Morning light seeped through the half-open window, casting a soft glow over the room as it filtered through the thin curtains left carelessly drawn. The golden hue softened the sharp edges of the wooden furniture, painting everything in gentle warmth. Lamberra stirred around, her eyelids fluttering against the light. She felt her body resist waking up, but slowly she did. The silk blankets draped over her felt too luxurious. It was a far cry from the thin, scratchy one she shared with Amara. The mattress beneath her was absurdly soft, nothing like the hard wooden frame she was used to.

  Lacey’s arm was still slung over her, her breath slow and steady against Lamberra’s shoulder. For a small moment, Lamberra let herself believe she was still dreaming. She let herself indulge in it. The impossible warmth, in the closeness, in the softness that didn’t belong to her, but dreams always end. The dawn swelled into full daylight, and with it came the pull of responsibility. Lacey finally awoke beside her, stretching lazily across the bed with a contented sigh. Her copper hair spilled over the pillow, catching the morning light in strands of molten gold.

  Lamberra sighed, “We should probably get back to our real lives,” she murmured, though there was no urgency in her voice. A reluctant smile tugged at Lamberra’s lips as she reached for her clothes. A foolish part of her hoped Lacey would say something to keep her here just a little longer.

  Lacey rolled onto her side, watching Lamberra with a lazy smirk. “Oh, I know. The knights are probably grumbling in the hall by now,” she said, voice thick with sleep. She yawned, pushing herself up slowly, the silk slipping from her shoulders to reveal golden skin. “If I stay much longer, my father might send a search party.”

  “Same for my Mama, if she could muster one up,” Lamberra replied lamely.

  “From what you’ve told me about her, she definitely could,” Lacey said back with a smile. The casualness of Lacey’s tone was both a comfort and a sting. For all their closeness last night, Lacey could slip so easily back into her world, into the role of the lord’s daughter. Untouchable.

  Lamberra turned to the window, watching as Ashvale stirred to life. Market stalls unfurled their bright awnings like banners. The smell of fresh bread carried through the crisp air. Merchants shouted morning greetings, and children darted between carts, chasing stray dogs.

  Her chest tightened. Mama would be awake by now, pacing, worrying. She’d need a story, something plausible, distant enough to avoid scrutiny. Definitely nothing about what happened last night.

  Lacey watched as Lamberra pulled her tunic over her head with her back facing her. “Be my attendant, Berra.” Lamberra stilled, her hands tightening on the fabric of her sleeves.

  “You don’t belong in the slums forever, you know,” Lacey continued. “There’s a place for you.”

  For a second, Lamberra didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. Lacey’s hand tugged lightly at her sleeve, her touch warm. All Lamberra could do was force a smile. On the inside, the words coiled uneasily. Lacey meant well. But she couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to belong to a place where survival was a daily fight. For now, the slums were her reality, no matter how beautiful last night had been, this wasn’t her life.

  They descended the stairs together, the echoes of their footsteps drowned by the loud thud of the knights escorting them. At the inn’s entrance, they hesitated. Lacey turned to her, expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she pulled Lamberra into a tight embrace. It was long and lingering. Lamberra’s own arms hesitated before returning the gesture, if only briefly.

  Then, just like that, she was gone. Stepping out into the bustling morning streets, her guards flanking her. Lamberra lingered in the doorway for a moment before slipping into the crowd, making the journey home alone. Lamberra noticed her heartbeat slightly up and her hands shaking. She was feeling feelings she had never felt before.

  The streets of Ashvale were already alive with the rhythms of the day. The creak of shop shutters opening with the sharp calls of vendors. The scent of fresh bread drifted through the air, mixing with the earthy dampness of stone and wood. Lamberra wove through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding to familiar faces but keeping her pace brisk. As she approached the entrance of the slums, something darted between the trees on the outskirts of town. Lamberra stopped mid-step, watching. A dark-cloaked figure slipped through the shadows, their movements quick, deliberate, the movements sharp as if they were trained. A prickle of unease crept down her spine. The slums were no stranger to secrets and strange faces, but this felt different. She exhaled, shaking it off. It’s probably nothing, she thought.

