Theana led the White Magis through winding stone paths into the secret chambers buried deep beneath the city.
Few among the people of Graitan knew of this place. Only the tribal leaders and a handful of chosen white mages who stood guard were entrusted with its existence. Within these hidden halls lay relics of ages past, ancient tomes, scrools and books filled with forbidden knowledge and powerful spells. Treasures amassed in silence over generations—gold, artifacts, and priceless heirlooms of the nation.
Theana could not claim certainty over the future. Yet through her golden eyes, she saw visions. And it was because of those very visions that led her to propose the bargain to Emperor Lennix.
Had she chosen war instead, the Magis might have claimed victory in the first clash. But Epsos would not fall so easily. Reinforcements would arrive. The wounded emperor would rise again, and with him, an unending tide of soldiers. What followed would not be victory—but annihilation. Slow, but definite.
The Magis would be driven to ruin.
The few who survived would scatter and with them, the culture, magic, and very identity of the Graitan people would fade into nothingness within a generation.
This must not come to pass.
My life is nothing compared to the survival of my people, Theana thought, her resolve unwavering.
The white mages who followed her in the secret chambers bore a striking resemblance to one another—and to Theana herself. Men and women of the White Tribe were marked by long, flowing hair in shades of silver and gold, pale skin, and light-colored eyes. Draped in white robes, they moved like spirits through the dim corridors.
At last, one of them stepped forward, a man named Ithil.
"Counsellor… will you not reconsider?"
Theana did not slow her steps.
"I will not repeat myself, Ithil," she replied, her voice calm, yet absolute. "My decision is final. If what I have foreseen comes to pass… then this price is worth paying."
Silence fell over the group. No one dared question their chancellor further.
Theana continued issuing her commands without pause.
The treasury was to be sealed once more—this time with binding magic layered so tightly that none but the chosen could ever unmake it. Before its sealing, however, several chests were withdrawn. They were filled with gold and intricate jewelry, set with stones so rare that no ordinary being had ever laid eyes upon them.
The knowledge of the magis was to remain untouched.
All dangerous texts, spells, and records would be locked away, accessible only to the appointed librarians and the highest-ranking officers. Such power, if mishandled, could not be allowed to spread beyond their control.
Yet not all was to be hidden.
Theana spoke of building schools in the capital of Epsos. Places where both magis and non-magis could learn side by side. A future not divided by power, but guided by understanding.
As for machinery and weaponry, only the most basic designs would be offered as gifts to Epsos.
Nothing more. For if greater weapons were shared… who could say what devastation they might one day unleash?
Theana overlooked nothing.
Every detail, no matter how small, was accounted for. She planned and guided her people with unyielding precision—ensuring no item was left unchecked, no citizen left uncared for. Food supplies were secured. Emergency escape routes were mapped. Even her successor had been carefully chosen and prepared.
Everything was in place.
It was as though she were preparing not for departure—but for an absence that would last forever.
Sleep did not come to the people of Graitan that night.
Across all tribes, preparations were made in accordance with the chancellor's orders—delivered by white magis, whether by hand or through whispered channels of magic. Every instruction was carried out with urgency.
Time was slipping away. Dawn drew near.
With each passing hour, a quiet sorrow spread through the land.
By sunrise, everything would change.
Overnight, they would fall under a new ruling power. Though peace had been promised—though stability, to some extent, was assured—it came at a cost too great to ignore.
They would lose her. Their beloved chancellor.
The woman they revered not merely as a leader, but as a mother to the nation. The one who had watched over them, protected them, and cared for their every need throughout the years of her rule.
And now, she would be gone.
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One hour before the promised meeting, Theana prepared herself.
She donned her robes in silence. A delicate lace veil was placed over her face, its long train trailing softly behind her with every movement. Upon her head, the White Magis set a simple wreath of pale flowers.
No jewels. No gold. No vanity. Only quiet dignity.
Oh, the beloved chancellor of her people.
The room was heavy with somber stillness. No one spoke, yet grief lingered in the air, pressing against every breath.
At last, Theana raised her hand gently.
"Leave me."
Her voice was soft, but none dared disobey.
One by one, they exited, their steps reluctant, their hearts unwilling.
Yet… she was not alone.
