--Two Months Ago, Lyra--
"Oh Fire unborn, take spark from my soul... Spark."
I waited. Held my breath. Watched my palm with expectation. But there was nothing. Not even a flicker. I held the Source of Power book tightly with one arm, the leather warm from the sun. Kyro gave it to me last week. Said it would help.
But this whole thing was starting to feel like a joke I wasn't in on. Kinda pissing me off a little.
I glanced to the side.
He sat on the bench nearby, elbow propped on one knee, chin resting in his palm. He hadn't said anything in a while. Just watched me. His golden eyes looked distant, as if he were trying to piece something together in his mind. Maybe he was giving me space. Or maybe he was just as frustrated as I was and didn't want to show it.
I clenched my jaw.
Two weeks. Two whole weeks of saying the same chant, over and over, and all I had to show for it was a sore throat and this damn book that might as well be a paperweight. It was infuriating. I wasn't lazy. I put in the work. I wanted to learn. So why wasn't anything happening? I'm almost Advanced level in terms of swordsmanship!
"Kyro!" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended. He flinched, blinking back into the present. "This isn't working! How am I supposed to get stronger if I can't even get anything to happen?"
He rubbed his chin and hummed softly. "Mmm... Yeah. I figured as much." He stood and stretched his arms lazily overhead. "I was hoping that repeating the spell would eventually unlock your mana. I was told that usually works. But maybe that's not your path."
Onnie told that to Kyro.
He turned toward the house.
"I've got one last idea. Worked for me. Might work for you too. Wait here, I'll grab something."
I huffed and sat on the bench he left behind, crossing my arms. My eyes dropped again to the book in my lap. I opened it to the marked page, repeated the words for the twentieth time that morning.
I muttered the chant again just to spite the silence.
"Oh Fire unborn, take spark from my soul... Spark."
Nothing. Again.
I stared at my fingers. Were they broken? Was there something wrong with me? I wasn't expecting fireballs or explosions. Just... something. A tingle. A glow. Anything.
I kept hearing Kyro's voice from earlier that week: "It's like knocking on a door that's stuck. You keep trying until one day it just opens."
But what if the door was locked? What if there wasn't a door? I was still stewing in that thought when the door creaked again, and Kyro came out... holding a knife.
My brows scrunched. "Why do you have that?"
He scratched the back of his head. "Was hoping I wouldn't have to do this method, but... it's how I first unlocked my mana."
My voice turned flat. "You're not seriously gonna stab me, are you?"
"No! Of course not. I mean... well, I was kind of hoping you'd wound yourself with something. Doesn't have to be this." He glanced at the blade. "You just need to be injured a bit. Then I'll use healing magic. Healing magic transfer mana to other and mend the injury, maybe if I heal you, you might know the feeling how mana flows, and through that, you might unlock it."
I frowned. "So you want me to get hurt just to maybe unlock mana?"
He nodded, then paused. "Can you trust me on this?"
My eyebrow twitched. "I could've just bitten my own finger, you know."
He blinked, surprised. "Wait, you'd actually do that?"
I held up my hand. "You think I'm afraid of a little blood?"
He sighed. "Point taken. So the knife was completely unnecessary." He set it down beside the bench.
"Whatever," I muttered, already bringing my finger to my mouth. "Let's just get this over with."
A sharp bite, and I felt a pinch of pain. It wasn't much. I wasn't a wuss. The blood welled up quickly, dark and thick. Kyro stepped forward, his expression suddenly serious. He reached for my hand, gently cradling it in both of his.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Go for it."
He exhaled. Then his tone shifted; his voice calmer, steadier. "By the gift of Lenareth, mend what is torn. Return the flesh to how it was before. Heal." Warm light bloomed in his palms, soft and golden. It poured into my skin like sunlight through a window. The ache dulled. The sharpness vanished. My finger tingled, then smoothed.
The bleeding stopped.
That was... fast. I blinked.
"Did you feel that?" Kyro asked gently, eyes searching mine. "Focus. Try to remember how it felt. The flow of mana. The way it touched your body. Try to mirror that."
