In a distant magical kingdom known as the Kingdom of Eldros, the world was filled with towering magic towers, grand academies, and arrogant nobles who took pride in their elemental powers—fire, water, earth, and wind. Every corner of the capital felt like a stage for wonders.
But far from all that glittering grandeur, in a peaceful little village on the edge of the kingdom, stood a modest wooden house. There lived an eight-year-old girl named Lyra Elwen, bright-eyed, full of spirit, and always wearing a cheerful smile.
That morning, sunlight slipped through the kitchen window. At the dining table, Lyra sat with her legs dangling, eyes sparkling as she gazed at the pages of an old magic book spread out before her.
"Mom..." Lyra turned, her small voice filled with excitement. "Can you use magic like those nobles?"
Her mother smiled gently, setting a cup of tea on the table.
"Yes, I can use magic," she replied softly. "But only wind magic, nothing as impressive as the nobles."
Lyra's eyes widened. "Wow! So you're a mage too?! That's so cool!"
Her father, sitting relaxed across the table, chuckled and crossed his arms.
"When she was young, your mother could make the wind spin around the backyard. I once fell into the pond because of her, you know."
Lyra laughed, her eyes gleaming with imagination. "I wanna be like Mom too! But not just wind magic. I want all kinds of magic! Even... magic that's never been created!"
Her parents paused for a moment, then smiled proudly at their daughter's boundless energy.
"Well then," her mother said as she gently stroked Lyra's head, "you'll have to train hard starting now. Who knows—maybe one day, you'll create your own magic."
Lyra clenched her fists. "Yes! I promise!"
After breakfast, Lyra dashed outside, clutching her magic book like a precious treasure. The wide yard in front of her house, filled with wild grass, became her imaginary arena.
She stood dramatically, mimicking the pose of a mage from one of the book's illustrations.
"Hiyaaa!! Fireball!!" Lyra shouted with all her might.
Nothing happened.
Silence.
Lyra lowered her head, breathing heavily.
"Ugh... so tired..." she muttered, then sat cross-legged on the grass. "Did I say it wrong? Or maybe my hand wasn't high enough?"
As she flipped her book open again, suddenly—
"BOO!!"
"KYAA!!" Lyra nearly jumped and almost threw her book.
Behind her stood a girl with twin ponytails, a year older, giggling while covering her mouth.
"Hahaha! Your face was so funny just now!"
Lyra pouted, then giggled too. "That's not funny! I was being serious!"
"Serious, but the magic didn't even work?" teased the girl as she sat beside Lyra.
"I'm Lyra Elwen," Lyra said, reaching out her small hand. "What's your name?"
"Mira Calen," the girl replied, shaking Lyra's hand. "I live across the road."
From that day on, Lyra and Mira became inseparable. Their days were filled with laughter, failed spells, and magic book pages they nearly memorized by heart.
One afternoon, they sat under a tree, folding leaves into weird shapes.
"Mira..." Lyra said softly, gazing at the sky. "Do you have a dream for the future?"
Mira turned and giggled. "Gosh, you sound like a grown-up talking like that."
"I'm serious," Lyra whispered.
Mira looked at her friend, then smiled. "Well then... let's think about the future later. For now, let's play!"
Without waiting for a reply, Mira grabbed Lyra's hand and pulled her into the open field. Their laughter blended with the soft afternoon breeze.
As evening approached, the sky turned golden orange. They sat together, weaving wildflowers.
"Hold on... almost done," said Mira, tucking a small purple flower into Lyra's hair.
"Do I look pretty now?" Lyra asked shyly.
"Totally! Like a flower mage!" Mira answered cheerfully.
The sound of crickets began to echo, signaling the coming night.
Mira stood up and dusted off her dress. "I'm going home now. I'll come again tomorrow!"
Lyra smiled sweetly. "Okay! See you tomorrow, Mira!"
Soon, a gentle voice called from the house.
"Lyraaa~ come inside, it's getting dark!" her mother called tenderly.
"Coming, Mom~" Lyra replied, rising to her feet and jogging home, still hugging her magic book tightly.
The flower still adorned her hair.
And her big dream remained quietly nestled in her heart.