Four years had passed since that night. The night the horizon seemed to split and the sky appeared to collapse in an unparalleled, raging storm. The night an unidentified baby was found lying on old roots by the riverbank, now known by the name Leilynn.
In a small village safely hidden behind the folds of the hills and tranquil expanses of wheat fields, Leilynn grew into someone whose smile could melt anyone's heart. Though she was not the biological child of Bran and Elira, not a single soul in the village doubted the sincerity of the love that enveloped her. To them, the love binding that small family was far thicker and purer than mere blood ties.
Bran, who had once been gripped by the darkness of doubt when he first touched the baby's cloth, now could not pass a single day without hearing Leilynn's little giggles. All his fears regarding the strangeness of that night slowly dissolved and vanished, erased by the child's crystal-clear laughter, by the tiny hugs that always greeted him every morning, and by Elira's ceaseless prayers, believing that Leilynn was the greatest blessing of their long wait.
The villagers did know that Leilynn was a foundling. However, they were also witnesses to how, since the little girl's arrival, Bran and Elira were never again seen weeping in silence. No one ever dared or had the heart to pry into her origins. The secret was buried deep, not by legal coercion, but out of profound respect. In a place this small, everyone understood one unwritten rule: not all truths need to be given a voice.
Leilynn spent her childhood in a simple wooden house on the edge of the wheat fields. Its location was not far from the residence of a woman named Cecilia—a former empress who now chose to live in solitude with her daughter, Viella. In this village, no one addressed her by royal titles. No one dared to awaken the shadows of a past that had been cast far away from the palace gates.
Viella and Leilynn grew up like blood sisters. Their similar ages made the two inseparable. Every morning, they could be seen like two specks of color amidst the green of nature; running among the wild flower bushes or sitting beneath a barren, old plum tree, gathering fallen petals to arrange into makeshift crowns.
"Ella, look! It's like a real crown!" exclaimed Leilynn with a crisp laugh, placing the loop of wildflowers onto her friend's head.
Viella smiled shyly, a red flush adorning her tiny cheeks. "You should wear it, Lynn. You're more suited to be the flower queen."
From a distance, Cecilia merely watched them. Her eyes were gentle yet held an uncanny depth, like someone who had witnessed far too many tragedies and ultimately chose to remain silent. To her, the past was a locked book. The only thing she desired was to see Viella grow into a happy girl, far from the intrigues of the outside world.
Days passed in a peaceful rhythm. The fields remained fertile, the currents of the Arandelle River flowed calmly, and the sky rarely showed its fury anymore. Yet, sometimes when the night fell too silently and the mist crept in faster than usual, Elira would freeze before the window with a vacant stare, as if trying to recapture fragments of memories she had intentionally forgotten.
And Leilynn, at the tender age of four, would occasionally fall silent in the middle of her play. She would stare at the tree's shadow on the ground, moving slowly in an unnatural way... as if the shadow were whispering ancient secrets that only she could understand.
Seven Days Before Leilynn's Birthday
The morning sun greeted the village with a gentle warmth, slipping through the foliage and blanketing the fields in a sparkling golden light. Dew still clung to the tips of the grass as Bran stood in the middle of the field, gripping an old wooden staff that served as his magical focus.
With a single, smooth, and measured motion of his hand, clear water materialized from the tip of the staff, flowing like a silk ribbon to water the rows of crops with precision. The green leaves swayed slightly as the water splashed them, as if offering a greeting of gratitude to their master.
From a few steps away, a pair of purple eyes watched every movement with pure awe.
Leilynn, now almost five years old, stepped slowly toward the center of the field. Her feet tread the earth carefully to avoid disturbing the plants, and her smile bloomed wide as she saw water emerge from dry wood like a miracle. She approached Bran, then with a shy movement, tugged at the hem of her father's shirt.
"Father..."
Bran turned and offered his warmest smile. He knelt slightly so their eyes would meet. "What is it, Leilynn?"
Leilynn looked down for a moment, her small fingers playing with the rough fabric of her clothes. "Lynn is... amazed seeing you use water magic, Father... It's Lynn's birthday next week, right?" She looked up, her deep purple eyes sparkling with hope. "Can Lynn learn magic too?"
Bran raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised but impressed. He asked in the gentlest tone possible, "What do you want to learn magic for, hm?"
