Mira had always been quick on her feet.
As a child, she was everywhere at once—darting between stalls, weaving through crowds, delivering messages and packages for the village folk. She liked being useful. It made her feel important, like she had a place in the world.
"Slow down, Mira!" someone would call as she dashed past, barefoot and beaming, arms full of parcels. She never listened.
She loved the village. The way it bustled with life, the way people knew her name, the way she could flit between tasks like a sparrow in flight. But more than anything, she loved exploring.
The woods beyond the village were her second home. She knew every tree, every hollowed-out log, every stream that ran through the undergrowth. Most kids her age were afraid to venture too far, but not Mira. The world beyond the village called to her, and she answered.
It was on one of these adventures that she found it.
She hadn't meant to go so far. She had been playing near the old cave, the one parents always warned children about. "It's not stable," they said. "You could get trapped in there. Stay away."
Mira, of course, had never listened to that either.
It wasn't like she went inside. Well, not at first.
She had been climbing the rocky slope near the entrance, chasing a stray gust of wind that had stolen her scarf. The deep red fabric fluttered like a flag, catching on a jagged outcrop just above the cave's gaping mouth.
"Almost… got it…"
She stretched, fingers just brushing the cloth—
—and then the rock beneath her hand crumbled.
She let out a yelp as she tumbled forward, arms flailing, the world tilting—
And then she fell.
The drop wasn't long, but it was enough to knock the breath from her lungs. She landed hard, rolling onto her back with a groan. Dust swirled in the air, caught in the dim shafts of light filtering through cracks in the cave ceiling.
Mira blinked, dazed. Then she sat up.
And froze.
The space around her wasn't just a cave. It was something else.
The walls stretched outward, forming a massive underground chamber. The air felt different—charged, like the space itself was holding its breath. The ground beneath her was smooth, unnaturally so, and at the very center of the chamber, etched into the stone floor, was—
A circle.
It pulsed with a faint, otherworldly glow, lines of intricate runes spiraling outward like veins of light.
Mira's heart pounded.
She had seen magic before—tricks performed by traveling magicians, little bursts of flame and shimmering illusions. But this… this was ancient.
She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide as she stepped closer. The runes didn't look like any writing she had ever seen. They were elegant, fluid, shifting in color as she moved.
Her breath caught.
This was power.
She didn't know how she knew, but she knew.
Tentatively, she reached out—
The moment her fingers brushed the outermost ring, a hum filled the air.
Mira gasped, stumbling back as the runes lit up, a brilliant golden-white. The glow spread like wildfire, racing along the lines of the circle, filling the cavern with a light so blinding she had to squeeze her eyes shut.
Then—silence.
When she dared to peek again, the glow had faded, but the air still hummed.
Mira stood there, panting, heart hammering in her chest.
She had awakened something.
But what?
She glanced around nervously, half-expecting some ancient guardian to rise from the depths of the earth. But nothing happened. The cave was still. The runes were quiet.
Still, Mira felt… watched.
She swallowed hard and turned on her heel, bolting toward the crack of light where she had fallen through. Climbing out was harder than falling in, but her fear gave her strength. She scrambled up the loose rock, scraping her hands and knees, until at last she tumbled back onto solid ground, gasping for breath.
For a long moment, she just lay there, staring up at the sky.
She had never told anyone what she had found.
Not Merrick. Not Flint. Not a soul.
But now, years later, she was finally sharing the secret.
With Char.
*
Mira's heart pounded as she walked alongside Char, the rain from the recent storm still dampening the cobblestone streets. She had never told anyone about the ritual circle, never even dared to think about using it herself. And now, here she was, leading Char—someone she had met only days ago—straight to her brother to plan something reckless.
What am I doing?
She stole a glance at Char. He seemed deep in thought, his eyes focused ahead, steps steady. There was something about the way he carried himself—something hesitant, yet undeniably determined. Like he had already made up his mind, and now he just had to see it through.
Mira exhaled sharply and kept walking. Even if it was only slightly, she felt a bit secure around Char, despite only knowing the boy for a few days at this point. She never really connected with anyone her age so quickly before, and she was finding it hard to think about it properly.
Plus, there was the added issue that Char was really cute and his hair was so cool in its messy style. His dark eyes were enchanted and even the way he walked—
Calm down, Mira, for the gods' sake. You need to focus on the mission at hand. As well as the difficulty that came with it…
After all, Merrick wasn't going to be easy to convince.
They reached the townhouse and slipped inside, shaking off the lingering chill of the storm. The scent of damp wood and warm food filled the air, but Mira barely noticed. She led Char through the winding hallways, up the narrow wooden staircase, until they reached a door at the far end of the corridor.
She knocked once, then twice, in the rhythm she and Merrick had always used as kids.
A moment later, the door creaked open.
Merrick peered out, eyes bleary with exhaustion, his brown curls an absolute mess. He blinked. "Mira? What—" His gaze flicked to Char. "Oh. You again?"
Mira sighed. "Let us in first."
Merrick hesitated, then stepped aside. He scratched his scruffy beard as he let them slip inside his room. Mira could smell the strong pine, mint, and berry scents that always permeated his workspaces, a result of all his little experiments into making himself a great magician.
The room was cluttered—parchments, trinkets, and small magical tools scattered across the desk, shelves lined with books on various arcane theories. A single candle flickered in the dim space, casting long shadows against the walls.
Mira folded her arms. "You look like you've barely slept."
Merrick yawned. "Because I haven't." He rubbed his eyes, then motioned toward Char. "So? What's this about?"
Char stepped forward. "We need your help."
Merrick raised an eyebrow. "With what?"
Mira took a deep breath. "We need to use the circle."
Silence.
Merrick stared at her as if she had just suggested throwing herself into the ocean.
Then he burst out laughing.
"You—what?" He shook his head. "Oh, that's rich. You, the one who was too scared to even talk about it, suddenly want to use it?"
Mira clenched her fists. "I didn't say I wanted to use it for myself. I'm helping Char."
Merrick's amusement faded, his gaze sharpening. He looked at Char properly now, taking him in—the determined set of his jaw, the way he stood his ground, the quiet fire in his eyes. Even though most saw Mira's olde brother as a bumbling idiot, she knew he had so many more layers than just an idiot.
Merrick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods, this is insane."
"Maybe," Char said, "but it's our best option."
Mira nodded. "Flint knows about the circle, doesn't he? That's why he never told me about it, why he kept it hidden. But you—you studied it, didn't you?"
Merrick stiffened.
Mira took a step closer. "You know how to activate it. Don't you?"
Merrick hesitated. Then, grudgingly, he muttered, "Yes."
Char's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Then that's all we need."
Merrick let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure! Because activating a forgotten ritual circle buried in an unstable cave is just a casual Tuesday for me." He crossed his arms. "You do realize that even if I can activate it, I have no idea if it'll actually work."
"We have to try," Mira insisted.
Merrick exhaled. He turned to Char. "And you? You're really willing to risk this?"
Char nodded. "I don't have a choice."
Merrick studied him for a long moment. Then he sighed, rubbing his face. "Fine. But if we're doing this, we need a plan."
Mira and Char exchanged a glance.
"Benjamin already knows," Char admitted. "He's on board."
Merrick groaned. "Great. So the grumpy old man is in on it too."
Mira smirked. "That means you're the last one to agree."
Merrick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. Here's what we do…"
And with that, the planning began.