The vortex reached its peak.
The wind roared with wild elegance, forming perfect spirals in the air. Droplets of water shimred like shards of glass beneath the sunlight, spinning in a srizing orbit, as if the universe itself was paying tribute. Streaks of lightning flickered in and out among the vortex, like silver threads weaving softly around the little girl.
And then, as if soone had pressed an invisible switch—everything slowly began to fade.
The spiraling wind lost its strength.
The glimring droplets lost their form and began falling one by one to the earth, creating soft patters like the first hint of rain.
The static in the air dissolved into faint traces of light, then vanished entirely.
Silence returned.
And in the center of it all—Mira.
The small figure remained seated cross-legged, but her shoulders began to sway. Her head drooped forward like a flower wearied by the storm. Her breaths ca in short gasps, chest rising and falling heavily. Sweat beaded along her temples and chin, dripping silently between strands of hair clinging to her pale skin. Her eyelids never opened—and at last, she slowly collapsed forward, falling asleep atop the grass.
Riven moved at once.
Without a second thought, he darted toward her, his knees hitting the ground with a thud he didn’t register. He caught her gently, cradling her in his lap. His hands trembled slightly as he touched her sweat-dampened face.
"Mira...!" he whispered, voice thick with panic and desperate affection.
He pressed his palm to her forehead—still warm. Her heart was beating. She was still breathing.
But her small body... was utterly exhausted.
Ashtoria appeared beside him, soundless in her approach. Her gown didn’t rustle, her steps left no trace. She seed to erge from shadow itself, gliding forward in silence to assess the situation.
"Your sister is fine," she said calmly—sharp, certain. "She’s simply exhausted. Even a dual affinity can cause a child to faint. And she... she just discovered that she holds three elents."
Riven turned his head quickly, breath still ragged with worry.
His gaze t the queen’s—those blood-red eyes that rarely showed warmth, now softened with sothing unreadable... even if only for a fleeting second.
He looked back down, his hand brushing damp strands from Mira’s face, gently wiping away the sweat clinging to her temple.
Behind them, Lyrienne stood frozen.
Her face had gone pale. Her wide blue eyes stared, and the fan in her hand was clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t utter a single word. All she could do was stare at that little girl—a commoner—who had just shown a miracle that belonged only in children’s stories.
Three affinities.
Lyrienne stepped forward without realizing it, drawn in, until she could clearly see Mira’s face. Then, her voice ca out—quiet, trembling with awe and disbelief.
"...Three affinities?" she whispered. "That’s impossible..."
.
.
.
Word of the extraordinary event spread like wildfire through the Valderacht estate. The servants who had witnessed it from afar exchanged whispers filled with unease, and the guards stationed beyond the courtyard strained their ears to catch any fragnt of truth. Throughout the mansion’s corridors, Mira’s na echoed—softly spoken, laden with wonder, fear, and curiosity.
And yet... it died just as swiftly.
As if the wind that carried the tale had been forcibly halted. Voices were silenced—not brutally, but with quiet, efficient precision. Even the chattiest of servants suddenly chose silence, their mouths sealed by unspoken fear.
No one wanted to speak further of the miracle.
And everyone knew... whose hand had moved to ensure it.
. .
In the east wing’s guest room, an oil lamp burned dimly on a carved wooden table. The window curtains were drawn tight, blanketing the room in a tranquil warmth. On the bed, Mira lay fast asleep, her expression peaceful as always—like nothing extraordinary had happened only hours ago.
Riven sat at her bedside, one hand gently holding hers—small, warm, and soft. A faint smile touched his lips, full of a brother’s love that needed no words.
"How could you find your affinity before I did?" he whispered, shaking his head gently. "How dare you beat to it...?"
His tone was playful and light, but behind the teasing was a quiet pride. Proud... and perhaps just a little envious.
Ashtoria sat nearby, not far from him. She leaned her shoulder lightly against his, her movent calm yet intimate, like soone who didn’t need permission to be close.
"I’ve ensured no one will leak the information about your sister’s triple affinity," she said softly, her voice cold yet curiously gentle—discussing sothing life-altering as if it were trivial.
Riven nodded slightly. "Thank you," he murmured with quiet sincerity.
He didn’t need to ask why.
He already knew.
In this world, power drew attention.
And attention... drew danger.
Especially power that was rare—unthinkable—like what Mira had just revealed.
"Do you think..." he asked after a mont, "...my sister would be rated as highly talented if tested?"
Ashtoria inhaled slowly before replying, "The number or type of affinities doesn’t determine one’s talent."
Riven frowned faintly, about to ask for clarification, but Ashtoria continued before he could.
"But," she added, her gaze returning to Mira’s sleeping face, "judging from her reaction when she first connected with her affinities—how strong, stable, and harmonious the elents moved around her—I can say this much..."
She turned, her eyes locking with his.
"...your sister has remarkable talent."
Silence fell between them.
The words echoed in Riven’s heart, filling him with a deep, undeniable pride... and sothing else.
Sothing that gnawed quietly at his chest.
He was happy. Of course he was. Mira was all he had left, and he wanted the world for her. But... sowhere inside, he couldn’t deny the creeping shadow of being left behind.
The door creaked open gently.
A faint scent of pinewood and old tal drifted in as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the room. His blonde curls were cut short, his bearing straight-backed like a seasoned officer. The lines in his face spoke of age, but his eyes were still sharp and commanding.
It was Lord Axel Valderacht—the master of the estate, and one of the most respected nobles in the land.
He paused upon entering, his eyes locking on the two figures by the bed: Riven—the commoner—and Queen Ashtoria, leaning so naturally on his shoulder as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Lord Valderacht blinked once.
Then again.
He even rubbed his eyes lightly, as if expecting the image to change.
But it didn’t.
Riven remained where he sat.
And Ashtoria remained close beside him, unbothered, unapologetic.
Their gazes t in a mont of near-comic stillness.
Ashtoria looked on without expression. Riven seed slightly tense. Lord Valderacht finally exhaled and turned away, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure.
He stepped forward, his long cloak brushing the floor. When he spoke, his voice was heavy but respectful.
"I’ve ensured that everyone who knows about your sister has been silenced," he said, stopping near the bed.
Riven stood slightly and nodded. "Thank you, My Lord."
Lord Valderacht gave a small nod, then glanced at Ashtoria—just briefly, as if silently seeking permission.
The queen said nothing. Her stare was icy, but not obstructive. It was permission enough.
Lord Valderacht turned back to Riven.
"There’s sothing I wish to discuss with you, privately," he said in a lower tone. "About your sister."
His voice softened, though still serious.
"She’s a commoner. No surna. And after what I witnessed today... I’m convinced her future will be grand and dangerous."
He paused a mont, letting the weight of his words settle.
"That is why," he continued, "I want to adopt Mira as my daughter."
Riven was stunned. His eyes widened, the words too large to fully grasp all at once.
Lord Valderacht’s next words ca carefully, yet firmly.
"She will beco Mira Valderacht. A na that will grant her entry into nobility without resistance. She’ll receive protection, education, and the rights she deserves. I will train her myself, and ensure she has every resource to grow... into a powerful Lawbearer."
His voice lowered, full of genuine intent.
"I do not an to take her away from you, Riven. But... the world won’t let a child like her live peacefully if she remains naless. She will beco a target—not only for her power, but because her status offers no shield."
He sighed, then added:
"That’s why I ca to you first. To ask for your permission."
Silence settled once more.
Ti seed to pause.
Ashtoria said nothing.
She simply watched Riven from the side, observing how he processed it all.
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