The sun had barely risen when Amayra woke up Illaria, her eyes alight with determination.
“Today’s the day,” she declared. “We will talk to grandad about the lab.”
Illaria blinked, as she replied. “You really think he’ll agree?” Amayra smirked, adjusting the hem of her questionable tunic. “We’ll take him a gift. No one says no to a thoughtful granddaughter. Hehehe.” But when she returned from the audience chamber an hour later, the weight in Amayra’s steps said it all.
“He refused,” she sighed, flopping onto her bed. “Didn’t even let me finish. Said the lab isn’t a place for kids.’”
Illaria frowned. “Maybe we just approached it wrong.” She leaned against the window frame, her mind racing. For a lab that was so under the covers, it was obvious the Emperor would turn down Amayra. And what would Amayra even contribute to a research lab? That is when it struck her. Draven, the Western Emperor might allow them if they showed potential to contribute to the lab. “What if we show him some ultimate magic? If he sees we can contribute, maybe he’ll let us in?”
“Hmm, I don’t have any other ideas, we can try that but what will we show him? He’s an emperor, I am sure he has already seen a lot of different types of magic.” Amayra asked.
“I guess we will have to make use of your grand library — I might be able to pick up some magic and combine it with some magic from the South to demo something presentable.” Illaria chimed. A couple of hours later, they found themselves in the grand Western Library later that evening, poring over scrolls and spellbooks beneath the soft golden glow of glass lanterns.
“Nothing here stands out,” Amayra groaned, thumbing through another tome on elemental manipulation.
Illaria barely heard her. Her thoughts had drifted. Nothing in the scrolls or textbooks was impressive enough. She wondered what was the last time she was impressed out of someone’s magic? Well Jane and Erwin definitely had outwardly abilities but then they were outwardly as well. Even if she could somehow understand their magic it seemed impossible to convert it into reality. She thought more. Her dad’s ancient blood magic was impressive too but only Ryan knew that and talking about such ancient magic could raise suspicion about her identity. Then the image of a strange, shimmery and deadly dagger passed her mind — Marcus’s dagger — a blend of Auren and Myrenn energy. Two opposing forces intertwined into one. That memory sparked an idea.
“What if…” Illaria murmured, pulling a scroll towards herself. “We combine something impossible with something real?”
“What do you mean?” Amayra asked her dumbfounded.
Illaria turned the pages of an old text. She found a simple spell — Truthweaving. A form of magic that could, for a brief moment, make belief take physical shape. For example, imagining an orange would produce an orange for a brief moment.
She turned to Amayra. “I can try this. While this is a Myrenn spell, if I put my Auren energy into it maybe I can conjure up more complex things in physical form.”
“Let’s try it out then!” Amayra rhymed in. Illaria and Amayra started small. They tried to focus on imagining fruits in front of them and they magically appeared. This was exciting. Next up they tried to conjure something harder — Rigor. Amayra closed her eyes, concentrated and said the spell. But nothing happened. No Rigor was conjured. “Ugh no Illaria this ain’t gonna work out — I think we need a new spell.” But something inside Illaria said it would. She ignored Amayra’s rant and closed her eyes. She imagined Rigor, imagined her first meeting with him when she lay paralyzed by the lake, how they were forced to face-off in that shop, how much Amayra loved him and how shameless she was about it. She pictured him standing in front of him in the library and Amayra just going over to melting into his arms. It was a warm sight in her mind. Illaria’s focus broke as heard Amayra gasp. She opened her eyes to find Amayra surprised and visibly shaken.
“You, you actually did it I think. He was here. Rigor was here a moment ago. In his whole physical form.” Amayra gasped. Illaria looked at her hands. She was awestruck too. She had unlocked a very unique magic which even Amayra couldn’t. She felt a sudden sense of achievement but with the weight of responsibility to yield it properly too.
The next morning, Illaria and Amayra stood before the Emperor. The vast marble hall shimmered under the morning sunlight. Illaria bowed low. Draven’s piercing gaze met hers — sharp, unreadable, weighing her every breath.
“So,” he said, voice calm but commanding. “What are you both up to, I have a lot of tasks to do, make this quick.”
Amayra inclined her head. “Yes, Grandad. So I wanted to show you the amazing magic my new handwoman can do.”
Draven replied in an unenthusiastic tone, “Let’s see it then.”
Illaria steadied her breath and closed her eyes. Her hands glowed faintly as she began her spell of weaving. As she imagined the floor rippling and water oozing to spread across the floor — the palace floor started to fill with water. Reflections shimmered across pillars and walls. Illaria opened her eyes to see the emperor’s reaction.
