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1237 Words
The courtyard was warmer today, dappled in the gold of a sun that never quite reached the chill in Lilly’s bones. She stood with her feet planted, breath steady, facing Rowen across the training ground. He gave her a half-smile—the one he wore when he was both proud and teasing.
“Focus, Lilly,” he said, circling her like a patient predator. Your magic listens to your intent. Not your fear.
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not afraid.”
“Good.” His voice dipped, and the ground beneath her shifted as he sent a surge of earth magic toward her feet. She jumped back, stumbling slightly but holding her balance. Her palms sparked with light—raw, unstable, but growing stronger with each day.
Training with Rowen had become part of her rhythm, and she’d started to crave it. Not just because it made her feel powerful, but because it felt like hers. No pretending, no faking. Just magic and motion and him.
Still, something had changed.
She saw it in the way the castle guards lingered near doorways when she passed. In the quiet conversations, they stopped when she entered a room. And last night, she’d woken to the soft click of armor outside her bedroom door.
They were watching her.
“Again,” Rowen called.
She threw her hand forward and released a bolt of energy. It arced wild and high, colliding with a tree and sending a wave of blue light crackling through its branches.
Rowen gave a low whistle. “You’re getting stronger.”
“Or sloppier,” she muttered.
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re overthinking again. Let the magic feel with you.”
Lilly blinked at him. “That’s the problem. I do feel something. All the time. Like… a hum under my skin.”
Rowen tilted his head. “That’s not unusual.”
“No,” she said slowly. “It’s not just magic. It’s like something’s missing. Like something’s wrong.”
He hesitated, just long enough for her to notice. “You’re adjusting. It’ll pass.”
Would it?
Later, in the quiet of her chamber, Lilly paced. The moonlight cast long shadows on the floor, and the low crackle of the fire was the only sound. She went to the window, peering into the courtyard below.
Two guards. Again.
They always said they were for her protection—but protection from what? Rowen had been vague when she asked, and the others even more so. Too kind. Too guarded.
And then there were the dreams.
They’d started a few nights ago. Flash images—burning light, red skies, and voices calling her name from somewhere far beyond reach. Sometimes she saw faces. Sometimes fire. And once, a dragon that looked eerily familiar.
She pressed her hand to her chest.
She hadn’t been normal in the human world. Not really. She remembered the way electronics shorted around her. How animals either avoided her or stared too long. How she’d once touched a classmate and made his nose bleed just by accident. Everyone called her strange.
But she wasn’t strange. She was different. And someone knew.
“Hey,” a soft voice called. She turned to find Rowen leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, a crooked smile on his face. “You weren’t at dinner.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He stepped into the room. “You always eat dessert.”
Lilly sat on the edge of her bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Rowen paused mid-step.
“You say I’m adjusting,” she went on, “but it feels more like I’m being managed. There are guards outside my room. People stop talking when I walk into rooms. I know something’s wrong.”
Rowen sat across from her, gaze steady. “You’re not being managed. "You’re being watched because there are people who would do anything to take you from here.”
She frowned. “Why me? What do I have that’s worth all this?”
“I think you already know the answer.”
She bit her lip. “Power.”
“Yes. But more than that—origin. You came from somewhere, Lilly. And the people who lost you… they haven’t stopped looking.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“Then why won’t anyone tell me who I am?” she whispered.
Rowen leaned closer, resting a hand lightly on hers. “Because the truth is dangerous. Not just to you. To everyone.”
Before she could ask more, a knock came at the door. One of the guards stepped in, his expression grim. “There’s been movement in the forest, Your Highness. Unfamiliar magic. We’re increasing patrols.”
Rowen’s posture stiffened. “Any sightings?”
“None yet. But someone’s looking for her. That much is clear.”
Lilly’s blood turned cold. The guard left, and she turned her wide eyes to Rowen.
He met her gaze with something fierce and vulnerable all at once. “I promised I’d protect you. That hasn’t changed.”
She nodded slowly, but the question kept crawling back: From whom?
That night, sleep came in fits. She dreamed of home—except it wasn’t really home. It was her old bedroom in the human world, but the wallpaper peeled like dead skin, and the walls cracked open to show swirling stars beyond.
In the center of the room was a mirror. And in it, not her reflection—but a girl with glowing red eyes and scales blooming across her cheeks like veins of ruby. She reached out, and Lilly felt herself pulled forward.
“Come back,” the girl whispered. “Come back to what you were.”
Lilly woke with a gasp.
The room was still. But the sense of being watched hadn’t left her.
The next day, training resumed—but there was tension in the air. Rowen moved with tighter control, watching the tree lines as much as he watched her. She tried to focus, tried to push away the feeling gnawing at her.
“Tell me something,” she said suddenly, mid-practice. “What would you have done if I’d never come here?”
Rowen blinked. “I don’t know. Probably continued annoying my father. Arguing with the council. Trying to keep my people safe.”
“And now?”
He looked at her, and for once his teasing smile was gone. “Now I fight for you too.”
She looked down at her hands, energy still flickering faintly across her skin. “Do you think I’ll ever remember who I really am?”
“I think you already do. Even if you can’t name it yet.”
She looked up. “That’s not an answer.”
He grinned. “It’s the best you’re getting.”
She threw a small spark of light at him. He dodged it easily, laughing.
Their laughter echoed into the trees, unaware that, just beyond the edge of the wards, a pair of dark eyes watched. Cloaked in shadows, a figure stepped silently through the brush, a sigil glowing at their wrist.
“She’s here,” the figure whispered. And she’s waking up. The prince has no idea what he’s guarding.”
From the forest, the wind shifted—and with it, the game began to change.
- Writer
