"In this world, magic is everything.
But if one is not born with it…
are they worth remembering—or erasing?"
In the heart of the Elynthian Monarchy, the world's most prestigious magical aristocracy, magic is status, magic is identity, magic is life. Its citizens, blessed by the high abundant mana flowing through the land, have long boasted the highest affinity for spellcraft in the known world. Here, where ancient ley lines bless even the soil with power, magic is not just sacred
It is survival.
But even in paradise, a cursed few are born. A minority called the Nulls.
Those whose mana exists as little more than a ghost. Measuring only 1–5% of a normal core, they are the living embodiment of absence.
The Monarchy tried to erase them. Assimilation. Shame. Execution. But tonight, fate delivers one to the highest.
In the ethereal chamber of the House of Meijer, awash in blue and crimson etherlight, whispers ripple through the noble retinue. Midwives murmur nervously. Dukes shift in silence. The duchess cries out in pain as her daughter is born.
—
A child is born.
A High Priest of Stayne, garbed in ceremonial white & gold, lifts the newborn child toward the light and approaches with a glowing Mana Quantifier, placing the crystalline device gently against the newborn's chest. All wait. The reading appears.
Silence.
High Priest: "…Madam… her core registers at… one percent capacity."
Duchess Kalydyn Meijer: (surprised)
"W-what? Check again."
Sir Don Kengun: (clenched fist) "The daughter of Marnix Meijer… is a Null?"
Midwife: "The stones do not lie, my lord. The child is a Null."
Noelle: "My, she holds the same eyes as Sir Marnix—"
The chamber, once filled with hope, is now choked with disappointment.
She was destined to be the daughter of the great Archmage Marnix Meijer—a prodigy in the making. Instead, she is silent. Powerless. A Null.
And yet, in her silence, she opens her eyes, her golden eyes shimmering faintly with a glint of crimson.
And in that crimson glint, something ancient stirs.
—
A spark within.
Years pass. In a quiet corner of the manor, a young girl named—Wilhelmina—rests her head on her maid's lap. A book lies open on the small table: The tale of the Legendary Red Vanguard.
Maid: (smiling)"My, you're getting heavier by the day... You really love this story, don't you?"
Wilhelmina: (nodding) "Read it again... please."
Maid: (Laughing)"Helpless as ever, huh? Fine."
She begins to read. Tales of valor. Of a lone hero standing against the undead tide during the thirteen-day eclipse of the Mana Wars. The story of Ifo, the Red Vanguard—a symbol of courage, fire, and sacrifice.
—"On the thirteenth night, as the last of the undead fell, the Red Vanguard knelt infront of the ruins of Elynthi and prayed—not for himself, but for the undead souls he had slain. Hoping that those corpses used as weapons, robbed of peace. And by his blade he muttered 'Let my sword be their lullaby and let them rest' The End."
Each time the story ends, Wilhelmina's eyes burn brighter. Enraptured by the fable.
That crimson spark. Small, stubborn, and alive. A flicker of defiance in a world that calls her worthless.
—
But the world does not love a Null.
Among dozens of cousins and half-siblings, Wilhelmina is the only child denied a wand. While others attend elemental theory classes, she is placed in remedial physical training. Her "education" is survival, often she gets hurt but not from training but from mockery.
CRACK. FLICKER. BLINK.
"Haha! Where ya goin', Null?"
"C'mon! Be our training dummy like always!"
"Don't run! Nulls don't get to run!"
They laugh, they burn, they shock.
She shields herself as a flare grazes her shoulder.
They cast out streaks of flame, bolts of electro, and flows of wind.
Harmless but it frightens her.
She says nothing. Not a word.
She defends herself fiercely disappointing her half siblings & cousins ridiculing her.
But deep in those golden eyes—
A crimson spark. Faint. But growing.
Yet only one place brings her peace.
A soft bed. Gentle hands brushing her hair. As she rest her head between her mother's chest.
Duchess Kalydyn Meijer: (softly) "They gave you a hard time again, didn't they...?"
Wilhelmina: (nodding silently)
"Don't worry. You always have me. No matter what you lack in magic... you will always be loved."
And in that warmth, for just a moment, the world forgets she is a Null. Just a girl in her mother's arms.
—
Discovery of Lineage
A young Wilhelmina wanders across the halls of the great Manor of Meijer, the adult members who walk pass, sneer and grunt at her for just being in their presence.
But young Wilhelmina has grown used to it making her stoic yet determined to live through this life. There's often a place where she'd always liked to watch ships pass by the great river at the side of the Manor, just outside her room.
She'd hang by her balcony and continue reading books from her full shelves.
Wilhelmina has always been curious about her father, she always hears from the adults that her father is a Legendary Arch Mage, one of the Seven Arch-Mages who were chosen as Monarchy's champions of magical strength & political figures.
As she continues reading one of the latest of books delivered here by the Tropico Guild, her maid Noelle always made constant deliveries to satisfy young Wilhelmina's taste of knowledge.
Wilhelmina: (lounging around the balcony) "Finally... 'Tropico-Elynthia - 51st Volume'!"
She shifts around for a bit before venturing deep into its contexts; this time she's a bit surprised that this volume has pictures, a rarity but it appeases her.
This certain volume of Tropico-Elynthia mostly consists about one of the Monarchy's greatest figures, the legendary 7 Arch-Mages, champions who embody magical prowess.
As Wilhelmina flickered through pages reading through certain figures of history and legends within the pages,
there he was— "Marnix Meijer" - The Arch-Mage of Molten Blades.