Draven’s expression had changed. He looked surprised and somehow worried. Maybe he didn’t like how she had filled up the palace with water. He finally replied after a long pause, “I want you to try something else. Do you know this boy Amayra is in love with?”
Amayra’s head snapped toward him. “Grandad!” Illaria responded with a slight nod.
“Very well then, I want you to make Amayra believe that she does not love Rigor.” Draven commanded in a low interested tone.
Illaria closed her eyes. She could hear Amayra complaining in the distance but soon her voice faded away in the distance. In Illaria’s mind there was only one scene — Rigor breaking Amayra’s heart. Illaria knew Rigor was a good man, rather too good. He would not compromise on his duty over Amayra and he would do anything to protect her. She imagined a scene in which Rigor willingly accepts a marriage to someone else so Amayra would leave him . She imagined Amayra, the heartbreak, the anger bursting out on Rigor, the slangs Amayra would launch at him, Amayra telling him she no longer loved him and finally falling out of love. No — that didn’t convince Illaria. Even if this situation were to happen Illaria knew Amayra would always love Rigor. And this thought made her whole spell fall. She opened her eyes to see Amayra collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily, clutching her chest and tears in her eyes.
“That felt… wrong,” Amayra replied in a low tone.
Illaria nodded. “Because it was too unnatural for me to imagine. I am sorry.”
Draven studied her for a long moment, then said softly, “You have great abilities. Follow me, you both.” Illaria and Amayra exchanged secret smiles with each other. The emperor was going to unveil the mysteries that shrouded the lab.
In his private chambers, the Emperor led them to a long oak table where a beautifully carved box rested beneath the golden lamplight. Its surface was engraved with patterns of stars and serpents. He entered a sequence into the lock, the sound of the mechanism clicking open echoing through the quiet room. Illaria’s pulse quickened as he lifted the lid. Inside, wrapped in a silk cloth, lay a single piece of parchment. Draven unfolded it with uncharacteristic care, his expression softening as he gazed at it.
It was a sketch — a young woman, perhaps in her twenties, standing tall with a sword in hand. Her stance radiated strength and grace in equal measure; the faint smile on her lips spoke of courage paired with mischief.
“This was my daughter, Roslin,” Draven said quietly. “She was brave… and brilliant. Always chasing something greater than herself.”
He paused, his eyes still fixed on the drawing. “She loved the lab — the research, the possibilities. Her mind was always alive with new ideas, new experiments. She wanted to build something that would last, that would solve all our problems for once and for all. I encouraged her initial ideas — even I was fascinated by the possibilities. But she forgot, possibilities are not realities. The dreams she had set on those possibilities fueled her desire to win, to achieve, she thought she knew what she was going until — it consumed her. His voice grew distant, softer. “I sent her away but I never would have had I known I’d never see her again.”
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For a moment, silence filled the chamber — heavy and unbroken. Then his gaze hardened. “I will not watch my granddaughter repeat that mistake. You will stay out of the lab, Amayra. And you,” his eyes flicked to Illaria, sharp and cold, “will not encourage her. Instead, you will focus on my granddaughter’s safety.”
Amayra’s lips parted as if to argue, but the weight of his words silenced her. Illaria stood still, respectful, saying nothing. Finally, Draven turned away. “You may go now,” he said, voice final as stone.
Back in their room, Amayra paced the floor. Illaria broke the silence. “Roslin was your aunt right? Have you met her?”
Amayra replied in a casual tone, “No, she passed away early, in her late twenties — I was not born by then. I only know a bit about her from my dad, which is more of onesided anger and frustration at his own inabilities. My dad never liked the lab while my aunt was always busy in it. Grandad and Roslin would make grand experiment plans without including him. He was the crown prince but grandad clearly had a different favourite. Whatever dad did as crown Prince, aunty Roslin would just outshine him. He never liked her.”
“Well, that is not insightful.” Illaria replied as she watched Amayra pace back and forth, still lost in thoughts. “But at least we know why the emperor wouldn’t let you near. Why are you walking like that? What is on your mind? ”
Amayra suddenly stopped. She looked at Illaria dumbfoundedly. “No, don’t tell me you didn’t notice?”
“Notice what?” Illaria asked.
“That box he opened. He showed us Roslin's photo. But after grandad had picked her photo I noticed something — the bottom was fake. It was just how my cupboard’s middle shelf panel is.”
Illaria blinked. “You’re saying there’s more in that box? Is something hidden beneath it?”
