Days had passed, and now Lior sat quietly, waiting for her general class in Alchemy & Transmutation, where emotions and elements were shaped into tools of healing, transformation, and mythic resonance.
The Archmentor had been lecturing for some time about the sacred art of potion-making. But no matter how much Lior tried to focus, her eyes grew heavy, closing against her will.
She gently lowered her head onto the desk, using her arms as a pillow. From where she sat, the Archmentor couldn't see her—so she wouldn't be noticed. Truthfully, she wasn't interested in the lesson. Sleep felt more urgent.
As soon as her head touched her arms, she drifted off. Her friends exchanged glances, puzzled by her behavior. They'd noticed her acting strangely lately—sometimes staring into space, sometimes meditating, sometimes seeming entirely absent.
They wanted to ask what was wrong, but she always seemed unreachable. Even when their crushes were nearby, Lior remained guarded, distant.
The four of them shrugged in silent agreement. Then they heard her murmur in her sleep. Kira rushed to her side and gently tried to wake her.
"Lior…" she whispered, but Lior didn't stir.
Kira shook her again, more urgently, but Lior remained locked in a deep dream.
They kept trying to wake her, careful not to alert the Archmentor, until finally the class ended.
Lior woke just as the bell rang, and her friends frowned with concern.
"What's wrong with you?" Jex asked, worry etched into his voice.
Lior turned to face them, her eyes heavy with sorrow—deep enough to make their concern grow.
"Are you okay?" Kira asked softly.
She shook her head. "No. I dreamed about my grandfather."
They nodded in quiet understanding. Lior looked up, blinking back tears. It had been five years since he passed, but the pain still lingered—sharp every time she spoke of him.
"It's his death anniversary," she said, her voice tinged with grief.
"You're going home?" Keal asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. I'll visit his grave." She forced a small smile.
"You want us to come with you?" Thorne offered, and the others agreed.
Lior smiled sweetly and assured them she could handle it. They smiled back, trusting her strength.
She stood and descended the stairs, passing the royals still seated and deep in discussion.
She didn't use magic to travel. Her power had been weakening since the school year began, and the strange occurrences were starting to affect her deeply.
At first, she ignored them. But the dreams became repetitive—always the same girl, always the same moment when she turned to look back, and Lior would wake.
And then there was the black figure. Always watching from afar. Whenever she tried to follow it, it would vanish at the same tree. She investigated the tree, but found nothing unusual.
Sometimes, she woke from sleepwalking—always standing before that tree.
As she passed the royals, Yrion called her name. The invisible wall between them had been slowly crumbling over the past weeks. The divide between light and black sorcerers was shifting.
She'd even seen her fellow black sorcerers bonding with light magic users—something once unthinkable.
"Lior…" Yrion called again.
She turned to him, expression blank, waiting for him to speak. If she were herself, she might've blushed at the prince's attention.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.
She shook her head. "I'm fine. What's the matter?"
Yrion hesitated, then spoke. "I heard from one of the black sorcerers that you're good at making healing potions…"
She frowned. That wasn't true. She didn't craft healing potions—her gift was healing itself.
She glanced toward her friends, then back at the prince. "I think that's a misunderstanding. I'm not skilled in potion-making, but Kira is. She's one of the best. If you want to learn, seek her out."
With that, she walked away.
When she arrived at Gravenvale, she found her parents talking in the living room. They were surprised to see her.
"Lior, why are you home?" her mother asked.
She approached respectfully. "It's Grandfather's death anniversary. I came to visit."
They nodded.
"You're not visiting?" she asked.
Her father shook his head. "We're busy right now…"
She didn't press further. Instead, she went to her room to change, then headed straight to the cemetery.
The place was quiet. Only the sounds of crickets, rustling grass, and the wind through the trees filled the air.
She searched for her grandfather's tomb. It wasn't hard to find—he had held a high rank, and was buried among the honored.
She placed a candle and flowers at the grave. Lighting the candle with her fire magic, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then opened them again.
She brushed the tombstone with her palms and began to speak.
"Lolo… it's been so long since we laughed together," she whispered. "I miss you."
Tears streamed down her face. She wiped them quickly.
"Lolo… these past few days, my power…" she exhaled shakily.
"Something's happening. So many things. Sometimes I feel like I'm choking on my own magic. It's weakening. I'm doing everything I can to strengthen it—for myself—but it keeps fading. No matter how much I train or cast spells…"
She sobbed.
"I need you again, Lolo… I need your help to control it…"
Her voice trembled. "I'm scared, Lolo…"
She hugged herself, trembling, seeking comfort from someone no longer there.
"I'm scared I won't be able to protect them from what's coming…"
She paused, then continued. "I always remember what you told me—'I'm the hope of this world.' But how, Lolo? How can I be their hope when I don't even know who I am?"
The clouds began to weep with her, rain falling in rhythm with her sorrow.
"You never told me what my role is. You just kept saying 'follow your heart'… but I don't know how. Should I be the girl you saw in me, or the girl I'm forced to become?"
She wiped her tears, but the rain washed them away again.
"Lolo… I've been lost since you left," she admitted softly. "I don't know what my purpose is…"
She lay down beside the tomb, hugging it as if embracing someone in sleep.
And in the pouring rain, there was Lior—crying, clinging to the grave of the one who saw her, believed in her, and gave her hope. And as she held on, she drifted into a deep sleep.
~~~~~~~~~
"Lolo, why do I need to train my light power, when we use black magic?" Lior asked, watching her grandfather seated with a book on mastering light magic.
He didn't look up. His voice was calm, steady. "Because you are light magic."
Lior sat cross-legged before him, puzzled. "But why am I different, Lolo? All the youth in Gravenvale wield black magic. Why am I both—light and dark?"
The former leader paused, his fingers resting on the page. He looked at her with solemn eyes.
"Because you are destined to save the princess cursed to exile in the moon, and the king imprisoned in a hidden place no one remembers—except those with power beyond knowing."
Lior's brow furrowed deeper. "Why me? Isn't there someone else?" she asked, half-laughing at the absurdity.
Her grandfather smiled softly. "There is no one else. Only you. You will rescue them—and the world."
He reached out and gently pinched her cheek, as he always did when she doubted herself.
Though the prophecy tangled her thoughts, Lior didn't ask further. She simply began training, just as her grandfather had said. If she was to rescue the cursed princess and the forgotten king, she needed to be strong enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Lior awoke from her deep sleep. For the first time in days, she felt truly rested. Rising slowly, she looked at her grandfather's tomb and smiled.
"I will do my best to rescue them…" she whispered, then turned and left the cemetery with quiet determination.
As she journeyed back to the academy, her thoughts lingered on the vision:
The princess, punished and locked away in the moon.
The king, hidden in a place no one could find.
And herself—caught between light and shadow, chosen by fate.
The wind carried her footsteps across the quiet road, and the sky above held a hush that felt like listening. Lior didn't yet understand the full weight of her destiny, nor the reason she was born with both light and dark within her. But she knew this: her grandfather had seen something in her that no one else had. And somewhere in the silence between prophecy and power, she would find the truth.
The moon watched from above, quiet and waiting.
And so, the girl who dreamed of stars and shadows walked onward—toward a fate written in magic, memory, and the echo of a promise.