Her personal maid, Marianne, had finally arrived.  

The moment the older woman stepped into her chambers, her usually composed demeanor crumbled. Tears welled in her eyes as she clasped her hands together in relief.  

"I'm so glad to be by your side again, Your Highness!"  

Elara’s lips curved into a small smile at the warmth in Marianne’s voice. The older woman had always been a steady presence in her life, and now, seeing her again after days of solitude, she realized just how much she had missed her.  

After composing herself, Elara spent the next few minutes updating Marianne on her time at the tower—her training, the people she had met, and her plans for the remainder of her stay. The maid listened attentively, nodding along to every word.  

"Whatever you wish to do, I will be happy to support," she assured, her tone filled with unwavering devotion.  

Elara’s smile softened, and before she knew it, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman.  

Marianne stiffened in surprise.  

"Your Highness?" she murmured.  

"Thank you for everything, Marianne."  

The maid felt herself relax, her expression growing tender as she returned the embrace, gently patting Elara’s back in an almost motherly manner.  

After a moment, they pulled apart, and Elara straightened herself before gesturing toward the door. "Come, I have training to attend."  

Together, they left her chambers and made their way to the training hall, where Master Aelor was already waiting. The archmage stood with his arms crossed, his golden eyes sharp with curiosity as they flickered toward Marianne.  

The maid, ever composed, stepped forward and lowered her head respectfully. "I am Marianne, Her Highness’s personal maid."  

Aelor studied her for a brief moment before offering a small, polite smile. "Aelor, Head of the Magic Tower." His gaze shifted back to Elara. "Lady Marianne, as much as it would be beneficial to have you assist Princess Elara, I must advise against staying in the room during her training."  

Marianne lifted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "If it's not rude, may I ask why?"  

"It's a fair question," Aelor admitted. "The mana released in this space is highly concentrated. Those who are not physically trained to withstand it will struggle to breathe. If we were outside, it wouldn't be an issue, but within this confined chamber, you would likely suffer severe discomfort—even suffocation."  

Marianne’s expression turned thoughtful before she nodded in understanding. "I see. Thank you for the warning, Master Aelor." She turned to Elara and offered a small bow. "I shall wait outside for the remainder of your session, Your Highness."  

Elara gave her an appreciative nod before turning back to Aelor, who was already preparing for the lesson.  

"Now," he said, stretching out a hand.  

A faint hum of mana rippled through the air as several large objects materialized before them—boulders of varying sizes and weight.  

"Let’s continue from yesterday’s training."  

Elara took a steady breath, her fingers twitching slightly as she focused on the boulder before her. Mana pulsed around her, invisible yet heavy, wrapping around the stone as she willed it to move. The first lifted effortlessly, floating in the air as if weightless. The second followed, just as smooth, responding to her command with little resistance.  

The third required more effort. The weight pressed back against her control, forcing her to adjust, but she held it steady. By the fourth, she could feel the strain creeping into her limbs. The mana surrounding her pulsed unevenly, demanding more focus. She clenched her jaw, reinforcing her hold. It wavered for a brief moment, but she managed to keep the boulder aloft.  

Then came the fifth.  

As soon as she reached for it, the resistance was immediate. The weight was overwhelming, pressing against her control in a way the others hadn’t. She gritted her teeth, summoning more mana, trying to shift the flow to lighten the burden. The boulder trembled, lifting slightly off the ground, but her vision wavered, her pulse quickening from the strain.  

The mana thinned, slipping from her grasp as exhaustion set in. Any further, and she risked completely losing control.  

With a sharp exhale, she let go. The boulder dropped with a resounding *thud*, sending a faint tremor through the floor.  

Aelor, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. “That’s your limit.”  

Elara steadied her breathing, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension. "For now," she said, her gaze lingering on the unmoving stone.  

Aelor nodded. “You lasted longer than expected, but forcing past your threshold recklessly will only weaken your control.”  

She knew he was right, but as she stared at the fifth boulder, she couldn't shake the feeling of dissatisfaction.  

This was her limit but, she wasn't going to stop herself now.

She'd just started.

---------------------------------------------------

A month had passed, and the day of Elara’s departure from the Magic Tower had finally arrived.  

She stood at the entrance, the morning air crisp against her skin. Before her, Aelor was the only one present to see her off. The others had already given their farewells inside, Piper lingering the longest before reluctantly letting her go.  

Aelor regarded her with his usual composed expression, arms folded behind his back. "You've made good progress in your time here," he said, his tone even. "But growth does not end when training does. Continue refining your control, and do not let complacency dull your instincts."  

Elara nodded. "I understand."  

For a brief moment, silence settled between them. Then, with a small incline of his head, Aelor spoke once more. "The tower’s doors will remain open to you. Return when you need to."  

With a final nod, she turned and stepped into the waiting carriage. Marianne followed, taking her seat across from her as the door shut behind them.  

As the carriage pulled away, Elara cast one last glance at Aelor, watching as he stood unmoving at the entrance, his figure growing smaller with the distance.

