It had been an another day since the storm.
Since the vines had risen from the earth, entwining the guests at Dahlia's blooming. Since Aurèlle had been lifted into the sky, her eyes alight with her mother's golden flecks, and the heavens had fractured into rain, snow, sun, and moon all at once. Since fireworks and elemental chaos had combined into a spectacle no one could ever forget.
The estate was quiet now. Too quiet.
No callers had arrived. No carriages had drawn near. No gifts or letters. Even the servants moved with cautious, almost furtive steps. The halls, once alive with chatter and music, were subdued, hollowed by what had occurred.
Aurèlle Liora Valencrest lingered at her window in the servants quarters, gazing listlessly at the deserted road that wound toward the estate. The world outside seemed to avoid the Valencrest house entirely. Each morning, the gates stood open, polished, expectant. But no one came. Not a single visitor, not a single word. The day that had been meant to celebrate Dahlia's blooming had instead become her own spectacle, a storm she could not forget.
Aurèlle brushed a strand of hair from her face. The roots, once deep brown, were now slowly transforming. At first, it had been a few tiny silver threads, shimmering faintly in the sunlight. But now, five days after the storm, the change had accelerated. Her roots were nearly silver, luminous like strands of starlight woven into her dark hair. Only a small portion of the length carried the sheen—the rest remained rich brown—but the shift was undeniable. Whenever she touched it, a faint warmth and hum tickled her fingers, a whisper of the power still dormant but alive within her.
Sat beside her, Dahlia Rose Valencrest flicked her wrist and the flowers twisted and grew so they closer to her from the quiet gardens, humming softly. She tended to her small bouquet, her hands gentle as she brushed soil from the petals. Despite her own blooming, she had sensed the tension that clung to their home, the wary looks, the hushed conversations outside their gates. Together, the sisters had grown hyper-aware of every glance, every whisper that might reach them.
A firm, precise knock echoed through the foyer. Aurèlle started, and Dahlia instinctively straightened.
"Who could that be so early?" Aurèlle murmured.
Dahlia shook her head. "I don't know. I'll see."
She dashed downstairs closely followed by her older sister.
Before she could reach the door, it swung open. A figure stepped inside, calm, unreadable, impossibly poised. Even before she spoke, her presence filled the room.
"Headmistress Thalixa Virellan," Dahlia whispered, awe tinting her voice. Aurèlle's breath caught. Whispers of the headmistress had reached her ears — the leader of the Academy for Gifted Youths, one of the most influential mages alive. Her silver-gold hair fell straight and perfect over her shoulders, framing piercing grey eyes that seemed to peer through walls, through façades, through souls.
"May I come in?" Thalixa's voice was calm but absolute. She did not wait for an answer, stepping forward with measured grace, each step radiating authority.
Dahlia and Aurèlle exchanged glances. Their stepmother, entering the hallway behind them, froze mid-step. Even she felt the weight of the headmistress's presence.
"Of course. Please, come in," Dahlia stammered, hurrying to close the front door and guide the headmistress toward the visitor's room. She nearly forgot to latch it behind them.
"Is there anything I can offer? Tea? Coffee? Perhaps a cup of jasmine?" Dahlia asked nervously.
"I do not have time for frivolities," Thalixa said sharply, scanning the room, eyes landing on Selene. "I am here on official business regarding your daughters."
Aurèlle's stepmother bristled. "Your daughters?" she asked, her voice tight.
"Yes," Thalixa replied evenly. "Your daughters, Aurèlle Liora Valencrest and Dahlia Rose Valencrest, have been formally recognized for their abilities and invited to attend the Academy for Gifted Youths."
The stepmother's lips thinned. "Preposterous! Aurèlle—she has shown no mastery, no control. She is nearly seventeen. This must be a mistake."
"There has been no mistake," Thalixa said, her voice steady. "The Academy admits only those whose abilities demonstrate extraordinary potential. Both girls have been chosen. Dahlia Rose Valencrest exhibits discipline and precision in her abilities. Aurèlle Liora Valencrest shows a magnitude of power rarely observed in one individual — power that cannot be ignored."
Aurèlle felt her chest tighten. The hum in her veins stirred, faint and electric. Her silver-streaked roots caught the sunlight, glimmering faintly as if the strands themselves were responding.
The stepmother's hand twitched, her fury carefully contained. She could not allow Aurèlle to eclipse Dahlia — not in this house, not in the world.
"You will depart for the Valley of Magic within one week," Thalixa continued. "Travel cases must be packed with items on the enclosed lists. Uniforms and materials will be provided. Timetables and certificates of acceptance are included."
Two glowing envelopes appeared in the air, each sealed with the Academy's emblem. One floated to Dahlia, one to Aurèlle.
"These contain your lessons, schedules, and certificates of acceptance," Thalixa explained. "Alongside magical instruction, you will receive standard education: arithmetic, literature, history. Gifted youths are trained fully, not partially."
She turned to the stepmother. Three parchments hovered before her: one for Dahlia, one for Aurèlle, and one for Selene to sign. The stepmother first reached Dahlia's letter, her hand shaking slightly as she scribbled her signature. The paper ignited and turned to ash in an instant. She smirked.
Aurèlle's letter resisted briefly, pulsing faintly as if alive. Reluctantly, she signed it, and the parchment vanished in a burst of flame.
Aurèlle and Dahlia stared, hearts racing. The energy from the letters lingered, brushing against the silver in Aurèlle's hair, tingling across her skin. The storm had not ended — it had left traces, tiny threads of its chaos weaving through her very being.
When the flames dissipated, Selene coming out of her daze invited Thalixa Virellan into the quiet of her study and both women disappeared behind the doors as if they had never existed. The house returned to its silent state, only the girls were left, stunned by the events that had just unfolded.
"She's real," Dahlia whispered, her eyes bright with excitement. "The Academy… it's real."
Aurèlle nodded, fingers tracing the silver strands of her hair. The power within her hummed, faint yet insistent, reminding her that the world had noticed her. Thalixa Virellan had not only recognized her; she had measured it, deemed it extraordinary.
Outside, the estate remained quiet, the driveway empty, the sun hesitant in the sky. But Aurèlle knew — no matter how much her stepmother tried, no one could hide her now. The Academy had seen her.
And her life would never be the same.