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Story submitted in December 2025 by Clara Verrier-Beauchesne

Draped in magic-reinforced chainmail, the Empress’ high-guards ready their iridescent crossbows; they shoot an arrow with magic-precise aim.

I raised you to believe you were like me. Non-magic. For days I watched you cry from afar. A tiny, powerful orphan who conjured milking goats with only a thought. I envied you and then loved you. Every day since, I have revered the moment I first held you – intelligent blue eyes and pointy ears. I fed and protected you with all I had. Yet I always feared one day you’d come to despise the non-magic; like the Empress does, like they all do. So I hid your power from you, and us from the world. 

As I lay bleeding, I finally see you. Your strength in the hand holding mine and in your withheld tears. Your power in your sorrow, and anger. “Eva…” 
Your eyes focus as they shift from pain to resilience. “Yes, father.”
“I’m… sorry,” my weak voice fills you with dread, “I lied… you’re magic. You’re normal.” 
You’re confused, but not dismayed, for deep down you always knew. Your awakened power envelops you in a violet shimmer I recognize. “Show them you’ve… got your father’s… temper. Give them… hell.” 

With that you rise and bring ether down on our assailants as the foundations of our house tremble. You encage them in an oxygen-less cloud until they are no more. Claiming you won’t be so easy.

“I’m proud of you.” I close my eyes. Darkness can take me now.