Through Light and Shadow

I woke up sore to the bone. Every muscle ached like I'd run for miles without stopping. My mind—blank, mercifully empty after hours of restless thoughts—offered no comfort. My eyes, puffy and tender, burned with the remnants of tears that had finally broken through the dam last night. Shock, hurt, confusion... my heart felt stretched thin, worn out from too many emotions too fast.

A knock at the door. I didn't move.

"You need to eat something," Aldric's voice drifted in, quieter than usual. "I made lunch. If you want answers, I can give them. Not all the details... but enough."

I pulled the blanket tighter, cocooning myself. No. I wasn't ready. Questions swirled relentlessly in my head, but somehow... not knowing felt safer than the weight of more truths.

Another knock—gentler, patient. When I didn't respond, I heard him sigh and his footsteps retreat down the hall.

Light filtered through the window blinds, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor. Is this my room? The thought lingered. It didn't feel like mine, foreign yet oddly comforting. The warm scent of aged wood, the faint crackle of the stone fireplace—it wasn't home, but it held me together last night when everything else fell apart.

Something outside—a soft, crackling sound—pulled me from my daze. Curiosity edged past the exhaustion. Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the window and pushed the curtain aside.

Aldric stood in the garden. His posture steady, movements fluid. I watched, mesmerized, as he raised a hand and the withered plants—brittle and lifeless—lifted from the soil, crumbling into ash mid-air. He flicked his wrist. Ash dissolved like smoke on the wind, and in its place, small seeds hovered before gently settling into the earth.

Then he spoke. His voice a low murmur—words I couldn't understand. From his breath, soft white tendrils of light unfurled, like tiny streams of mist. They drifted toward the ground, weaving into the soil. And then—water emerged, bubbling up naturally to nourish the planted seeds.

But it wasn't just the spell or the plants that caught my attention—it was the lights.

Tiny orbs floated everywhere. Green ones twirled around the new sprouts, playful and alive. Blue lights hovered by the water, glimmering like liquid stars. Each element had its color, a personality almost. The white lights from Aldric's words... they weren't just lights—they guided the others, like messengers delivering instructions. It was like watching a conversation between old friends, the colored orbs reacting to every word and gesture.

So that's how it works. Magic wasn't just power—it was communication. A symphony of light and intention.

And then, unbidden, a thought slipped in. Can I do that?

My stomach twisted. I shook my head hard, backing away from the window. No. No, I can't. I won't. This—this isn't me.

I'm not magical.

I don't want to be.

I pressed a hand against my chest, feeling the faint echo of warmth where the orbs had danced around me yesterday. Stop it. I had a life before this—a normal one. Works, coffee shops, books that didn't pull me into other worlds. I just want to go home.

But even as I repeated the words, the scene outside replayed in my mind. The lights. The way they listened. Responded.

No. I bit my lip until it hurt. Normal doesn't include seeing living colors or hearing spells that make the earth obey. This isn't who I am.