  By the time she reached home, the small hut felt foreign as if it no longer belonged to her. The sagging roof seemed lower than she remembered. The patched cloth still clung stubbornly where last spring’s rain had seeped through. She ducked beneath the peeling wooden frame, her shoulders brushing the rough edges as she entered. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of smoke and damp wood and the same cluttered shelves, the same chipped pottery and broken beads. The little treasures that somehow still held on, defiant against time itself. And there, standing in the center of it all, Mama.

  Her arms were crossed, her dark eyes sharp and unreadable. The dark circles beneath them was evidence of another sleepless night. The only thing Lamberra could do was swallow.

  “Where were you all night, Lamberra?” Mama’s voice was low and steady, but heavy with concern.

  Lamberra shrugged, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel. “Stayed over at Belli’s,” she lied smoothly. “It got late, and I figured it was safer to stay than to walk home in the dark.”

  Mama’s gaze flickered toward the window, her lips pressing into a thin line.“I was expecting you to come home,” she murmured. Her fingers twisted the edge of her apron. Revealing her nervous tic. “I was worried sick, not knowing where you were,” her voice faltered and the sharpness disappeared.

  “I know, Mama.,” Lamberra said with her chest aching. She brushed past her, sneaking in the night gown Lacey had given her after the bath. “It won’t happen again,” she called out from her bedroom, placing the gown underneath the mattress she shared with her sister.

  Mama sighed, her shoulders slumping as the tension finally eased. “I’m just trying to keep you safe,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. Her hands fidgeted with the fabric of her apron, twisting it between her fingers as if searching for the right words.

  “One day soon, I’ll explain everything. My reasoning for all of this. I promise.” There was a brief pause, but then, “I’m sorry, too. About last night. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But I need you to trust me.”

  Lamberra left her bedroom and met Mama’s gaze, “Sure, Mama. You don’t need to apologize either.” Lamberra shifted the conversation, needing the tension to pass. “Say, where’s Amara? Has school already started?”

  Mama’s expression brightened just slightly, “It has,” she said, voice lifting. “She’ll be back soon, it’s nearly midday already. Are you hungry?”

  Lamberra shook her head quickly, “Actually, no. Belli practically gave me a feast.” The lie slipped effortlessly into place.

  “Such a sweet girl,” she murmured, her face faded into something almost wistful. Lamberra recognized that look, the way her mother’s thoughts wandered away to another time, another life. She sat down, already bracing herself to hear the story again.

  “Beautiful people,” she murmured, taking on a reverent hush. “The elves were lords once. They sat beside kings on the high council. In a single dark night, the royal army swept through their lands, killing the ones in their sleep who lived at the capital. They left nothing but ash and sorrow in their wake. “But oh, how they fought,” Mama continued, her eyes distant.”

  “They held their ground as fiercely as they could. And when peace came, it came with a price. Stripped of everything they had, they were cast down to live as we do now and forced to fight all future wars.” Mama allowed a brief silence before finally finishing, “they’re lucky to still be here,” she said softly, masking the sadness in her heart with a faint smile.

  “Even now,” Lamberra added, “they carry themselves with such dignity. They’ve held onto a kindness that so many humans have lost. We are lucky to know them.”

  Mama reached over, brushing her fingers through Lamberra’s hair, her touch gentle, familiar and placed a soft kiss on her head. “Oh! Did Belli let you use her bath? That must be the best part of being the leader of the elves in Ashvale.”

  Lamberra chuckled, leaning into her mother’s touch. “It was nice,” she admitted. Lamberra hesitated, but spoke, “Actually, she invited me over again for dinner tonight. That’ll leave more food for you and Amara.”

  “You’re sure she doesn’t mind?” she asked carefully. Her smile faltered and her face filled with skepticism. “Multiple nights is a lot to ask, even from Belli.”

  “You know how she is,” she said smoothly. “Always charitable.”

  “Besides,” Lamberra continued quickly, “is there any work to be done? How are we on money?” The question hung in the air. Mama looked around the small patched-up home as if the answer could be found in the threadbare rugs and rickety furniture.

