Mira stepped back into the small, dimly lit room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her the only noise breaking the silence. She glanced around at the familiar surroundings—her small bed tucked into the corner, the faded tapestries hanging on the walls, and the plain wooden furniture. Everything was the same, yet, in this moment, everything felt so much more suffocating.

She had finished the laundry, tidied up the yard, and even prepared a simple meal for her brothers. All of her chores were done, and now she had precious moments of solitude. A rare gift in her world, a world where every hour seemed to be consumed by endless tasks, responsibilities, and, above all, the oppressive presence of her father. The weight of the day’s labor left her feeling drained, but her mind was restless, a swirl of thoughts she couldn’t shake.

Her body was exhausted, yet her mind was on fire, buzzing with the hope Lia had sparked within her. Magic. She had to feel it. She had to find a way to tap into it. It was the one thing that might offer her the chance to escape the mundane life that awaited her, the life her father expected, the life that was as constricting as the walls around her.

But first, she needed to sense it. To feel the mana that coursed through the world, hidden just beyond her reach. That was the first step, Lia had said. And so here she was, in her room, with no distractions, no chores to complete. Just silence. And her thoughts. And the quest to feel something she couldn’t even define.

Mira sat cross-legged on the floor, placing her hands gently on her knees. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, the cool air filling her lungs. Slowly, she exhaled, her breath steadying as she let her mind settle. She focused on the rhythm of her breathing, letting it ground her. The quietness of the room became more pronounced, and she could almost feel the pulse of her own heartbeat, steady and unyielding.

But the world beyond her body felt… distant. She strained to reach it, to pull it closer, but it remained elusive, like a shadow at the edge of her vision.

Mira had tried many times before, attempting to quiet her thoughts and find the pulse of the world, but every time, it felt like her efforts were swallowed up by the weight of the ordinary. Her own thoughts, her fears, her frustrations, they all cluttered her mind, drowning out the possibility of anything else. The pressure to feel the mana, to be something more than what she was, became its own barrier.

She sighed, shaking her head. No, she thought firmly. This time, I won’t give up so easily. This time, I’ll try harder.

Closing her eyes again, she focused on her breathing, deeper now, slower. Her body settled into the rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. The air felt warmer now, the faint heat of the fire in the hearth on the other side of the room starting to seep into the floor. But that wasn’t enough. She had to focus beyond the warmth. She had to reach for something more intangible. Something beneath the surface.

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Feel the ground, she reminded herself, as Lia had said. Feel the air. The sunlight. Everything.

She imagined the cool stone beneath her, the uneven texture of the floor beneath her palms. She imagined the faint breeze that drifted in through the window, the soft rustling of the trees outside. The hum of the world, always present, always moving, always there. She let her awareness stretch out, seeking the faintest hint of something beneath it all.

Her breath caught, and for a brief moment, there was a shift—a subtle change. It was so faint she could hardly believe it. Like the whisper of wind on the edge of a storm, or the faintest trace of an unfamiliar scent.

Is that it? Her heart beat faster, her body tense with excitement, but she forced herself to stay calm. No. Stay still. Stay with it.

She focused harder, leaning into the sensation. It was as though she could feel a tugging at the edges of her awareness, a sensation that was just beyond her fingertips. Like a distant presence, neither warm nor cold, but an emptiness that hummed with potential. The longer she concentrated, the more defined the feeling became, but still it was so faint, like a note played too softly to hear clearly.

Mira focused on that feeling, ignoring the doubts creeping in. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The more she concentrated, the more it deepened, and she began to wonder if perhaps there was more to it than she could sense immediately. Mana is subtle, Lia had warned her. It doesn’t shout. It whispers.

The thought steadied her resolve. She leaned into the sensation, letting it fill her mind. There was something there, something waiting, just beneath the surface of everything. She had to find it, to understand it, to pull it free.

As she sat in silence, her mind wavered between focus and distraction, the weight of her thoughts threatening to pull her back. She had always been told that women like her—daughters, wives, mothers—did not need such things. Magic, like everything else, was out of reach. But she couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t accept that. If this was the key to freedom, if this was what could allow her to escape the confines of her life, she had to grasp it. No matter what it took.

But the more she focused, the more she realized that the sensation of mana wasn’t a singular thing. It wasn’t just one note or one breath. It was a presence—a connection. It was everything, and it was nothing. She was surrounded by it, held within it, and yet it remained just out of reach, like an ocean that could be touched but not held.

She opened her eyes, frustration creeping into her chest again. This was harder than she had imagined. Harder than anything she had ever done before. But she couldn’t stop now. She wouldn’t.

Her fingers flexed, and she reached deeper, extending her awareness out into the room. She thought of the trees outside, the sun shining down on the leaves, the life in the world around her. If mana is everywhere, then it’s in all of this. In the air, in the ground, in the heat of the fire.

She exhaled slowly, feeling the air move with her breath. The stillness of the room seemed to grow. The world outside was muted, as though the very atmosphere around her was listening, waiting.

No one will tell me I’m incapable. Not this time. I will find it.

She closed her eyes again, focusing, reaching, feeling. She imagined herself as a vessel, an empty space that could be filled, a container that could hold the magic of the world itself. The world was speaking to her. She just had to listen.

And then, as though by some miracle, there was a spark. A faint, electric thrill in the air, like a distant whisper coming close. For a fraction of a second, she felt it—a tingling sensation in her fingertips, like the briefest touch of a cool breeze on a hot day. It wasn’t much. But it was enough to make her heart race with excitement.

Her breath quickened, and she opened her eyes again, her hands shaking slightly as she let the moment wash over her. She had felt it. Just a spark. But it was a start.

Mira’s gaze drifted toward the window, her heart still racing, her mind alive with possibilities. The road ahead was long and difficult, but for the first time in a long while, she felt something she hadn’t in years—hope. There was a way forward, a way out, and she had just taken the first step.

This was only the beginning.

She was going to find it. The magic. And nothing—no one—was going to stop her.