😊notebits:
Houl is the residual negative elemental energy born from hatred, fear, destruction, and the wars of the old world.
It is not a living being —it's more like tainted spiritual residue or corrupted essence.
A sigil (pronounced si-jil) is a symbol or mark used to channel, focus, or store magical energy or intent.It's kind of like a magical seal or code — a pattern that represents a specific spell, command, or power.
Morning —
The dawn mist clung to the grass like silver threads. From the open window, sunlight spilled softly into Granny's living room, catching the faint shimmer of runes carved into the beams. The air smelled faintly of herbs and dew.
Aanha sat cross-legged in the center of the floor, eyes closed, the pendant resting lightly against her chest. Her hair fell over her face as she tried to steady her breathing.
Granny (calmly): "Again, child. Not too fast. Let the mana flow, don't wrestle with it."
Aanha frowned slightly, a faint flicker of orange light appearing on her fingertips. "It's not… listening."
Granny smiled knowingly. "It's not meant to listen. It's meant to remember."
Sai leaned against the doorframe nearby, still half-asleep but watching. "She's been at it since sunrise, Granny. Even the birds gave up and left."
Aanha (without opening her eyes): "If you're not going to help, stop distracting."
Sai grinned. "I am helping. I'm offering moral support from a safe distance."
Granny shot him a look that made him straighten immediately. "If you have time to joke, you can adjust the wind seals outside. The barrier hum's off balance."
Sai sighed dramatically. "Yes, ma'am," and disappeared through the doorway.
Aanha opened one eye slightly, smiling. "He listens to you more than he admits."
Granny smirked. "That boy's more wind than sense. But he's loyal — in his own stubborn way."
She placed her hand gently on Aanha's shoulder. "Now. Feel again."
Aanha nodded, inhaling slowly. This time, instead of trying to command the flame, she let it rise with her breath — soft, pulsing warmth spreading through her palms.
The pendant began to glow faintly, synchronizing with her heartbeat.
Granny spoke softly, almost chanting.
Granny: "The flame is not your weapon. It is your pulse. The more you resist it, the more it burns. The more you accept it, the more it guides."
Aanha's breathing steadied. The flicker of fire in her palms grew clearer, more stable — not wild like before, but steady, calm, alive.
And then — a whisper.So faint she almost thought she imagined it.
"Remember…"
Aanha's eyes fluttered open, and for a split second she saw another world. Golden halls. Shadows at their edge. Two figures standing back-to-back — one wreathed in light, one cloaked in darkness. Both looking at her.
Her chest tightened. The fire faltered, then steadied again.
Aanha (softly): "…I saw them again."
Granny didn't look surprised. "You will, more often now. The seal's not gone — only waking."
Aanha frowned, glancing at her hands. "Then what happens when it breaks completely?"
Granny's eyes met hers — old, calm, and unreadable.Granny: "Then you'll need to decide if you're more like the sun that burns… or the shadow that follows it."
Before Aanha could ask, Sai's voice came from outside — slightly breathless.Sai (calling out): "Granny! The barrier's reacting — something's near the woods again!"
Granny's expression hardened instantly. The warmth in the room turned sharp.She rose to her feet, her energy shifting — calm but powerful.
Granny (firm): "Then it seems your lessons will continue sooner than expected."
Aanha stood quickly, her heart racing — the pendant already glowing brighter, pulsing faster.
Aanha (nervous): "Wraiths again?"
Sai (entering, eyes narrowed): "Maybe. But… the energy's off. This doesn't feel like them."
Granny exchanged a glance with him — one filled with quiet understanding and unspoken tension.
Granny (to Aanha): "Stay close. Whatever it is, the hill's wards will hold. But don't step past them — not yet."
Aanha nodded, gripping the pendant. She could still hear the faint echo of that voice in her mind — Remember…
The three of them stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Mist coiled between the trees beyond the fence, unnaturally thick for the season. The birds had gone silent. The spiritual wood of the fence shimmered faintly — golden veins pulsing in warning.
Sai stood ahead of Aanha, hands raised slightly, feeling the flow of air.
Sai (frowning): "This isn't just mana disturbance… something's calling."
Granny's eyes narrowed. "Stay alert. The woods haven't whispered like this in years."
Aanha's pendant thrummed against her skin, heat building beneath it. She could feel something tugging at her, like a gentle thread pulling from the mist.
Aanha (uneasy): "It's… calling me too."
Before Granny could reply, the mist shifted — spiraling inward until a faint shape appeared beyond the fence: a tall, hooded figure, featureless except for two pale, glowing eyes.
Sai instantly summoned a wind glyph, the air crackling blue around his hand. "Not a step closer!"
The figure didn't move, but a distorted voice carried across the barrier, like a whisper through water.
Unknown Voice: "The seal weakens… and the child remembers. Tell her… her mother waits."
Aanha froze. Her throat tightened — the words echoing too close to the visions from her dream.
Aanha (barely whispering): "Mother?"
Granny stepped in front of her immediately, her aura flaring golden-white.
Granny (coldly): "You don't belong here, shadow."
She raised her hand and muttered a sharp incantation. The fence glowed fiercely — then a burst of light shot outward, cutting through the mist. The figure let out a low hum before dissolving into smoke.
But as the haze faded, a single thing remained on the ground just beyond the barrier — a small sigil, carved into a black stone, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
Sai exhaled, lowering his hand. "That wasn't a wraith. That was… something else."
Granny's face was unreadable, but her tone was grim. "A messenger. From the realm we left behind."
Aanha clutched her pendant, still glowing hot. "what was that and talking about Mumma? she didn't even know I'm here with Sai and you granny?"
Granny didn't answer immediately. She turned, placing a firm hand on Aanha's shoulder.
Granny: "Not your Mumma Aanah... but your mom... But don't mistake that for safe. Not for her — and not for you."
The tension hung heavy for a moment. Then Sai tried to lighten it with a crooked smile.
Sai: "Well… if that was just your first morning training, I can't wait to see what lunch looks like."
Aanha let out a breath that was half a laugh. "Hopefully something that doesn't explode."
Granny, trying not to smile, turned toward the house. "You two, enough chatter. The wards need reinforcing, and you," she looked at Aanha, "need to learn to channel before your next outburst sets my herbs on fire again."
Sai chuckled, nudging Aanha. "You heard the boss."
But Aanha was still confused a little bit and trying to set puzzled pieces. Now she was worrying about her mom too. In all those rush and chase she had almost forgot that she had to leave that night with Sai without even telling any reason to her mom who was still unaware of all those incidents, awakening, chase, magic...
Aanha followed them back, but as she glanced one last time at the edge of the woods, she could swear — for just an instant — that the mist shifted into the outline of a woman's face, watching her quietly before fading away.