  She let out a sigh finally saying, “None. Since we had some left over I paid a small debt owed to one of the merchants in town,” she said as if this was her fault. “The garden’s kept us fed so far. I know you and Amara must be tired of eating the same things every day,” her voice dipped, sinking into that quiet resignation Lamberra hated most.

  “Maybe I can ask Mister Finch at the apothecary if he needs me to run a delivery to Siburg,” Lamberra pushed forward, her words rushing to fill the silence. “He pays twenty crowns for a trip down the river path. That will last us a while.”

  Mama’s face immediately tensed, her hands wrung the fabric of her apron tightly.

  “Lamberra, I don’t like you taking that job,” Her voice had turned sharp, almost desperate. “It’s dangerous out there, especially alone. It’s a full day’s walk both ways. You have to stay with Duke overnight. Twice. I don’t trust that man, I never have.”

  “Yes, he’s weird,” Lamberra said, offering a casual shrug. “But it’s a sacrifice worth making. He’s never hurt me or you when you did this.”

  Mama didn’t look convinced. Her hands were slightly shaking as she reached for Lamberra’s, gripping them tightly.

  “My sweet girl,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Me and Amara would be lost without you. If there is a job, take that small sword with you,” Mama said as her grip on Lamberra’s got tighter. “I just want to protect you forever.”

  Lamberra forced a reassuring smile, squeezing her mother’s hands in return. “I’m getting pretty good with it,” she said, letting a spark of false confidence slip into her voice. “Belli’s younger brother has been teaching me.”

  Mama sighed, but Lamberra could see the fight in her eyes wasn’t over.

  “Mama, I’m old enough now,” her voice was firm. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  Mama cupped Lamberra’s chin, tilting her face upward. “You’re stronger now, Lamberra.” There was a pause, a sad and soft smile appeared on Mama’s face, “it shouldn’t have to be this way,” she exhaled slowly, her hands falling away.

  For a moment, Mama’s face turned distant, looking lost in thought. Then, she straightened. “I’ve got to go,” she said suddenly. “I’m heading into town for a little while. Will you wait here for Amara?”

  Lamberra nodded, but something felt odd. However, it wasn’t hers to question. Lamberra exhaled, eager to move past the heavy conversation. “Of course,” she said lightly. “I’ll tidy up and prepare the vegetables for tonight’s meal.”

  Mama’s lips curved into a faint smile, gratitude softening her features. She nodded before slipping out the door, leaving Lamberra alone in the quiet stillness of their home. For a moment, Lamberra simply stood there. The familiar scents of earth and lingering tomato soup from dinner last night wrapped around her, grounding her in something steady, something known. Their home, though small and patched together, was still home, however imperfect it may be. Her home was filled with echoes of love and struggle. Lamberra glanced at the wooden table, its surface scratched and uneven, then began tidying up.

  The frayed blankets were the first to go, folded neatly and placed back underneath the table where they belonged. Dust had settled into the corners, a silent reminder of Amara never doing her chores, but she swept it away with practiced ease. The ceiling’s missing tiles let cold drafts slip through, and every step she took made the floorboards creak beneath her weight.

  When she entered her bedroom, her gaze drifted to Amara’s little corner. A chaotic jumble of drawings, mismatched toys, and colorful trinkets filled the space. It was a complete mess, yet it brought a smile to Lamberra’s face. Amara had a way of finding beauty in the simplest things, truly a gift in this life they have. Lamberra shook off her thoughts and focused on the tasks at hand, letting the rhythm of work quiet her mind.

  Suddenly, the door burst open. “Look what I found!” Amara skidded inside, her cheeks flushed with excitement. A fistful of wildflowers was clutched in her small hands, their reds and yellows vivid against the muted grays of their worn home.

  “They were blooming by the river!” Her voice rang with pride, as though she’d discovered treasure.

  Lamberra turned, a smile tugging at her lips. “Those are beautiful, Amara,” she stepped closer, ruffling her blonde hair. The tough strands slipped through her fingers as Amara giggled, her eyes shining with delight.

