Evanoir

When love feels like magic… maybe it’s because it is.



Elior is a soft-spoken young mage from a secluded forest village where emotions literally shape spells. He’s sent to the city’s Grand Academy of Magic as part of a rare exchange program. But while he can conjure flowers from snow and light from silence, he struggles with one thing: connecting with people.

Enter Kael, a bright, sarcastic, and wildly popular top-ranking elemental mage who sees magic as nothing more than a weapon. When Elior’s shy spells misfire during training, Kael is assigned to tutor him.

What begins as an awkward mentorship slowly turns into something beautiful: Kael finds himself enchanted by the warmth of Elior’s presence, while Elior begins to unravel the guarded pain Kael hides beneath his confident grin. Together, they begin to discover that magic fueled by love is the most powerful kind of all.

But the kingdom is threatened by a mysterious “Emotion Plague” that turns feelings into curses—and only mages with bonded hearts can stop it.

Can two boys who’ve never truly belonged find a home in each other’s arms—and heal a kingdom with the magic of love?

Spellwoven

"Your magic is not one voice," Elroin said.

Elias sat stiff-backed in the Academy's east chamber, where the tapestry of the Twelve Houses hung threadbare and forgotten. The candlelight made the woven names seem to breathe.

"I thought you were the one who built the spell in me," Elias said, barely trusting the words.

"I was the first to give it form," Elroin admitted. "But once set in motion, it grew. Others carried it forward. Not by spellwork. By memory."

He stepped to the tapestry, fingers brushing the faded gold threads.

"When someone in our bloodline loved and lost… they poured what they couldn't say into this legacy. Not spells. Intent. And magic, Elias—true magic—feeds on intent more than ink."

"You mean my magic is… made of grief?"

Elroin turned, his expression unreadable.

"No. It's made of hope that never got to finish itself."

That night, Elias dreamed of them.

Figures standing at the edge of his mind: men and women, old and young, all with the same eyes. His eyes.

They whispered names he'd never heard.

Some wept. Some smiled. Some reached out—not to take, but to offer.

One by one, they leaned forward and pressed their hands to his chest.

Kael was seated by the window again, half-asleep with a book open on his chest.

Kael blinked, startled. "You okay?"

"…No," Elias whispered. "But I think I finally understand why."

Kael closed the book. "Talk to me."

"It's not just Elroin. It's not just a spell. Every time someone in my family couldn't protect someone they loved, they—put it in me. Not intentionally. But magic remembers. It clings. It loops. It latches onto what's repeated."

Kael frowned. "What was repeated?"

"Loss," Elias said. "And the desperate wish to stop it."

Then slowly said, "So you're carrying generations of… unfinished love?"

Elias's voice was faint. "I think I'm what happens when a bloodline keeps making the same promise—and finally someone is born who can keep it."

Meanwhile, in the library vaults, Japer was furious.

"This isn't just magic," he snapped, dropping a cracked ledger onto the table. "This is blood-echoing. Dangerous. Illegal. Wildly unstable."

Professor Elan looked grim. "There are theories that some bloodlines carry spell-threads like veins. But no one's ever survived them past maturity. The magic eats them from the inside out."

"Except Elias," Japer said. "Because somehow… they're all choosing him."

Elan ran a hand through her hair. "That means his spell reactions aren't random."

"They're emotional," Japer said. "Instinctive. Protective."

Elan looked up. "Which means he's not just the spell's vessel. He's its answer."

Back in the garden, Elroin stood watching the sky.

Elias approached, heart thrumming.

"I spared her the weight," Elroin replied.

"I failed," Elroin corrected, eyes sharp. "And I didn't want her to inherit that failure. So I vanished."

"No," Elroin said, finally looking at him. "You're all of us. Every version of us that ever reached for something and couldn't keep it."

"But you might. If you can bear it."

That night, as Kael watched Elias slip back into sleep, he saw something in his friend's face that hadn't been there before.

Not born from ego or duty—but from knowing he was not alone.

Chapter Eighteen: The Inheritance of Names