chapter 1 day of destiny

Magic is something that's hard to believe in these days. It's the stuff of bedtime stories, movie screens, and the back covers of dusty old books. You never expect to feel it for real—the joy of wielding it, the warmth of its pulse in your veins. At best, it lives in dreams. And even then, it feels more like a wish than a possibility.

My name is Madison Stone, and I live in a magical world where magic is celebrated like some kind of divine gift. They call it the pride and joy of every magical being. Ha. Don't make me laugh. I hated magic. To me, it wasn't some celestial blessing. It was a cursed tool—sharp, unpredictable, and cruel. It didn't bring hope. It brought fire and blood and silence into my already fragile life.

Here on the magical planet of Alice, there's a saying: "Magic solves and brings happiness to one's life. If not, then you're using it wrong." I shook my head, letting out a dry, humorless chuckle. "What delusional soul believes that crap?"

The faint curve of my lips didn't last. That old smile—the one that tried to be brave—crumbled as the truth returned like a ghost in the night. At one point, I'd been that delusional soul. Once, I had believed.

And the price I paid for believing... was everything.

Memories I had buried deep—locked away in the cobwebbed corners of my mind—came clawing back. My mother's laugh, the way her hands glowed when she healed, the way her magic always felt like a hug... warm, safe, kind. She lived that ridiculous motto. It was the lullaby she sang, the rhythm of her footsteps through the hospital halls, the light in her eyes when she looked at me and said, "Magic, my sweet girl, is meant to help."

She was a miracle worker. And she was mine.

By the time I turned five, she'd become the director of one of the most renowned magical hospitals. I used to follow her around, watching her work like a starstruck shadow. When my healing magic first flickered to life, she took me under her wing, her hands steady, her voice soft but strong. And under her guidance, I bloomed.

By seven, I could heal wounds faster than most adults. I loved magic. I loved her. Until that one day, my world cracked open.

A violent tremor shattered my daydream. The house groaned under the pressure. My heart dropped as my mind tried to make sense of the chaos. My father's footsteps thundered down the hallway like a warning shot, and when he burst through my door, breath ragged and eyes wild, his brown hair an unruly mess, I knew something was very, very wrong.

He was drenched in sweat, glasses fogged over, and looked like he'd seen a ghost. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, trying to find words—but another quake rattled through the floor, silencing everything.

I tucked my long, black hair behind my ear, my fingers trembling. "What's going on? Are we in danger?"

He didn't answer at first. His mouth opened, closed. Then, finally: "Quickly and calmly, grab a suitcase and pack what you can."

The words were clinical, detached—but his voice cracked on the word "quickly," and that told me everything.

"Why? What's happening?" My voice was too soft. Too scared.

He took off his glasses and wiped his brow, eyes avoiding mine. "We're under attack. From the Landlords."

Time stilled. My breath caught. I stared into his face, looking for a lie, some sliver of denial. But all I saw was truth—and terror.

He embraced me quickly, then pulled away. "Hurry—we must make haste. I'll explain more in the spaceship."

I nodded, heart pounding, and watched him run out the door and down the stairs. The room continued to rattle and shake. I grabbed two large bags from my closet, threw them on my bed, and immediately started shoveling clothes into them. I remembered to take a few of my mother's keepsakes—her spell books and her locket. I finished quickly and rushed out the door.

My father met me at the bottom of the stairs and ushered me through the kitchen and out the back door. He hit the back lights, revealing a small spaceship. The world we knew was falling apart, and all I could think about was whether I'd ever see my house again.

The spaceship in the backyard looked surreal, like something out of a dream. Or maybe a book.

Once we were in, despite the chaos around us, we sat in silence for a few minutes. My mind started to drift. This was the place where I was born, where my parents built memories. Now, I'm leaving, and I don't know when I'll return.

I glanced at my dad, who was lost in thought too. "Are you okay?" I asked.

He looked at me, and a faint smile formed on his face. "Yeah. Just... leaving is harder than I thought."

"This was our home," I whispered.

My dad didn't respond at first. When he did, his voice was frayed. "I just hope, that returning home will be in our future."