  “Mama will love them! Can we put them in water?” Amara bounced on her toes with anticipation.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Of course! Let’s find a jar.” Lamberra led the way to their modest cupboard. Inside, only a few chipped dishes and a single clean jar remained, but it would do. They worked together, filling it with water and arranging the flowers. The earthy scent of the wildflowers momentarily masking the musty aroma of their old home. A vibrant splash of color against the drab surroundings.

  Amara tilted her head, examining their work. “Do you think it looks nice?” she asked, her little voice suddenly gruff and serious.

  “It looks perfect,” Lamberra said with a smirking. “Say, do you still have that crown from yesterday?”

  Amara’s eyes lit up and without saying another word she dashed toward their bedroom, bare feet light against the creaky floorboards. Lamberra chuckled under her breath, “goofy girl.”

  Seconds later, Amara returned, flower crown in hand. With dramatic flair, she placed it on her head, standing tall, “look! I’m the King of flowers!” She spread her arms wide, as if addressing an imaginary court. Lamberra laughed, the sound bright, unguarded. Then, a sudden barrage of questions came from Amara.

  “Where’s Mama? Where were you last night? What’s for dinner? When—”

  “Whoa, whoa! Slow down!” Lamberra held up a hand, grinning.

  “One question at a time, alright?” She counted them off on her fingers. “Mama went to town. I was at Belli’s last night, and I’ll be there again tonight. And for dinner… Mama left out onions, so I’m guessing onion soup.”

  Amara scrunched up her nose. “But why were you at Belli’s? And why are you going back?”

  Lamberra crouched slightly, lowering her voice into a whisper, ““Tell you what. Promise not to make a big fuss, and I’ll take you to Belli’s with me next weekend.”

  Amara lit up. “Deal!” Without hesitation, she darted toward the bedroom again.

  Lamberra barely had time to roll her eyes before calling after her, “Hey! I need you to help clean this room! It’s mostly your stuff cluttering the floor!”

  A dramatic groan came from Amara and something was mumbled but Lamberra couldn’t hear. Lamberra smirked, knowing it was a losing battle. By the time she finished tidying the main room and kitchen, the house had grown quiet. She peeked into their shared bedroom and there she was. Amara lay sprawled across her cot, the flower crown tilted precariously on her head, her soft snores filled the small space. A sound that tugged at Lamberra’s heart. School must’ve worn her out, and unsurprisingly she hadn’t cleaned a thing.

  Lamberra crossed the room, her movements careful, quiet. She gently closed the frayed curtains, dimming the light to a soft glow. Then, she laid down beside Amara, wrapping an arm around her small frame. Amara woke briefly, curling closer with a sleepy murmur.

  “Sissy?” She mumbled, voice barely audible.

  “Shh, sleep, silly girl,” She brushed stray hair from Amara’s face. “We’ll wait for Mama.”

  Lamberra wasn’t sure when she began to drift off. The warmth of Amara against her chest lulled her toward sleep, her thoughts quickly fading. Then, a voice that was soft and fond. “Well, look at these two little doves.”

  Lamberra’s eyes fluttered open as Mama stood in the doorway, her tone warm and full of affection.

  “Mama!” Amara bolted upright, launching herself at her. Lamberra sat up, rubbing her eyes, blinking against the dim light while Mama caught Amara in a hug, laughing.

  Lamberra stretched, letting out a long sigh. “I guess it’s time for me to go,” She stood, shaking off the last threads of sleep. “I’ll try to be back tonight, but if not, I’ll stay with Belli and be home in the morning.”

  Mama’s face tightened briefly, but she nodded. “Be careful, love.” She turned toward Amara, “and you can help me with dinner.”

  “Good luck with her! She didn’t clean a thing!” Lamberra said, calling after them as they made their way to the kitchen.

  A sharp gasp came from Amara and an indignant shout, “Shut up!”

  Lamberra laughed, already reaching for her patched dress hanging by the door. The fabric was rough but familiar, the stitches frayed from years of wear.

  Stepping outside, Lamberra waved goodbye before heading toward Belli’s home. The slum streets hummed with life, the air thick with the mingled scents of damp earth and cooking fires. Familiar faces greeted her with nods and waves, their warmth a small comfort as she wove through the winding paths of the slums. Here, everybody is family.

