Warning
1178 Words
As Kris Alice disappeared among the trees, the echo of her footsteps lingered in Beatrice’s heart. Something about her departure stung—as if each step tore a piece of her away.
She sat in silence while Marcus stared into space, his features darkened, his last words buzzing faintly in the air.
Yet Beatrice couldn't be angry with him—she understood him, understood herself... and perhaps, the quiet grief they both carried in their own way.
---
At that moment, Kris Alice stood still by Lake Laranis, surrounded by the blue Serivel plants. She stared at her reflection in the water—her face, the one she had always loathed.
With a clenched fist, she struck her reflection. “Damn it!”
She tried to suppress her rage but failed, curling into herself, overwhelmed by helplessness. Then a shadow crossed the sky, and white feathers drifted down like snowflakes in a storm.
“It’s time to return. Your father is looking for you.”
“I should’ve known… running from the truth was never more than temporary.”
She stood, dusted off her clothes, and unfolded the wings Beatrice hadn’t seen in ten years. With a powerful thrust, she soared into the sky. Her guide watched as the wind she conjured blew off his hood.
A girl with rose-hued eyes, framed by a stunning face and silver waves that danced with the breeze, sighed softly.
“Oh, Kristina Alicia…”
That same night, Beatrice sat by her window, holding her flying book, which remained still—as if struck by sorrow.
“Turpal Nostalgia…” she whispered.
But nothing happened.
She closed her eyes. Her memory wandered—to that day in the forest.
---
She must’ve been ten, hiding from Marcus in the woods. Searching for a hiding spot, fate led her to a hollow tree. Inside, she found something… extraordinary.
A girl with glowing golden eyes, an angelic face, and a white cotton dress stained with blood. Her body shielded by white wings wrapped around her like armor.
“An angel…!” Beatrice gasped.
“I’m no angel. I’m…”
“Reese…? Where are you… Reese!”
Beatrice turned toward Marcus’s voice.
“Mark! Come quick!”
He ran—and there, he saw his first love. His core pulsed at the sight of her beauty.
The memory faded with a knock at the window.
Beatrice turned—and saw what she never expected.
Kris Alice stood on the balcony, drenched in sweat, her face pale.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Beatrice opened the window without hesitation.
“You’ve been wandering all this time?” she whispered.
Kris Alice nodded, glancing at the bed Beatrice had fixed that morning. She sat like returning to a haven.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For being a puzzle… for the times I ran, the questions I ignored… even with you, I never truly let you in.”
Beatrice sat beside her. She said nothing. Just waited.
Her silence was the answer Kris Alice needed.
“Do you remember the day we met?” she asked.
“I could never forget,” Beatrice smiled.
“I was running—not from enemies, but a fate I never chose. Born in a palace where wings meant power, not freedom.”
Beatrice listened, wide-eyed.
“I refused to be a weapon. I fled. But a mirage storm caught me mid-air, and I crashed. When you found me… I hoped it would be you.”
Beatrice whispered:
“What does that change? Nothing. You’re my friend.”
Kris Alice laughed gently, wiping a tear.
“I want to enter Destancia, Beatrice. I want to start over—not as an heir, but as a student. Like you. I won’t run anymore.”
Beatrice stood and offered her hand.
“I’ll support you.”
Kris Alice gripped it tightly, as if clinging to a lifeline.
That night, under the moonlight, a silent promise passed between them—bound not by blood, but by fate and magic.
And as the window shut, the flying book stirred—as if ready to tell a new chapter…
A chapter that begins at Destancia Academy.
---
A faint snap of Granny Belle’s fingers lit the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls, like whispers of the past echoing secrets. She sat on a creaking chair, eyes fixed on a flame’s shadow—one resembling a long-gone face.
“My lady…” she whispered. “I kept my promise. For twenty years, I carried your legacy. Your daughter is no longer a child—she’s proud, strong, capable of love… despite the whispers, despite her strange eyes.”
She paused.
“But now she’s surrounded by pure souls—friends who see her as Beatrice. And I… I feel my time ending. I can’t protect her as I once did… All I wish now is for fate to bring her someone worthy—a home… before I leave.”
She looked at the cracked ceiling and whispered a prayer.
Unbeknownst to her, fate was already unfolding a new chapter—not just love or trials, but the greatest test faced by any Serivel witch since the Eternal Peace.
And destiny does not wait for the unready.
---
The sky was overcast that gray morning, when Beatrice awoke to the wind rattling her window. The world outside seemed to hold its breath.
She stood before the mirror, staring into her mismatched eyes—one emerald, one icy blue. Today, even her reflection held a silent omen.
She met Marcus to walk through the market before the final entrance exam.
She smiled faintly at her grandmother, though it never reached her eyes. As she and Marcus wandered the streets, he chatted about failing, but she barely heard him. The market's noise faded—replaced by a hiss meant only for her.
“You…” the voice said. “You are the one the lesser creatures seek.”
Her hands rose to her chest.
“What do you mean? Who are you?”
Then she saw them—a tall figure in a white cloak, red hair spilling out, and a smile that hid too much.
“You’ve grown. I’ve watched you. This may not be our time—but it’s close. Remember: Destancia will open again. Evil spirits will rise. Stand against the storm… or be devoured.”
Then they vanished.
“Reese? What’s wrong?”
Marcus’s hand pulled her back. Her face was pale.
“He… he disappeared…”
“Who?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“You’re overthinking. Let’s go home.”
He guided her away, but her mind lingered on the stranger.
That night, she returned home, her soul rattled by that final phrase. Deep down, she knew—everything before had been the prologue.
She looked at her grandmother.
The old woman read everything in her eyes, trembled as her fingers wrapped around her cup, and whispered:
“So… it’s time.”
…to be continued.
- Writer
