The sun shone brightly as Joanne Paige boarded the train bound for Germany that busy afternoon. The station, as always, was filled with people coming and going from work. Joanne, intrigued, observed the diversity around her while sketching in her small notebook.

Notably beautiful for her age, Joanne had striking blue eyes framed by dark brown hair. She had recently moved to a small apartment in France, accompanied by her cat, while teaching temporary classes at a local university. Her love for France, its cuisine, and, above all, art had motivated her to take this path.

That afternoon, defying fate, a man who boarded the same train captured Joanne's attention. She couldn’t help but notice his golden eyes, which brought back memories of her childhood in Germany, of the bees she and her grandmother kept. His eyes, a light honey shade, reminded her of pancakes and happy mornings.

“Amber,” she whispered, getting lost in his gaze for longer than she wanted. Amber reminded her of childhood and precious memories.

“Good afternoon,” the man said, noticing that she was watching him with her intense blue eyes.

“Good afternoon,” Joanne replied, quickly looking down at her notebook as he sat across from her. Embarrassed, she tried to avoid looking at him for the rest of the trip. Yet, one thing was undeniable: the man before her was strangely attractive.

“He would never notice me,” thought Joanne, aware that, until that day, no man had really taken notice of her presence.

Henri, the tall, strong man before her, was engrossed in a book of poetry he’d bought hours earlier at the train station. Born under the banner of House Gainer, he had always felt different from his brothers due to his golden eyes, a rare trait in the Lighting Clan to which he belonged.

Golden eyes like his belonged to the Darkling, a clan exiled to the West. Yet, Henri never questioned his parents' true identity, remaining loyal to the family. Nearing 30, he wore the uniform of non-magi members, but his vanity led him to collect coats from famous brands, attracting female attention that he had ignored since the tragic loss of his wife.

Since then, Henri had vowed not to get involved in another relationship. He avoided causing further suffering, knowing his constant absences made it impossible to care for a family. Faithful to the vows he’d made, Henri surrendered to the attraction when his eyes met those of that woman. Joanne, a non-magi, became the focus of his attention during the eight-hour journey. Her joy was contagious, making him want to smile too. He considered asking for her name, as a simple name would be enough to track her down. However, uncertainty lingered over the possibility of finding her again when the train reached its destination.

Punctually, the train arrived at the station as scheduled. Joanne stood up to retrieve her bag, which Henri promptly handed to her.

“Merci. Ah, Thank You,” she smiled, while Henri maintained the same expression.

“It was nothing, Miss,” he replied. Joanne moved toward the exit, where Henri watched as a tall, German-looking man embraced her—a man utterly unlike himself.

Joanne headed to the hospital, where her grandmother, her only known family, awaited her. During the car ride, uneasiness took over her, her heart heavy. Finally, she mustered the courage to ask:

“How is she?”

“Lucid and awake. But be prepared, Joan. We know she’s not so young anymore.”

“I know…” Joanne could barely finish the sentence, tears streaming down her face as she closed her eyes. “I came as fast as I could.”

“We know.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“You went after your life. You couldn’t stay trapped forever in a town with only five residents.”

“I could have…” Joanne looked at him as he parked the car and handed her a box of tissues.

“Let’s go see her.”

“It’s not visiting hours yet.”

“I’ve already explained the situation to the hospital. She probably won’t survive the night. If we wait until morning, it may be too late to speak with her.” He gently touched her face. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

While Joanne entered the hospital, the guardian with golden eyes crossed a portal, returning to his realm, where his mother awaited him.

“May the goddesses protect you.”

“May the goddesses protect her,” he said, embracing his mother. “I’m curious to know why I was summoned here in the middle of a mission.”

“Others will capture that man. What I have for you is something only you can accomplish.”

“And what would that be?”

“Bring her home.”

He cast a serious look at his mother. “I know what I promised, but I was seven years old. I was a child and don’t even know what the Supreme would look like these days.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that. She was only a baby, and may not even resemble her parents.”