  The path toward Belli’s home grew quieter as Lamberra veered away from the bustling slum center. She left behind the annoying sounds of haggling voices and children not listening to their mothers. The slums had their own kind of beauty, a rough, enduring beauty, stitched together in cracked walls, patched roofs, and stubborn resilience, but this part of the slums was different.

  Here, the homes stood sturdier, their stone walls stacked with precision, built to withstand the biting winds. Small, well-tended gardens peeked out from behind humble wooden fences. Patches of herbs and flowers bloomed in subdued hues, kissed by the soft golden light of sunset. Cats wove through the narrow alleyways, their sleek forms slipping into shadows. Mothers hung fresh linens to dry, their movements steady, rhythmic, unhurried. The fabric’s bright white stood in stark contrast to the muted tones of the slums. In this small pocket of quiet and fancy, there was one undeniable truth; every soul that lived here was an elf.

  Lamberra’s steps slowed as Belli’s home came into view. It stood apart from its neighbors as a beacon of care, of quiet pride. The cream-colored walls were unblemished and the pale blue shutters, freshly painted, framed the windows like art. A curved cobblestone path led to the wide, polished wooden door, its surface gleaming from years of careful oiling. Flower boxes brimmed with marigolds and delicate purple blossoms, their fragrance gentle in the cooling evening air. At the center of the door, a small brass knocker shaped like a bird gleamed, catching the fading sunlight. It always felt like an invitation.

  Lamberra raised her hand to knock, but before her knuckles could meet the door, it swung open. Belli stood in the doorway, framed by the warm, golden glow of the home behind her. Her bright red hair burned like fire against the soft cream-colored walls while her purple eyes sparkled, lit with surprise and delight.

  “Lamberra!” Her voice was warm, melodic, “Good evening. I wasn’t expecting you to accept my invitation so soon!”

  Always caught off guard by Belli’s brightness, Lamberra offered a small smile, a twinge of self-consciousness creeping in. “Well, we haven’t seen each other in a few months.”

  Her gaze slightly stayed on Belli, she was a little shorter than Lamberra, with strikingly long red hair that tumbled past her waist in thick waves. Her bright purple eyes held a sharpness beneath their warmth, and her slender yet curvy frame always made her stand out. Especially with the way her form-fitting clothes accentuated it in a place where most preferred to blend in, but she is the elfen leader.

  Looking past Belli, Lamberra looked into the welcoming warmth of her home. Compared to her own, it was a different world, it was much richer and softer. Filled with a quiet elegance that spoke of love, effort, and stability. Finally, Lamberra spoke again, “have you been busy?”

  “Very. Come in, please!” Belli stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.

  The moment Lamberra crossed the threshold, she was enveloped by a warmth that was both physical and emotional. The woven rugs beneath her feet were rich with intricate patterns, colored in deep, earthy tones. The wooden furniture gleamed from careful polishing. Bookshelves lined the walls, brimming with parchment, trinkets, and artifacts from faraway places. She couldn’t help but linger, brushing her fingers against the edge of a table as she followed Belli deeper inside.

  “You do this every time you visit,” Belli chuckled. “Sit! Enjoy yourself.”

  “I know I’m sorry,” Lamberra said, smiling at her childhood friend. “So where’ve you been?”

  “I just returned from the capital, Stormhaven,” Belli said, moving toward a desk cluttered with parchment and scrolls. Her hands moved deftly, swiftly, sorting through them with practiced ease. “There’s always so much to do to keep in compliance with the King.”

  Lamberra stood and walked over to Belli, watching her write. “What’s that at the bottom, all the curvy lines?”

  “Oh! That’s my signature. The first one here is Belli, and this one, is Mira,” Belli said while using her feathered pen as a guide.

  Belli Mira. Her name always felt oddly unfamiliar, a piece of her friend’s life that she had never really considered.

  “Mira,” Lamberra said before thinking. “I always forget that’s your last name. It’s beautiful,” she said as she returned to the living room couch.

  Belli’s cheeks warmed, the compliment unexpected. “Thank you,” she said, her voice lifting with genuine delight. She let out a small, sheepish laugh, “I’m sorry for the mess. You caught me finishing up some work. Give me just a moment to tidy this.”

