The day passed in a blur.
I had followed Doverel and the other young fairies to a school, curious about what they were taught in this strange new age. But if I'm being honest, I was too exhausted to care.
That night, I slept in a soft bed for the first time in what felt like centuries.
It was strange—almost unsettling—to be nestled in the quarters of young fairies, surrounded by warmth and quiet. A far cry from the cold, stone prison that had defined my past. The sheets were warm, softer than I remembered. The silence was kind—like a balm on bruised thoughts.
It was the best sleep I'd had in years.
What felt like mere minutes turned out to be several hours—judging by the sun now stretching across the floor in golden strips.
Then came dawn.
"Hurry! It's time for practice!" a voice called—sharp, urgent.
I blinked up at the ceiling, wincing against the harsh light of morning. My limbs felt heavy, as though sleep had seeped into my bones. As I rubbed my eyes, a familiar shape came into view—Doverel, looking far too energetic for this hour.
"Sorry for disappearing on you yesterday," she said, a little softer this time.
I groaned. "What do you want?"
I couldn't help it. The last thing I needed was another Lephi. Not in this dizzying, disorienting new age.
"Just to apologize," Doverel said earnestly. Her gaze softened as she fidgeted with her hands, unsure.
I sighed and sat up. She had been kind in her own way—and besides, she didn't owe me anything.
"Fine. But hurry. We don't have all day."
"Come on, grab your wand! We're going to be late!" she chirped, already halfway out the door.
"I'm not ready…" I muttered, still trying to sift through the rush of dreams and unfamiliar sensations.
Doverel paused, turned back, and flicked her wrist. Her wand shimmered with soft light.
A tingling sensation passed over me. Suddenly, my hair was tied back, my skin fresh and bright, the drowsiness gone like it had never been there. I blinked, stunned.
"Was that light magic?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah…with a tinge of Love Magic," she said sheepishly, cheeks pink.
"I figured it out myself," she added proudly. "Love magic is... adhesive. It can bond to other types of magic like light. It lets us tap into them, just a little." She leaned in and pressed a finger to my lips. "Don't tell anyone."
Doverel. A delightful surprise.
There was something disarming about her—something raw and sincere. And potential. So much of it.
"I won't," I said, smiling.
Could this be the start of something close to friendship?
Or was it too early to hope?
Hadn't I learned my lesson about trusting too easily?
Her eyes lit up. "Thanks." But then her tone shifted, her voice lowering. "We need to do as we're told."
I tilted my head. "This magic of yours… it's not part of what you're told to do, is it?"
She froze, caught off guard, then gave a sheepish shrug. "I'm not supposed to use it, no... but I figured you'd appreciate it."
I shook my head with a chuckle. "You're something else, Doverel."
She brightened again, brushing off the moment. "Come on, let's go. Elder Arisa doesn't have all day."
I smirked. "But I could teach you so much more. You're already willing to venture beyond…"
She burst into laughter.
"Scar… you are hilarious," she giggled, shaking her head as she walked ahead.
Of course. What other response was I expecting?
Also, come to think of it—Elder Arisa.
I see it now. Wasn't she just Junior Arisa in my time? A fourteen-year-old girl?
The name tugged at memories I'd long buried. She had once stood for everything I'd fought against. I remembered her idolizing Baltimore—Baltimore and his enchanted scrolls, the ones he used to craft his schemes. She had viewed him as a figure of power and brilliance.
And now, she was just… part of this new, incomprehensible world I found myself in.
But as Doverel and I made our way toward the practice grounds, side by side, something stirred in me. Something unexpected.
A flicker of… hope.
Or maybe just the comfort of not being alone anymore.
Sure, the world had changed without me.
But maybe this time, it wouldn't get to rewrite me.
Maybe, this time, I'd reclaim what they took.