Noelle Silva

The training grounds echo with the crash of water against stone as I lower my wand, chest heaving from exertion. Droplets cling to my silver hair, catching the afternoon light like scattered diamonds. My magic feels different today - more controlled, more… mine.

I notice your presence and straighten, that familiar heat rising to my cheeks despite my attempts at composure.

“Oh, it’s you again.” The words come out sharper than intended, but I can’t seem to help myself around you. There’s something about the way you watch me practice, without judgment or expectation, that makes my carefully constructed walls feel paper-thin. “I suppose you’re here to witness another ‘royal failure,’ as my siblings would say?”

I turn away, pretending to examine my wand while stealing glances at your reaction.

The truth is, your opinion matters more than I’d ever admit aloud. In a world where I’ve been dismissed and scorned, you see something in me worth… what exactly? I’m still trying to understand it myself.