A royal knight strode down the gilded corridor of the royal chambers, his armored boots muffled by the thick carpet woven with the kingdom’s crest. Clad in heavy, ornate armor with a greatsword strapped to his back, he paused before the maple door of the palace library. Its surface was etched with fading enchantments. With a creak, he pushed it open.

  Inside, bathed in dusty gold light filtering through high stained-glass windows, sat a girl with radiant silver-white hair. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she hunched over a mountain of grimoires, her fingers smudged with ink. The air smelled of parchment, candle wax, and the faintest hint of dried lavender.

  “Seems you’re not planning to leave this place. You’ve been here since morning,” the knight said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice teasing. “Dinner is ready. Your brother is waiting.”

  “I’m close, Dain… So close… I can almost cast it,” the girl mumbled, her eyes never leaving the page.

  “Come on! You can continue later. You’re a miserable learner when you’re hungry.”

  With an annoyed huff, the girl stood and followed him toward the dining hall. “I was almost there. I don’t understand,” she grumbled. “It just won’t bloom.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “It’s supposed to be simple! Mother cast it without chanting, just a gesture!” She flicked her wrist to demonstrate. “But the mana… it ignores me. I know every theory. What am I missing?” Her voice frayed at the edges.

  Dain scratched his head. “I’m not a sorcerer. I don’t know anything about magic.”

  “Haaah…” she sighed softly.

  “But,” he offered, “if the mana won’t obey… maybe try asking it nicely? Like people. People bend easier when you plead.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Dain, you’re a genius!” she exclaimed, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Mana Flow and Conduction Theory, Volume Six… PLEASE…”

  “Yes, Madam,” he chuckled. “As if I could refuse you.”

  “Yay! Thank you, Dain! You’re the best!”

  “The best… what?”

  “…”

  “Partner in crime?”

  Laughter echoed down the corridor as they reached the dining hall entrance.

  “I’ll take my leave now, Princess,” Dain said, his tone shifting to respectful formality. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing, Dain. Go ahead.”

  She entered the grand secondary chamber. The long table was set for three, but only Eira’s golden-haired brother sat there, flanked by Hera, the middle-aged head maid, and a stoic female knight.

  “Where’s Father?” Eira asked, taking her seat.

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  “He’ll be late. He has an appointment with the High Priests and the Cardinal,” her brother explained.

  “Again? He’s been at the church constantly lately,” Eira remarked.

  “Well, the eighth anniversary of the Black Night approaches,” her brother said quietly. “They’re preparing the memorial.”

  A shadow crossed Eira’s face. “…Eight years already.”

  “Ehem!” Her brother coughed, trying to lighten the mood. “How’s your progress? Still determined?”

  “Of course! I won’t fail Mother. I promised her.” Her voice firmed. “And it’s Father’s challenge. I won’t back down.”

  “You’re certainly competitive,” her brother laughed.

  “Hey, Brother,” Eira leaned forward. “When you cast, do you command the mana? Force it?”

  “Yes, that’s the principle. Why?”

  “It feels like it resists me. Could mana… have personalities?”

  “Possible. Like people, different temperaments. Some listen. Some don’t. Then we impose rules to make them comply.” He studied her. “In your case… maybe it doesn’t recognize your authority yet. Asking politely might help.”

  Eira contemplated this, the idea taking root as she finished her meal.

  “I’m done!” She stood abruptly.

  “Shall I draw your bath now, Princess?” Hera, her Nana, asked.

  “Later, Nana,” Eira replied, already heading out. “I need to test something.”

  “To the library again?” her brother asked.

  “…Good night, Brother,” she called over her shoulder, disappearing through the door.

  “She’s relentless about this challenge from the King,” Nana Hera sighed. “Eight years, trying again and again. She really doesn’t know how to give up.”

  “That,” he murmured, a touch of envy in his voice, “is what I admire her for the most.”

  Eira returned to the library, urgency thrumming through her. She carefully reshelved the scattered books, cleared space in the center, and stood within it, taking a deep breath.

  Once more, she began the chant she had crafted herself. She was attempting to recreate her late mother’s favorite spell: Garden of Eden. She had scoured every book in this cherished private library, even sending Dain beyond the palace walls to find more. No grimoire contained it. Rebuilding it from memory and theory was her only path.

  For eight years, she had tried and failed. Over and over.

  Now, she began again, speaking the language of mana. Eyes closed, she focused on its flow. But this time, instead of commanding, she asked softly, like a prayer.

  Light bloomed beneath her feet, intricate circles unfurling. Tendrils of radiance curled upwards, forming half-remembered shapes from her mother’s fading descriptions. The air thickened, humming with power. Roots stirred beneath the ancient stone floor. Then softly, flowers emerged.

  White lilies, her mother’s favorites. Lilacs from the northern peaks. Golden sunbuds that were said to grow only in sacred groves. They pushed through cracks in the stone, unfurled beneath dusty glass panes, reaching skyward as if remembering sunlight.

  Meanwhile, the King returned. Royal guards flanked him as he entered the royal chambers, where Hera greeted him with a bow.

  “Welcome back, Your Majesty.”

  “Where is Eira?” the King asked, voice tight.

  “She returned to the library, Your Majesty.”

  “She pushes herself too hard,” the King sighed, worry lining his face. “She’ll make herself ill.”

  They moved toward the library. The King eased the door open and peered inside. His breath caught.

  Within the dim room, an ethereal garden flourished. Vines woven of light snaked around ancient bookshelves. A warm, vital energy pulsed in the air, carrying the sweet scent of blossoms. Amazement washed over the King. He hadn’t seen or felt this since… since his beloved wife.

  And there stood Eira, glowing at the heart of the luminous garden. Sensing his presence, Eira turned. Tears shimmered in her eyes as a radiant smile broke across her face.

  “I did it, Fa–”

  The effort overwhelmed her. The light flickered. The flowers dimmed. Eira collapsed, unconscious, onto the softened stone floor.