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

It started, as most disasters do, with a strongly worded letter.

It arrived in a puff of green smoke. The envelope smacked Elias in the forehead mid-breakfast, then politely burst into song.

> 🎵 "To the Honorable Elias of House Elarien,

Your presence is humbly requested (read: demanded)

For a routine inspection of suspicious magical phenomena—

Also, maybe tea and cookies." 🎵

–The Society of Arcane Equilibrium (S.A.E.)

"Suspicious magical phenomena," Japer read aloud. "Are you the suspicious part or is it your dramatic ancestral soap opera magic?"

"I'm not going," Elias said flatly.

Under protest. With Kael, Elan, and a magically bribed Japer.

The Society greeted them in a perfectly sterile chamber lined with glowing white tiles and subtle, ominous hums.

"Welcome!" said a man who looked like a sentient jawline in a robe.

"I regret this already," Elias muttered.

The Society's head researcher, Professor Luxor, grinned far too much. "We just want to observe the magic inside you. Isolate it. Maybe borrow it."

"Borrow?" Kael asked. "Like a library book?"

"Exactly," Luxor beamed. "Except if the book screams and lights things on fire when you return it late."

Elias narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't comforting."

A ridiculous-looking copper hat with antennae, gears, and a tiny flag that said I ♥️ SCIENCE.

"You're not putting that thing on my head," Elias said.

"You must!" Luxor cried. "It'll help us gently siphon off your excess power for study!"

Kael leaned over. "They're going to milk your soul, buddy."

Japer: "I told you we shouldn't have come. Now they're going to accidentally summon your dead great-aunt and get cursed with arthritis."

Elroin—who wasn't technically invited—appeared in the corner, sipping tea.

"Proceed," he said mildly. "This will be fun."

Kael looked deeply unimpressed. "If you explode, I'm not cleaning it up."

A high-pitched, mechanical wail echoed through the chamber as Elias's magic rejected the machine like a bad organ transplant.

A swirl of glowing spectral great-grandmas erupted from his chest, brandishing ghostly soup ladles and shouting in six dialects of High Ancestral.

The copper hat launched into orbit.

Kael slow-clapped. "That's the second dumbest magical idea I've ever seen."

"What was the first?" Japer asked.

Elias stood in the smoldering aftermath, hair staticky, expression done.

"Can we all agree that I am not available for magical science fairs anymore?"

Luxor, covered in glitter and soot, moaned. "You violated the laws of logic!"

Elroin sipped his tea. "No, my boy just obeyed a higher law."

"'Do Not Touch My Descendant Or I'll Possess Your Plumbing.'"

Later that evening, Kael passed Elias a plate of cookies.

"Were they at least good cookies?"

"Kael, I was nearly soul-extracted by a Victorian ceiling fan."

Then Elias muttered, "...The ghost grandma with the ladle looked like my cousin Thera."

Kael grinned. "Your family's terrifying."

"My family's literally protecting me with weaponized emotional baggage."

Chapter Twenty: How to Kidnap a Walking Magical Catastrophe (Don’t)