I closed my eyes and concentrated on everything that had just happened. The warmth, the relief, the comfort. But no matter how hard I reached, it felt like grabbing at water. There was nothing solid to hold onto.
I tried... Like... I really did!
All I could feel was my healed finger and a fading sense of comfort. No rush of power. No inner light. No spark. I opened my eyes slowly and looked at him.
"I didn't feel anything," I said, trying not to let my voice shake.
He didn't respond at first. Just gave a small nod and sat down beside me. The quiet stretched between us again, softer this time.
"I'll try again," I said quietly.
Kyro nodded once. "That's all we can do."
And so, I continued to make tiny wounds as he healed me constantly... and still, even then, there was nothing.
--Present, Lyra--
I sat quietly on the edge of my bed as the soft orange light of evening filled the room. The shadows on the wall stretched longer, slower. Soon, the guests would start arriving for my birthday celebration. The house had been filled with the clatter of preparations all day.
Now everything was calm. Almost too calm.
I smoothed out the folds of my dress. It was blue and white, with delicate stitching that Mom had added just last night. I didn't ask for something fancy, but she said today was special. So she made it special.
Behind me, I felt her fingers move through my hair, gently gathering the strands and twisting them into something elegant. I didn't know what style she was going for, but it felt careful. Precise. Like she wanted it to be perfect.
She hummed a melody under her breath, something soft and slow. Probably an old lullaby. I used to fall asleep to that tune when I was little. It made the air feel warm somehow.
I sighed.
I had been practicing the same spell for months now.
Spark.
Saying it over and over. Holding out my hand and waiting for a miracle. But nothing ever happened. I couldn't feel the mana. Not even a flicker. Kyro kept telling me it would come with time, but I was beginning to wonder if time was the only thing I'd ever get.
I sighed again, more quietly this time.
Mom's fingers were still working through my hair, gently pulling, brushing, tying. I stared at my reflection in the small mirror across the room. My face looked calm. Too calm. Like it didn't belong to me.
I let the question rise in my chest.
"Mom," I said softly.
Her hands paused for a brief second. "What is it, sweetie?" Her voice was warm, like always.
I hesitated.
"Will I ever unlock my mana?"
There it was. Out in the open. I felt my fingers curl slightly into the fabric of my dress, waiting for her answer. She didn't respond right away. Her hands moved again, slower now, as if thinking. I didn't look at her. I just stared forward, watching the orange sky darken outside the window. I wasn't sure what I wanted her to say honestly. Reyna continued working on my hair, her hands steady, but I could sense her thoughts drifting.
"You know," she began, her voice softer now, "you and I... we come from a line of barbarians."
I tilted my head just slightly. "Barbarians? Yeah, you told us that already."
"Mhm," she said with a quiet chuckle, still braiding. "Yeah, and It's not just a title. It's in our blood. Generations of warriors, mountain dwellers, nomads who lived with the wind at their backs and strength in their bones."
I didn't reply as I let mother continue.
"They don't really use magic." she admitted. "Barbarian blood is... unique. Our people are known for strong bodies, not magic. Mana runs through us, yes, but it isn't our strength. It sleeps deeper than in others. Harder to reach. Most barbarians never even bother unlocking it, some tried, but failed. What we do unlock is aura."
She paused briefly to smooth a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Aura awakens faster in us than in other humans. That's where our combat instincts and strength come from. It's why our people are so hard to take down in battle. We're relentless. We strike with precision. But magic..." she trailed off, "magic is something most of us never touch."
I blinked slowly, letting her words sink in. Then a question rose in my throat.
"But... what about Kyro?" I asked, turning my head slightly toward her voice. "He came from you, right? From the same blood? Why can he use magic so easily?"
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Mom's hands stopped moving. I felt her fingertips rest gently on my scalp, then slowly lift away. I turned my head again. I didn't need to see to know she was staring at the wall, deep in thought.
"I don't know. Kyro..." she said at last, "Kyro is... different."
There was something in her voice when she said that. A mix of awe and uncertainty.
"He's the only one I've ever known... ever even heard of among our kind who can use magic like that," she continued. "It doesn't make sense, honestly. But that's the reality in front of us."