I wrapped my arms around him. He leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Thank you. Now let's get out of here before it's too late."

He started the fiery engine, and the ship began to take flight.

Thirty minutes later, I asked the question swirling through the storm of my thoughts. "Where are we going?"

He hesitated. Then: "Earth."

"Earth?" My heart skipped. "The forbidden realm?"

He gripped the wheel, jaw tight. "I'm tired," he said, and not just physically. Soul-tired.

"I'm tired of the criminals of Onyx taking everything I love away." His voice cracked. "I lost your mother. I lost my job. Now I'm losing my home."

I broke. Quietly. Ugly crying. Because I understood. Because grief didn't care about how strong you were—it just took.

I sat with his words. My dad was a well-renowned inventor before my mom's passing. We all grieve differently. I shut down and stopped going to school for a few years, while my dad took to drinking. He became extremely depressed and did not leave the house, which resulted in him quietly being let go from his job, despite them wanting to keep him.

I wiped my tears. "I know, you're right, but what can we do about it?" I asked, calming my anxiety.

He put the ship on autopilot, then turned around and reached into the back seat. He grabbed a small black bag and pulled it into his lap, unzipping it to reveal five brilliantly glowing stones. Each stone was a different color, with a unique symbol on each of them.

My eyes widened. "They're beautiful. Unlike anything I've ever seen," I whispered, hypnotized.

My dad closed the bag again while answering. "These are the stones of the magical guardians."

"Like the legendary guardians from the folktales?" I asked, shaking off the daze the stones had left me in.

"Yes, they are very real. And I plan on finding them."

He paused, then continued. "In the beginning, there was a god named The Most High. He came to the emptiness of our galaxy and used his powers to create the stones. Earth Stone to build planets. Water Stone to help life grow. Air Stone to sustain life. Fire Stone to create suns. And the Stone of Electricity to hold it all together in orbit."

I leaned in.

"Once everything was made, he created humans with a combination of the stones and gifted them with magic. Then he fell into a 10,000-year sleep. When he awoke, humans had corrupted his creation. So he turned the stones into pure magical life force and created five powerful beings—the Guardians—to restore order."

He took a breath.

"The G.O.M. was then established. So the story goes."

I nodded slowly. "How did you find those stones? And how are you going to find the Guardians?"

He turned off autopilot before answering. "I found them a year or so ago."

"Okay, but where?" I asked again.

He hesitated. "I'll tell you later."

I dropped the subject. I knew I wasn't getting any more answers right now.

"As for finding them," he continued, "their lore says that with every death, they experience rebirth. The Guardians are always reincarnated. That's been true throughout history. Since their first appearance in the War for Order of the Planets."

A loud hum interrupted my thoughts. I looked at the radar, confused. A large object was approaching from behind.

"What is that?" I asked.

Dad leaned over to the radar and turned on the back cameras. A massive black spaceship shaped like a beehive filled the screen.

Panic rose in my chest. My father's reaction was immediate.

"Seatbelt. Now. Hurry!"

I scrambled to obey. "Madison, under your seat, there's a device. Grab it."

My hands fumbled, trembling. I kept dropping it until I finally managed to grab it and hand it over.

He turned it on. It started beeping.

"I made this tracker. It will lead us to the person who matches the energy of the stones."

"Is that why we're going to Earth? Are the Guardians there? How long have you known?"

"Not now. I'll explain later. But we need to get away from that ship."

He glanced at the radar, voice low. "It's the same one that attacked the capital... where your mother died."

My mind blanked. Time slowed. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.

He activated the cosmic jump.

"We're going warp speed. Hold on tight."

I could barely register his words. My thoughts spiraled. He knew. He'd always known. And he didn't tell me.

The ship jumped.

"What was that powerful magical reading?" someone asked aboard the black ship.

"We need to stay on course."

"I've never felt magic that strong before."

"Be that as it may, we need to get our lord back to the planet Onyx."

Their voices stopped as a low, sinister voice echoed through the room.

"Follow them," the dark figure commanded, voice chilling. The crew obeyed.

And the ship vanished into the void, pursuing its prey toward the forbidden realm.