Amayra grinned. “Exactly. He’s my grandfather, after all — secret compartments run in the family I believe. But what is he hiding and why? Is it related to Roslin or the lab? If it’s for the lab, what is it doing here and not at the lab? And If it’s related to Roslin, why hide it? Plus if grandad believes the lab caused her death, why start the experiments again?”
“Maybe it is some cursed magic he doesn’t want the world to know. Something that caused Roslin’s death.” Illaria added.
Amayra’s eyes widened as the realization struck her. “Or maybe it’s what Grandad said Roslin was trying to acheive— ‘a magic that could end all our problems once and for all.’ If I think about it, all our problems are because of the Northern Kingdom. The extra security in the West, the constant fear of being attacked. What if that chest hides a power so immense it could turn the tide of a lost war? Something so dangerous, so vital, that Grandad can’t let anyone know — not even my father, his own son.”
“It is worth investigating then I would say.” Illaria replied but Amayra’s mind was lost. Illaria could feel her unease.
“What if I really have to fight you or Marcus?” Amayra asked after a long pause. “Uptill now I felt that all of this was a hoax — there was no real war, just something different. But what if there really is a war?”
“Amayra, do not jump to conclusions like the Northern Kingdom. Let us first investigate what is inside the chest. It might be nothing. I am sure there is a way out of this peacefully.” Illaria replied as she kept her hand on Amayra’s shoulder to offer support. Amayra was not fully convinced but she knew there was no better option than investigating.
Amayra finally replied, “Fine. Here’s the plan. Three days from now, I’ll challenge grandad to a chess match. We normally play on his room’s balcony, so it won’t be hard to get him out. While he’s out, you’ll open the chest and unveil its secrets.”
Illaria, “It won’t be this simple, will it? How will I enter the room? What about guards?”
Amayra replied, “Yes we need to get you inside his chambers somehow. Waiting outside won’t work. You won’t be allowed in if you are out once. Which means you must enter the room with me but not leave.”
Illaria frowned. “And how will we do that?”
Amayra added calmly, “I will get a custom chess board made for us. You carry it beside me and arrange the board for us in the balcony. I will make sure we have started our game before I dismiss you. After that, just make your way to the chest.”
“And what about Shadow Warriors — soldiers that are controlled by the emperor who we can’t see or sense. What if there are soldiers on the inside?” Illaria asked.
Amayra shrugged. “I don’t know. But given how secretive things have been around the lab lately, let’s just hope the guards are only posted outside, not within.”
Illaria crossed her arms. “And if something goes wrong?”
Amayra smirked, though a flicker of unease lingered beneath it. Illaria felt a small relief seeing that familiar glint return after worrying about the looming war earlier. Amayra was returning back to her usual self.
“Then we stick to this story,” Amayra said, crossing her arms with mock confidence. “I was planning a surprise gift for Grandad. You saw how much he adores Roslin — and honestly, it’s heartbreaking that he only has one small sketch of her. I thought I’d commission a proper portrait, something worthy of her. But since there are no other sketches left — and with Father’s dislike for Roslin — the only way was to study her face from the scroll Grandad kept locked up.”
Illaria raised a brow. “You really think he’s going to buy that?”
Amayra shrugged again, a grin tugging at her lips. “Probably not. But it’s the only story we have.”
“Okay we have a plan then!” Illaria replied with a smile.
Two days later, their plan was set into motion. Illaria followed Amayra through the gleaming corridors of the Western Palace, the polished floors reflecting the soft morning light. In her hands, she carried the newly crafted chessboard — a masterpiece of obsidian and moonstone, each piece with a sheen of its own. As they entered the Emperor’s chambers, Illaria felt a surprising calm settle over her. Amayra, ever at ease, chatted lightly with her grandfather as they made their way toward the balcony. Luckily for Illaria, the balcony jutted slightly to the side, leaving much of the chamber beyond direct view. Amayra had actually thought it through.
As Illaria made her way to the balcony behind Amayra and the emperor she took in the elegant design it had to offer. At its edge stood a marble table framed by two elegant chairs, surrounded by flowering vines and delicate potted plants that swayed in the breeze. Illaria stepped forward, setting the board carefully upon the table. She arranged the obsidian and moonstone pieces in their places, ensuring every detail was perfect, then stepped back quietly.
“You may go now,” Amayra said with a pointed glance.
Illaria bowed and moved toward the door. As she made her way out, her walking pace slowed with each step. Before fully committing to the plan Illaria wanted to test the air — detect if a shadow warrior was waiting to catch her. But nothing. No hint of movement, no presence hidden in shadow.