My arms crossed over my chest, and I leaned back on my elbows. "I care about Kyro, I do," I said, brows drawing together, "but it's getting annoying when I think about how special he is."
Reyna looked at me now, her expression unreadable. I couldn't see it, but I could feel the quiet tension in the room. I didn't mean to sound bitter, but it kept building inside me. Every time Kyro pulled off another spell, it felt like I was falling behind. Like I was broken, or worse — just ordinary.
I don't want to be ordinary.. I WANNA BE THE STRONGEST.
I know I have beaten him with my sword.. But he was distracted for a bit second that's why I managed to land that strike. Ugh.. I feel like he'll surpass me in no time if he actually tried.
"It's like he was born to stand out," I said, voice low. "I want to do magic too, use it with my sword."
I glanced toward the wooden desk across the room. The book Kyro gave me sat there, still open, the pages worn from my practice. Source of Power. Every word in that book felt like a wall I couldn't climb.
"And I keep failing," I whispered.
Mom finally moved. She stepped around the bed and sat beside me, her weight shifting the mattress slightly. She reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her skin was warm, steady. She didn't let go.
"You're not failing," she said softly. "You're becoming. That's not always a fast thing. Sometimes it takes longer than we like."
I didn't answer. Her words were kind, but kindness didn't fix the ache. It didn't make the frustration go away. But then she added something else. Something that made me turn my head.
"Kyro may be different, sure. But so are you. You carry the same blood I do. And that blood is from a long line of barbarians. We are strong. We survive. We adapt. Magic never came easily to our kind, but aura... aura is another story."
She gave a quiet laugh, not mocking but thoughtful.
"Kyro hasn't even unlocked his aura yet. That alone should make your grandfather shake his head if he was here." She chuckled. That pulled a tiny breath out of me. I didn't quite smile, but I wasn't scowling anymore either.
"What I'm saying is... everyone has different strengths. He may be able to do magic, yes. But you're already stronger than him in more ways than you realize. You're faster. You can lift more. You've trained your body with effort, not shortcuts."
She turned slightly to face me more fully.
"You're special in your own way, sweetie. Never forget that. You're my daughter. And there is strength in you that no spell could ever replicate."
I stared down at our joined hands, chewing lightly on the inside of my cheek. The warmth in her grip lingered. Her voice had settled something in me, even if only a little.
"But I still want to cast magic," I admitted. "Even just once."
She smiled at me, her eyes full of something gentle and unshaken. Then she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
"Then you will."
--Kyro--
I arranged the last of the plates for our neighbors, wiping my hands on a clean cloth as I stepped back to check everything. The tables were set up outside — simple wooden ones with mismatched chairs gathered from our house and the homes of nearby villagers. It wasn't grand, but it was warm, and it was ours. Lanterns swayed gently in the summer breeze, flickering with soft orange light. The sun had just dipped past the hills, painting the sky with shades of lilac and gold.
Lyra's birthmonth party had officially begun.
Guests were already arriving, a steady stream of familiar faces. Some of the town guards from Ytval showed up in their half-casual uniforms, chatting idly with the villagers. The village captain himself had come too. Captain Jyroh. I'd seen him around before, but we weren't exactly on speaking terms. Just a polite nod now and then when we crossed paths in the market.
I wasn't dressed too formally. It felt strange to go all-out in a rural village party. I wore red shorts and a white shirt, topped with a dark yellow vest. Comfortable, simple, but still presentable. I figured most of the neighbors would come in similar attire. No one here cared much for fashion, just comfort and community.
Then, the guests really started pouring in.
Father stood at the entrance, greeting each person with a smile and a handshake. He looked genuinely happy, the way only a proud parent could be. Laughter filled the air as the children dashed through the front yard, already playing tag and kicking pebbles around. The backyard wasn't any quieter either. Our home felt full of life.
I sat on a chair near the porch, sipping some juice, when a small hand smacked my shoulder.
"Tag! Kyro's it!" one of the kids shouted before darting away.
I blinked. "Hey! I was chilling!" I called out, setting my drink down.
