Darkness.
It wasn't empty—not the kind of darkness that simply came with night. This was something deeper. Heavy. It pressed against her skin like water at the bottom of an ocean. There was no sky, no ground—just a void, stretching endlessly in every direction.
In the center of it all, something pulsed. A strange, impure light, flickering like a dying star. It cast no warmth. Its glow was sickly, bleeding into the blackness like ink in water. It seemed alive, but wrong—twisted in a way that made the air feel sharp, and the silence loud.
Then something moved within that light. A presence. Watching.
Zenith gasped.
She sat upright in her bed, breath shallow, hands clenching the worn blanket draped over her. Her heart pounded as if she'd been running, and the remnants of the dream clung to her skin like sweat.
The small wooden room around her slowly came into focus. Familiar. Safe. Morning light filtered through the latticed window, casting golden stripes across the floor.
She reached up, brushing silver strands of hair from her face. Still trembling, she glanced toward the corner of the room where an old clock ticked softly.
Strange.
"She usually wakes me up by now..." Zenith muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before the thought could settle, the door burst open.
"Zeeeenith!"
A blur of motion crashed into the room—silver hair flying, feet pounding across the wooden floor.
Zeshia.
Her twin sister flung herself onto Zenith's bed with all the grace of a hurricane, her eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.
"You're still asleep?! How are you not freaking out?! Today's the day!" she practically yelled, flopping next to her.
Zenith blinked, letting the storm pass. "Good morning, Zeshia."
"Madam Binne is already downstairs waiting!" Zeshia groaned, grabbing a pillow and flinging it at Zenith's head. "You're gonna make us late!"
Zenith caught the pillow, calm as ever. "We're not even packed yet."
Zeshia's grin widened. "We are if you trust me to pack for you!"
"That's exactly why I didn't."
Zeshia huffed and stood, spinning around dramatically. Despite the excitement written all over her face, there was something in the way she paused at the window—just for a second—that betrayed something deeper. A flicker of nerves. A moment of hesitation.
Zenith noticed, but said nothing.
She slowly rose from the bed, stretching as she looked out over the fields beyond their home. Morning dew sparkled on the grass. The forest swayed in the soft wind. And somewhere beyond the distant hills lay the capital... and the academy.
Their future.
Downstairs, the scent of warm bread and spiced tea drifted from the kitchen. The cottage was small, but it was filled with quiet magic—charms woven into the walls, glowing gently with protection.
Madam Binne stood near the hearth, arms folded, watching the kettle as if daring it to boil faster.
She was tall, graceful, and strikingly beautiful. Her long dark hair was pulled into a tight braid, her posture always straight, always alert. At first glance, she didn't look a day over twenty-five—but she was thirty-seven. Her control over magic had slowed her aging, as it did with those who mastered their element.
Her element was fire. And though she carried herself with the sharp edge of flame, she had a warmth that flickered quietly behind her stern gaze—especially for the two girls she'd raised.
When she heard footsteps, she didn't turn.
"You're late," she said.
"We know," Zeshia said in a guilty rush, dragging Zenith by the hand into the kitchen. "Totally Zenith's fault, obviously."
Zenith rolled her eyes. "I had a... strange dream."
Madam Binne turned her head slightly at that, her expression unreadable. "Another one?"
Zenith hesitated. "It felt different this time. Stronger."
A long silence followed. The kettle began to whistle.
Madam Binne moved with quiet efficiency, pouring the tea and handing out travel parcels wrapped in cloth. She didn't speak of the dream again.
"You've got a long journey ahead. The carriage will be here within the hour." She looked at them both, her voice firm. "Stay close to each other. And don't draw attention to yourselves until you reach the capital."
Zeshia nodded quickly, but her usual energy seemed to falter under the weight of the moment.
Zenith simply said, "We understand."
As they sat to eat, the silence between them was gentle, not awkward. Comfortable. This was their home, after all. The only one they had ever known.
They had been found sixteen years ago, lying side by side in the forest—unconscious, drenched in blood, but without a single wound on their bodies.
No memories. No names. Only each other.
Madam Binne had taken them in, no questions asked. Raised them as her own. Protected them. And though she rarely showed affection in words, the way she watched over them—the way she worried when they were late or dreamed too deeply—spoke volumes.
Magic shaped this world. Some were born with elemental gifts—fire, like Madam Binne... water, wind, earth, and others. Control came with discipline. Power came with time.
But even among the gifted, there were whispers of something else. A deeper kind of magic. A forgotten kind.
And somehow, Madam Binne knew: the twins were not ordinary.