And then… she came into my life.

  Lilyan Rickhold.

  She was unlike anyone I had ever met— she was bright, curious, fearless.

  She wasn’t just impressed with my magic. She liked me. She’d come to my house, drag me away from my studies just to play or mock how serious I was. She laughed freely, challenged my thoughts, teased me, stayed too long, asked too many questions.

  Her visits became the best part of my days.

  My father noticed.

  He was proud—not just of my growing strength, but of the life I was starting to build.

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  He smiled more. He encouraged the bond.

  For the first time, I believed my future would be one of peace, not just power.

  But everything changed.

  I think I was nine.

  One day, my mother got sick.

  It came quietly. Subtle. Like a shadow slipping through the cracks of our perfect little world.

  My father spared no effort. He brought healers, physicians, rare herbs. He traveled for weeks, searching for a cure. Anything that could help.

  Nothing worked.

  And then…

  On a hot, sunny, cruel day—

  She died.

  I was too young to understand the permanence of death.

  All I knew was…

  The woman who made our house a home was gone.

  I didn’t fully grasp it.

  But my father did.

  The man who once seemed invincible… shattered.

  His energized character had gone .

  He stopped smiling.

  The fire in his eyes dimmed. His shoulders dropped. His voice softened.

  He still trained me, still guided me… but something inside him had broken.

  He wasn’t the same old man

  Years passed.

  My father fully recovered or that what he wanted me to believe