Good. She finally relaxed a bit and made her way to the chest of secrets. Carefully, she began her truthweaving. In her mind, she didn’t force the code or will a number into existence — instead, she envisioned her hands mirroring the Emperor’s precise movements from that day. Her fingers moved instinctively, as though guided by the quiet pull of intent, by her need to uncover the truth hidden within the box. She imagined the lock loosening, the mechanism surrendering to her will — and let her desire lead the way.
A soft click. The chest opened.
Inside lay Roslin’s portrait again, covered in the cloth, delicate and serene. Illaria lifted it and kept it aside. As Amayra had said, beneath the false wooden top lay a hidden compartment.
Her breath quickened.
As she lifted the compartment it revealed a deeper chamber. Inside lay sheets of paper — edges curled, old and yellowed with time. Her fingers trembled as she carefully picked up the papers. The script on the pages was unfamiliar — twisting, intricate symbols that she couldn't decipher. She didn’t understand a single word but these were not ordinary documents, she had to try. As she flipped through the pages she saw illustrations— the drawings that themselves were trying to tell the tale that words concealed.
The first illustration she uncovered depicted the Seven Magical Beasts of the Continent of Merwan. The drawings were a bit different, the beasts were aged and imprecise but Illaria identified them instantly — Banshee of Venom — the poisonous snake, Kelrath of Wrath – the magical tiger of the jungles, Glacethorn of Icicles — a wild unicorn with a horn made of Ice, and Gravolis of Might — the frog whose tongue could crush stones. There were also pictures of other beasts that had been long thought extinct – Ondrake of Flame - A fire breathing dragon, Mortivar of Shadow — a cunning fox that brought darkness and Zephyra of Blue Skies — the majestic eagle said to dwell only in Kelzar’s highest peaks. As Illaria flipped the pages, the focus shifted. The next drawings were not of beasts but of beings that looked human — their forms familiar yet altered. The illustration depicted them with glowing eyes with their hands raised in control. One illustration depicted a beast bowing before a person. Another displayed what looked like a fuse — human and beast consciousness intertwining.
As she turned the fragile pages, she saw more — elaborate drawings, details of the environment to control them, mixing of potions in certain quantities. It was as if the papers described a long lost magic— how to become one with these beasts, to wield their strength through the human mind. If only she could grasp what the text said.
Then, suddenly, a thought struck her — Ryan. The ancient and unreal blood magic he had — Blood Seal and Blood Chain. Father had described his journey to the temple and the months he spent there trying to figure out a magic he didn’t understand. This magic was probably ancient magic too and rather much more divine and superior. This was the whole Iceberg whose tip her dad had touched years ago. If this was some magic West had gotten their hands onto —
Laughter intruded her racing thoughts.
“So, my dear granddaughter,” came the Emperor’s amused voice from the balcony, “how would you like to be checkmated — by my rook or my pawn promoted queen?”
Amayra’s mock frustration followed. “You always checkmate me, Grandad. I hate you.” Draven’s hearty laugh echoed through the chamber. This was Illaria’s cue. She placed the scroll back carefully, returned the false top, set Roslin’s portrait where it belonged, and closed the box with a quiet click. Her gaze lingered on the chest for heartbeat longer — and then she slipped out of the room.
Ten minutes later, Amayra found her in the corridor. Neither spoke until they were well away from the Emperor’s quarters, weaving through the crowded marketplace to avoid prying ears.
“What did you find?” Amayra finally asked.
“Inside the chest were old papers, from years ago. Most of it was unreadable,” Illaria said, her tone low. “But the drawings they showed our ancestors with glowing eyes in what seemed like they had fused with the beasts. It felt like their minds were one. I think whatever’s in that chest isn’t just old knowledge — it’s Ancient magic.”
Amayra’s expression turned grim, the color draining from her face. “Then there is a possibility we are actually planning a war?”
“Might be, might not be — I can’t be sure but some illustrations also depicted the beasts laying down as if they were asleep. There were processes of mixing various fluids together in the right potions. These are all probably steps required to activate the magic and looking at them it seems super complex. Plus we don’t even know if this magic can work with individual beasts — in all illustrations, all the seven beasts were present. Out of the seven magical beasts three have not been seen in decades.”
Amayra’s face brightened a bit hearing that. “I highly doubt we will find something about this in the library. Maybe it is time to re-connect with Rigor, Marcus and Amarin. They might have discovered something.” Illaria passed a nod as they got up to make their way back to the palace. The real chess had just begun.