Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across Amelia's desk. Dust moved in the beams of light, glowing faintly — almost like notes of magic.
Alaric's study door hadn't opened since last night.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Amelia sat by the window, her chin resting on her hand as she watched the garden below. The grass still glowed faintly with dew, but something about it felt… strange.
The trees beyond the fence seemed to shift ever so slightly, as though the forest itself was breathing.
She rubbed her wrist absently — the faint warm beneath her glove hadn't faded since yesterday.
Sophie said as she entered the room her hair bit messy ,while holding two mugs of tea.
"Are you thinking of the magical forest by looking outside. Don't think too much after 2 days it will be your birthday and then we will be going there for our big adventure "
"You haven't moved since morning," she said, sitting down beside Amelia. "You'll start growing roots there."
Amelia smiled weakly. "I just… feel like something's there. Watching me ."
Sophie blinked and looked out the window. "It's just the wind, or maybe a squirrel."
But when she said it, a small shiver ran through her voice.
Amelia leaned closer to the window. Between the trees, she thought she saw something — a flicker of silver, like moonlight coming in motion.
She stood up, heart quickening. "Did you see that?"
Sophie frowned. "See what?"
But before Amelia could answer, the image was gone — swallowed by the sunlight.
Inside the study, Alaric stirred awake.
He winced as he sat up, the faint ache from last night still clinging to his limbs. His shirt hung open, the wounds on his side now faint silver scars instead of open cuts. The vial of potions lay empty on the table beside him, next to a few old parchments covered in strange runes.
He exhaled, closing his eyes. That was too close.
Reaching for the drawer, he pulled out another vial — this one filled with dull blue liquid — and carefully poured a few drops over his palm.
The faint black remains from dark magic hissed and evaporated.
But the silence around him felt wrong.
The wards he had placed on the house trembled slightly, as if something outside was testing them.
He rose and touched the window muttering a few words under his breath. A faint glow of light moved outward — a barrier spell, weak but holding.
"Did he sent her again ? She's getting closer," he whispered. "Already?"
Outside, near the edge of the forest, mist curled around the trees.
A woman stepped from it — the same silver-haired figure from the night before.
Her feet barely touched the ground as she walked, and wherever she moved, flowers opened their beautiful petals as if drawn by her magic.
She looked toward the house — toward Amelia — and smiled faintly.
"So much like your mother," she murmured, her voice carried on the wind. "It will not take long for you to see me."
Lifting her hand, she brushed her fingers through the air.
A trail of silver dust followed, drifting toward the house, slipping through the cracks in the window and the scent of roses filled the air.
Amelia blinked and looked up. "Do you smell that?"
Sophie sniffed the air. "Roses? But there are no rose near the garden…"
Then suddenly, the air moved — faintly — and in the glass reflection, Amelia saw her.
A woman standing outside beneath the tree line. Silver hair. Gentle smile. Eyes that seemed to glow faintly, filled with warmth and something ancient.
Amelia's breath caught. "Sophie… do you also see her?"
Sophie turned sharply, but the woman was gone.
"Amelia, there's no one there—"
But Amelia wasn't listening. Her eyes remained fixed on the spot where she had seen the woman. The faint warmth on her wrist pulsed again — stronger this time, like it was calling back to something.
"Maybe…" Amelia whispered, her voice trembling, "Maybe she's connected to Grandma… or the forest…"
Sophie frowned. "Whatever she is, we're not going out there I don't have a good feeling about this."
Amelia didn't answer — but her gaze drifted again toward the edge of the trees, where the mist seemed to move like breath.
And deep within that mist, hidden from sight, a pair of dark eyes watched her — belonging to the young sorcerer.
His expression was unreadable, torn between guilt and duty.
"She's already sensing us," he murmured. "The bond is waking."
Then, for the first time in years, he looked away from the darkness behind him — and toward the girl bathed in sunlight.