The winter wind that persisted for days brought coldness. It was that time of the year—the SunSwallow. It may have been cold, but it was probably for the best for Adhelians who wouldn't want to see the eclipsed ring curtained behind by the thick clouds. The cursed eclipse ring.The East shouldn't have that much cold climate as the land of the Azuras weren't like that of the high and frozen north of the Wind Royals.The child's bright amber orbs reflected the smoldering flames of the hearth as she sat upright against the sofa chair, shoulders squared, back perfectly curved, hands folded on her lap as she held a high and graceful air. The fire flickered.Despite the aberrant in the sky, her day continued as normal."Have you finished your morning prayers, my lady?"She heard the duke and her brother conversing over the dinner table yesterday about a strange rift of energies somewhere in Enol Forest. She had read about them. Rifts were highly-concentrated places of both rouge light and dark energies that they clash. It created an inhabitable area where reality shifts because of the imbalance. First, it was lush, next thing it was barren, and animals who passed were disfigured. Sometimes it would rain, another time, it was scorching hot.Her fist coiled tightly on her as she kept her mouth shut. The lump stuck in her throat made it unbearable. She constantly studied, reviewed, and investigate these topics, yet the duke wouldn't let her join them. Instead, her brother gets to."My lady?"Amalia's trance snapped. She replied curtly, "Yes. Let us proceed through the day."Breakfast. Etiquette. Economy. Energy Laws. As part of the Azura Household—one of the pillars of the empire—it was utmost to devote hours to meticulously learning everything to be an outstanding child. That was what her nanny would always say. And one day, she might become the next head of the proud Azura.Only the firstborn could be the head: it was said again and again. It was foregone and a passed-down tradition, yet the nanny, which she knew, kept telling her the otherwise. Perhaps it would break her heart to see the child fall into an inescapable hole of despair."Are you listening, Amalia? Is it too cold for you? I will close the window if you'd like," the teacher spoke with familiarity.Amalia nodded, breaking off from the flames to her instructor and then back to flames again. It danced, flaunting its passionate grace, never too wild, but never humble. A controlled dominance in its place.The red burned to orange then faded to the yellows. Her ambers could narrow down to the tiniest detail. How could she focus on an insignificant flame yet be out of it in her important studies?A tiny flicker; a minuscule movement; a small beckon—she swore she saw it. The flames danced, reflected in her smoldering eyes.She sat down beside the fireplace, just outside the smooth stone where the metal fence kept the dangerous enchantress away from the unsuspecting lookers. They were there for a reason. It's not to get them close for the one inside will scorch them.However, Amalia paid them no heed nor did she pay attention to her instructor when she tried to snap her out of the trance.The fire bursts, displaying its might, but the heat did not touch her, not slightly. Her teacher repeatedly called, but it fell deaf on Amalia's ears. It's as if it's just her and the fire, nothing else was there.Her teacher saw it—the daughter of the water duke enraptured by a flame. To where it was going, and she knew she had to stop it. She needs to stop it.She gripped her shoulders and with a tight jaw, she called her once again, "Amalia."But light hit her and she flung back.She looked over at the young girl in disbelief. What can she do? They've already forged a connection with their souls and sealed in with their vows. Her body emitted a translucent glow.Amalia closed her eyes, warmth enveloping her. She could feel it flow—the energies—in the air. Then it diminished.She sat on the floor. The previous feeling was fleeting. It was like it never happened.As she snapped out from her trance, her eyes landed on the disarrayed woman on the floor, who was breathing heavily, eyes wide in disbelief and panic. It was like she saw a ghost."No... you-" her teacher bit back what she said as she pushed herself up, limping on one knee because her leg hit the chair. Her teeth trembled as the words hung in her throat.Amalia looked over at her confusedly."...what have you done?"The words were spoken. That's when it sunk in. What has she done?That was a spirit, she was sure of it. A low concentration of energy managed it to thrive, but how?It was winter. It was cold, it was windy! Under in no condition it was fit to form a spirit.Spirits could only form in extreme environments with high levels of elemental energy. How can a fire spirit be able to thrive with merely a fireplace? A fireplace?Amalia was trembling uncontrollably. What does she do now? How will she tell it to the duke? What about her rights to the head?Her ever-elegant composure cracked. She gripped her arm hard, well-polished nails done in the morning digging into her skin.She thought she was safe, she thought something like this could never happen, she thought the title was hers. She was praised, given so much, hailed to be the best, yet all crumbled because of this one incident. There's no way she could hide it, not even if she disposed of the witnesses. Sooner or later, they will find out.To add insult to wound, it had to be fire—the opposite element of her family. This isn't right. It's not normal. There had to be a mistake.People would tread dangerous volcanoes, in the scorching deserts, risk never being found in lush jungles and forests, and be frozen to death in the cold peaks of Saoir just to find large concentrations of elemental energy where a spirit could be born. Could. Not even a full assurance that it will happen. Then they're gone in a blink of an eye. On top of that, your soul must resonate with the spirit to form a contract, lest it will reject you.What is this fate? Her fate?But in the end, there couldn't be anything done. It was reported to the duke and her nanny...The look she gave as she resigned and left, never to be seen again. Her eyes had sorrow and grief. Perhaps, she was apologetic. Apologetic to let little Amalia eat the sweet little lies she gave her.