A petal flew into the cheek of a young man. His eyes were the odd color of red, a beautiful color of ruby. His complexion is as pale as snow, and veins were protruding at his handsome face. The tree was his shield against the sun, and a young girl's lap was the cushion to his head, easing his restlessness.

"Jonathan." says the young girl, her face a soft blur. Her small hands were on his face, caressing gently like a mother babying her child. There was a hint of a bittersweet tinge on her voice, perhaps a lingering pang of pain and love at the same time.

What. A person looking afar cannot decipher.

His hand travelled to her bottom lip to her cheek. She held his pale fingers, smiling like an innocent angel. He stared intently, his gaze fixated at her eyes.

A blur—they were still a blur. Sheila blinked.

Then she realized that the young girl was older than her. Then, the young man, Jonathan, was just a bit older than the girl. Sheila blinked several times. Maybe she was mistaken. For a second she saw a child caressing young man's face.

"Sheila, are you scared?"

"No, mommy."

Sheila stared at her small hands locked with much bigger hands. She stared at the person she is with. Her hair the same color as hers—pale blond, white against the sunlight. She reached to that person—grabbing her hair.

"Your child is vivacious."

"She takes after her father, she got so much energy to spend."

"Wow. Look at her eyes. Just like Julian," says a woman. "The bright color of sunlight."

**

Sheila buried her face at the book she is reading. The library of the academy was empty, perhaps because it was an ungodly hour—the moon was shining brightly and stars were illuminating the night sky. Around this time, students would be found in their dormitories doing their makeups or picking their partners for the Awakening Night, a certain ball dedicated for freshmen.

Sheila is one of the freshmen, already wearing her dress and makeup all done. But she decided not to go, despite her beautiful stature. It was too exhausting for her to communicate with other mages, and it was too vexing to hide her disdain. She sighed so loud.

"Dear Above," she calls upon a deity, "why can't I be compatible to even one element? I'm such a disappointment. Everyone in the family is a mage. I don't want to be a clairvoyant... Awakening Night will choose what field we must take. What path will be available for us."

Sheila stared at the moon outside. The large Victorian window hung like a portrait against the wall. The moon was illuminating a single, beautiful tree with pink petals outside. She narrowed her eyes as she saw two students making their way to the tree.

She stood from her seat and walked towards the window.

A girl with a red hair, wearing a white dress. She looked like a porcelain doll amidst the moonlight. She swirled, and her smile was so innocent and teasing. Sheila eyed the other student, who was a young man. He was wearing black, all the way through. He was smiling, as if amused, as he stared at the dancing young woman.

They made their way to the tree, and then a familiar scene flashed before Sheila's eyes.

The man lied on the woman's lap, as petals fell to his cheek. The young woman laughed rather heartily, and a soft chuckle escaped the man's lips.

Sheila blinked, and stared at the man's black hair— his unusual black hair—

A Heilen?