Chapter 5

Zypharain had learned much since fleeing Oaky. She had encountered the seers of Rain, who showed her glimpses of the future, and the mermaids of Fusha, who warned her of the darkness rising.

But she still knew nothing of her own power.

She had KURAT, the legendary magic left by the Guardians of the Worlds, yet she barely understood what it was or what it meant.

And if she was to stand against Tyoran and her father, she needed answers.

Real answers.

Deep in the heart of Tupin, one of the three great nations of Rafina, stood the Library of the Ancients—a place where magic and history intertwined.

Few were allowed to enter. Even fewer left with the knowledge they sought.

But Zypharain was no ordinary traveler.

Her pendant—the gift of the seers—glowed softly as she approached the gates. The guards, cloaked in enchanted armor, hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside.

As she entered, a voice echoed from the shadows of the towering shelves.

"You should not be here."

Zypharain turned, her hand instinctively moving to the dagger at her side.

From the darkness emerged a figure—an old woman wrapped in midnight-blue robes, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders.

Her eyes, clouded like a storm, locked onto Zypharain's with an intensity that sent chills down her spine.

"The knowledge you seek is forbidden.

Zypharain straightened. "Then why does it exist?"

The woman sighed, stepping closer. She raised her hand, and the air around them shifted. The dust of forgotten books stirred as golden symbols appeared in the air.

"KURAT was not meant to be wielded by mortals."

The symbols twisted, forming images—a vision of the past.

Zypharain saw the Guardians of the Worlds, powerful beings of light and shadow, shaping the five realms. They held a single source of power—KURAT.

But then came war.

Something—someone—tried to claim KURAT for themselves, and the realms were torn apart. The Guardians, realizing that no one being could wield its full might, shattered KURAT into pieces and embedded it into the bloodline of two chosen ones.

One from the realm of men.

One from the realm of magic.

Zypharain staggered back, her mind racing.

She was one of them.

And the other…

"Wendall."

The woman waved her hand, and the vision faded.

"KURAT is the source of all magic," she continued. "But it does not belong to you. You are merely its vessel."

Zypharain clenched her fists. "Then why give it to us?"

The old woman gave her a long, knowing look.

"Because the realms are doomed to war again."

"And when that war comes, only KURAT can decide their fate."

Zypharain's chest tightened.

She had spent her life running—from her father, from her power, from her destiny.

But now, there was no running.

If what the woman said was true, then she and Wendall were the key to the future of the realms.

And if KURAT could create or destroy, then she had to make sure it was used for the right cause.

Even if it meant facing the darkness head-on.

***

For as long as Wendall could remember, life at the Haven Orphanage had been ordinary—strict schedules, assigned chores, and the never-ending hum of machines from the city beyond its walls.

New Dawn City, one of Earth's most technologically advanced places, was filled with neon-lit skyscrapers, AI-driven transport, and robotic assistants. There was no room for myths, no whispers of magic—just the steady, calculated beat of progress.

And Wendall never expected anything different.

Until the night everything changed.

It was a cold evening when she first saw her.

Wendall had just finished her shift repairing drones at Layra Academy, where she trained as a technician. The academy specialized in AI and robotics, and she had spent years preparing for a future in the Layra AI Revolutor, the world's leading tech company.

She had no family, no past she could remember. Only the academy and her work.

But as she stepped onto the dimly lit streets, a strange chill crept up her spine.

Then she saw her—a woman standing in the shadows of an alley, wrapped in a cloak that shimmered like stardust.

Her piercing silver eyes locked onto Wendall's, and in that instant, something inside her stirred.

"You are not meant for this world alone."

Wendall's breath hitched. "Who are you?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she raised a hand. A soft glow pulsed from her palm, illuminating strange symbols in the air.

Wendall staggered back, heart pounding. This was impossible. Technology explained everything. There was no such thing as—

"Magic exists, Wendall. And you are part of it."

Before Wendall could respond, the woman took a step forward—and suddenly, the world shifted.

A burst of golden light erupted around them, and images flooded Wendall's mind. She saw:

A great war, tearing across unfamiliar lands.

Two figures standing at the center of it—one cloaked in golden fire, the other in shadows.

A symbol, ancient and powerful, etched into her own soul.

Wendall gasped, clutching her head. The visions vanished, leaving her breathless.

When she looked up, the woman was watching her with something between sorrow and determination.

"Your magic is awakening. The time has come."

Wendall felt something warm and electric beneath her skin. A force she had never noticed before. A force that wasn't man-made.

It was real.

And it was hers.

Wendall stumbled back, shaking her head.

"No. This isn't possible. Magic isn't real. Everything in this city—everything I've ever learned—"

The woman gave a knowing smile.

"That is what they want you to believe."

Wendall's mind swirled with questions, but before she could ask them, the woman placed a hand over Wendall's heart.

A warmth spread through her chest—not painful, not frightening, but... familiar. As if it had always been there, waiting to be noticed.

"You are one of two, Wendall. You hold the magic of KURAT. And soon, you must choose how to wield it."

Then, in the blink of an eye, the woman vanished.

Wendall stood alone in the alley, her breath shaky, her hands trembling.

She looked down at them.

For the first time, she could feel it.

A power humming beneath her skin, waiting to be understood.

Everything she knew about the world had just changed.

And she had no idea what came next.

****

Wendall barely slept that night.

Her mind was a storm of questions—about the mysterious woman, the strange visions, and most of all, the magic now stirring within her.

She had spent her whole life believing in logic and technology. Magic had been nothing more than myths and old stories. But now, she could feel it—a force unlike anything artificial, something deep in her blood, older than the world itself.

And she needed answers.

As dawn broke over New Dawn City, Wendall hurried to her usual morning training at Layra Academy, but something felt… off. The familiar corridors, the hum of machines, the holographic interfaces—it all seemed distant, like a world she no longer belonged to.

Then, as she stepped out of the academy gates, she felt it—a presence.

Turning sharply, she found the same woman from the alley standing in the shadows once again.

"You're ready."

Wendall swallowed hard. "For what?"

"To learn."

The woman led Wendall to the abandoned district at the city's edge—a place once thriving with factories, now silent, reclaimed by nature.

"Before we begin," the woman said, facing her, "tell me what you believe magic is."

Wendall hesitated. "Something unexplainable. Something that shouldn't exist."

The woman smiled. "Yet here you stand, proof that it does."

She extended a hand, and suddenly, the air between them shifted.

Golden symbols flickered into existence, swirling like embers in the wind. The ground beneath Wendall trembled as if the very world recognized this power.

"Magic is not separate from science, Wendall. It is the foundation of all things. Before machines, before knowledge—there was KURAT."

Wendall's breath hitched. She could feel it now—the connection, the energy, as if the entire universe was alive and she was finally aware of it.

"If you are to wield it, you must understand it."

The woman raised her hand.

"Try to feel the air around you. Not just as wind, but as energy. Let it flow through you."

Wendall closed her eyes, taking a slow breath. At first, nothing happened. But then—a pulse.

Like static before a storm.

She could feel something—a force shifting with her breath, unseen yet tangible.

"Good. Now, focus. Shape it."

She clenched her hands, trying to grasp the invisible force. But the moment she forced it, it vanished.

The woman chuckled. "Not with strength. With intention."

Frustrated, Wendall tried again. This time, she let go of her doubts. She trusted the energy, let it move with her thoughts—

And suddenly, a spark of light flickered between her fingers.

She gasped, nearly losing control, but the woman steadied her.

"You see? Magic is not taken. It is guided."

Wendall looked at her hands, heart pounding.

She had just created something not with circuits or codes—but with will alone.

This was real.

And she had only just begun.