The lights in the bookstore dimmed slowly as Bertha shuffled off to bed, and Alya—still buzzing with leftover pride from showing off her basic tier-one spells—leaned against the doorway with Wak perched proudly on her shoulder.
"Remember," she said, trying (and failing) to sound authoritative, "read the books every night and practice a little. Even if nothing happens."
I nodded tiredly.
"And don't stay up too late," she added. "The academy application is soon. If you faint before that I'll kill you."
"Good night, Alya."
"GOOD. NIGHT," she repeated, voice stern.
I waved her off and headed into my tiny room behind the storage shelves.
The moment the door clicked shut, exhaustion swept over me like a collapsing tide.
My limbs ached.
My head pulsed.
A faint echo of Alya's spell demonstration still flickered behind my eyes—glittering sparks, a small gust, nothing dramatic, but… magic. Real magic.
I set the seven beginner magic books on my bed, staring down at them like they were seven different punishments.
And then I sighed.
"Fine," I muttered, reaching blindly for whichever book was on top. "Let's get this over with."
The spine cracked softly as I pulled it forward.
"Summoning for Idiots: Volume Two."
I stared at the cover.
"…Great."
I opened to the first page, expecting diagrams or complex instructions—but was instead greeted by a paragraph of bold, irritated handwriting.
"If you are reading this, it means you bought Volume One.
We apologize. Volume One was written by a drunk."
I snorted.
Of course it was.
I remembered how I'd tried to summon something once—something, anything—after reading Volume One.
Nothing happened.
Not even a spark.
I had assumed summoning was impossible.
But now, according to this book, summoning was…
"Simple. Extremely simple. So simple most people do it by accident."
My eyes widened.
Accident?
The next lines confirmed it:
"Ninety percent of the population has a summon.
Because ninety percent of the population has emotions."
I leaned back against the wall, the mattress sinking under my weight.
The next chapter began with a breakdown of the summoning tiers:
Tier 1 — Ordinary Companion
Animals, but magical. Loyal, affectionate, simple.
Common: cats, dogs, birds, foxes, snakes.
Tier 2 — Enhanced Beast
A stronger mutated version of an animal.
They may have claws that glow, super strength, or minor abilities.
Tier 3 — Monster-Class Companion
Monsters with unique traits.
Each has one special ability—venom, fire breath, shadowwalking, etc.
Tier 4 — Mighty Monster
Large, powerful, sometimes intelligent creatures.
They possess a unique skill with higher potency.
Tier 5 — Advanced Monster
Terrifyingly strong, multiple abilities, some capable of human-level understanding.
Tier 6 — Titan-Class Summon
Rare. Fabled. Capable of leveling towns.
Bonded through deep trauma or rare emotional resonance.
I shut the book halfway.
"…People accidentally summon these?!"
Apparently yes.
According to the book:
"Most people summon during intense joy or grief.
When emotions overflow, the soul opens."
My fingers tightened around the cover.
Overflowing emotions.
A soul opening.
A reflection of the self.
The next page explained:
"Summons are reflections of the summoner's soul.
Your essence made manifest.
Your truth given form."
A summon wasn't chosen.
It wasn't forced.
It wasn't even consciously shaped.
You had to feel.
Find a memory that represented your whole being.
Let your truth break open.
And then—
A doorway inside yourself opened.
A pathway for something to step out.
Something that was you.
I stared at the page long enough for the candles to burn low.
Finally, after several breaths, I whispered:
"…Alright."
The book said it was simple.
All I had to do—
Was think.
I closed my eyes.
Tried to summon a memory that defined me.
A memory that was me.
And for the first time…
Nothing came.
My mind was an empty, flat sheet of ice.
What defined me?
What memory explained who I truly was?
Who was I?
Not Mavis.
That wasn't my name.
A borrowed costume.
A useful lie.
Who was the girl lost in the fog?
The one who had survived hunger and cold?
The one who had lived without a name?
