Anemone bolted upright, gripping her face. Every breath she took forced itself in and out to the point her throat began to ache. Blurred. That way, the world revealed itself to her as she regained focus. It took a few moments before she could even feel the floor beneath her. She realized she had rolled out of bed. Soon, a stinging pain began to spread across her back, forcing her to wince. But before she could even rub her back, a burning chill overtook her hands. It was the same pain from her dreams. They burned with an agony that made her bite her lip, hushing a yelp that left her mouth. Her eyes strained as she focused on her shivering hands. Their wild behavior made them impossible to close, even when she tried. Anemone pressed her face into her palms, breathing deeply. She counted each breath, focusing her mind. The air warmed her body, and the shaking stopped.

  “Another one… just like the last time. It was just like the night Tir-noNog was—”.

  Anemone’s thoughts hushed as her left hand covered her eyes. Her body plopped back on the floor, feeling heavier than plated armor. It was hard not to think about what she saw. For months, dreams of unfamiliar adventures bogged her mind. Each was as grand as the way elder fae recalled myths to children. Each, a tale of trials filled with heroics. Each with warriors destined for greatness. And almost every time she saw those dreams, it was through the eyes of someone else. Though it wasn’t her, she felt everything they went through. Their pain, their joy, and their prowess. Everything flooded through her senses. Especially the excitement that filled their heart. But when she opened her eyes, she was once again back home.

  “Stupid dreams…I hate feeling like this. I wish I could just leave TirNog.” Anemone sighed.

  Sitting up, Anemone saw jars of insecta specimens stacked on the top shelf near a window. Underneath that shelf was another with books on the surrounding ecosystem of Tir-noNog and its insecta population. And to the right of the window, a desk under another shelf. Things she had seen dozens of times. No matter how creepy those jars looked, she did not flinch. Instead, they warmed her heart.

  “I almost forgot I spent the night at Nia’s again—It’s been rough the past few days...”

  Time. It was something that constantly escaped her. Fleeting was how every moment had felt for most of her life. But then something changed. Anemone had gained something she thought would never fall into her hands. That very something sat on that same desk. It easily caught her eye even in the darkness of night. So even more precious caught her attention. The sole thing capable of igniting her remaining passion. On that desk sat a book that made her smile ear to ear.

  “My own grimoire… I can’t believe Spriggan really got me one,” she smiled. “Now I won’t just have to stab and kick things.”

  Anemone held a softened gaze at that book, the key to her path forward. That grimoire was a gift from her mentor, Spriggan. Somehow, he had obtained one and given it to his old friend. And that old friend of his gave it to her. For years, Spriggan had trained Anemone in the way of close-quarters combat. But this? This was the next step in her arsenal. Anemone raised her hand and began chanting.

  “Grimoire-Ars: 1st Tier: Acquire: Quill-(Pg. 1)”

  The book on the table flew open, and rings of magic with strange symbols glowed from its pages. A stream of glittering light slowly flowed between her fingers. Her heart throbbed as the light solidified in her hand. A quill formed between her fingers the moment the book closed. Anemone punched into the air as pride filled her chest. Then she pretended to scribble in the air, flipping the quill between each finger. Her longing eyes slowly blinked until her face beamed into a crooked smile.

  “Now, anyone who calls me an Odless or Wingless will get blasted with an Ars! Who’s a false fae now?”

  While on the floor, Anemone raised her left arm and tucked her face into her right elbow. Despite the smug look on her face, there was still a slight twinge in her heart. Just echoing those words ‘Odless’ and ‘Wingless’, sent ripples across her body. Not having wings was already enough, but being unable to use Ars? That was even worse. Her smile weakened at the thought of judgment from her fellow fae. Without a grimoire, Anemone had no chance of casting elemental magic. A deep sigh left her body as she sank back onto the floor. Her eyes slid from the quill to the ceiling above.

  “I wonder if trees care about being an Odless….”

