Chapter 2: The True Form of the Blue Spark

The blue tower laboratory was set up in its lowest chambers, where starlight couldn't reach. It smelled of molten quartz and celestial inks vials floated between columns, magic circles overlapped like shifting petals, and at the center, leaning over an altar of living glass, Saphira worked her hair held back by a stellar band, she held between her fingers an ingredient borrowed from Hera: a tear of divine memory, sealed in a cube of ambrosia beside it, a crystallized lunar shard, silently gifted by Chang’e, floated in a cup of silence "Day 1 new test," she murmured. she wove the spell. Failure the spell transformed her into a cosmic butterfly, unable to speak for two hours Day 2, she adjusted the glyphs she swapped a catalyst for a lock of divine hair stolen from Morpheus during a nap she added a drop of dream light a soft explosion. the ceiling vanished, revealing a sky of ink. Day 3, failure. Days 4 to 7: sleepless nights, living grimoires burned from boredom, dolls in a panic with every mana surge but on the eighth day, something changed a pulsation, like a heartbeat in stone a perfect circle drew itself in the air, unbidden. Saphira, hands trembling, spoke the incantation she created the Source: raw, pure magical energy, an origin. It resembled nothing existing neither light, nor darkness, nor dream it was… beginning and Saphira, without thinking, took it into her hands she absorbed it this source was ether it wasn't pain it was an awakening the room tilted the entire tower shuddered the dolls knelt without understanding why the walls sang a melody they had never learned and in a haze of blue and silver reflections, she appeared tall, radiant a woman with skin pale as a cooled star, with long hair blending the blue threads of a storm and the silver of silence her vast eyes seemed to weep infinity without pain. Her lips… perfect, soft, unreal even the dolls blushed even the artifacts began to radiate. She brought a hand to her heart. "...I am still me, but I am also… who I will be."  and in the celestial mirror, a label formed, soft as a revelation: Saphira Noctielle, Flourished Form, Queen of Sources. she smiled "Twenty-four hours will be enough to dance, create and learn to look at myself without turning away."

End of Chapter 2 — The True Form of the Blue Spark