He was a legendary swordsman who wields great swords imbued with magical techniques; most relating to the element of flame & magma and wields them as fast as daggers in combat.
One of his greatest feats is during the Skirmish of Gambit's Ridge, where in a narrow passage as his Royal Battalion retreated he was left behind to fight off a horde of Legionnaires as his comrades recovered, they relied on him to buy them time before fresh reinforcement's came.
By the time they have returned, however, Marnix was just sitting on a stone, overlooking a pile of Legionnaire corpses, some are still alive but crippled by Marnix's defense, his most famous line during that battle; "—What took you guys so long?..."
Wilhelmina continues reading below and a picture is seen.
It is rather black & white with the mere description of Marnix Meijer himself during his coronation of being an Arch-Mage 12 years ago.
He was quite tall, long hair that is rough but flows.
His brows were same as hers, and that eyes of his give off quite a unique glow.
He wore quite a simple White Linen shirt, Purple trousers with only a red sash substituting as a belt & Standard Leather boots, such a simple attire yet he wore on his ceremony—no one questioned.
For some reason young Wilhelmina's eyes shed tears, yet she did not feel sad.
She felt quite honored to be a daughter of someone so great, yet he's not even around to see her.
He looked like a very kind person within that photograph, he felt like a person who smiles even during mistakes and in horror,
if only he was around, that Wilhelmina might even tolerate her life here within the Manor of Meijer.
At the end of the page featuring her father. It has been stated for years now that Marnix Meijer has been considered M.I.A due to unknown reasons, the Monarchy can't even discover his whereabouts.
And has recently been replaced by his protege; 'Ozul Hagedorn' yet Wilhelmina doesn't even bother to take a look at him.
But still in her mind, it lingers to Wilhelmina.
Thinking about her father,
Thinking if his presence could've changed her life, but also if his absence caused the underlying discrimination she's facing within the Manor of Meijer.
—
But peace never lasts.
During a sermon in the manor chapel, Wilhelmina, now ten years old, kneels in silent prayer, she looks up at a statue of the Prime CelestialStayne, the God/dess of the Stars, the one said to have gifted the world half of her magic before the Rapture.
As she prayed in silence like the others, a half-sibling beside sneers at her, Amos, he was the worse of the worse in Wilhelmina's life, her big brother no less, but he doesn't act like it.
Amos: (whispering) "Maybe if you pray hard enough, the gods'll give you a second soul."
She clenches her fists. Says nothing.
"You really are a Null, huh? Born useless. Meant to die in silence—just like the rest of your kind—"
SMACK.
Her golden eyes shimmer a spark of crimson.
Amos falls to the floor, jaw stinging. Wilhelmina's small fist trembles in the air. The room freezes. Gasps fill the air.
Amos: (furious) "You—! You filthy, worthless Null!"
He lunges. Fists fly. Blood drips.
Wilhelmina endures in silence, curled under blows.
Until guards separate them.
Later, Sir Don Kengun stands before them, arms folded. He is the Manor's head of security & enforcement.
Don Kengun: (coldly) "You've embarrassed this House again. Fourth time this month."
Amos: "But she hit me! She struck first!"
Don Kengun: "Because you provoked her. Would you like your father to hear of this?"
At the mention of his father, a ruthless general in the Royal Army, Amos grows pale.
Amos: (swallowing his pride) "N-no… he wouldn't."
Don Kengun: "Good. Then we understand each other."
Don turns to Wilhelmina.
"As for you… you must stop this. They already see you as filth. I can't protect you forever. Your mother is gone. Noelle is gone. If I fall… you'll have no one."
"Just behave, and perhaps they'll let you study."
Wilhelmina: (looking up at Don) "Will it be different there? Or the same?"
He doesn't answer. Not because he can't
But because he knows the answer.
She returns to her chamber. Alone. The same room she sought comfort from her mother, now gone.
Among trinkets left by her mother, she pours over books—medical records, arcane biology, anything that might explain why. Wilhelmina reads by faint candlelight—scrolls of mana theory, old medical reports, diagrams.
"The Mana Core, a spiritual nexus near the solar plexus, is the origin of all magic.
The Mana Pathways, invisible threads beneath the skin, distribute magic through the body…"
She flips to a health chart—her own.
"Mana Pathways... none present. Mana Core: Dormant Atrophic"
Wilhelmina: (quietly) "Says here… I don't have any of that."
She stares at her hands. Her fist clenches. Her jaw trembles.
"Why was I even born here…?"
She weeps in solitude, the spark in her golden eyes flickering like a dying ember.
Tears fall. Her small fists tremble. Her breath shudders. Stayne watches.
Even now.
Even broken.
It burns.
—
Fate continued its purge.
Her mother, Kalydyn, vanishes.
Her maid, Noelle, disappears.
Her uncle, Don Kengun, is reassigned.
One by one, her protectors are taken.
And finally, her name is taken too.
Royal Clerk: "Per Order 59-A of House Meijer, subject Wilhelmina is hereby stricken from the noble registry. A Null shall not stain the bloodline."
"Apologies Wilhelmima, you're a good kid. But this is an order from the head of the House of Meijer himself. Goodbye."
The gates of the estate close behind her.
No carriage. No escort.
Only a tattered satchel.
And a girl reborn.
No longer does Wilhelmina Meijer exist.
Only Mina remains.
She walks into the unknown.
And in the shadows of the treelines,
as cold rain falls,
a crimson spark
still glows within her golden eyes.