Nine months had passed since Mira began her secret training. Her small room had become her sanctuary, a world apart from the rigid expectations and scrutiny of her family. Within those four walls, she could delve into the mysteries of mana, a force she had grown to understand and control with increasing precision.

What had once been a faint, elusive sensation was now as familiar as her own heartbeat. Mana flowed through her and around her, a quiet hum that connected everything. She could feel it in the gentle hum of the earth beneath her, the flicker of a candle’s flame, and most intriguingly, in the people around her.

Each person carried a unique presence, their mana radiating in distinct hues. Her mother’s was a soothing green, soft and nurturing like new leaves in spring. Lucas’s mana shone golden, warm and full of life, while her father’s burned a fierce red, pulsing with intensity and dominance. The ability to perceive these colors had taken months of careful observation and practice, but now it felt second nature, like an extra sense she had always possessed.

Her control over mana had also grown. What had begun as clumsy experiments, barely able to lift a feather, had evolved into precise manipulation. She could now levitate objects with ease, her mana wrapping around them like invisible hands. A clay mug, a small book, even heavier items moved in the air at her command. It was exhilarating, this power that defied the limits imposed by her world. Yet, it was also terrifying. One misstep, one slip, and everything could be taken from her.

That evening, the tension in the air was palpable as the family gathered for dinner. The humble meal of stew and bread sat steaming before them, but the atmosphere was far from warm. Mira’s father, Richard, sat at the head of the table, his expression stormy. He took a long sip of ale before slamming the mug down with a heavy thud. His gaze swept across the table, finally settling on Mira.

“Did you hear about Lia and Riley?” he said, his tone sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Mira’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. “No, Father,” she replied evenly, her voice steady despite the unease swirling within her.

Her mother, sitting beside her, glanced up nervously. “What happened to them?” she asked cautiously.

“They came of age. Their systems awakened.” Richard leaned back in his chair, his voice dripping with disdain. “Riley chose a healer class. Sensible enough, though he’ll be nothing more than a weakling in the eyes of real men. But Lia...” He sneered, shaking his head in disgust. “That fool of a girl chose a swordsman class. Thought she could fight like a man. Her parents had no choice but to cast her out. Broke all ties with her.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Mira’s spoon paused midway to her mouth. Her grip tightened around it, her knuckles turning white. She kept her gaze fixed on her bowl, willing herself to remain calm.

“They were right to do it,” Richard continued, his voice growing louder. “The whole village is mocking them now. Saying they didn’t raise their children properly. What a disgrace. If any of you ever pull a stunt like that, you’ll regret it. Do you hear me, girl?”

His eyes bore into Mira, and she met his gaze calmly, though her insides churned with a mixture of fear and anger. “Yes, Father,” she said, her voice steady, betraying none of the storm raging within her.

Inside, however, her thoughts were anything but calm. Lia’s fate hit her like a blow to the chest. She had known Lia was bold, unafraid to defy the expectations placed upon her, but to be cast out by her own family? It was a fate Mira could hardly comprehend. It wasn’t just the loss of a home—it was the loss of safety, of identity, of everything that made life bearable.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence. Richard continued to mutter under his breath about foolishness and disgrace, while Mira’s mother and Lucas focused on their food, avoiding his wrath. Mira ate mechanically, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear, anger, and sorrow.

After finishing her meal, Mira quietly excused herself and retreated to her room. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet as she closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The familiar comfort of her sanctuary felt distant tonight, overshadowed by the weight of her father’s words.

She sat on the floor, her legs crossed beneath her, and let out a long, shaky breath. Lia’s image filled her mind—her fiery determination, her infectious laughter. Mira had always admired her strength, her willingness to stand against the tide. But now, that strength had left her homeless, abandoned by the very people who should have protected her.

Mira clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn’t let this happen. Lia didn’t deserve to be cast out, ridiculed for her choices. But what could she do? She was just a girl in a world that silenced voices like hers before they could ever rise.

Her mana stirred within her, a warm, pulsing energy that seemed to echo her frustration. She reached out instinctively, letting her power flow outward. A small clay cup on her desk trembled, then rose into the air, hovering unsteadily.

The sight steadied her. She couldn’t challenge her father, the village, or the world—not yet. But she could prepare. Lia’s fate was a warning, a reminder of the precarious balance she had to maintain. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted to help, she had to tread carefully.

But how could she help Lia? The thought gnawed at her, refusing to let go. She couldn’t abandon her friend to the cruelty of the world, not when she had the power—however small—to make a difference.

Mira let the cup settle gently back onto the desk. She closed her eyes, focusing on the hum of mana around her. She needed a plan, a way to reach Lia without drawing attention to herself. Her father’s threats echoed in her mind, but she pushed them aside.

For now, she would think, plan, and prepare. Lia needed her, and Mira wouldn’t let her down.

The night stretched on as Mira sat in the dim glow of the moonlight, her mind racing with possibilities. The world outside was harsh and unforgiving, but within her, a spark of hope burned brighter than ever. She would find a way. She had to.

_____

Change was coming—not just for Lia, but for Mira, and perhaps, one day, for the world itself.