Irfin was first. He scowled, but his fire dimmed as he approached Evelyn. With a short sigh, he pressed two fingers against her chest, right over her heart. A flicker of flame passed from him into her, and a fiery mark flared against her skin before fading.
Irfin (grumbling): "Tch. Eighty-nine years and you're still two steps ahead, little witch."
Evelyn (smilingly): "You wouldn't have come if you didn't want this."
He said nothing—but he didn't deny it.
Neris, the water spirit, came next—graceful, serene. Her translucent robes flowed like river currents, and her presence quieted the wind itself. She stepped close to Evelyn and placed a cool hand gently on her forehead.
Neris (softly): "Still stubborn. Still reckless. Still… you."
A wave of calm surged through Evelyn's mind, and a glistening crest of water shimmered briefly over her brow before vanishing into her skin.
Then came Aeros, the wind spirit, spinning lazily through the air with a mischievous grin, his pale hair flaring in all directions, caught in a breeze only he could command. He hovered before Evelyn, then leaned down and pressed his hand against her shoulder.
A gust swept through her cloak, wild and playful. A swirling mark of wind twirled into existence along her collarbone, glimmering before fading.
Aeros: "You better make things interesting this time, as usual~"
Lastly, Terra stepped forward. Silent, steady, her presence grounding. Moss still clung to her shoulders like old memory, and earthy fragrance lingered around her. She met Evelyn's gaze, calm and grounding, then slowly reached out and pressed her warm hand against Evelyn's spine, between her shoulder blades.
A deep hum vibrated through Evelyn's bones as a mark like polished stone bloomed across her back.
Terra: "The contract is made."
As the final mark settled, the glow of the circle faded. It had served its purpose—only a vessel, not the bond itself.
The real bond lived in her now.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, her fingers curling slightly as the new weight of their essence settled within her.
The glow from the circle had faded, but the weight of its significance still lingered.
Evelyn turned to face the four spirits fully now. The wind tugged gently at the edges of her cloak as she met each of their gazes in turn.
She told them everything.
She began with herself. That she was Evelyn now—the first Princess of Cristiane now. A title that meant little to her in truth, but it offered a place to stand, a name to move under, and for now, that was enough.
Then she spoke of her true purpose.
She was building her own Guardians.
Each one of them—Inexperienced, yes—but each gifted beyond measure. Each one bore raw strength, fierce loyalty, or a deep, innate sense of justice. But raw power alone meant nothing. Without guidance, without purpose, it would burn out or be twisted into something cruel. Evelyn had seen it happen too many times before.
She couldn't allow that again.
She had tried—tried to teach them what she could. But she was still only a child in this world's eyes. Her every word, every step, was watched. She couldn't reveal too much, couldn't risk drawing attention to the strange depth in her gaze or the unnatural insight in her hands. Too much guidance would stir suspicion.
She needed instructors.
Not just warriors. Not simple tutors from the palace. She needed beings who had shaped the world, who understood what power meant—and what responsibility cost.
The spirits remained silent at first, absorbing her words carefully.
Then Irfin scoffed, crossing his arms.
Irfin: "So, you want us to teach them."
Evelyn met his eyes without flinching.
Evelyn: "Although you are hot-headed. I suppose you can be a good instructor. All of you can. You've lived longer than empires, survived wars peoples have forgotten, and shaped magic before it had a name. That kind of knowledge… I can't find it anywhere else."
There was no mockery in her voice. No charm, no manipulation. Just plain, steady truth. And in that, something sharper than any flattery.
She knew she had no right to ask this of them—not after the way she disappeared. But this wasn't about her anymore.
Evelyn: "They need you."
Evelyn looked at each of them.
Evelyn: "Not just to become stronger. But to become something more."
None of the spirits spoke right away.
But their silence wasn't resistance.
It was the kind that came before a choice that mattered.
Then Irfin gave a short huff.
Irfin: "Well. If I have to babysit some hot-headed brat, they better not cry at the first burn."
Aeros (lazily looping overhead): "Ooh~ I want the wild one. The reckless one. The one who falls off a cliff and still laughs."
Neris (softly): "Well… if you believe in them that much, I suppose the least I can do is try to teach them."
Terra said nothing, but nodded once. Her approval was always quieter—but firmer than stone.
Evelyn smiled—genuine. She knew they would agree. She was sure that even if the world turned its back on her, even if no one else trusted her, they would.
That's just how stupid they were.
Loyal to a fault. Predictable in their stubbornness. Bound not just by the contract—but by something older, something deeper.
They always were.
She turned her gaze toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to rise, brushing gold against the frostbitten trees. The cold air bit at her skin, but she didn't flinch. There was warmth inside her now—fourfold, fierce, and ancient.
This time, she would not repeat the past.
This time, she would build something that could endure even after she was no longer there.
The wind was crisp atop the eastern terrace, a secluded perch carved into the palace's oldest wing. From here, one could see the entire training ground—a sun-drenched circle of worn earth and weathered stone where seven figures moved with varying degrees of grace, power, and recklessness.
Evelyn stood near the edge, her cloak stirring in the breeze, arms folded, gaze unwavering.
Behind her, the four elemental spirits emerged—silent and watchful. Their presence distorted the air, subtle pulses of power rippling like heat over water, veiling them in a shimmer that blurred the line between realms.
Evelyn: "They are the ones."
Her voice was calm, almost quiet, but beneath it thrummed something deeper—resolve forged in fire, honed over lifetimes, tempered by failure and forged again.