He closed his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath. “I’ll go. But I expect decent payment this time.”

“It will be, but it will be something no amount of money could ever give you,” she said, touching his face. “Who knows, maybe after this, you can marry and give me grandchildren.”

“Not a chance. You already know how I feel about that.”

“Alynna was sick. No one here noticed. It wasn’t your fault.”

“We both know what made her sick,” Henri replied, while, in the non-magi world, Joanne saw her grandmother for the last time. Before that, however, she would discover the truth about her birth.

The hospital was quiet, except for the occasional muffled sound of footsteps in the corridor and the subtle beeping of the monitors. The elderly woman’s room was simple and cozy, but the atmosphere was heavy, laden with the imminence of farewell. The walls were a neutral shade, with a light and calming painting. The soft, indirect light entering through the window cast gentle shadows on the linoleum floor.

The bed was centered in the room, surrounded by medical equipment and a small bedside table with a pitcher of water and some old books. The woman, with hair as white and fine as snow, lay beneath wool blankets, her face marked by the passage of years. Her eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now closed, her eyelids softly lowered. Her frail, wrinkled hands rested on her chest, covered by a silk scarf.

Next to the bed, Joanne sat in a chair, holding her grandmother’s hand tenderly. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She watched the woman who had raised her with so much love and care, now immobilized by the frailty of age and illness. Joanne’s heart was heavy, and each breath felt harder to take.

The monitor beside the bed emitted a steady, monotonous rhythm, contrasting with the stillness of the room. Sometimes, a soft sigh escaped the elderly woman’s lips, almost like a whisper of an untold story. Her breathing was irregular, interspersed with long pauses, suggesting the end was near.

A nurse entered quietly, adjusting the oximeter on the elderly woman’s finger and checking her vitals. With a sympathetic look, she stepped back, allowing Joanne to stay with her grandmother. The comforting words the nurse had whispered before leaving still hung in the air: “She doesn’t have much time now. Cherish every moment.”

Joanne wiped away a tear with the corner of the scarf she still held and leaned in to whisper words of love and gratitude to her grandmother. Her voice trembled as she expressed her regret for not having been closer and made silent promises to honor the legacy of the woman who had raised her.

“Grandma…”

The elderly woman, with pale skin and tired eyes, opened a fragile smile upon hearing the familiar voice. Her eyes, which had lost some of their vibrancy over the years, sparkled with a flash of recognition.

“Hi, my little flower, you came.”

“Yes, forgive me for taking so long.”

“It’s okay. I had something I needed to give you, and it couldn’t be done by letter.” With a delicate gesture, she removed a necklace from her neck, her weakened hands trembling slightly as she extended the gift to her granddaughter. “This is yours now. Keep it safe.”

“Of course, I will.”

“Do you remember when you were a child, and I told you the story of a little witch princess who was forced to live among mortals?”

Joanne nodded, her gaze fixed and nostalgic. “On a cold night, a queen gave birth to a girl while, outside the kingdom, a devastating battle took place. When the castle was invaded by her jealous sister, the Queen Mother stayed to try to stop her, while the Queen Grandmother took her to a kingdom in the South, accompanied by 300 soldiers.” The elderly woman smiled, her smile filled with affectionate memories. “I still remember; sometimes, I imagined being the little princess.”

“And you are, Joanne. The child in the story is you.”

“That would make you the Queen Grandmother.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a princess.”

“Yes, you are… Your birth name is Mirella de Lurthon, daughter of King Cervie Craine of Lurthon and Princess Elenor Rossi,” the elderly woman’s voice softened but was firm. “One day, a man will find you. He was a little boy with black hair and amber eyes named Henri, and he has a gold brooch with this symbol.”

Joanne raised the necklace she had received, observing the symbol engraved on it. “Henri?!” The question came out almost as a whisper, and her grandmother’s confirmation made the weight of the revelation feel