We had a hard time finding anything suitable in my mother's closet. Most of her clothes were dull and lifeless—muted shades and stiff fabrics I wasn't at all used to. It took ages just to find a shirt with a hint of color and pants that weren't painfully tight. I loathed the way skinny jeans clung to my legs; they made me feel like I was trying to be someone I wasn't. I'd always been more comfortable in maxi dresses or flowing skirts—if I wore pants, they were the loose, breathable kind, like wide-legged trousers.
"I'm not really used to these colors," I admitted to Cordelia, tugging awkwardly at the hem of my borrowed shirt.
She tilted her head and gave me a thoughtful look. "Yeah, it doesn't suit you. You look more alive in bright colors—more like yourself."
I smiled faintly. Maybe I wasn't such a reflection of my mother after all. I had always believed I was living in her shadow, trying to fit into the mold she left behind. But maybe… maybe I'd been myself all along.
We entered the Main Hall and stepped out into the garden, which, in the golden hush of morning, looked almost like a castle courtyard. The space buzzed with energy—young witches and wizards practicing levitation magic, their weapons floating midair before being flung at lifelike scarecrows with alarming precision. It was mesmerizing… and overwhelming. The heat, the press of energy in the air—it made my stomach churn and my vision blur.
Cordelia glanced at me and immediately understood. Without a word, she cast a thatcooling spell, the relief hitting me like a breeze in midsummer.
"Thank you, Cordelia," I breathed, finally able to inhale deeply. "That was intense. It's my first time being around so many witches at once. I couldn't handle the heat."
"You'll get used to it," she said with a small smile. "But first, you need to learn that spell. I'll teach you later."
I saw them before they saw me—two witches, unmistakable in their striking appearances. One was clad in something that looked like armor, not metal exactly, but imbued with a strength that shimmered beneath the surface. The other was wreathed in strands of living leaves, as if nature itself had chosen her as its vessel. Beside her, golden runes glowed faintly along her arms and collarbones, casting soft light like whispers of ancient magic.
For a moment, I stood frozen, feeling like I'd fallen into the kind of world I'd only ever imagined through the pages of a book. But this wasn't fiction. This was real. We had warriors—actual warriors.
"Tera, Mira! There you are." Cordelia's voice called out, drawing the two women's attention. So these were the witches Alice had told me about—the ones who would train me, who would help me survive whatever came next.
"Hi! You must be Sera," said the one adorned with leaves, her smile wide and welcoming as she extended her hand. Her red hair framed a face full of warmth, freckles dancing across her cheeks like sunlight on autumn leaves.
The other one didn't bother to hide her disdain. Her eyes swept over me, slow and disapproving, lips curling ever so slightly. She crinkled her nose, as if she caught the scent Cordelia mentioned—my blood, the one that marked me with the rare fragrance of a White Witch.
I clasped the hand of the witch who had greeted me with such warmth. "I'm Tera, by the way," she said with a friendly smile. I returned the smile, feeling a bit more at ease.
"And this is Mira," Tera continued, nodding toward the other witch. "She's kind, but don't mind her mood today. She only just saw Felix last night—he came back from the war, but apparently, he neither kissed her nor missed her, so—"
Mira smacked Tera sharply on the back.
"Stop broadcasting my love life to everyone as if it's yours," Mira snapped, rolling her eyes before turning her attention to me. "Apologies for my behavior. It's not just about Felix. It's more that I sense you're a White Witch, but you don't look the part. You seem like any other witch." She shrugged but still reached out to shake my hand.
"Okay, witches," Cordelia interjected gently. "This is my granddaughter, Sera. Just so you know, she hasn't learned to control any elements yet, so please be patient. You'll train her for a week, then I'll take over. I just need to visit the Elders first for treatment."
Tera and Mira exchanged concerned glances at Cordelia's words. My curiosity pricked. What had happened that Cordelia needed treatment?
I gathered my courage. "What happened? Why do you need treatment?"
The two witches looked at each other in surprise.
"You didn't know?" Mira asked, bewildered. I shook my head.
"She fought with your mother. With the White Witches. It took a heavy toll on her," Tera explained quietly. "She was cursed—there's a Devil's Mark on her chest. Her magic is limited now, and pushing it could be fatal."
I glanced at Cordelia, who gave me a sad, knowing smile.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered, the sadness weighing on my voice.
"It's not your burden, dear," she said firmly but gently. "This is something I must bear alone. But I promise, I'll get treated. I've traveled this path far too long to be broken now." She patted my back with quiet pride.
"But what about Mom? What happened to her? You said you fought alongside her." My voice trembled, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. A heavy weight settled on my chest, sorrow creeping in as the thought of my mother—alive not long ago, now gone—claimed in battle while protecting my father overwhelmed me.
Cordelia's gaze softened, but she didn't answer. "I'll tell you when the time is right. For now, you need to focus on your training. These two will help you, and I have no doubt you'll learn quickly. You're a Thorne, and I take great pride in our family." With a gentle smile, she turned and walked away.
I glanced at the two witches and offered a small, earnest smile. "I'm in your care now. I'll do my best to learn quickly."
They nodded, and together we walked through the stone corridors until we reached a large room. At first glance, it resembled a gymnasium, but instead of exercise equipment, the space was filled with training dummies, weapon racks, and strange artifacts that hummed faintly with residual magic. Tera led us to the center, a wide open area clear of clutter, the floor marked faintly with chalk circles and runes.
"We'll train here," Tera said, stopping with a practiced grace. "There are too many children outside, and since I'm not yet familiar with your capabilities, it's safer to keep the training contained for now." She offered a reassuring smile. I nodded, appreciating her caution.