But it was already too late. The others were giggling and daring me to chase them.
I grinned and jumped to my feet. "Alright then! I'm coming for you!" My voice rang through the yard as I ran after the kids, the sound of our laughter mixing with the music from the small wooden instrument someone had brought. It felt good to just be a kid again, even for a moment.
Meanwhile, at the entrance, Captain Jyroh had finally caught up with my father.
"Good evening, Captain," Thorskil greeted with a respectful bow of his head.
Jyroh smiled, his leathery face crinkling at the corners. He was an older man with a slight bald spot and hair gone mostly white. His build remained solid, more athletic than most would expect from someone his age.
"Good evening to you too, Thorskil," Jyroh replied, his eyes scanning the party. The lanterns hanging from the roof, the strings of dried flowers woven along the fences, the way the tables glowed softly under the fading sun. "You've done well with this gathering. The place feels alive."
"It's for Lyra," Thorskil said, pride shining in his voice. "She's worked hard. Advanced swordsmanship isn't an easy rank to reach, especially at her age. I promised her a party if she got there."
"A promise well kept," Jyroh nodded. "She has your blood. Give her a few more years and she might even chase after the title of Sword God."
Thorskil laughed. "If that ever happens, I'll give her everything I have. Support, blessings, and even my old sword."
Their laughter echoed softly under the twilight sky.
Just then, Saul arrived. He approached the men with his usual quiet presence, hands behind his back. He wore a clean tunic and dark pants, a little more polished than usual, but still unmistakably Saul.
"Good evening," he greeted.
"Ah, Saul," Jyroh turned to him. "You're the one who's been training Lyra, aren't you?"
Saul gave a small bow. "I am. She's come far."
"You have my respect. Not many could guide a young barbarian girl into an advanced swordsman."
"It was her will & talent, not mine," Saul replied, then looked toward the house. "And tonight, she'll get what she's earned."
At that moment, Reyna stepped out of the house. She stood on the front step, brushing her dress down lightly, then cleared her throat.
"Everyone," she called, and the chatter slowly died down, "may I have your attention, please?"
Heads turned. Children stopped running. Even the music paused for a moment. Reyna smiled, her presence commanding yet gentle.
"I want to thank all of you for coming tonight. It means the world to our family. As many of you know, this isn't just a birthmonth celebration for Lyra, it's also a milestone. She has reached the rank of Advanced Swordsman. That's no small feat."
There were claps and cheers. Some of the guards gave approving nods.
Reyna continued. "She has trained every single day without complaint. She's fallen, bled, gotten back up again. Her journey is only beginning, but I am so proud of how far she has come."
And then, as if on cue, the front door creaked open behind her. Lyra stepped out.
She wore a blue and white dress that flowed just above her knees. Her long blue hair had been tied up neatly, a few strands falling down the sides of her face. Subtle makeup brought out the brightness in her eyes and gave her a gentle, noble look — without looking forced.
Even the boys beside me stopped talking. One of them nudged the other and whispered, cheeks flushed red. I smiled as she stepped forward. She looked surprised by the attention, but not overwhelmed. She stood tall. I was proud of her, and yet, my eyes wandered toward the road. Toward the entrance.
Still no sign of her.
We moved on to the cake next. A modest one, covered with cream and berries, placed in the center of the front table. Everyone gathered around as we lit the candle. The village sang for her, their voices rising together.
Lyra closed her eyes, then blew it out. The crowd cheered. Claps, whoops, laughter. She looked around, beaming. That's when Saul stepped forward, holding something long wrapped in a pale cloth. He unwrapped it slowly. A sheathed sword, elegant and practical, crafted with care. He held it out.
"You've earned this," Saul said, voice calm and certain. "From this day forward, Lyra Samsworth, you are recognized as an Advanced Swordsman. No more training wheels. You walk your path now."
Lyra blinked. She took a slow breath, bowed deeply, and accepted the sword with both hands.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
Everyone clapped again, louder this time. The noise swelled as if the village itself celebrated her success. Still, my eyes flicked back toward the entrance.
Still nothing..
