor, her thoughts drifting again to the home she'd lost.
"Some survivors had family in nearby towns… so they left," Amira continued, studying her. "What about you? Do you have anyone else?"
Pearline lowered her gaze, voice barely above a whisper.
"I… I don't know. There's no one left. My family… they were all in the village."
A long silence followed. Amira didn't interrupt—just studied her, quietly.
Then she spoke, voice steady but gentle.
"For now, rest. We'll talk about it later—once you and your sister have recovered."
Pearline nodded
Amira gave a final glance, then she turned and walked out, her presence lingering like a breeze even after the door clicked shut.