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Ameria had always been a believer in the power of stories.
From the time she was little, she'd been surrounded by tales, ones of hope, loss, and redemption. But somewhere along the way, she'd lost faith in the idea of a "happily ever after."
Life had a way of proving that things never quite worked out the way you imagined. Love, in particular, had a habit of slipping through your fingers when you needed it most.
At the tender age of five, her mother introduced her to a small spell, a spell capable of reviving a dead flower, and Ameria succeeded.
It was unusual for someone so young to wield such power, igniting a spark of concern in her mother.
Her mother understood the importance of keeping this secret from her husband, who was consumed by his own desire for power.
However, when her father eventually discovered Ameria's abilities, her world began to crumble.
He pressured her to conceal her magic, fearing that her gifts overshadowed his own.
At the age of fifteen, Ameria made the courageous decision to escape.
And when she did she found Mike.
Mike and Ameria shared a close bond, wherever you found her, he was sure to be by her side. They were inseparable.
He rescued her from everything, the terrible life she went though and the sadness that consumed her while with her old family.
He uplifted her spirit and introduced her to a broader world. Even while she had school responsibilities, they still made time to spend together.
The summer nights was truly unforgettable, filled with parties, dancing, and carefree nights.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ameria had just come back from picking up some food, the small paper bag warm in her hands.
The night was quiet except for the faint hum of distant traffic and the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes as she approached the apartment building. The streetlamps flickered, casting long shadows on the walls.
She fumbled with her keys, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. "Mike?" she called softly, hoping to hear a reply.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked further in, the paper bag trembling slightly in her hands.
Then, in the dim light of the living room, she saw him.
Ameria dropped the bag of food, her breath catching as she stepped inside the dimly lit apartment.
There, on the cold floor, lay Mike, her best friend, who was motionless and pale with a stake pierced through his chest.
She rushed forward, dropping to her knees, cradling his lifeless body like a fragile treasure.