Food was served soon after. Trays of roasted meat, bowls of stew, fresh bread and sweetened fruit filled the tables. Children sat together, chatting with Lyra, asking her questions and poking fun about her new title.
She was smiling wide, surrounded by her friends.
Then, something about her face changed. Her eyes scanned the group. She frowned slightly, then turned toward me. I wasn't far — just a few feet away on the porch, sitting alone and quietly chewing on a chunk of bread.
"Kyro!" she called, loud enough to cut through the chatter.
I looked up. "Huh?"
She waved me over. "Come here already!"
I stood and walked toward her, brushing crumbs off my vest.
She leaned in slightly, looking curious. "Where's your friend? The girl with the black hair? She's not here yet."
I shrugged. "She said she'll be here, but... she hasn't arrived yet."
And just then, the gate creaked.
Reyna turned to greet someone at the entrance.
A girl stood there, shyly brushing back her dark hair. She wore a simple, pretty dress — nothing fancy, but elegant in its own right. Her eyes searched nervously until they landed on Reyna.
"Um, excuse me," she said softly. "Is this Lyra's birthmonth party?"
Reyna smiled warmly. "Yes it is, sweetheart. Welcome."
I saw her... I admit, my heart jumped a little.
Onnie had come. I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face as I turned to Lyra. "She's here!" I soon ran towards the entrance to meet her.
My legs carried me faster than my thoughts. "Onnie!" I called out, stopping just short of her. "You came!"
She stood by the wooden gate, brushing a few loose strands of her black hair behind her ear. She wore a light, clean dress, not too fancy, but elegant enough to stand out among the village kids.
"Hello, Kyro," she said with a gentle smile.
Before I could say anything else, a voice interrupted us from the side.
"Welcome to my party, new subordinate!"
I glanced over. Lyra had her hands on her hips, chest puffed out like some local noble, standing there as if she was welcoming a guest to her estate.
Onnie blinked, surprised, then turned toward her. "Happy Birthmonth, Lyra."
Lyra grinned wide. "Mwehe! Thanks! There's plenty of food if you're hungry. Just don't touch the big plate with the meatballs. That's mine."
"T-thank you," Onnie said, bowing her head slightly.
I chuckled under my breath. Onnie was clearly unsure how to react to Lyra's energy. The way her posture stiffened and she nodded politely like she was meeting a royal. Honestly, it made me want to laugh even more.
"Come on," I said, "Let's get you something to eat before Lyra actually guards the meatballs with her sword."
"Hey!" Lyra huffed, but she didn't deny it.
The three of us walked toward the food tables, chatting about nothing in particular. Onnie loosened up a bit as we talked about the fruit juice, the food and the weird fish pie someone brought.
From the side of the yard, my mother's eyes quietly followed us. She tilted her head, humming in thought as she watched Onnie. Then, her gaze shifted toward my father, who stood with Saul, Captain Jyroh, and a few of the local farmers, deep in conversation about stuff dads usually talk.
Thorskil noticed Reyna's look. He paused mid-laugh, gave a polite nod to the others, and walked over to her.
"Something on your mind, Rey?" he asked as she hummed again.
Reyna didn't take her eyes off Onnie. "I've never seen that girl before. Is she from the village?"
Thorskil followed her gaze and let out a quiet sigh. "Her name's Onnie. Apparently, she's Kyro's friend."
Reyna gasped. "Ky was seeing someone? Behind my back? And he didn't even tell me!"
Thorskil chuckled. "It's not like that. He promised her he'd keep her a secret. You know how kids are. But Lyra found out, eventually. And once she did, she invited her to the party."
Reyna stared at him, then back at the trio now hovering near the table of meat skewers.
"So that's why. No wonder Kyro's been going out more often." Her lips curled upward in a soft smile. "Awwwe, my children are really growing up." She wiped the corner of her eye with the tip of her finger, even though there weren't any tears.
Back in the backyard, the children had settled on the grass in a cozy little circle. The sun had dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows across the yard. Someone had the brilliant idea to start telling scary stories. Because of course, nothing says "Happy Birthmonth" like mild psychological trauma before dessert.
