Reality

Morning drowsiness softened the edges of reality as sunlight stretched across the bed, warm and
inviting. I lay there, unmoving, trying to hold onto a comfort I rarely felt. My eyes wandered over the
ornate canopy overhead, following the shifting patterns of light that danced across the ceiling.
This can’t be real, I thought. But maybe I can enjoy it—just for a second.
This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t my world. Normally, the unfamiliar would set my heart pounding. But
maybe I was too tired to be nervous. For now, weariness blurred the edges of my worry, keeping it
quiet.
I drew a deep breath and pushed myself upright, sheets slipping from my shoulders. The bed was
absurd—large enough for several people, draped in impossibly fine fabrics. Even so, I couldn’t shake
the feeling that I didn’t quite belong here, as if I’d woken inside a story I hadn’t been written into.
A breeze drifted through a cracked window, carrying the scent of earth and leaves. Somehow, that
touch of the natural world made the grandeur feel less intimidating. I set my feet on the cool stone floor,
the sudden chill sharpening my senses. Everything was grand—too grand. The castle’s design still
amazed me. Built around a massive tree, its branches wove through the stone like something out of a
storybook. Even now, it was hard to believe such a place could exist.
I glanced around, still adjusting. “Do these windows ever stop?” I murmured, squinting at the countless
arches. And up along the beams… moss, sprouting in quiet defiance of all this finery. The gentle green
reassured me that nature didn’t care how regal this place tried to be—it found its way everywhere.
Who lives here? And why let someone like me inside? Unfortunately, the moss didn’t answer.
Before I could lose myself in my spiraling thoughts, a soft knock at the door caught my attention. I
turned, heart giving a small flutter. The heavy wooden door opened quietly, and in stepped a petite
figure with long, floppy ears: a bunny maid with snowy-white fur. For a moment, I froze. Most of the
animalfolk I’d seen so far only had accessories—ears, tails, maybe whiskers—but this girl was fully
covered in fur. She wore a neat apron over a pastel dress, with black hair contrasting her snowy coat.
“Good morning, miss,” she said softly, voice calm and soothing. “Miss Anabella requested I bring you
attire more fitting of this place.” She held out a carefully folded bundle of clothing.
I approached warily. The bunny maid offered me a sleeveless green tunic with simple vine patterns,
paired with a black skirt and leggings. She also included lightweight shoes to complete the outfit. It all
looked nice, but I’d never worn anything like it before. The skirt was more like a piece of fabric you
wrapped around your waist, and I worried the sleeveless tunic might leave my arms too cold.
Thankfully, it seemed to be a season similar to summer here.
“These should suit you well,” said the bunny maid, tilting her head. “Our weavers make garments for
guests who pass through. They’re quite skilled at matching each visitor. Anabella had some say in it as
well."
I took the clothes, trying to thank her, but before I could move, the bunny maid clapped her hands
together. “Let me help you change, miss,” she said cheerfully, stepping closer.
“Oh, no, no, no! That’s okay! I’m fine!” I stammered, holding the bundle of clothes tightly against my
chest. My face flushed as panic set in. “Really, I can do it myself!”
She tilted her head, her floppy ears bouncing slightly. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” Before I could
protest further, she had already started tugging my hoodie could even react. My hands shot up to stop
her, but she was alarmingly quick.
“Wait, I—” My words dissolved into a squeak as she expertly slipped my shirt off, revealing the plain
white tank top underneath. Her hands didn’t pause for a second, moving to tug the tank top free as well.
I fear no piece of clothing was safe.
"Arms up, miss,” she instructed, her tone impossibly gentle yet firm.
“Wait! I-I’m not—” My protests were ignored as she slid the tank top away, and quickly held up the
tunic, leaving me mortified and scrambling to cover myself. Her efficiency was terrifying.
Muttering incoherent protests, I reluctantly raised my arms, and she slipped the tunic over my head with
practiced ease. It fit snugly, and despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but notice how soft the
fabric felt against my skin. Next came the skirt and leggings, which she handled with the same
efficiency, leaving me no time to squirm away.
“There! All done,” she said with a satisfied smile, stepping back to admire her work. “You look lovely,
miss!”
I tugged at the hem of the tunic, trying to regain some sense of composure. “Thanks,” I mumbled, my
cheeks still burning. The bunny maid’s cheerful obliviousness only added to my flustered state.
She held up the shoes, their soft bark and cloth design stitched with petals. “Now for your shoes,” she
said, crouching down.
“I can put those on myself!” I exclaimed, nearly tripping as I grabbed them from her hands. She
straightened, her ears twitching with amusement.
“As you wish, dear,” she said with a slight bow, stepping aside. Despite the awkwardness, I couldn’t
help but notice the faint giggle she tried to hide as she left the room.
Left alone, I exhaled deeply, staring down at my new outfit. Practical, beautiful, and thoroughly
embarrassing to have been dressed in by someone else. I sighed. Guess that’s one way to start the
day. I'm wide awake now.
