The afternoon stretched long and golden across the courtyard.
Lita had found her rhythm again, the earlier embarrassment fading into determination. She kept the magic reined in this time, feeling the way it moved through her before letting it take shape—a sword first, the pale blue glow steadier than it had been that morning. She swung it. Held the form. Didn't let it slip.
"Better," Flare said from beside her. "Much better. But don't let your guard down just because it's working. That's exactly when things go sideways."
"I know, I know." Lita adjusted her grip. "I'm focused."
"You look focused. Those are different things."
Lita shot her a look, then smiled despite herself and went back to her forms.
By the time the sun had started dropping behind the trees and the shadows were stretching long across the stone, Flare called a stop. "Enough for today. You've done well."
Lita dismissed the blade with a flick and let out a long breath, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "I feel like something actually clicked today."
"It did," Flare said simply. "But there's always the next thing to learn."
They walked back inside together, Lita still buzzing with the easy pride of a good session. Flare let her have it. She'd earned it.
But Flare's mind was elsewhere. It had been since morning—since the name Sylana, since the letter's ashes, since the shadow of a woman whose reputation made even Lita's mother tense.
She left Lita to her own wandering and went to see to her tasks, moving through the halls with the quiet efficiency she always maintained. There were things to oversee, preparations to check, and the regular machinery of the household to keep running. Ordinary things. She was grateful for them right now.
Lita, meanwhile, found herself drifting.
The training high faded by degrees as she walked the manor's quieter corridors, the questions she'd had all day circling back around. How strong was her mother, really? What had Flare almost said before she'd caught herself? And what was Sylana to their family—who was she, exactly, that her name could put that particular look on her mother's face?
She didn't have answers to any of it. She wasn't even sure she knew what questions to ask.
Eventually, without quite deciding to, she found herself standing outside her mother's office door again.
She raised her hand. Hesitated.
Then knocked softly.
Lita found herself at her mother's office door once more. She hesitated for a moment, then knocked softly.
"Come in," her mother's calm voice called from within.
Lita entered, finding her mother sitting behind her desk, as composed as ever. The room had been partially repaired from the earlier accident, though the more significant damage would take time to fix. Her mother looked up from her work, raising an eyebrow at Lita.
"Something on your mind?" her mother asked, her tone neutral.
Lita stepped forward, feeling a little nervous. "I was just wondering… about our family. There are things I don't understand. Like, why did Aunt Sylana want to take me? And why are we so different from other people?"
Her mother's eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing how much to tell her. "Our family is… unique. We are bound by ancient traditions and powers that most people cannot comprehend. As for Sylana, she has her own ambitions, ones that do not align with mine."
Lita frowned. "But why does she want me?"
Her mother's gaze softened slightly, though there was still a sharpness to her words. "You are powerful, Lita. More powerful than you realize. Sylana sees that, and she wants to mold you into something that serves her own goals. But I will not allow that."
Lita nodded, though her curiosity was still not fully satisfied. "And what about the head of the Valliere family? Are they really coming here?"
Her mother's expression darkened, just for a moment. "Perhaps. But that is not your concern right now. Your focus should be on your training. The future will reveal itself in time."
Before Lita could ask more, her mother's attention shifted back to her documents, signaling the end of the conversation. Lita quietly excused herself, feeling a mixture of pride and unease.
As she walked back through the mansion's halls, she couldn't shake the feeling that there were still too many secrets being kept from her—secrets that could change everything.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew longer, Lita found herself staring out of her window. The mansion was quiet, but the air was thick with tension. She knew that whatever lay ahead, it wouldn't be easy. But she was determined to grow stronger, to prove herself not just to her mother, but to the world.
Far from the mansion, in a secluded chamber, Sylana stood by a crackling fire. Her eyes glinted with a cold light as she read a letter in her hands—one not meant for her but intercepted nonetheless. A sinister smile spread across her face as she crumpled the paper.
"Soon, Lita," she murmured to herself. "You will be mine, and your mother won't be able to stop it."