Lyra sat cross-legged at the head of the group like some kind of story queen, while the rest of her friends gathered around her. In the center, a freckled girl with two fluffy pigtails waved her arms as she spoke with dramatic flair.
"And then," she said, her eyes stretched wide, "the monster slowly turned around... but it had no mouth! And it sniffed the air... and said, 'I can smell your soul.'"
Gasps. A couple kids yelped. Three boys immediately grabbed each other like they were sinking on a ship.
"Noooo!" one of them cried, nearly tipping over backwards.
Lyra sat unfazed, her arms crossed. She looked like she'd heard better horror stories from soggy toast.
Just then, Onnie and I arrived.
Lyra perked up and waved us over with one hand. "This is Onnie, everyone. She's new. Treat her nice or I'll curse you."
Onnie blinked in surprise but offered a small wave. "Um... hello."
"Welcome, Onnie!" one of the girls called, scooting aside to make room for us.
We sat down together on the grass. The storyteller girl bowed with exaggerated formality and plopped herself back onto the "audience" patch like she was accepting applause at a theater.
Then Lyra turned to the group. "Alright, who's next to tell a spooky story?"
Everyone suddenly found something very interesting about the grass. One boy coughed. Another scratched his knee like it might help. They all exchanged nervous glances. I took a sip of my juice and smirked to myself.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
I raised my hand, the cup still in my other. "I have a scary story."
Lyra gave a skeptical look. "You?"
"Yup," I said, lifting my chin a little. "It's a true story from a cursed forest far away. You probably haven't heard of it. It's... ancient."
They all leaned in a little. I cleared my throat and let my voice drop low, like the beginning of an epic tale.
"Long ago, in the deepest part of the world, where the trees are tall enough to blot out the sky, there lived a creature with limbs as long as shadows and dark twisted tentacles that could grab you for days. Some say his arms stretched far enough to reach across a whole clearing. His skin was pale, like bone. His face... well, he didn't have one. Just smooth, empty skin where it should have been."
A few of the kids already had their mouths hanging open. I continued, taking another sip just to build suspense.
"They called him the Slender Man. He watched from the trees. He never made a sound. He didn't need to. You'd just... feel him watching. At first, you'd hear leaves rustle, even though there's no wind. Then your neck would itch. And if you looked behind you..."
I paused and scanned the circle.
"..he'd be there. Standing still. Faceless face staring at you. Tall enough that the branches bent around him."
The kids were leaning in so far, one boy actually fell forward with a squeak. I held back a laugh and kept going, letting my voice get softer.
"They say he only appears to those who are alone. He doesn't run and he doesn't speak.. He just follows you. Until one night, you sleep quietly in your bed... and he's closer. And the next day, you wake up alone in the woods, you called for your parents, but they never came."
One of the girls started shaking her head. "Nuh-uh..."
I leaned a bit toward her. "If you ever see him... if you really see him... it's already too late. Because he never stops following. Not until he takes you away, deeper into the woods, where no one can hear you scream."
A loud crunch echoed behind us.
Half the circle jumped and screamed. Turns out it was just one of the dads stepping on a twig nearby while carrying a meat skewer.
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay, relax," I said. "He's not real. I think."
But the damage was done. Some of the kids were now huddling together like baby ducklings in a thunderstorm.
Onnie's eyes were wide too. She was gripping the edge of her dress, pale as flour. She turned to me and whispered, "That's not a real story... right?"
I smirked. "Of course not. I made it up." They all seriously let those words pass their ears. They actually believed the story.
"That's horrible," she muttered, then added softly, "He's not watching us, is he?"
I guess kids believe whatever they hear, huh? I sighed and handed her my juice. "Here. Drink. You need sugar."
Lyra looked furious. "That wasn't fair! You scared them too much! You're supposed to be funny scared, not I-wet-my-pants scared!"
I laughed, "It's not my fault your ghost stories didn't do anything except sniff souls."
We all stayed there for a few more rounds of scary story telling until Lyra got so bored, she practically bounced and started a new game of tag which caught us off guard.
[End]