  Each ring in the ceiling varied in size. Some of them had wider widths than others, but all were wider than her arms. The seasons of peak growing conditions were the widest rings. Meanwhile, the narrowest rings represented rougher seasons. Each ring represented a year in the life span of the tree she lay in. And with over a hundred rings, this tree had seen more in its lifetime than she ever had. Just thinking about its lifetime somehow created a slow calm that eased her heart. Her worries were practically microscopic in comparison to its might. Then she thought of her peers.

  Would her peers be less harsh? Would she still be considered an Odless? Anemone shook her head and focused on the rings above yet again. There were more important things to focus on. Anemone could finally train with Spriggan using Elemental-Ars, the magic of her people. A daydream of wandering across the land quickly overtook her. Heroic tales, bountiful discoveries, and Endless battles; these were the path of her soon-to-be adventures. And anything that crossed her path? It was met with powerful spires of earth or raging torrents. In her mind, she was already a true warrior.

  Anemone snickered, “Should I use Oread or Undine-Ars just like Spriggan? Or maybe…”

  Be normal. She could be like any fae, and it would all be thanks to this grimoire! A magical book that could hold any item or magical spell, known as Ars. Her heart fluttered. Then another daydream captivated Anemone’s mind. She summoned spires of earth ripping through a tree. That very sight put a crook on her face.

  “Nope! I’m totes getting that earthy Oread!!! Momma needs some topaz lumenopal!”

  Suddenly, the darkness of the night gradually began to fade. Light trickled in from a nearby window. That moonlight landed on a bland white mask and a sleek green and white dress that hung on the far left of a shelf. Its gold trim sparkled just like the jeweled brooch in the center of its chest. There were five different-colored gems on that brooch, but three caught her eye. The purple gem beamed brilliantly under the moon’s presence. Its shine blocked out every other color but the yellow and blue gems.

  “If Florentina were here, she’d say something like, ‘The symbolism matters.’ ‘Which lumenopal did you see first?’, Amethyst, topaz, cerulean, cinnabar, or celadon?’, ugh.” Anemone rolled her eyes. “Yes, Florentina, the maiden’s blessing foresees; blah, blah, blah.”

  As long-winded as she was wise, Florentina oversaw all maidenhood practices. Be it both spiritual and ceremonial matters. She, too, helped raise Anemone as a proper warrior. Thanks to seeing Florentina so often, Anemone could easily recognize those clothes. It had to be maiden attire. Only the most noble souls could wear such garb that made her gag. A huff of air left her lips as she sprawled across the floor. Her eyes gazed at the ceiling, tracing the groves of the trees’ inner walls again. Then the sound of someone snoring caught her attention.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “How are you so unbothered, Nia? I can’t imagine how you’ll fare in the Wilds.” Anemone huffed.

  As Anemone rolled to her side and pushed herself up, her body was still heavy as a ton of bricks. Only a few moments had passed since she first sat up, yet she slumped more than before. Anemone groaned but was glad she had not awakened Aronia. Her dreams were becoming stranger. The feeling of crushing that mask forced her to look at her hand again. Even though she did not see it there, a phantom-like impression made her believe it was still prominent. Anemone clenched her hand until the feeling disappeared.

  ZZZZ!

  That snore pulled Anemone’s focus away, and her eyes landed on Aronia, whose sleeping face was covered in drool. Her body was wrapped in thick green wool pajamas and yet her hair had nothing covering it. The fact that she never wrapped her short red curls when she slept always made Anemone grumble. Anemone almost wished Aronia cared for her hair as much as she did her physique. Instead, Aronia often let her hair do whatever it wanted. Only combing it out when her frustration peaked, or Anemone said something out of spite.

  ZZZZZZZZ!

  Anemone wore a smile until the moment Aronia’s thunderous snoring rumbled through the room. She covered her ears and gritted her teeth. Aronia was always a heavy sleeper. No matter how much noise someone made around her, Aronia was dead to the world. During the night, they would sometimes stay up late talking. Anemone would always turn around only to find Aronia had already passed out. It was a talent that left her jealous, unlike the snoring; that she could live without.