From the far corner of the room, dark smoke began to gather—curling, twisting, alive. It thickened until a figure emerged from within.
Rokhan.
Silence fell once more.
Both the white magis and the dark magis shared a flaw.
They felt… differently.
White magis were distant from negative emotions—rage, hatred, despair rarely took root within them. Dark magis, in contrast, struggled with the lighter spectrum—joy, warmth, love.
It was not that they were incapable of feeling. Only that such emotions did not come easily… nor were they easily understood.
Rokhan stared at Theana, his gaze burning with restrained fury.
And yet—
beneath that anger lay something far more dangerous.
Something tender.
Something he could neither name nor control.
Theana stood still, her expression calm beneath the veil. No sorrow touched her face. But deep within, something trembled.
Fear.
Not of death. Not of sacrifice.
But of the unknown that awaited her. And...the fear of no longer having Rokhan by her side.
Her dearest companion—
…dare she call him more?
Rokhan was the first to break the silence.
"I will follow you to the capital of Epsos."
Theana shook her head.
"I cannot allow it."
Her voice remained calm, but there was a quiet finality to it.
I will not have you witness what awaits me there. Of all people… you should not be the one to see it. Not you. Theana thought to herself.
She stepped back slightly, creating distance where her resolve might not falter.
"And Graitan—who will watch over it, Rokhan? If not you, the people will be left in unrest."
"I do not care!"
Rokhan's voice cut through the air, sharp and unrestrained.
For once, the control he held so tightly slipped.
"Why do you do this to me?"
His gaze burned into her, filled with something far more than anger.
"For so long… you have known of my yearning for you."
Each word came heavier than the last.
"And because of who you are—because of your position—I buried it. These feelings… I do not even understand them, yet I kept them locked away."
He took a step closer.
"And now, you would disappear from my sight—for what?" His voice trembled, barely contained. "For a foolish, arrogant non-magis who believes his pitiful army can erase our people?"
The distance between them vanished.
Rokhan reached out, his hand rising slowly—almost hesitantly—until his fingers brushed against her cheek, veiled though it was.
"Why… do you do this to me?"
His face remained as stoic as ever.
But his voice—his voice betrayed him.
It cracked.
Theana felt it then.
A sharp ache within her chest, spreading with every heartbeat.
For a fleeting moment, her resolve wavered.
Beyond Rokhan, through the open veranda, the first light of dawn began to rise.
The sun. Her time had come.
She moved before she could hesitate.
Taking his hand gently into hers, she lifted it.
And then—
through the thin veil that separated her from the world—she pressed a soft kiss against his palm.
A farewell. A promise. A surrender.
Rokhan froze.
And then—
everything surged at once.
Rage. Fear. Love. Despair. Longing.
Emotions he had never been meant to carry, crashing through him all at once, violent and overwhelming—as though he might shatter beneath their weight.
He searched her face.
Through the thin veil, her golden eyes met his crimson gaze.
And in that fleeting moment—he saw it.
A smile. Soft… gentle… and touched with sorrow.
"You will always have my heart, Rokhan."
Something in him broke.
At a loss, with no words left to fight her resolve, Rokhan pulled her into his arms—holding her with all the strength he had, as though he could anchor her to this moment and never let her go.
But he knew.
He was losing her. And there was nothing he could do.
Not when her will was unshakable.Not when the fate of all magis rested upon her shoulders.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity—Rokhan wept.
And so did Theana.
The tears of a white magis did not fall as ordinary drops.
They crystallized.
Each tear hardened into a delicate, droplet-shaped crystal—clear and faintly luminous. Though of little worldly value, they carried a gentle healing power to those who bore them.
Theana gathered her tears in silence.
One by one.
Carefully, she placed them into Rokhan's trembling palm, folding his fingers over them as if entrusting him with something far more precious than treasure.
A piece of her.
She lifted his hand once more and pressed a soft kiss against it.
Then hesitating only for a breath, she leaned forward and placed another kiss upon his cheek.
A final goodbye.
And then…she left.
Rokhan remained where he was.
Kneeling. Motionless. Helpless—as the space she once filled grew unbearably empty.
"Theana, my love...." Rokhan whispered into the silence, his voice trembling with quiet despair.