Early in the morning, Issac sat in bed, the morning dew still fresh in the air. He stares at his hand, focusing on calling out his magic, a tinge sensation lifting the hair on his hand. The feeling fades away, leaving without a trace.

" Argh, not again," Issac says, frustration bubbling up inside him. out of breath, he falls back into bed. 'How can it be this hard? I mastered my magic in my previous life,' Issac thinks to himself, catching his breath. He sits up again, his body trying hard to yell the entire time as he forces himself.

"Issac, get up. You've been lying in bed for days. i

It's time for you to come out with your old man!" Gunnar yells as he knocks open the door. "Ahaha, you're already up, perfect!". Issac losing his focus turns his head over to his father. A wide grin appears on Gunnar's face.

"But pop, shouldn't I practise my magic?" Issac asks in a soft voice, trying desperately to convince his stubborn father. He waits for an answer, only to hear a low exhale.

"Your mum can help you learn magic another day. But today, you can't rely on that magic all the time. we gotta get you some muscle!" He says in a Hearty voice, storming out the door, gesturing for Issac to follow. The morning fog still lingering around them.

"What are we going to be doing?" Issac asks as he follows behind his towering father. His father whistles as they walk over the damp morning grass.

"We'll be cutting up some wood. Take this and get started," Gunnar says, passing Issac a large hatchet, his body falling forward from the weight of the axe. Quickly he steady's his feet, gripping the handle tight. Gunnar laughs heavily, watching from the side.

'Okay, I can do this.' Issac thinks to himself. He turns his body sideways, the small logs stands in front, standing tall. Issac holds the axe high above his head. With all his strength, he brings it down. The axe misses the log, crashing into the floor, pulling Issac down.

"Next time, you'll get it!. You don't have to swing so hard. Focus more on hitting the target!" Gunnar says, lifting Issac with one hand, putting him back on his feet.

"Argh, that hurts way more than I thought!" Issac says, shaking his body, relieving the shock.

"Yeah, that happens if you don't do it right!. How about we head home and try some sparing out to get you some muscle!" Gunnar says in a child-like enthusiastic voice. Issac lets out a child-like chuckle, watching his father run towards the house, walking farm behind.

"Where the hell do you think you are going with those!" Issac's mother yells, watching her child and a man like a child creep through the house holding two training swords.

"Uh, I was... just gonna take Issac out for some practice," Gunnar says in a stuttery tone. His wife's eye's piercing deep inside him. Elain takes in a deep breath, her frustration bubbling away.

"You can teach him. But under no circumstance are you to spar with him. The boys barely walked for a week. Don't push him too hard." She says in a stern tone. Issac's back straightens, the sight of his furious mother sending shivers down his spine.

"Of course not. I would never! I'll just show him the basics, haha. I'm not that stupid!, Come on Issac, let's go," He says in a somewhat disappointed tone. With a grin on his face and a broad wave, he scurries out the door with Issac close behind.

"Sigh, since when did I have two children," Elain says, letting out a heavy sigh. With the dreadful feeling surrounding her, she sits down. No matter how much they laugh and joke, the eery feeling of losing her Issac still lingers. She rest's her hands in her hands, leaning forward in her chair. 'Oh please gods, protect my poor Issac, please' She prays internally for her child's protection.

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"You need to focus, Miss Willow," A tall man in a suit says to the small girl. Her breathing heavy.

"This isn't getting me anywhere! aargh!" She screams, ruffling her hands through her hair forcefully. Her long black hair now scruffy and messy, resembling that of a worn-out mop, a far contrast to her immaculate black and formal red clothes.

"Lady Willow. Ever since the Nix child awakened, your father has instructed that you train hard each day to help awaken your magic earlier. " He says in a stern tone regurgitating his master's orders. Her blood begins to boil, the sound of her father's oppressive orders sends her into a frenzy. Her feet, she storms out of the room, slamming the hard wooden door behind her.

'Why the hell am I being compared to some cripple commoner?' She thinks to herself over and over, storming down the halls, disregarding the rest of the help as she storms out the manor. A cold afternoon air wafts around her, a wave of autumn leaves flies around her. The sensation of freedom washes over her. She grabs a large branch. Standing still for a moment, she closes her eyes, focusing. She spins the off-balance branch around her hand, twirling it around her arms like an extension of her own. Her eyes narrow, her gentle dance becoming more like that of a battle. She begins to dodge and weave amongst the trees and leaves, almost fighting an invisible foe.

A figure watching from the side watches as she trains. Her battle with the wind becoming one-sided as her movements become clumsier and clumsier, coming less of a dance and resembling a child swinging a stick. Her footing slips, a sudden feeling of dread falls over her, and she falls back. Leading heavy onto the floor, the grass and leave somewhat bracing her fall.

"Why the hell can't I do anything right!" She yells, punching the floor beside her. Anger and disappointment boil within her. How could she fail so miserable each time?.

"What are you doing child, are you planning to stop and give up!" A roar says from behind her. A shiver runs down her spine. "How dare you spoil our fail name by sulking in the dirt like this?!" He yells again. She takes in a frantic deep breath, turning around in haste. There he stands, her father. A terrifying man, only reinforced by his sharp burning gaze as she stares down at Willow. His beard well-trimmed and his black hair flutters behind amidst the wind. His fists clenched in anger.

"I'm sorry, father! I'll keep practising!" She says, scared, trembling to her feet. Her eyes widen as she realises her mistake. His face clenches tight. Without warning, she crumbles to the floor, a painful sensation surrounding her cheek. Her father rubs the back of his hand.

"Know your place, Willow. You live for our sake, do as your told, don't stand unless you are told. Now train on your own for the rest of the day. Try not to disgrace our name any further. He says in a booming voice, her body trembling in fear. Turning his back to her, she leaves her their not paying even a moments notice to her as he heads back into the manor.

Alone. A soft breeze flitters around Willow. Overwhelmed, she lays on her back. She stares up, the afternoon sky and trees blending above her. But both simultaneously turning into a fuzzy hazy mess. Her chin shutters.

'no,no,no,no. Don't cry,' She thinks to her self in vain, placing her forearm on her face, the welling tears beginning o overwhelm her as a slow trickle flows. The feeling of worthlessness becoming a burden weighing heavy on her mind. "Why does this always happen. No matter how hard I try, I always fail!" She accidentally says aloud, raising her palm to the sky above. The Sounds of the wind passing threw the tree's the only thing hiding her soft weeps as she struggles to stop the tear. A shadow passes over her, stopping above her.

"Hey there, you alright?" A gentle voice says. Surprised, she rubs the tears from her eyes. A young boy crouched beside her, his white standing out under the darkening sky.

"Who are you?" She says in a shaky voice, her eyes and nose still stuffy from crying.

"I'm Issac. I didn't mean to intrude. I just couldn't ignore a crying person." He says in a soft voice, still crouching beside her. They were the same age, but he somehow gave off an aura of maturity as he calmly spoke to her.

"Your a weird one. Not many kids around here would check if someone were okay. People aren't that nice normally," She says in a cynical tone.

"Well, although I don't think I'm a nice person I'm trying to be. I came out here to train alone, but if you are interested, did you want to join me?". Issac says with a laugh holding his hand out, ready to help the girl to her feet.