Just—My Queen.
A queen without a crown.
Without a kingdom.
Without a self.
The emptiness tightened around my chest.
The book said:
"Your summon will emerge when you face your truth."
What truth?
That I had no identity?
No foundation?
No childhood memories that weren't tinged with fear or frost?
I swallowed hard.
The fog.
Her homeland.
The suffocating cold.
The endless nights.
None of that brought even a glimmer of summoning.
No glowing light.
No warmth.
No creature clawing its way into existence.
Just empty silence.
I inhaled sharply, frustration creeping in.
"Fine," I whispered. "Think harder."
So I did.
Grandma's face.
Her wrinkled smile.
Warm soup and soft blankets.
Nothing.
Alya's laugh.
Wak's purring.
Friendship I hadn't expected.
Still nothing.
I clenched the book.
"Come on…" I murmured. "Why can't I—"
And then, without warning, a memory swelled behind my eyes.
Not of the fog.
Not of the cold.
Not of the suffocating homeland.
But the sea.
The moment she first saw it—
when the fog had parted.
When moonlight struck water.
When waves danced under silver light.
When she had stepped toward it, heart breaking and blooming at once.
The ocean.
Endless.
Boundless.
Hiding secrets in its depths.
A thing full of grief and wonder.
A place of discovery and loss.
A mirror.
Because when I had looked into the water that night…
I saw myself.
A girl with no name.
No beginning.
No clear ending.
A shifting tide of memories.
A wandering identity.
An ocean of depth and silence—
where truth hid deep beneath layers of pressure and shadow.
A being that could never fully discover itself.
Because like the ocean—
I was too vast.
Too unknowable.
Constantly reshaping.
Constantly moving.
Always reaching forward
while never forgetting the darkness behind me.
That was me.
The sea.
The thought swallowed me whole.
And suddenly—
Warmth ignited in my chest.
First a faint flutter.
Then a pulse.
Then an explosion.
I gasped, fumbling as a pressure built in my lungs, in my veins, like my body was being filled with warm water.
Liquid warmth wrapped around me—
not cold, not suffocating—
but holding me gently, firmly, like a current lifting me upward.
Something cracked inside me.
A doorway.
A pathway.
A tremor of power.
My fingertips tingled.
The air thickened.
The candlelight flickered violently as though pushed by invisible waves.
And then—
BOOOOM—
A surge of warmth erupted outward.
My vision blurred blue—
deep, swirling blue—
like staring into the heart of an ocean trench.
Somewhere in the darkness, something answered.
Something old.
Something waiting.
Something born of depth and pressure and endless memory.
The room filled with a low, resonant hum.
The floorboards vibrated.
The book slipped from my hands.
My heartbeat drowned beneath the roar of imaginary waves.
And then—
A shape began to form.
Slowly.
Shifting like liquid.
Climbing out of the blue.
Massive, or small, or both—
I couldn't tell.
All I knew was that something had stepped through the pathway.
Something mine.
Something that was me.
Something born from the deep sea within my soul.
And I wasn't sure…
If I had summoned it—
or if it had finally found me.
———————————————————
Darkness pressed gently against my eyelids—warm, heavy, and strangely soft. Not the suffocating darkness of the fog, nor the quiet kind that comes after exhaustion. This was different. As if I floated in water warm enough to lull me into stillness.
Maybe I was dreaming.
Maybe I had died.
Both felt equally possible.
A faint sound echoed through the black—a low hum, rhythmic, pulsing like a heartbeat. It wasn't mine. It wasn't human. It wrapped around me, pulling me gently forward through the void.
When my eyes opened, I was standing on snow.
Real snow.
My breath left me—not because of the cold but because I recognized the landscape instantly.
The Hidden Kingdom.
Fog curled around the buildings but didn't choke the air this time. It drifted like slow smoke, gentle, almost curious. The sky above was the same eternal night, lit by a pale full moon.
But something was wrong.
