I often found myself whispering into the twilight, questioning whether life in Velmora was all there was to my fate. “What lies beyond these familiar paths?” I wondered, my heart both anxious and excited.

  The sky burned in hues of gold and violet as the sun dipped behind the treetops, casting long shadows over our little village. Lanterns swung gently from wooden posts, their soft glow illuminating cobblestone streets lined with wildflowers and creeping ivy. I strolled slowly through the town square, letting the comforting scents of fresh bread and herbal remedies mingle with memories of laughter and conversation.

  Neighbors greeted me with warm smiles and knowing nods. Mrs. Alder, the baker, called out, “Good evening, Elya! Come sample my new honeyed bread!” And as I paused to chat with old friends by the apothecary—where the rich aroma of herbs filled the air—I couldn’t help but feel both anchored and restless. Velmora was safe, a sanctuary for those like us who wielded Arkanila magic, free at last from the old persecutions. Yet, in the quiet hum of everyday life, a nagging question stirred: was there more out there for me?

  Lost in thought, I nearly missed the call.

  “Elya, come down before you break your neck!” My mother’s familiar voice cut through the evening air, laced with both exasperation and warmth.

  I turned toward my modest stone cottage, where atop the slanted roof I had often found solace. With a small smile, I let my magic ease my descent, landing lightly beside her. Marwen Raventhorn, with her arms crossed and silver-streaked dark hair catching the moonlight, regarded me with a mixture of concern and resolve.

  “Still restless?” she asked gently, eyes searching mine.

  I hesitated, then admitted, “I just… wonder what’s out there, beyond these familiar streets and comforting routines.”

  Marwen’s expression softened, though a shadow crossed her gaze as she looked toward the darkening horizon. “The world is vast, Elya. And not all of it is kind.”

  Before we could speak further, a chill wind rustled through the trees, as if echoing her warning. My heart skipped when a branch snapped somewhere in the distance—a subtle sign that tonight might not be as peaceful as it seemed.

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  I followed my mother inside, where the kitchen glowed with candlelight and the scent of roasted vegetables mingled with fresh bread. Though my fork paused mid-air, my mind raced. “Why do we have to hide?” I blurted out, the familiar weight of our past injustices heavy on my chest.

  Marwen’s eyes darkened momentarily as she replied, “Because the world is not kind to witches. They fear what they do not understand. And fear… breeds destruction.”

  I clenched my fork, the frustration and yearning for a different future boiling within me. “It wasn’t always like this, was it?” I whispered.

  Shaking her head, she said softly, “No. There was a time when witches and mages coexisted in harmony. But fear twisted that truth into something ugly. The kingdom calls us unnatural, dangerous… even if we are not.”

  Before my thoughts could race further, a low, distant horn shattered the fragile calm. Then came a second—closer this time—followed by the rising crescendo of screams and chaos.

  I bolted outside, my heart pounding as I beheld a terrifying sight: torches snaking through the forest, underbrush churning with the movement of many dark shapes. Steel glinted in the flickering light—knights, their armor gleaming as they advanced with relentless precision.

  “Elya!” My mother’s voice rang out urgently as she appeared at the threshold, her face set with grim determination.

  “Run,” she commanded.

  My instincts rebelled against the idea of fleeing. “We have to fight—” I started, but the explosive roar of a detonating spell cut me off.

  A violent blast of Runetha magic slammed into a nearby cottage. Flames erupted, consuming wood and dreams alike as the acrid smell of burning thatch filled the night air. Magic and steel clashed in a frantic dance, leaving little time for thought or choice.

  I turned to my mother, desperation choking my words. “We can’t just leave them!” I cried.

  Marwen grabbed my wrist, her grip firm despite the tremors of fear. With a swift motion, she pressed a small, leather-bound grimoire into my hands. “You’re not ready for this fight. But you will be,” she insisted, her tone both stern and tender. “No matter what happens, you must survive.”

  Before I could protest further, the door burst open. A knight clad in gleaming silver armor stepped inside, his sword humming with volatile Runetha energy. In an instant, Marwen summoned raw Arkanila magic; the air shimmered as mana bent to her will. A forceful blast sent the knight reeling backward, only for another to charge from the side.

  Marwen’s eyes widened in the split second of hesitation, and a searing pain shot through her as a blade found its mark in her side. I could only gasp in horror as she staggered, blood staining her tunic. Even as she wavered, her grip on the attacking knight did not falter.

  “Tell your king…” she rasped, magic crackling in her voice, “…that witches do not die quietly.”

  A final surge of energy exploded from her palm, enveloping both her and the knight in a burst of blinding light. Then—silence and fire swallowed her whole.

  I froze, unable to move, unable to breathe, until a frantic hand seized my arm.

  “Elya, go!” The voice of Velmora’s elder urged, slicing through my paralysis.

  Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled backward, and then, driven by both grief and determination, I ran.

  Through the chaos and flames, I fled along the darkened road. Behind me, Velmora burned, its memories reduced to sparks and shadows. I fell hard onto the rough earth, dirt mingling with my tears, grounding me in this painful reality.

  Clutching the grimoire to my chest, I vowed silently amidst the ruins of home, “I will make them pay.”

  I knew the world was vast, dangerous, and unforgiving. But tonight, as the night swallowed Velmora’s light, I also knew that this was not the end of my journey.

  I whispered my vow into the bitter wind, determined to learn the strength and magic that would one day turn the tide. Soon, the kingdom would come to fear the wrath of a witch.

  [End of Chapter 1]