“Thank you,” I said, quieter now. Her ears perked happily at my gratitude.
“If you need anything else, dear, please ring the bell by your bed. I'll hear it.” With a polite bow, she
slipped out, leaving me alone again.
This room is comfortable, but I probably shouldn't hide here forever, as appealing as it sounds. I
needed to move, to see where I truly was. Anything to feel a little less lost.
I wasn’t feeling too nervous, surprisingly, but I healed myself anyway, relishing in the euphoric
sensation that washed over me. Just in case.
Stepping into the hallway, I realized I must have been too exhausted last night to notice my
surroundings. The walls were carved with shifting designs of animals and plants, blending into one
another like a living tapestry. The open, airy space felt both grand and strange, and my shoes barely
made a sound on the cool stone as I moved cautiously forward. It was hard to believe I had missed so
much detail before.
Sunlight streamed through tall archways, open spaces where walls might have been. It felt like the
building was designed to bring the outside world in, blurring the line between nature and structure. The
play of light and shadow gave the hall a strange energy, almost as if it was watching me.
I paused by a mural spanning one wall. Animal people—the kind I’d briefly encountered—danced in a
ring around a small and sprawling tree painted at the center. Its branches spread outward like veins,
connecting every figure. I reached out, fingertips brushing cool stone. Could this be the same tree the
castle was built around?
I kept walking, fingers trailing along a carved banister as I descended a wide staircase. The deeper I
went, the more nature and architecture melded. Leaves poked from corners, sunlight played over moss
that spread like gentle strokes of green paint.
This place wasn’t just alive—it belonged here in a way I still didn’t understand.
Silence weighed on my thoughts. Lyra’s magic had brought me here, and Kuro had saved me… but
why? Is Lyra okay? And what about these enemies Kuro mentioned? I still didn’t know what kind of
danger was out there, or even who I was supposed to fear. Am I even safe here?
My fists tightened. I didn’t want to find out the hard way.
But what was I supposed to do? Lyra's strong, Kuro's quick. Me? I was just… me. My magic felt like a
candle’s flicker compared to theirs. I could never do what they can.
I slapped my cheeks, the sting pulling me into focus… maybe a little too much. "Ow!" I winced, rubbing
my cheeks as the sharp pain set in. I sighed and placed my hands over my cheeks, letting my magic
soothe the sting until the pain faded completely. "Focus, Aria," I told myself. "One step at a time.
Explore first, panic later."
Before I knew it, I had stepped outside. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying scents of flowers and
grass. A courtyard stretched around me, framed by crumbling walls. The castle’s architecture opened
here, inviting nature to come and go as it pleased. Wildflowers sprang up along stone paths, their
petals glowing softly in the sunlight.
In the center of it all stood a tree—enormous, ancient, and silver-barked. Its branches reached
skyward, leaves shimmering green and starlit-white. I drew closer. The tree felt like the heart of this
place, its massive presence radiating a quiet strength, like it was the very foundation keeping this place
alive.
A single leaf drifted down, edges curled and dry. I caught it, curious. Maybe it's not summer?
Everything else here was vibrant and alive. Could I help it somehow? I closed my eyes, recalling the
faint hum of my own magic. Carefully, I let a quiet pulse of energy flow into the leaf, imagining it fresh
and green. Its edges relaxed, color brightening. Not perfect, but better.
A breeze stirred the branches overhead, whispering gently. I smiled, a tiny spark of pride lighting my
chest. I could do something, after all.
Clang!
The sudden sound shattered the peace. I stood straight, dropped the leaf, and followed the noise
around the courtyard’s edge.
Two figures sparred on the grass. One was Kuro—I recognized him by the cocky grin that persisted
even as he staggered back. His opponent was massive, muscles corded beneath tan skin, veins
glowing faintly. The man wielded a large axe, swinging it in a brutal arc. Kuro blocked just in time, but
the impact sent him sprawling.
The man planted his weapon in the ground and grinned. “Still too slow, cat-boy.”
Kuro groaned, rolling onto his back. “Yeah, yeah… don't let it go to your head.”
“I would never,” the man replied, leaning casually on his axe.
Before I could process it all, another figure approached. She knelt beside Kuro, holding a wooden staff
adorned with bandage-like designs and bone-shaped ornaments at the top. The sight of it made me
pause; it was unlike anything I had ever seen, equal parts eerie and fascinating, with an unsettling mix
of beauty and menace. The way the bandages and ornaments hung reminded me of a dream catcher,
but this one looked ready for battle.
“Hold still,” she said, voice gentle.
Light bloomed from her staff, warm and golden, wrapping around Kuro like glowing threads. I watched,
entranced, as if she were weaving life itself back into him. Compared to that, my magic felt so small. I
couldn’t weave light or mend wounds like that. Sure, I healed a leaf—but what was I supposed to do,
throw it at someone? Maybe I just needed more time.
I leaned in, unaware I had moved, until I snapped a twig beneath my feet.
