The woman stood slender in physique, her cheekbones coming to a point at the curvature of her face, leading into her sharp ears. Her eyes were gray and narrow, the radiating pupils drinking Cateline’s every move. Cateline was both perplexed and intrigued by this creature, every mannerism and movement was like silk on the skin. She was gracefully striking, wisdom exuberating throughout her pores.

The Princess let out a breath, nodding her head simply to her statement. She could not say whether her journey was safe or not—she was unconscious the entire way. The only thing she could say was she made it to this mysterious place alive.

“Come in, my dear,” the woman spoke quietly and turned, “there is much to catch up on.”

It took careful strides to keep up with the tall woman. She stood with her hands folded at the center of her abdomen and below her breasts, the peaks of her elbows as piercing as those bones on her face. Everything about her was sharp, whether it was in regards to her appearance or her disposition. Carefully, Cateline cleared her throat.

“Where am I?”

“You are in the Kingdom of Traburg. A far way from home, but hopefully this will feel cozy enough soon.”

“Yes—but why? The wagoner was not much help.”

“Ah yes—he is a prized one in our village. Does as he is told, and not much else. An unfortunate consequence of an idle mind.”

Cateline followed along with her every word as if it was turning water to wine. It was surreal in a sense, the way she drifted along the stone pathway towards whatever strange destination she was headed. For all poor Cateline knew, her parents could have been murdered and this was their ruse of a kidnapping. As an act of mimicry, she folded her hands in front of her and continued her pursuit to maintain on track with the Elf. She never turned back to make sure Cateline was still behind her, but she spoke as if they were looking eye to eye.

“Your parents mustn’t worry about you now; you will learn how to control these temptations.”

“Temptations?”

The woman let out a sigh, stopping in front of a wooden door and opened it, leading the Princess into a library. The walls were as tall as the ones in her castle back in Axulran, the scent of old philosophies and mildew calming her nerves. Cateline loved reading, even if her mother told her the work of the scholars should never be a priority for her. She was to learn how to walk upright and exude confidence, not intelligence. That was for the men. This mentality never held up, and eventually, her mother sort of gave up and allowed her to pursue the arts of education behind closed doors.

“The temptation of magic is powerful, and your mother is worried about the dangers it may cause. You are at the Lighthelm Academy of Magical Arts. Here, you will not only learn what you are capable of but also how to collapse those instincts into a ball of power. You want to hold onto this ball and let it go only when needed—you, instead, have become a bale of hay wafting into flames. It’s only a matter of time before you’re entirely squashed out.”

With the word ‘squashed’, she slammed a heavy book down, finally meeting Cateline’s nervous glance. She turned on her heel and made her way back to stand in front of her, the pupils of her eyes glowing with strength. Cateline took a hesitant step backward, she had never met somebody who emanated such intimidating intellect.

“I am Leolina, and here, I will teach you how to harness your magic.”

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

Leolina did not keep Cateline very long. She showed her a book of Spells, quickly summarizing what all she would learn within the coming weeks. As her explanation went on, though, she began to wonder how long she would be away. This process seemed long term and dreadful—an entire reworking of her desire to hold back on the magic that flowed through her as if she were twisting back the clock and relearning all about the worlds wonders over again. The Elf brought her to her quarters, explaining she would be expected to arrive for dinner in under an hour.

Cateline spent this time changing into a dull blue gown that hung in her closet, a replacement to the damply ruined dress she wore to the banquet nights prior. Her room was tiny, a bed nestled into the corner and a single wardrobe to hold a few dresses. Everything was wooden and smelled of earth.

Deciding to take a walk away from the drab room, she pushed the door open with a creak and walked down the circular staircase. She arrived at a wide corridor, open archways acting as windows leading along the interior bridge. This building was grand in stature, resembling a stone castle of sorts. She walked to the window, peering down at the ground, and watched a group of men sword fight. There was something peculiar to this fight, though.

With each swing and metal clash, their swords struck lightning. The loud booms echoed off the walls, earning a distant chuckle from the warriors. Their swords shined indigo, an essence of magic wavering off the weapons and onto the men. An enchantment, she presumed.

Rushing down the cases of stairs, she found her way through the mazes of hallways and stepped foot outside. The curious cat wanted a closer look at the magic—it stemmed something inside of her that had never been explored before. Poking her head past the corner of a doorway, she kneeled and watched the two men closer.

One was a tall, gruff man. His brown hair was scraggly, two large horns growing out of the top of his head. A scar fled down his eyebrow and under the lid, revealing a history of war. His stance, however, resembled brute strength; he paid no sign to the healed wound on his face. He showed no fear of a good fight.

The opposite to him was a paler man, his dark hair fringed and longer. His eyes a dull caramel, and his head hornless. He was swifter than the giant man, his moves and attacks hitting the opponent with a strike so quick it could have been on ice. The giant turned his head, catching the Princess’s curious gawk and paused the fight. Pointing the sword, he mumbled something to the opponent and suddenly she was the focus to both their stares. A feeling of fear shooting down her spine, she stood to her feet and scurried back up the stairs. She would not be known as the Peeping Princess today.