The late-autumn wind bit at her cheeks, but Evelyn didn’t flinch.
Wrapped in a heavy cloak lined with fur, she stepped into the overgrown backyard behind the Black Rose Palace. The sun hung low, veiled behind thin clouds, casting a silver hush over the faded grass and brittle branches.
Her boots crunched lightly on the frost-laced earth as she knelt down.
With slow, practiced hands, Evelyn traced a complex circle into the ground—ancient symbols etched into the soil with the tip of a silver dagger. She carved smaller sigils into each quadrant, whispering under her breath as she worked. Lines intersected, spiraled, and knotted together in a language long forgotten.
Then, she reached into the small satchel at her side and took out four glass vials—each containing a different essence.
Red fla flickered inside the first. Clear water shimred inside the second. Fine golden dust—soil—swirled in the third. And the last held a dancing current of wind, barely contained.
She uncorked each one, pouring them precisely into their designated positions at the center of the circle.
Then she stood.
Evelyn raised her arms slowly, letting her cloak fall open with the motion. The wind picked up, tugging at the hem of her sleeves, rustling the brittle leaves around her.
Her eyes drifted closed.
Her voice, when it ca, was low—asured and old. Not a chant. Not quite a prayer.
A summoning.
Evelyn: "I call thee, O Spirits bound by fate and fla, By soil, by storm, I call thy na. From ocean’s deep to ember’s light, From mountain’s root to skyward flight—Co forth, O guardians, old and true, By mark of seal, I summon you!"
The symbols carved into the earth pulsed faintly—then glowed.
A warm, golden light began to rise from the symbols, shimring like heat haze. The wind stilled, unnaturally quiet.
Evelyn: "Water that flows, calm or wild, Life’s bearer, fierce and mild—O Spirit of Water, abide.
Fire that burns, bold and bright, Devourer of dark, bringer of light—O Spirit of Fire, arise.
Earth beneath, strong and deep, Stone’s cradle and nature’s keep—O Spirit of Earth, stand firm.
Wind that moves, swift and free, Whisper and roar across the sea—O Spirit of Wind, co forth!"
Everything began to stir—fire flaring, water rippling, soil vibrating, and air swirling faster inside its quadrant. Sparks snapped in the wind.
The ground beneath her feet thrumd faintly with power.
Evelyn opened her eyes—cool, unwavering.
Evelyn (softly): "...Co."
A hush fell, deeper than silence.
Then—movent.
The symbols flared with a blinding pulse of golden light—then exploded outward with a soundless force. A hot wind swept through the backyard, scattering leaves in a violent spiral.
Suddenly—a blazing fireball tore through the air, hurling straight toward Evelyn’s chest.
In a blink, she sidestepped—graceful, practiced. The fireball missed by inches and struck the ground behind her with a thunderous boom, sending up a cloud of ash and embers.
She didn’t flinch. Not even a blink.
Evelyn looked up calmly—and smiled.
Across the glowing circle stood four distinct figures, each radiating an elental presence so overwhelming that even the air trembled.
Flas coiled like living serpents around the first figure, who stood tall and crackling red, his hair ablaze, eyes glowing molten gold. His presence radiated heat and fury.
Beside him was a figure cloaked in a flowing mantle of mist erged, her presence calm yet formidable. Her skin bore the sheen of moonlit water, translucent and smooth, as though sculpted from a glacial spring. Her eyes shimred with the quiet tenderness of deep lakes and the unpredictable fury of storms.
The third stood firm and unyielding, a presence carved from the heart of the earth. Her form was strong and statuesque, with moss draping over her broad shoulders like a ceremonial cloak. Her eyes, dark and steady, held the silence of ancient groves — deep, knowing, and enduring.
And the last shimred faintly, hard to focus on, as if the wind itself had taken form. His figure shifted with every glance, hard to hold in place. His hair fluttered though there was no breeze, and his cloak billowed gently, stirred by invisible currents. His presence carried the scent of distant skies, and his eyes held the restlessness of gales and the freedom of open air — a guardian of the in-between, both nowhere and everywhere.
Evelyn folded her arms loosely.
Evelyn: "I see... your temper is as hot as ever, Ignis."
The fire spirit flared with offense.
Red figure (snorting): "Hah! I see your mory is still as bad as ever, little witch. It’s not Ignis—it’s Irfin."
He raised his hand again, fire crackling between his fingers. The water spirit sighed and touched his arm, and the flas died down with a sharp hiss.
Water Spirit: "She rembers well enough, Ignis—" pauses, a teasing glint in her eye, "—cough, I an Irfin. You just never change."
Evelyn: "No, really, it’s not my fault. It’s his na’s fault. Co on, Ignis sounded so much better. Why’d you have to pick Irfin anyway?"
Irfin scowled, sparks flickering at his temples.
Irfin: "Because Ignis was too common. I wanted sothing more refined. Regal. Mysterious."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "You an pretentious."
The wind spirit laughed—light and lodic, like windchis stirred by a breeze. His form shimred, barely held together, hair flowing like mist.
Wind Spirit: "Still bickering like old tis, I see. Little one, you haven’t aged a day in sarcasm."
Evelyn gave her a fond nod. "And you haven’t changed either, Aeros."
Aeros spun once in midair, his translucent robes billowing as though caught in an unseen current. "Of course not. Wind never settles."
Beside him, the earth spirit stood silent, unmoving. Moss covered her shoulders, and small flowers blood along her arms and collar. She opened her eyes slowly—deep and brown like fertile soil after rain.
Earth Spirit: "...It’s been a long ti, Little one."
Evelyn stepped forward, her voice softer.
Evelyn: "It has, Terra. You look... just the sa."
Terra blinked slowly. "Earth does not shift so easily. But you... you feel different."
Irfin folded his arms with a snort.
Irfin: "She’s weaker. No question about it."
Evelyn shot him a sharp look, but he only grinned.
Irfin: "Humph. How many tis have I told you not to summon us all together?"
Evelyn: "Why not? They’re not saying anything."
Water Spirit: "It’s not that we never said anything—you just never listened."
Aeros, the wind spirit, drifted in with a teasing sigh.
Aeros: "Honestly, little one, you’re as stubborn as the mountains and twice as reckless. At least Terra listens when I scold her."
Terra gave a deep, quiet chuckle, moss still clinging to her shoulders.
Terra: "That’s because I don’t start fires every ti soone summons ."
Irfin rolled his eyes. "Hah! That’s because you’re all boring."
Evelyn stared at them—at the elental embodints of nature itself.
The mighty guardians. The tiless spirits.
One rolling his eyes like a sulking child, another brushing moss from her shoulders with calm dignity. The water spirit quietly chiding like a weary elder sister, and the wind spirit spinning in lazy circles above them, clearly enjoying the chaos.
Evelyn blinked, her arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Evelyn (deadpan): "...How did any of you end up as the mighty elental spirits again?"
Aeros smirked, wind curling playfully around Evelyn’s hair.
Aeros: "Because we’re fabulous."
Irfin smirked, flas flaring at his fingertips.
Irfin: "Because i burn brighter than anyone else."
The water spirit, Neris just sighed.
Neris: "Don’t ask questions you already regret."
Terra: "Because the world needed balance... and chaos, apparently."
Evelyn shook her head slowly.
Evelyn: "...I’m starting to think I was better off summoning one at a ti."
All four spirits answered at once—too loud, too fast, and completely in character:
Irfin: "Coward!"
Water Spirit: "Wise."
Aeros: "Boooring~!"
Terra: "Finally, so sense."
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Evelyn (muttering): "And to think I prepared a summoning circle for this."
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