Lost

It was midnight when Anastasia finally retired after her intense training. Her body ached from exhaustion, but the sense of accomplishment warmed her heart. After taking a soothing bath, she wrapped herself in a soft robe and settled by the window, gazing at the moon that bathed the world in silver light.

"I still have a long way to go," she thought, resting her chin on her knees. "I wonder how my family is doing... They must be worried."

"Still, I will see them soon."

The thought brought a small smile to her lips as she watched the stars twinkle in the vast sky.

Determined not to waste even a moment, Anastasia extended her hand, channeling her mana. She envisioned a needle—thin, sharp, precise. Yet, as the ice formed in her palm, the result was far from what she had imagined. Instead of a delicate needle, a clumsy, uneven stick of ice materialized.

She furrowed her brows, frustration bubbling within her. Not good enough.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. This time, she focused harder, picturing the exact shape, the fine point, the slender form. But once more, the ice was misshapen—closer, but still not what she wanted.

Anastasia didn't stop. Again and again, she repeated the process, her room growing colder with each attempt. Failure didn't dissuade her. If anything, it only fueled her determination. She would keep going until she got it right.

Anastasia's mind raced as she analyzed her failures. How can I form an exact, sharp needle? If she could master this, it would be a major step in refining her control. A needle of ice wouldn't just be small—it would be deadly, swift, and able to pierce through enemies with momentum.

Wait… maybe I'm going about this the wrong way.

She had been trying to force the shape all at once, but what if she took a different approach? Instead of creating the full form in one go, she could break it down—construct it piece by piece, starting with the most difficult part.

I can already shape large objects easily. The bigger it is, the less precision is required. But once I reach a certain level of detail, I lose control…

That was the problem. The finer the shape, the harder it became to manipulate. But if she reversed the process—starting with the needle's sharp tip instead of its base—perhaps she could maintain precision from the beginning.

A new strategy formed in her mind. If I shape the tip first, making that my initial point, then extend the body from there… wouldn't that be more effective?

Excitement flickered in her chest as she prepared to test her theory. This could be the breakthrough she needed.

After analyzing her theory, Anastasia wasted no time putting it into practice. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of distractions. Instead of forming the base first, she focused solely on the tip.

She pictured it in her mind—razor-sharp, fine as a thread. Channeling her mana, she willed the ice to take shape. Slowly, a minuscule point of ice materialized in her palm.

Good… now, extend it further—slowly, carefully.

With utmost concentration, she guided the ice, elongating it bit by bit. Unlike before, when the shape would become uneven or unstable, this time, it remained precise. The structure held firm, smooth and refined.

And then—

A perfect needle of ice rested in her hand.

Anastasia's breath hitched as she gazed at it, her eyes wide with astonishment. It was sharp, flawless, exactly as she had envisioned. A triumphant smile spread across her lips.

I did it.

Anastasia wasn't satisfied with just forming the needle—she wanted to test its true potential. Holding out her hand, she infused the needle with her growth and manipulation mana, carefully lifting it into the air. The tiny shard floated, shimmering under the moonlight as she controlled its movement with precision.

Now came the crucial part—momentum.

She focused, channeling her mana to accelerate the needle, ensuring it gained enough speed to become a deadly projectile. Locking onto her target—a tree standing tall in the garden—she steadied her breath and released it.

The next moment, a sharp crack echoed through the silent night.

The needle didn't just pierce the tree—it shot through it effortlessly, leaving a small, clean hole in its trunk. Anastasia's eyes widened in awe. That was even deadlier than I imagined…

A dark thought crossed her mind. What if that had been a person instead of a tree?

Slowly, a smirk curled on her lips.

Without another word, she walked to the window and drew the curtains shut, concealing herself in the shadows of her room. Tonight, she had taken one step closer to power.

....

The next morning, in the dining area, Anastasia, Marriane, and Jeremy were having their meal with Naerys and Lucian. The atmosphere was calm, but there was an underlying tension in the air.

Naerys, sipping her tea, suddenly spoke up, her tone serious.

"I would appreciate it if your highness and young masters won't go out of the inn for some days," she said, her sharp gaze scanning their faces. "There are troubling rumors going around that the little kids have been kidnapped."

Anastasia's grip on her fork tightened. Kidnappings? That was alarming.

Lucian, who had been casually leaning back in his chair, nodded grimly. "Yeah, I heard that too. Unfortunately, we haven't found a single clue about who's behind everything."

Jeremy frowned, setting down his glass. "No clues at all? That's strange. If multiple children are disappearing, someone must have seen something."

Marianne, clearly unsettled, glanced toward Anastasia. "What if the kidnappers come here…?" she asked in a whisper.

A brief silence filled the room.

Anastasia, however, remained calm. She had already resolved to become stronger—to protect herself and those around her. If this threat was real, then she needed to be prepared.

I should stay alert… something about this doesn't feel right.

Naerys, while sipping her tea, added, "Yes, Your Highness. From what I've observed, the children who have gone missing have nothing in common. They come from different backgrounds, different families—there's no apparent connection between them."

She set her cup down, her expression unreadable. "It's as if the kidnapper is taking them purely for their own amusement."

Lucian exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "That's what makes it even more unsettling. If there were a pattern, we could at least predict the next target. But this… it feels random, which makes it harder to track."

Anastasia remained silent, her thoughts racing. A crime without a clear motive was always the most dangerous. If the kidnapper truly had no specific target, then no child was safe.