Without hesitation, Leilynn answered with a heart-stirring innocence. "Lynn wants to help too. Father waters the plants with magic... Mother can heal sick leaves too... Lynn wants to help, so I'm not just playing all the time."
That answer left Bran utterly speechless. A sense of pride and emotion swelled in his chest. He stroked Leilynn's head affectionately.
"In that case... I promise to start teaching you. But on one condition."
Leilynn held her breath, looking at her father hopefully. "What is it?"
"Never forget to always be happy while learning. Magic isn't just about great power... it's about what resides within your heart."
Before Leilynn could voice her joy, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from the village road. Elira appeared carrying a cloth basket, followed by Viella who was running merrily.
"Lyynn~!" Viella called out, her bright orange hair waving in the morning breeze. "Let's play!"
Leilynn immediately turned around, her face brightening instantly.
"Ella!"
Without needing to be asked twice, Leilynn took her best friend's hand. The two immediately ran off, leaving the fields for the meadows, accompanied by Elira's warm gaze and Bran's soft chuckle at their antics.
Beneath a giant tree towering firmly in the middle of the green expanse, wildflowers grew abundantly, creating the perfect secret garden for them. There, their tiny fingers busily plucked pale purple and white climbing vines. They wove the flower crowns while continuing to joke around, not caring if the arrangement was sometimes messy or loose.
As Leilynn was engrossed in her own floral arrangement, Viella quietly hid something behind her back with a mysterious smile.
"What are you making, Ella?" Leilynn asked inquisitively, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"It's a secret," Viella replied with a giggle. "Close your eyes first!"
Leilynn obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut though her lips maintained a smile. Viella stepped forward very carefully, and then with a motion almost weightless, she placed her crafted flower crown upon Leilynn's head.
"Done," Viella whispered softly.
Leilynn opened her eyes slowly, her hands reaching up to feel the top of her head. "Is this...?"
Viella smiled so broadly that her eyes turned into crescents. "For Lynn. Because it's almost Lynn's birthday. So... the Flower Queen needs to have her crown first."
Leilynn was stunned for a moment, looking at her seemingly so sincere friend. Then, she let out a small laugh. "If Lynn is the Flower Queen, what does that make Ella?"
Viella puffed out her chest proudly, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Her guardian!"
The two of them were once again lost in laughter, as if time had stopped spinning and the outside world full of dark prophecies and heavy destinies had never existed at all.
The sun had risen high to its peak, showering the village in a warm and soothing golden light. The fresh mountain breeze blew gently between the rows of fields and the treetops, carrying the distinct scent of the countryside: a blend of wet earth, the fragrance of blooming wildflowers, and the sweet aroma of baked bread wafting from the chimneys of the villagers' kitchens.
"Lynn, Ella! Time to come home, lunch is ready!"
Elira's melodious voice broke the tranquility of the meadow, calling from afar.
Beneath the shadow of the great tree, the two little girls, deeply engrossed in their imaginary world, startled. Leilynn and Viella exchanged glances for a moment, their eyes sparkling playfully before a crisp laughter finally broke out between them. They rose in unison and jogged lightly across the expanse of wheat, the flower crowns tucked in their hair swaying in rhythm with their tiny feet dancing upon the earth.
On the porch of the humble wooden house, a simple wooden table had been neatly set. A steaming bowl of thick soup sat beside a loaf of whole wheat bread, fresh from the oven. Elira welcomed their arrival with a serene, motherly smile, affectionately stroking the strands of both girls' hair before gesturing for them to sit down.
"Eat up quickly before everything gets cold," she said softly while setting down a wooden spoon.
To Viella, Leilynn's home had become a second sanctuary. The orange-haired girl was used to spending her time there, sharing laughs and stories as if she were a part of the little cottage itself. In return, she would sometimes bring small treats from her own home, and today, Elira had prepared an extra portion, neatly wrapped for her to take back.
"This is for your mother, alright," Elira said as she handed the cloth bundle containing bread and a small container of soup to Viella. "Make sure it's still warm when you get home later."
"Thank you, Aunt Elira!" Viella gave the woman a brief, grateful hug, then bid her farewell to go home.
The small basket in her hand swung in time with her steps as she walked away toward Cecilia's house. Leilynn stood tall in the doorway, her hand waving enthusiastically. "See you later, Ella!"