The steady rhythm of the carriage wheels rolling against the dirt path was almost soothing. Elara watched the passing scenery through the window, the Magic Tower long behind her now. Fields stretched endlessly beneath the golden light of morning, fading into dense forests as they entered more secluded terrain.  

Her mind drifted as she traced the outlines of the trees with her eyes. It was strange—after a month away, the thought of returning to the palace brought a mix of relief and unease. Would things still be the same? Would she still be the same?  

Suddenly, the carriage jolted forward.  

Elara lurched against her seat as the horses picked up speed, their hooves pounding furiously against the ground. The once smooth ride had turned erratic, the wheels bouncing roughly over the uneven path.  

Marianne clutched the armrest beside her. "What in the world—?" She quickly straightened, rapping her knuckles against the wooden panel separating them from the driver. "Slow down! Do you want to break the carriage?"  

There was no response.  

Instead, the speed only increased.  

Elara's grip tightened around the curtain as unease crept into her chest. The drivers weren’t slowing down. If anything, they were pushing the horses harder.  

A chill ran down her spine.  

She hesitated for only a moment before shifting the curtain aside and peering out. Her breath caught in her throat.  

The path ahead wasn’t leading back to the palace.  

It was leading straight toward a cliffside.  

Her stomach twisted as realization set in.  

They weren’t being careless.  

They were trying to kill her.  

"Marianne, we need to get off the carriage!" Elara shouted, panic seeping into her voice.  

But it was too late.  

The carriage reached the edge.  

Gravity pulled them down.  

Elara’s scream mixed with Marianne’s as the world tilted violently, the sky flipping as they plunged into open air. Wind roared past them, the ground rushing closer, the sheer force of the fall making it impossible to think.  

No.  

No—she refused to die like this.  

Not after everything.  

Not after being given this life.  

Gritting her teeth, Elara forced her panic down, reaching deep within herself to grasp the mana flowing through her veins. It burned as she summoned it, her fingers trembling as she extended her reach—not just to herself, but to the carriage, to everything around them.  

The heavy wooden frame shuddered in midair.  

The descent slowed.  

Elara’s vision blurred with the strain, but she clenched her jaw and held on, guiding the carriage away from the jagged rocks below. It wasn't perfect—she couldn’t stop the crash entirely—but she could control where they landed.  

With one final burst of effort, she redirected their fall toward the trees, the branches reaching up like desperate hands.  

Then—impact.

---------------------------------------------------

Darkness.  

A dull, throbbing pain pulsed through Elara’s skull as she drifted back into consciousness. Her body ached as if it had been battered by a storm, each movement sending sharp waves of pain through her limbs.  

The scent of earth and splintered wood filled her nostrils. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open, revealing the shattered remains of the carriage beside her.  

For a moment, her mind struggled to piece together what had happened. The carriage… the cliff… the fall—  

Marianne.  

Elara’s breath hitched as she tried to sit up, only for agony to tear through her body. A strangled cry escaped her lips, her arms trembling as she forced herself upright. Every muscle screamed in protest, but she had no time to dwell on the pain.  

She had to find Marianne.  

Dragging herself forward, Elara clawed at the dirt, pushing past the debris until she reached the wreckage. Her fingers curled around the broken frame of the carriage, using it as support as she peered inside.  

"Marianne!" she called, her voice raw with desperation.  

Her heart clenched at the sight before her.  

Marianne lay slumped against the ruined interior, her body unmoving. A gash on her forehead leaked crimson, the blood trickling down her face and staining the fabric of her dress.  

Elara’s stomach twisted.  

No, no, no—  

She scrambled forward, ignoring the stabbing pain in her ribs as she reached out and shook Marianne’s shoulders. "Marianne, wake up! Please!"  

Nothing.  

Elara’s breathing grew ragged, panic overtaking her. What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t a healer—she didn’t know any magic that could save her.  

Tears welled in her eyes. "Please, don’t die… Please…"  

She couldn't lose her.  

With trembling hands, Elara seized the fabric of her sleeve and tore it with a sharp, desperate yank. The sound of ripping cloth was lost beneath the frantic pounding of her heart. Her fingers fumbled, slick with Marianne’s blood as she hurriedly twisted the fabric into makeshift bandages.  

She pressed the cloth against the gash on Marianne’s forehead, wincing as fresh crimson seeped through the pale material. Her hands shook as she wrapped the bandage tightly, trying to stem the flow, trying to do something—anything—to keep her alive.  

Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her vision blurring with tears that she barely noticed spilling down her cheeks. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, panic clawing at her mind like a beast she couldn’t escape.  

She could barely think.  

Could barely breathe.  

Then—  

A shuddering breath. Weak, uneven, but unmistakably real.  

Elara froze, her entire body going rigid.  

For a moment, she thought she had imagined it. But no—there it was again. A slow, shallow rise and fall of Marianne’s chest. The faintest sign of life.  

A strangled sob tore from Elara’s throat. She let out a trembling exhale, her hands cradling Marianne’s face as if afraid she might disappear if she let go.  

"You’re alive…" she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.  

The tension that had gripped her so mercilessly loosened, and the tears that followed were no longer those of fear or despair, but relief—raw and overwhelming.