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 began not with lightning, nor prophecy, but with stillness.

The kind of stillness that settles before a storm learns its name.

Elias sat alone in the upper observatory tower—shoulders stiff, hands curled around a cup of tea he hadn't touched.

Below, the academy pulsed with its usual rhythm. Students laughing in stone courtyards. Magic humming faintly in the wind. Somewhere, Kael and Japer were arguing over the ethics of spell-enhanced chess.

The ancestral power inside him, once erratic and playful, had gone… quiet.

Not even a wayward ghost aunt tossing laundry at Kael.

Only a deep, internal pressure—like the air before thunder.

Elan stepped into the room, his robes dark and uncreased, his expression unreadable. He rarely visited unannounced.

"I mean it," Elan added, closing the door. "You walk differently. Like you're listening for something you don't know how to name."

Elias didn't look up. "Maybe I am."

"You haven't slept properly in days."

"I can't." A pause. "They whisper when I close my eyes."

Something flickered behind his irises—lightless and ancient.

> "Not just my ancestors anymore."

"No." Elias's voice sharpened. "Not yet."

He stood, walking to the window where pale sunlight strained through glass.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm only borrowing this body," he whispered. "Like I'm just the surface... and something deeper is watching the world through my skin."

Leaves hung motionless. Not even the moon dared to shift behind its clouds.

And in the northern wing of the Academy, the walls bled ink.

It oozed from the corners of ceiling runes. Pooled beneath forgotten statues. And one by one, every protective sigil etched across the school flickered and dimmed.

Somewhere far below, a lock trembled.

He stood in a memory that was not his.

A battlefield of white ash and burnt sigils.

The sky cracked open above, leaking violet light.

And a figure knelt in the center—cloaked in flames.

> "You carry us," said a thousand voices at once.

A hand reached toward him from the ashes—pale, clawed, trembling.

> "It remembers Kael," the voices whispered. "It remembers what was taken. And it will test him again."

It vanished the moment he blinked. But the feeling didn't.

Kael sat beside him, asleep in the chair, head tilted, arms crossed. Protective even in rest.

Elias stared at him, heart pounding.

The power inside pulsed at the thought.

But something, far beyond, smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Two: “When the Wind Forgot to Breathe”