Seraphina sat on the edge of her bed, the room dimly lit by the single candle flickering on the bedside table.
She closed her eyes, focusing her thoughts, and began chanting the words that she had memorized.
"Dew of dawn, soft and clear, bring your light, gentle and near."
Her voice was steady, precise, but no matter how many times she repeated the words, nothing happened. The air remained still, the room unchanged.
She opened her eyes with a sigh, her heart heavy with disappointment. She had tried this spell countless times, each attempt ending in failure.
She couldn't understand why she was so determined to make the spell work. It wasn't as if she had a specific need for magic in her life. But the idea of being able to wield even a small amount of power was intoxicating. The thought of being able to create something from nothing, to bend reality to her will, was impossible to resist.
