Aria stood in her backyard, eyes closed, and focused on the gentle flow of mana around her. As the daughter of the beast god, she possessed a unique ability to collect mana—a skill forbidden to females in the Beastworld. This task required utmost secrecy and endless patience, especially since her current body collected mana at an agonizingly slow pace—well, compared to her previous world, at least. In this world, her speed was considered fast.
She took a deep breath, feeling the faint, warm tendrils of mana in the air. Slowly, she began to draw them in, feeling a slight tingle as the energy entered her body. It was working, but the process remained excruciatingly slow.
"Just a little more," Aria whispered to herself, trying to maintain her concentration. Her brows furrowed slightly as she kept her breathing steady, her fingers twitching with the effort of restraint. After several long minutes, she finally felt the mana settle within her—just a sliver, barely noticeable in the vast ocean of her reservoir.
But it was progress, nonetheless.
Opening her eyes, Aria sighed, feeling both accomplished and frustrated. "Why does it have to be so slow?" she muttered under her breath, eyes scanning the serene expanse of her backyard. The garden, filled with vibrant flowers and lush greenery, was her sanctuary—a small haven tucked away from the expectations that clung to her new life like a second skin. Here, at least, she could be herself, if only for a little while.
When she wasn't practicing mana collection, Aria spent her time learning about herbs from her father, Selwyn, the tribe's healer. These lessons provided a welcome distraction, a sense of grounded purpose. While the world around her dictated what she could not do, Selwyn's hut offered her what she could.
"Good morning, Aria," Selwyn greeted her warmly as she arrived at his hut. His calm presence always made her feel at ease. "Ready to learn about some new herbs today?"
"Absolutely," Aria replied, her eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. "What are we focusing on today?"
Selwyn handed her a small woven basket filled with various plants. "Today, we're going to learn about herbs that can help with healing wounds. This one here," he said, pointing to a plant with thick, succulent leaves, "is called aloe vera. It's excellent for soothing burns and cuts."
Aria leaned closer, brushing her fingers against the plant. "It feels so cool and smooth," she murmured. "It makes sense it would help with burns."
Selwyn nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Aloe has natural cooling properties that reduce inflammation. Now, this one," he continued, pointing to a second plant with small, bright yellow flowers, "is calendula. It has anti-inflammatory effects and helps speed up the healing process."
Aria examined it closely, storing the information in her mind. "Does it need to be used fresh, or can it be dried?"
"Either," Selwyn said, pleased with the question. "Fresh is more potent, but dried calendula works well in salves and teas."
She carefully placed the herbs back into the basket, feeling a small sense of accomplishment swell in her chest. "Thank you, Dad. I really enjoy these lessons."
"You're a quick learner, Aria," Selwyn praised, his voice filled with quiet pride. "Keep up the good work, and soon you'll know as much as I do."
Aria smiled at that, though a part of her doubted she'd ever catch up. Not because she wasn't capable—but because she was trying to do so much, all at once. Still, it was nice to hear.
As the day wore on, Aria balanced her secret mana practice with her herbal studies. The dual life was exhausting at times—hiding her abilities, keeping her ambitions to herself, and pretending to be the delicate girl everyone assumed she was.
But she remained determined.
One slow breath at a time. One leaf, one drop of mana, one secret step forward.
She knew that with time and effort, she would improve. Because she had to.
Because the day would come when she couldn't hide anymore.
...
Later in the afternoon, Aria sat with her brothers, sharing her growing knowledge of herbs. "So, this one," she held up a sprig of mint, "is great for soothing stomach aches. And this one," she pointed to a cluster of chamomile flowers, "can help with sleep."
"You're really getting into this, aren't you?" Rael asked, a note of admiration in his voice as he examined the mint.
"Yeah, I guess I am," Aria replied, a warm sense of pride blooming in her chest. "It's fascinating how these simple plants can help people feel better."
"Maybe you should become the village healer," Kieran teased, grinning as he nudged her shoulder.
Aria laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know about that, but it's definitely something I enjoy."
Their conversation flowed easily, full of laughter, playful teasing, and the kind of easy closeness that made her heart ache in the best way. Aria treasured these moments—these rare pockets of peace—where she felt like any other child surrounded by family, not the reborn daughter of a god with secret powers and a hidden destiny.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows and bathing the garden in a golden glow, Aria leaned back and took it all in. The scent of herbs, the sounds of her brothers' laughter, the warm soil beneath her—this was her sanctuary, her truth.
She knew the road ahead would be long and hidden in shadows, that her ability to collect mana had to remain a secret, and that her journey would demand more than anyone could yet imagine. But here, in this moment, she felt strong. She felt hopeful.
"Tomorrow's a new day," she thought, watching the sky shift into shades of lavender and rose. "I'll keep trying. I'll keep growing. One step at a time."
With quiet resolve, Aria rose and headed back inside, her heart light and her mind steady, ready for whatever came next.
...
The next day, Aria decided to take a break from her mana training. Her reservoir had grown a fraction fuller the night before, but she was mentally exhausted. Each session was like scooping water from the ocean with a thimble—painstaking, repetitive, and barely noticeable. Her head still throbbed a little from overextending herself, so she figured she'd earned a day off.