  “In three days… we’ll start the Accolade Trials.” Anemone murmured, “And hopefully they don't get delayed again—I’m sick of being an Arbor Magna trainee.”

  Anemone’s eyes looked towards the window again. Anywhere beyond home, between the kingdoms of the land, were the Wilds. Vast biomes of barren deserts, pellucid seas, stormy tundra, and forest far beyond her homeland. It made her forest kingdom a sanctuary and prison. However, every budding fae warrior would have the opportunity to traverse the Wilds via trials. The Accolade Trials were the rite of knighthood to all fae warriors of Tir-noNog’s Arbor Magna.

  As a trainee, it has been her dream to participate in the Accolade Trials. But now? After everything that had happened. A chill briefly ran down her spine. Her hands crossed her chest as she gripped her shoulder. As her body jumped, it became more than a simple shiver. Anemone had to flex her forearms to hold still. Even though she was too low to see the cityscape. Her mind recalled that scene from a week ago.

  “Tir-noNog was—Every time I close my eyes… I still see it. The smoke and that Gallu.”

  Her lips quivered as her stomach churned. Burned wood and dry air scratched at her throat, and tears filled her eyes. She could see the smoldering remains of homes. Be they carved from tree trunks and mushrooms or stone, everything burned. Shattered glass shone from embers, searing the sight in her eyes. The sight of Tir-noNog in flames broke her. Tir-noNog was supposed to be untouchable. It was not only protected by a barrier but also surrounded by a dense forest. Sure, monsters or large animals occasionally tried to break the barrier. But most failed and were slain by Tir-noNog’s Arbor Magna knights.

  That night, however, the knights had almost failed. Tir-noNog had been breached by monsters. Monsters that even the bravest warriors feared. Her eyes closed, and she could see the wolf-like creature she had helped slay. Its darkened fur billowed like smoke from a flame. Blots of night emanated from its body in clouds of ink. The gold glowing sigils that scrawled across its body contrast with its shadowy body. The beast was no ordinary wolf. It was possessed by a fiendish essence, the Gallu-utukku.

  “I could’ve ended up like that elf from a week ago.” Anemone pondered, “If it wasn’t for Rubus…. Can I even compete in The Trials?”

  Anemone curled into a ball and burrowed her face between her knees. An ache gripped her chest, and her arms burned. Although her wounds had healed, the pain still faintly throbbed. Every throb reminded her of her first battle. From the rancid smell of rotten flesh to the snapping of its jaw at her throat. It was hard to erase that from her mind. Luckily, her teammate Rubus had saved her using a blast of fire. That pain had become a constant reminder of her weakness. Anemone pressed her face into her palms and huffed. Each thought fired off like a volley of arrows pinning her to the ground. It was as if she had become a sack of bricks.

  “My stupid brain just can’t stop thinking about everything.” She grumbled. “If I could disappear like Spriggan. I could ditch the Trials and TirNog altogether.”

  Soon, what little spirit she had seeped into the floor. Anemone began pressing her fingers into the side of her forehead. In the next three days, the long-awaited trials would commence. At first, excitement for such an honor filled the wind in her sails. Now? Terror clawed at her throat and made her body clench. She slumped up again and let out another huge sigh. After a few more breaths, Anemone turned towards Aronia with limerence. A subtle smile crossed Anemone’s lips.

  “No matter what happens…I’ll protect you.” She whispered.

  She grazed her hands across Aronia’s thick, sharp brows. Adding the glimpse of the small bags under her eyes, Aronia had a natural glare. Even in her sleep, that glare seemed prominent. Aronia, however, usually had a jolly demeanor. She wore a wide smile that always contradicted her face. Just thinking about that smile made Anemone giggle. As Anemone gently prodded at Aronia’s face, she noticed a scar on her chest. It was covered with scaly skin. Aronia often covered her darken bronzed skin in Shi tree oil imported from Finfinne, so it was never dry. Yet the skin around that scar was so scaly—so dragon-like.