  “Oh, no, I’m the one intruding,” Lamberra said, attempting to dismiss her apology. She placed her hands by the fireplace trying to warm her cold fingers from the evening chill. Lamberra exclaimed the couch’s cushions were embroidered with silver threads, glinting faintly in the soft, flickering light as she made herself more comfortable.

  As Belli resumed her work, Lamberra watched her. Unintentionally captivated, the quick, graceful movements of her hands. The slight furrow of her brow, the flicker of determination in her eyes, there was something weirdly comforting about it.

  “Are you interested in this sort of thing?” Belli asked, breaking the silence.

  Lamberra blinked, “I’d be lying if I said no,” she admitted. Then a slight hesitation, “but you know I never learned how to read or write.”

  Belli’s expression softened as her hands stilled over the parchment. “My father fought hard for education in the slums,” she said, voice tinged with something wistful. “One school. Free for anyone, elf or human.” Belli firmly pressed her lips together before saying, “It was one of the things he strongly believed in.”

  Lamberra shrugged, forcing her voice lighter. “Well, at least Amara can take advantage of what your father worked for, it doesn’t matter for me.”

  “I disagree.” Belli’s expression hardened, her lavender eyes flashing with conviction. “Every person has a right to education…if you ever want to learn, I would love to teach you.”

  Lamberra stared at her, this was something Belli never offered before. “Maybe someday,” Lamberra murmured. “I just need to find the time.” Her words felt small, almost as if she just made a small apology.

  Belli turned toward her fully now. A light shone behind her gaze, piercing through every guarded layer Lamberra had built around herself. “There are always a million reasons to say no.” She smiled at Lamberra. “You possess many good qualities, Lamberra. More than you realize.”

  Lamberra raised her eyebrow, the sudden compliment struck her like a wave.

  “Has anyone explained to you what mana is?”

  Lamberra groaned. Her exasperation cut through the momentary warmth. “Not this again.” A hand ran through her dark, uneven hair. “I don’t have any magical abilities.”

  Belli’s grin widened, an almost mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. “That’s not true,” she countered, leaning forward like she was sharing a secret, “I, too, am a healing user.”

  She paused, watching Lamberra carefully, “and if someone can use healing magic, they can access all forms of magic.” Belli lifted a finger as she continued, “Fire, water, lightning… even the all unknowns. They are all connected.”

  Disbelief flared in Lamberra’s chest, and a sharp instinctive skepticism rose in her throat.

  “Okay, but I’m not a healing user,” she said, her tone edged with doubt. Her eyes tracked Belli as the elf rose from her seat, crossing the room with purpose. There was a gravity in her movements, a weight behind her words that made it impossible to dismiss her outright.

  “I was there, Lamberra,” Belli said softly, her voice light as she’s face to face with her friend. “The day you fell. When that rock struck you.” Belli’s purple eyes locked onto hers, a certainty in them that sent a prickle of unease down Lamberra’s spine. “I remember your scream. The way you collapsed,” Belli’s throat bobbed slightly, as if she could still hear the memory. “I ran to you because I knew I could help, I knew I could heal you, but when I finally got to you…” Belli trailed off before finishing, “There was a glow surrounding you, It traced along your body, lining the wound, closing it. You healed yourself.”

  Lamberra let out a hollow laugh and crossed her arms defensively. “If this is true, why are you telling me now?” The words came out sharp like a crack of lightning.

  Belli placed a hand on Lamberra’s shoulder, firm but grounding. “I’m telling you because it’s time for you to learn.” There was a beat of silence. “It’s a part of who you are, it’s a gift, Lamberra, whether you believe it or not, it’s there. Waiting.” Belli said, gently squeezing her shoulder.

  “I… I don’t know what to say.” Lamberra shivered, her words low in volume.

  “It’s okay,” Belli soothed. Her voice wasn’t just reassurance, but a promise.

  “No one told you before because if the military hears of a new magic user, they’ll seize you, they’ll use you as a weapon.”

  “The reason I was spared… is because of these,” her fingers brushed the pointed tips of her ears. “Lucky me,” a humorless chuckle came out.

