Two Years Later – Victoria's Room
Victoria sat cross-legged on her bed in the lotus position. Behind her closed eyes, the room shimmered with swirling colors—red, blue, orange, yellow, silver, and black. Each hue pulsed with elemental energy: fire, water, earth, air, light, and darkness. The six elements danced and intertwined, blending into violet and gray—dimensional and gravity magic. As the convergence deepened, the energy spiraled into a brilliant green, vibrant and alive.
With every inhale, the energy drew closer; with every exhale, it slipped just beyond her grasp. Then, gradually, a yellow mana core emerged in her mind's eye. She focused on it, syncing her breath with the rhythm of the world around her. With each breath, the flow of magic entered her body, streaming into her mana core.
Her mana core, a deep green, began to brighten—one subtle shade at a time. She slowed her breathing, widening the intake of ambient energy. The green deepened, shifted, then gradually transformed—brightening, then burning into cyan. The transition came with searing pain that coursed through every fiber of her being.
Her mana core shifted rapidly—from bright green to deep cyan, then to pure cyan, and finally a luminous, almost electric, bright cyan.
The pain intensified, threatening to consume her. Gasping, she opened her eyes—only to find her skin coated in a thick, black sludge. A wave of nausea rolled through her at the stench. Disgusted, she summoned a pulse of darkness magic, incinerating the substance instantly.
But as the smoke cleared, she looked down and froze. Her clothes had been completely destroyed in the process.
"Ugh. Great," she muttered, scrambling off the bed to find something clean to wear.
She stumbled toward the wardrobe, her legs still shaky from the intensity of the Awakening.
Victoria pulled out a soft blue dress, simple but elegant, and slipped it over her head. The fabric was cool against her skin—a welcome contrast to the heat that had burned through her just moments ago. As she smoothed it down, adjusting the hem and tying the waist sash, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," she called, her voice a little hoarse.
The door opened with a quiet creak, and an older woman entered the room. Dressed in a crisp gray uniform and carrying herself with the calm dignity of a lifelong caretaker, Ellen bowed politely before speaking.
"Young lady, your parents have returned. Lunch is being served in the garden."
Victoria blinked, surprised by how much time had passed. She had gone into her meditation before sunrise, and now the sunlight outside her window was high and golden.
"Thank you, Ellen," she replied, offering a faint but warm smile.
Ellen's gaze lingered on Victoria for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly with concern as if sensing the lingering magical residue in the room—but she said nothing. With a respectful nod, she turned and quietly exited, leaving Victoria alone with her thoughts.
She gave herself one final glance in the mirror, straightened her posture, and headed toward the door—ready, or at least pretending to be.