She needed fresh air, laughter, and something more her age.
Stepping outside, she stretched her arms wide, letting the morning sun warm her face. A light breeze tousled her hair, bringing with it the faint scent of baked bread and wildflowers. It smelled like home.
She made her way through the village toward the square, where Mira would almost certainly be waiting. Mira always waited. Her best friend had the energy of three toddlers and the stubbornness of a full-grown bear—which made sense, considering she was one.
Sure enough, a familiar voice rang out the moment Aria turned the corner.
"Aria! Over here!"
Mira waved enthusiastically from the edge of the square, nearly knocking over a basket of fruit from a nearby stall. The vendor gave her a tired look, clearly used to her antics.
Aria laughed, quickening her pace. "Hey, Mira! What do you want to play today?"
"Hide and seek!" Mira announced, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You need to use those tiny legs of yours for something fun!"
"Excuse me? These 'tiny legs' are faster than yours," Aria shot back playfully, crossing her arms.
"Then prove it. You hide, I'll find you."
"Nope. You're it first!"
With that, Aria poked Mira in the stomach and darted off before she could protest, her laughter trailing behind her.
They played for what felt like hours. Aria sprinted, ducked, and weaved through trees, behind market stalls, and under porches. Her heart thudded with the kind of joy that only came from forgetting all responsibilities—even if just for a little while.
She crouched behind a large tree, trying to quiet her breathing. This is nice, she thought, peeking through the leaves. No mana, no pressure. Just Mira, sunshine, and a lot of running.
She felt like a normal child.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Mira shouted from the square, and Aria bit her lip to stop from giggling.
She could hear Mira's footsteps getting closer. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but excitement. I used to lead business meetings and negotiate deals. Now I'm hiding behind trees and trying not to sneeze. What a weird twist of fate.
But fate didn't wait long.
A squirrel darted through the brush beside her, rustling the leaves. Mira's sharp ears picked it up instantly.
"Aha! Found you!"
"Ugh! Not fair," Aria groaned, stepping out from behind the tree.
"You can't beat a bear's ears," Mira said smugly.
"You should play hide-and-hear instead," Aria teased. "Next round, you hide. And I swear I'll win."
They switched roles and continued the game until the sun was directly overhead. Sweaty, tired, and still laughing, they finally flopped under the shade of a large oak tree, their usual spot.
As the breeze cooled their flushed cheeks, Mira turned to her. "Hey… do you ever wonder what it would be like to have powers like the boys?"
The question dropped into Aria's stomach like a stone.
She hesitated. This topic was dangerous—walking a thin edge between honesty and secrecy. Mira didn't know about her mana training. No one did, and she liked it that way.
But she couldn't lie to Mira. Not completely.
"Sometimes," Aria said quietly, plucking at the grass. "But I think… I think being powerful isn't always about magic or shifting into beasts."
Mira nodded slowly. "My mom says the same thing. That strength can mean staying kind when it's hard. Or speaking up when no one else will."
Aria gave a soft smile. "Then maybe we're already strong."
They sat together, legs stretched out in the grass, watching the clouds drift across the sky. Mira rambled on about a dream she had—something about taming a dragon with honey and sass—and Aria laughed until her stomach hurt.
But beneath the laughter, her mind ticked on.
Would Mira still look at me like this if she knew the truth? If she knew I could collect mana, something no other girl in this world can do?
Would she be afraid? Or proud? Would she still play hide and seek with me, or would she see me as something else entirely?
That fear tugged at her constantly, like a loose thread on a favorite cloak. She didn't pull on it. Not yet. But it was always there.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the village gold and rose, Mira got up and dusted herself off.
"See you tomorrow, Aria!" she called, skipping off toward her family's den.
Aria stood there for a moment, watching her go. Then she turned and headed home.
Dinner was loud, as usual. Her brothers argued over who got the last meat skewer, Ursan made a groan-worthy dad joke that had Jax nearly choking, and Selwyn winked at her across the table when she correctly named an herb Alaric had mistaken for a weed.
Later, tucked beneath her soft blankets, Aria opened her window. The cool night air greeted her like an old friend. She knelt by the sill and began to meditate, just as she always did.
The mana came slower than usual—her focus was fractured, caught between joy and worry—but it came. Gentle tendrils brushed her skin, faint as whispers.
"Just a little more each day," she whispered. "I'll get there. I have to."
Because no one else could.
She had to be careful. She had to be strong.
But in the quiet, surrounded by moonlight and crickets, she also allowed herself something else.
Hope.
...
This chapter was a softer one—Aria needed a breather, and honestly, so did I 😌. Sometimes, amidst the secrets and training and the weight of an impossible destiny, there's space for games, giggles, and a best friend who reminds you what it's like to just be 🌸. Mira is that light for Aria, even if Aria's hiding a galaxy behind her smile 🌌✨.
But don't let the calm fool you. Seeds are being planted—quiet ones, under oak trees and behind laughter 🌳🌼. And when they bloom... well, let's just say Aria's story is only beginning to twist 🌀.
As always, thank you for reading and walking beside her, one secret and sunbeam at a time ☀️💫