  “But your mother,” Belli continued, her voice softer now. “She never wanted you to know. You know she always wants to keep you safe.”

  The moment felt too big, the air too thick, but Belli’s eyes burned with conviction. “The mana you have…is incredible.” Her lips curled, “come with me.”

  Before Lamberra could protest, Belli led her outside. The twilight air was cool, carrying the scent of damp soil and night-blooming flowers. Lanterns flickered, casting a soft glow across the massive courtyard. Belli moved to the center of the garden, turning with an intensity that sent a chill down Lamberra’s spine.

  “You can manipulate the air and turn it into ice crystals,” Belli said simply. She lifted her hand, her movements were fluid and effortless. Shimmering ice crystals formed in the air, glistening like stars caught in the lantern glow, then with a flick of the wrist they shot forward. Embedded into a brick wall with a sharp, cracking sound. All Lamberra could do was stare, her mouth open. She never saw Belli use magic before.

  Belli’s voice shifted, almost lecturing now.

  “Of course, manipulating elements drains your mana,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re away from water, it takes a huge toll to make ice.” Belli then looked to the sky. “The same goes for lightning. You’d need clouds nearby to tap into their power, otherwise you’ll exhaust yourself in seconds.” There was a small pause, and suddenly the sky split open. A streak of furious, purple lightning lit up the horizon, cutting through the darkness like a blade of raw, untamed power as thunder ripped through slums shaking the air.

  Lamberra gasped as she slowly turned to her unrecognizable friend. Belli's chest was rising and falling rapidly with a large grin on her face. She was a vision of raw power wrapped in elven grace. Lamberra could only stare, with no words able to come out. As the night deepened, wrapping the garden in hues of indigo and silver, Belli’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You too, can do this.”

  Belli’s eyes gleamed, “but it’s exhausting,” she said, still catching her breath.

  “Now fire…fire is different. That isn’t summoned, it can only be channeled within you. Most can only channel enough to start a small fire, but if you’re skilled enough like my younger brother, Willow, you can burn entire cities to ash.”

  Lamberra was still frozen, her throat felt dry but managed to squeak something out, “What am I supposed to do with all of this? I can’t even imagine doing that.”

  Belli stepped forward, as her confidence felt like a living thing.

  “You’ll learn,” her voice gentle now, “let me teach you. To read, to write, to wield your magic. We’ll do it together.”

  There was a war of emotions raging inside her now. She felt lied to all her life.

  “Then how did I use my magic before if I was never taught?”

  Belli met her gaze, unphased by her questioning.

  “When we’re close to death, our bodies do whatever they can to survive. When you were bleeding out that day, that’s exactly what happened. You healed yourself.” The words felt like a heavy curtain falling on top of here. Everything was making sense.

  Belli suddenly pulled out a small knife from her pocket and in one quick motion, sliced her palm open. Blood welled instantly as Belli stood there grinning.

  “Belli, what the hell!? What are you doing?” Lamberra yelled.

  Belli didn’t flinch. She grabbed Lamberra’s wrist and gripped it tight. “Heal it,” Belli commanded.

  Lamberra froze in fear, but decided to trust her instinct. A warmth filled inside her and something flickered, like a flame in a fireplace. Golden light pooled at her fingertips.

  “Yes!” Belli’s voice rang out, breathless with excitement. “Keep going, Lamberra. Pour as much energy as you can. I’d rather not have a scar,” Belli said in her typical joking manner of a high pitched voice.

  The strain built rapidly, the energy inside her rushing like a storm fed river. Lamberra clenched her teeth, her head pounding with the force of it. She pushed harder, the world narrowing to the sensation in her hand. Her eyes watered behind closed lids, and the intensity became unbearable. The warmth surged, chaotic and unrestrained, until it overwhelmed her. Lamberra’s body faltered, knees giving way beneath her. The rough path met her with an unforgiving impact, the jarring pain distant compared to the dizzying pull of exhaustion. As the world began to fade, so did her consciousness. Somewhere above, Belli’s laughter rang out, light, triumphant, and distant, as the world dissolved into darkness.