The kingdom was silent. Not the familiar quiet of fear, hunger, or cold. This silence felt… waiting.
I took a step.
The snow didn't crunch.
It didn't make a sound at all.
Ahead of me, the village homes were gone. Replaced by an impossibly large structure I had never seen before—something ancient, carved from black stone that glimmered like obsidian under moonlight. It wasn't a building—it was a palace. One taller than anything we'd ever had in the kingdom.
A throne room.
And inside—
A woman sat upon a throne of bone-white stone.
Her presence hit me like a wave.
Not human.
That was the first thought.
Her hair was pale—so pale it shimmered like moonlit frost. Her skin carried the faint blue undertones of someone who had never basked in sunlight. And her eyes—her eyes were the color of old ice, with glimmers of something ancient beneath the surface.
She sat lazily, chin resting against her knuckles, watching me with mild interest.
"Well," she drawled softly, voice echoing in the empty hall, "you came quicker than I expected."
My throat closed.
"Who… are you?" I asked, voice sounding small against the vastness of the room.
She smirked. "Direct. And unafraid. Good."
She rose slowly from her throne, gown trailing behind her like drifting shadows.
Only then did I see—
Her feet didn't touch the ground.
Cold air swirled around her ankles, frost blooming across the floor as she approached.
She stopped a few paces away and tilted her head slightly.
"I know you, little queen."
I stiffened. "I—I'm not—"
"You are," she interrupted. "You just don't want to be."
My breath hitched.
She smiled—almost sympathetically.
"How exhausting it must be," she said gently, "to carry a crown you never asked for."
My stomach twisted.
She stepped closer, and her presence chilled the air around me until my fingertips numbed.
"I summoned you here for a reason."
"Summoned—?"
"This is no ordinary dream," she murmured. "This is a tether. A pathway. One your soul opened on its own."
Her ice-bright eyes dropped to my hands, still trembling from exhaustion even in the dream.
"You have awakened," she said simply. "More than you know."
"I don't understand."
She smiled faintly.
"You will."
Silence settled between us—heavy, thick, waiting.
Then she raised her hand and a small orb of mist swirled above her palm. It flickered light blue, like dying moonlight.
"Answer a question for me," she said.
My breath caught. "What question?"
"A simple one."
She held the glowing mist toward me.
"Will you assist me?"
The question hung in the air like a blade suspended over my head.
Assist her?
With what?
"Assist you… how?" I asked carefully.
She lifted an eyebrow. "I did say my question was simple. I didn't say I'd offer explanations."
My heart pounded. "You want me to agree without knowing what I'm agreeing to?"
"That is correct."
"That's insane."
"It's also necessary."
I wanted to step back.
I couldn't.
Her gaze held me in place—not forcefully, not cruelly, but with the weight of inevitability.
"If you agree," she said softly, "I will give you something in return."
"What?"
She smiled faintly. "Something your heart desires."
My breath hitched.
"My… kingdom?"
Her smile widened just slightly—as if my guess amused her.
"I offer no promises." She closed her hand around the mist, extinguishing it. "Only the chance for a promise."
The room dimmed.
The air trembled.
Her voice echoed around me.
"Will you help me, little queen?"
I hesitated only a heartbeat.
Because even in a dream—
Even in fear—
Even in confusion—
A queen who had lost everything knew an opportunity when she saw one.
"…Yes," I said quietly.
Her eyes brightened—like a spark flaring in an ancient hearth.
"Come closer."
The command wasn't loud.
But my body moved before my mind did.
I stepped toward her. One step. Then another. Until I stood at the foot of her throne.
She lowered herself until her cold breath brushed my skin.
"Keep this to yourself," she whispered. "No one must know you've spoken to me."
Her hand rose.
Cold fingers touched my forehead—
A sharp chill streaked down my spine, then burst into a blinding white light that swallowed everything.
Her final whisper followed me as the world dissolved.
"We will speak again… when you're ready."