The bush I’d been peering around gave way, and I stumbled out into the open. Smooth, Aria. Very
smooth.
“Speak of the devil,” Kuro muttered, propping himself up to look at me. “That’s her. The girl I was telling
you about.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. “Uh… hi?”
The big man snorted, arms folded. “This is her? Doesn’t look like much.”
My anxiety spiked, and I crossed my arms, trying to summon some dignity. “Rude.” I knew I was out of
my league, but he didn’t have to say it out loud.
The girl who had mended Kuro made her way over. She had fluffy white hair with red highlights
bouncing around her shoulders. She wore a bright yellow robe with simple but pretty patterns on it, and
a fluffy fur collar that looked incredibly soft. Her fiery red eyes sparkled with energy, and two black
horns curled up from her hair, making her look like a sheep… or maybe a dragon? I found myself
staring. Why is everyone in this world so beautiful? How is that fair?
She seemed to be staring back. “Oh, she’s cute! Just like you said, Kuro.” She leaned in far too close,
her horns almost brushing me as she tilted her head. “Aria, right? I’m Mao! Your hair is so soft, and
your eyes—so round and pretty!”
“Uh…” I blinked, still trying to figure out what animal she even was. “Thanks?”
Kuro chuckled. “Don’t mind her, kid.”
“And you’re shy! That’s adorable!” Mao beamed.
I glanced between her and the massive man with the glowing veins. Now that I looked closer, his white
hair had the same red highlights as hers, though cropped much shorter. Were they related?
She seemed to notice my gaze and giggled. “Oh, right! That’s my big twin brother, Rex. Well,
technically big by a few minutes.”
Rex raised a hand in a lazy wave. “Big enough. And don’t let her fool you—she’s more trouble than she
looks.”
Mao puffed out her cheeks. “Don’t listen to him! He’s just grumpy because I’m cuter.”
Rex let out a bark of laughter. “Sure, that’s the reason.”
Their dynamic was so natural, so easygoing, that it made me feel even more like an outsider. These
people knew who they were, what they could do. I was just… me.
Kuro cleared his throat, his tone shifting. “Aria,” he said, meeting my eyes. “We didn’t bring you here
just to rest. You’ve been entered into the annual tournament at the Coliseum. It’s a big deal for new
pupils who show promise.” My stomach dropped. “A… tournament?” Just when I thought I could
breathe again.
“I can barely heal a scratch! And now you’re throwing me into a tournament? I can't fight.” Panic
fluttered in my chest. Fighting, performing in front of crowds? Terrifying.
Kuro held up his hands in surrender. “Calm down. That’s why we’re here—to train you. You won’t be
going in blind.”
The big man snorted again. “I’m a champion, kid. You’ll learn from the best.” He said it with such pride
that it made me feel smaller.
Mao puffed her cheeks. “Not everyone makes it far, you know. I never got past the first round, but I’m
an enchanter, unlike me you'll learn to fight too!”
Kuro smirked. “Remember that time you put your opponent to sleep and still managed to lose?
Priceless.”
Mao’s face turned pink. “I told you, that was strategic!”
Rex let out a bark of laughter. “Strategic, sure. Even the ref couldn't hold back his laughter.”
Mao stomped her foot with an adorable little huff. “I did my best!”
I stood there, mind spinning. Tournaments, champions, the very real possibility of failing. There was
enough to worry about, and now I had to prove myself in an arena? My heart hammered at the thought
of fighting under countless eyes, judging my every move. I've never even been hit before.
Kuro caught my gaze, offering a slightly more reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. With Rex’s combat
lessons and Mao’s magic know-how, you'll be ready.”
Mao brightened again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be in the tournament too! Oh, and did I mention I’m an
enchanter? I can cast hexes to put people to sleep or paralyze them—super handy in fights! Plus, I can
do buffs and healing too. You saw my magic earlier, right? Isn’t it cool?”
“It was beautiful,” I managed. They were all so far ahead of me, but I couldn’t let that stop me. I wouldn’t
give up now.
Rex leaned on his staff, voice turning serious. “Enough talk. We’re going to test you, kid. See what you
can do.”
“Test me?” My heart sank further. Another trial, another challenge, before I even understood what was
happening.
Rex grinned, an edge to his smile. “You heard me.”
Mao’s playful demeanor softened, and she looked at me kindly. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
Something in her tone made my stomach twist. I glanced at Kuro, searching for reassurance, but his
grin was gone. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Good luck, kid.”
My throat tightened. “Wait. What’s going to happen?”
Mao looked away, guilt flickering in her eyes. Then, softly, “I’m sorry.”
Before I could speak, before I could even flinch, Mao lifted her staff. A burst of brilliant, blinding light
filled my vision, and agony tore through my body like shards of glass. It felt as though every nerve was
on fire, my knees buckling as I gasped for breath. The searing pain grew unbearable, my
consciousness slipping away as the world shattered beneath my feet. This is too much.