Echoes of Magic

The sun of Aerya was different. It had a more intense. Golden glow. Almost magical. But the light. That came through the window. Of the small chamber. Where Lya slept. Seemed unable. To dispel the cold. That enveloped her. Since that night.

The golden eyes. Still burned in her memory. But now, in the light of day. Logic whispered to her. That it was just a dream—an illusion. Shaped by fear. And the strangeness. Of this new world. It made the most sense. After all, no one could watch her. From that far away... right?

Pushing the feeling. To the back of her mind. Lya got up. Determined to face. Another day. In the city of sorcerers. Arwen, always impassive and cold. Had assigned a new tutor for her. Eren, the curious young sorcerer. Who seemed more fascinated. By the fact that Lya was an "outsider". Than worried about the mystery. Of her arrival.

Eren was a stark contrast. To Aerya's austere environment. He had black hair. Slightly tousled. And gray eyes. That gleamed with a mix. Of intelligence and irreverence. His mischievous smile. Seemed always about to accompany. A sarcastic comment. But there was in him. A subtle gentleness. Hidden beneath the facade. Of nonchalance. The apprentice robes he wore. Were far from the formality. Of the older sorcerers—lighter, more practical. With embroidered details. That betrayed his affinity. With elemental magic.

"Today, I'm going to show you. The true heart of Aerya," Eren said. With a mischievous grin. As they walked. Down a corridor. Lined with stained glass windows. That transformed the light. Into colorful patterns. On the marble floor. Pushing the feeling. To the back of her mind. Lya got up. Determined to face. Another day. In the city of sorcerers. Arwen, always impassive and cold. Had assigned a new tutor for her. Eren, the curious young sorcerer. Who seemed more fascinated. By the fact that Lya was an "outsider". Than worried about the mystery. Of her arrival.

Eren was a stark contrast. To Aerya's austere environment. He had black hair. Slightly tousled. And gray eyes. That gleamed with a mix. Of intelligence and irreverence. His mischievous smile. Seemed always about to accompany. A sarcastic comment. But there was in him. A subtle gentleness. Hidden beneath the facade. Of nonchalance. The apprentice robes he wore. Were far from the formality. Of the older sorcerers—lighter, more practical. With embroidered details. That betrayed his affinity. With elemental magic.

"Today, I'm going to show you. The true heart of Aerya," Eren said. With a mischievous grin. As they walked. Down a corridor. Lined with stained glass windows. That transformed the light. Into colorful patterns. On the marble floor.

They passed. By floating markets. Where merchants sold potions. That changed color. And stones. That whispered ancient secrets. Sorcerers practiced spells. In open squares. Drawing glowing runes. In the air. There was a pulsing energy. In everything—a living magic. That seemed to breathe. With the city.

Lya watched everything. With fascination. And a pang of longing. For the world. She had left behind.

"This is the Tower of the Aether," Eren said. Stopping before an immense structure. That seemed to touch the sky. "It's where the Council meets. And where the records are kept. Of the war against the shapeshifters."

The name made Lya shudder. She still couldn't understand. The deep hatred. Between sorcerers and shapeshifters. But it was impossible. To ignore the constant tension. Visible in the looks. And the words whispered. Through the streets.

Inside the tower. Endless corridors led. To rooms full of ancient parchments. And artifacts. That seemed as dangerous. As they were fascinating. Eren guided her. To a silent room. Where a huge mural. Painted with gold and black ink. Told the story of the war.

"They say that, long ago. Sorcerers and shapeshifters. Lived in peace," Eren explained. The tone of his voice. Darker. "But there was a betrayal... and since then. We've never trusted them again."

Lya studied the mural. Figures of sorcerers and shapeshifters. Intertwined in battle. Creatures with shapes of wolves and felines. Facing mages. Engulfed in flames. And bolts of pure energy. But there was something more. A solitary figure. In the center. Enveloped in shadows. Without a defined shape.

"Who is this?" Lya asked. Pointing.

Eren hesitated.

"No one knows for sure. Some say. He was responsible. For starting the war. Others believe. He was the last one. To try to unite. The two peoples."

The words echoed. In Lya's mind. As they left the tower. The fresh air of the street. Did not dispel the weight. Of that story.

At night. Lying in her room. She tried to convince herself again. That it was just a dream... those golden eyes. Watching her. From the darkness.

The heat enveloped Lya. Like a silky veil. The soft sheets. Molding to her body. While the darkness around her. Pulsated. With an almost living energy. She couldn't tell. If she was awake. Or lost in a reverie. Everything seemed more intense—the air, the touch of the fabric. Against her bare skin. The anticipation. That vibrated within her.

Then, she felt it.

Hands firm, yet gentle. Sliding down her waist. Tracing lazy paths. Along the curve of her hips. A warm breath brushed her neck. Followed by a grazing of lips. That made her body arch. In response.

"You're dreaming, Lya... or maybe not."

The voice was husky. Full of a dangerous teasing. She tried to open her eyes. But she couldn't—she didn't want to. She wanted to remain. In that touch. In that sensation. That enveloped her. Like an irresistible spell.

His fingers moved slowly. Drawing invisible patterns. On her skin. Until they intertwined. In her hair. Pulling her back slightly. His lips met hers. First in a soft caress. Then in a deeper kiss. More hungry. A moan escaped. From Lya's lips. When he pressed his body. Against hers. His hardness contrasting. With her softness.

"Who are you?" she murmured. Between sighs.

He didn't answer. Instead, his lips descended. Down her neck. Marking her. With kisses and light bites. His touch was liquid fire. Consuming her. With every movement.

His hands slid. Over her thighs. Pulling her closer. While her body undulated. Against his. In a tempting rhythm. Desire grew. Unbearable. And Lya felt herself. Getting lost in the sensation. In the longing for more.

And then, at the height of pleasure. The golden eyes opened. Before her.

They were real.

Lya woke up gasping. Her body still trembling. Her skin sensitive. To the touch of her own sheet.