Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of the modest hotel room, casting golden streaks across the floor. Elias sprang out of bed, a wide grin plastered on his face as he bounded across the room with uncontainable energy. Today was the day.


    He grabbed his wand, the fiery construct glowing faintly as it rested on the bedside table. Holding it aloft, he gave it a quick spin, marveling at the way the flames danced within its spiraling core. Every time he looked at it, a rush of pride surged through him. It wasn’t just a wand—it was his proof that he was ready to take on the world.


    His eyes flicked briefly to the charred burn marks left behind on the table’s surface. He winced, quickly averting his gaze. “Nope. Not thinking about it,” he muttered under his breath, focusing intently on the wand in his hand as if it might distract him from the evidence of his carelessness.


    Yesterday felt like a blur. After the explosion that finally earned him an official banishment from the village, Elias had spent his final moments there saying goodbye to Kiran.


    “I’ll see you at the academy,” Kiran had said, his tone a mix of exasperation and genuine fondness. “Try not to burn the place down before I get there.”


    “No promises,” Elias had replied with a grin, slinging his pack over his shoulder.


    Now, standing in the hotel room with the academy only a few hours away, Elias felt a bubbling anticipation that bordered on impatience. He double-checked his belongings—clothes, wand, notebook—all neatly packed and ready to go. It wasn’t much, but then again, Elias had never owned much to begin with. And after his workshop burned down, what little he had was now either ash or a distant memory. Still, he patted the bag with a sense of satisfaction. What mattered most was packed and ready—his wand, his notes, and his determination.


    He glanced down at his attire: his trusty forging uniform, hastily cleaned in the hotel bathroom and left to dry overnight. Though a little stiff and still faintly smelling of soap, it was comfortable enough. The dark, charred edges that refused to wash out gave it a worn-in look he almost appreciated. Almost.


    As he paced the room, his thoughts kept returning to the flames. Would they hold steady when it mattered? He’d tested his wand all of once, and the entrance ceremony was looming closer—there would be eyes everywhere, and no room for failure. Fire had always been his greatest strength, but it was unpredictable, relentless. Could he control it when the stakes were so high?


    Elias smirked at the thought. “I guess I''ll find out soon enough,” he muttered to himself.


    Elsewhere, a young girl sat slumped against the stump of an ancient tree, its gnarled remains worn smooth by time.


    She wore a simple tunic that hung loosely around her slender frame, its earthy tones blending seamlessly with the forest around her. Twigs branched haphazardly from her tied-back hair, as if she were part of the woodland itself, a natural extension of its quiet, enduring presence.


    The sunlight dappled through the forest canopy, casting a soft glow over her resting figure. Around her lay three massive brown bears, their powerful frames curled protectively at her feet. Each bear seemed unnaturally calm, their breathing slow and even as though mirroring the girl’s tranquility.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    But the peace didn’t last.


    One of the bears suddenly perked up, its ears twitching at a faint sound or scent carried on the forest breeze. The creature rose to its full height, its keen eyes fixed on a small, unnervingly dark recess between two trees. Moving cautiously, the bear stepped closer, its heavy paws making almost no sound on the mossy ground.


    The closer it came to the patch of shadow, the more its movements slowed, as if caught in an invisible pull. It lowered its head, sniffing at the air with sharp, deliberate breaths. The darkness seemed to ripple in response, tendrils of shadow curling outward like fingers reaching for the curious bear.


    The girl stirred. Her eyes opened, and for a moment, she simply observed the scene, her expression calm but alert. Slowly, she raised one hand, her fingers outstretched toward the recess. The darkness shivered, recoiling as if struck by an unseen force. With a subtle motion of her hand, the patch of shadow folded in on itself, vanishing entirely.


    Freed from its trance, the bear blinked and shook its head, stepping back as if waking from a dream. The girl’s voice was soft but firm as she called out to it. “Come back.”


    The bear hesitated only a moment before turning and lumbering back to her side. It nuzzled into her arms, a low, rumbling sound of contentment escaping its throat. She smiled faintly, stroking its fur as the other two bears shifted closer, their protective circle around her tightening once more.


    Out of the shadows behind the girl emerged a figure, her steps deliberate and silent, as if the forest itself bent to accommodate her presence. Her appearance was strikingly incongruous with the wilderness around her. Her clothes, a neatly pressed blouse and dark trousers, were spotless, free of even a trace of dirt or stray foliage. Her hair, a sleek cascade of jet-black, gleamed in the dappled sunlight, untouched by the forest''s grasp. Even her boots, polished to a near mirror finish, seemed to defy the mud and leaves underfoot. She carried an air of precision and control, a sharp contrast to the untamed beauty of the forest.


    “Sylra, it’s time to go,” the woman said, her voice calm yet firm, carrying an undertone of urgency.


    The girl’s striking eyes, shimmering with an almost otherworldly glow, met the woman’s steady gaze. For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath as the two shared a silent understanding.


    Sylra nodded once, her slender frame rising effortlessly from the tree stump as the bears stirred, their protective forms shifting as though sensing the change.


    Soon, the two figures disappeared into the dense foliage, their movements so seamless it was as if the forest itself had swallowed them whole. The air that had held a strange stillness moments before began to stir again. Leaves rustled softly, birds resumed their songs, and the quiet hum of life returned to the woods, as though the presence of the pair had been nothing more than a fleeting dream.


    And still, far off on the beaches of another continent entirely, a young boy stood alone, staring at the endless ocean stretched out before him. His luggage sat at his feet, and a flicker of regret crossed his face as he adjusted its straps.


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    “I really should’ve let them take me,” he muttered to himself, his voice lost to the wind and crashing waves.


    With a deep breath, he raised his hand, and the world around him fell silent. The waves froze mid-crash, their peaks suspended like jagged glass. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, locked in the grip of his time-freezing magic.


    The boy hoisted his luggage onto his back and stepped out onto the motionless water, his feet pressing lightly against the unmoving surface. He moved carefully, each step deliberate, knowing he couldn’t maintain this for long.


    As the strain began to set in, he stopped, pulling an inflatable life raft from his pack. With a practiced motion, he unfroze time just long enough to let the raft land in the water before climbing aboard. The waves rocked gently as he let himself rest, preparing for the next stretch of his journey. The quiet determination in his eyes never wavering.