  Anemone hovered her hand over the mark and stopped it there. The heat of Aronia’s body touched her fingertip, but Anemone gently pulled her hand back. A shiver ran down Anemone’s spine as small memories filled her mind.

  “You say birthmark… but I know brands…I know one can have freedoms stolen.”

  Every time Anemone looked at or reached toward that scar, Aronia flinched. This scar was unlike other old injuries that covered her body. Especially those on her back and legs. It almost resembled a fan-like leaf. Anemone had seen it dozens of times before this—yet somehow—it had changed.

  “That brand…it’s fading—and those sigils? Were they always there?”

  As her eyes focused, golden symbols shone faintly on Aronia’s skin. Anemone looked at the sigils on her arm and then back to the ones near Aronia’s birthmark. Some of them were like her own. Anemone’s sigils were convenient tools used in combat before her grimoire. They helped her body absorb and use Arcane-Od. Aronia, however, was as talented with Vulcan-Ars. She had no use for such markings.

  As Anemone’s eyes narrowed, she recognized some of the other signs. They resembled old Aos-Si letters, but the tips pointed out like knives. Tilting her head to the side, Anemone slid her hand above the strange mark. Abruptly, Steam-like heat started to be emitted shortly. Anemone raised her eyebrows. But instead of touching it, she held her hands in her lap. If Aronia wanted to share the story behind her scars, Anemone would listen without reserve, but to pry? That was unspeakable. Every time she thought about it, her gut churned. For the longest time, Anemone never understood why asking for more details scared her. Even outside of Aronia, Anemone kept to herself, only accepting the necessary details for anything that seemed too serious.

  “I wish I could just ask…” Anemone mumbled.

  When Anemone grasped Aronia’s hand, she turned on her side in bed. Anemone jumped, clenching her hand even tighter. The moisture caught Anemone’s attention, and her eyes looked down at her drenched hand. Loosening her grip, they still warmed to a sweat. She refocused on Aronia, who suddenly began to groan and sweat profusely.

  “Nia? Are you ok?”

  Aronia rolled on her back, unbuttoning her pajamas. “My chest burns. I wonder if I ate somethin’ wrong.”

  “You are sensitive to Zingiber roots. That stew might have been too much for you.”

  “Gotta love that ginger.” Aronia smiled, “Don’t wurry, Nin. I am o—”

  Aronia gripped her chest, and her body began to convulse. Her shoulders grew broader, her face sharpened, and her muscle mass grew. The sound of her bones cracking became silent by her loud cry.

  “Feck me!” Aronia yelped.

  The pain had to be intense. Aronia only shifted when she was highly stressed. In a few moments, Aronia had shape-shifted into Aron.

  “Oh…that’s the craic.” Aron’s deepened voice griped.

  Anemone touched Aron’s forehead as sweat poured down his face. Before long, heat lines appeared, and his sweat began to disappear. Heat built in Anemone’s fingers, and she smelled smoke. Looking down, she saw the sheets beneath him start to smoke. Small embers sparked in the air around Aron. Anemone swiftly yanked her hand back, flailing it around. After blowing on her fingertips, she rubbed them together. The feeling of her skin had become scorched from his body in only a few seconds.

  “Why now!?” Anemone cried.

  Anemone clenched her jaw as she rummaged haphazardly through the nightstand. Her eyes squeezed shut, blinking at every piece of paper, but it was not there. Hearing Aron’s groans go hoarse elevated her blood level.

  “Why is their Heat-Haze boiling up!?!” Anemone panicked, “It’s supposed to be the right drawer—left of the bed!”

  If she did not find it soon, Aron’s blood would boil until he would practically fry to death. An overwhelming sense of dread loomed in her mind with every heartbeat in the back of Anemone’s throat.