ARCANA

Chapter 1. ROSA VILLAGE

The scent of dew clung to the early morning air, wrapping the village of Rosa in a veil of serenity. Sunlight filtered through the ancient trees, casting soft golden patterns on the earth, and the gentle hum of life stirred in every corner. Birds sang, their melodies dancing with the wind, while the distant murmur of the river whispered through the quiet streets. From a distance, Rosa appeared to be a place untouched by time, where magic lived not only in the hands of a select few but in the very soil, the trees, and the air itself.

Yet, beneath this harmony, there was something else-a tension, fragile and unspoken, like a string pulled too tight. It was the kind of stillness that came before a storm, a storm no one expected but was already looming on the horizon.

Hyanna stood at the edge of the village, her eyes half-closed as she inhaled the crisp morning air. There was a familiar rhythm to the place, one she had come to cherish. The soft chatter of villagers preparing for the day, the occasional rustle of leaves as animals stirred in the forest, the ever-present pulse of Mana flowing through everything around her. This was her home, and to her, Rosa was more than a village-it was a sanctuary.

But the serenity was deceiving. Her hands tightened around the leather-bound spellbook she carried, a gift from her master, Elora Thorne. It was as if the world itself whispered warnings she couldn't yet understand. Her heart felt uneasy, though she couldn't pinpoint why.

From the nearby path, a familiar figure approached, disrupting the quiet. Elora, tall and regal, her long crimson hair catching the sunlight like a cascade of fire, moved with a grace that belied the power she held. At 180 centimeters, she towered over most of the villagers, her presence both comforting and commanding.

"Lost in thought again?" Elora's voice was soft but carried the weight of expectation. Her green eyes, sharp and knowing, glinted with the same warmth they always did when she looked at Hyanna.

"Just... enjoying the morning, Master," Hyanna replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. But inside, the unease simmered, unshakable, as if the village's peaceful façade was no longer enough to calm the storm brewing within her.

Elora studied her for a moment, then nodded, her expression unreadable. "Good. Enjoy it while you can."

There was something in her tone, something strange-barely noticeable, but there. Hyanna couldn't place it, and before she could ask, Elora turned, her crimson hair a flowing ribbon in the breeze, and began walking toward the village square. Hyanna followed, her mind churning with questions she didn't dare voice.

At just seventeen, Hyanna had already become known for her incredible magical abilities. The villagers watched in awe as she mastered spells that most could barely comprehend. But while they admired her from afar, it was her teacher, Elora Thorne, who truly understood her gift. Elora was a tall woman, her long crimson hair cascading down her back like molten fire. Her sharp green eyes had always been filled with warmth when she looked at Hyanna. She had found the young girl when she was still small, recognizing her potential early. Over the years, they had grown close-not just as master and student, but as something much more. Elora had become a second mother to Hyanna, teaching her with patience, kindness, and the occasional stern word when necessary.

Hyanna stood in the center of the clearing, her body taut with concentration. The soft rustle of the wind through the trees was a gentle reminder of the world around her, but her focus was elsewhere-within.

"Again," Elora commanded, her voice calm but firm. She stood with her arms crossed, her sharp green eyes never leaving her pupil. Hyanna could feel the weight of her master's gaze, but she welcomed it. It was how she'd been taught. Intensity and precision were the essence of magic.