"Cordelia mentioned you can't wield elemental magic," she continued, folding her arms. "So let's start simple. Tell us what you can do, and we'll go from there."
I hesitated, uncomfortable beneath their expectant gazes. My abilities were modest, more suited to survival and misdirection than combat. Still, I took a breath and spoke.
"I can levitate small objects, unlock basic mechanisms, and heal minor wounds," I said quietly. Then, after a brief pause, I added, "And... I can use White Witch magic."
That got their attention.
Their expressions shifted at once—surprise flaring in their eyes, their bodies subtly tensing. Their stances adjusted ever so slightly, instinctively guarded, as if ready to defend themselves. Clearly, Alice hadn't told them. And clearly, they weren't sure whether to trust me.
"I mean no harm," I said softly, trying to calm the tension I felt radiating from them. "I barely know how to use it. My mother... she didn't know how to guide me, not really. I can only hold it for a few seconds, maybe a minute at most. It's mostly mimicry and hallucinations."
Tera offered a gentle smile, as if to reassure me—or perhaps herself—that everything would be alright. Mira, however, remained unconvinced. Her arms were crossed, her posture rigid, her eyes sharp.
"Show us," Mira said, voice steady but firm.
I hesitated. What should I show them? My eyes flicked around the room, scanning for inspiration—something, anything, that could lend weight to my claim. Then I remembered Felix—his face still vivid in my memory, the sound of his voice clear in my mind. Yes. That might be enough.
I would show them both of my abilities at once—if I could manage it.
I closed my eyes and let the magic rise, a tingling warmth pulsing through my veins, threading itself through every nerve. I focused on the image of Felix: the way he walked, the curve of his smile, the low timbre of his voice. When the power felt at its peak, I opened my eyes.
The door creaked open, and Felix walked in.
Mira's eyes widened. He smiled at her, that familiar charming grin he always wore. Her expression shifted to delight, then confusion—she hadn't yet realized what she was seeing wasn't real. It was the hallucination, woven just for her.
I wasn't done.
I took a breath and whispered the enchantment under my breath, feeling the strain in my throat as I invoked the mimicry spell. "Mimica effingo." I cast a second illusion—for Tera this time—making it appear as though I still stood beside her, silently watching Felix with the same curiosity as they did.
I felt the toll at once. My legs weakened, my breath shortened, but I pushed on.
"Hi, Mira—" I mimicked Felix's voice, just as I felt the last of my energy slip through my fingers. The illusion shattered like glass, vanishing in a blink. I gasped, clutching my chest as I struggled to catch my breath.
They stared at me in stunned silence. I manageda weak smile.
"It was you," Mira said, her voice low and edged with something sharp. Her eyes narrowed, anger flickering in them.
I could see she wasn't pleased, but I had no choice. They needed to know my magic was real—even if it meant risking their trust to prove it.
"Well... that's about all I can do," I said, straightening my posture in an attempt to appear more confident than I felt. I met their eyes, steady and sure—or at least, I tried to be.
They didn't move. Their faces were unreadable now, masks devoid of reaction. The silence pressed down on me, and the last flickers of confidence began to slip through my grasp.
Tera was the first to break it. She offered a soft, encouraging smile. "What about healing?" she asked. "How much can you manage?"
I held up two fingers, forming a small gap—about the length of half a pencil. "Only scratches or minor injuries. That much, at most," I said. "Even if it's deep, I can only heal within that size. I've never tried anything more serious."
A memory stirred, unbidden and sharp.
There was one time. It was after my mother... passed. Or at least, I thought she had. I was starving, barely able to think, and I didn't know how to cook anything decent. I stuck to canned food, but I couldn't find the can opener. My mom loved her house to look messy—organized chaos, she called it. She knew where everything was, but I didn't. I searched everywhere and gave up. I tried using a knife instead.
The image still vivid—the cold metal, the sudden pain.
The knife slipped. I stabbed myself in the arm. It was deep, but not long—And then something strange happened.
I looked down at my hands, remembering the sensation.
"I didn't know I could heal. It just... happened. I was in shock, terrified. I think I muttered something—sana—and then there was this glow in my hand. It hovered over the wound, and slowly, it closed."
I met their eyes again. "That's the only time I've healed anything bigger than a scratch. And it was still small, just deep. I don't know if I can do more than that."
"For a second," Mira said sharply, snapping her fingers.
And just like that—poof—she vanished.
I blinked, startled by her sudden disappearance, but Tera remained entirely unfazed. She folded her arms casually and gave a knowing smile. "She's likely gone to the infirmary. Probably fetching a few patients."
A moment later, Mira reappeared, stepping through the shimmering air as if she had only taken a short stroll. Behind her, two young men followed, both with visible injuries—scrapes and cuts along their arms and legs, dried blood marking the fabric of their clothes.
"Heal them," she said simply, stepping aside and letting the two approach me.
The young men exchanged uneasy glances, clearly confused, but obeyed Mira's direction without question. They stopped in front of me, silent and expectant.
I studied their wounds carefully. Shallow lacerations, minor abrasions—nothing beyond what I had already handled on myself before. I nodded slightly, reassured.
Raising my hands, I saw them flinch instinctively, as if preparing for pain. I didn't blame them—but it didn't stop me either.
Sana, I whispered.
A soft glow bloomed in my palms, warm and steady. As I moved my hands gently over their injuries, I watched the wounds begin to close, skin knitting back together with ease.
But then something unexpected happened.
I was healing both of them—at the same time.
And it wasn't draining me. No dizziness, no faltering breath, no struggle.
My eyes widened slightly as I realized what I was doing. I had always thought my healing magic was limited—simple, weak, barely useful. But here I was, treating two people at once with complete control and clarity.
For the first time, I wondered just how much I didn't know about my own magic.