On Althara knowing someone's age was as effortless as knowing their name. A single glance at a person's left wrist, combined with the right thought, would reveal it—no matter how youthful or unchanged their face might seem. To Altharans, age was both a quiet reminder of life's passage and a silent bond between people.
In the family kitchen, moonlight streaming through high-arched windows, Alara, Elara's mother, lays out fresh ingredients on the smooth stone counter.
Elara: (eyes wide as she watches her mother) "Mama, what are we making today?"
Alara: (smiling as she arranges bowls of ingredients) "Today, we're making luven cakes. They're light and a little tricky, but I think you're ready."
Elara: (nodding eagerly) "I love luven cakes! But what makes them special?"
Alara: (grinning) "Ah, patience. And just the right touch of herbs." (she gestures toward a small pile of green leaves) "These are the secret."
They work together, mixing flour, honey, spices, and a drop of a berry syrup . Elara watches carefully as her mother shows her how to stir slowly, keeping the batter light.
Alara: (guiding Elara's hand) Now, we mix in the leaf extract. Just a few drops."
Elara: (sniffing the mixture) "It smells like… the forest near the marketplace!"
Alara: "Exactly. And once the cakes are shaped, we'll put them in the moon oven."
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Elara looks over to the family's moon oven, a smooth, circular stone surface enclosed by a glass dome. Powered by the combined light of Althara's three moons, it's a marvel of her world.
Elara: (placing the cakes inside carefully) "How long will they take?"
Alara: "Not too long. The moons warm them gently, so they'll be just right."
They close the glass dome, and a soft glow fills the kitchen as the moons' light bakes the cakes with a gentle, even warmth. As they wait, Alara looks at Elara, her thoughts drifting.
She knew that someday, Elara would learn about the hidden gifts their family held. Though wealth was no secret in Altharan society, magic was—a gift few possessed and even fewer displayed. Her mother felt a pang of worry as she considered the path ahead for her daughter, and the powers yet unknown to her.
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The cakes begin to take on a golden hue, filling the room with the sweet scent of berries and herbs.
Elara: (peeking through the glass dome) "Are they ready now?"
Alara: (laughing) "Almost. You'll learn, Elara—cooking is as much about patience as it is about ingredients."
Elara: (smiling thoughtfully) "Mama, do you think… do you think someday I'll know all the secrets of Althara?"
Alara: (pausing, choosing her words) "Maybe. But remember, some secrets reveal themselves in small ways. Sometimes even when we aren't looking."
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The cakes are finally done, and as Elara lifts the dome, her fingers brush the edge of the glass. A spark of light, so quick it's almost invisible, flickers from her hand. Unseen, it touches the cakes, giving them a sweetness even beyond what the recipe could offer.
Elara: (taking a bite, her eyes widening) "Mama! They're sweeter than ever before!"
Alara: (smiling, unaware of the change) "Maybe it's just the way you made them, Elara. A little magic of your own."
Elara grins, savoring the flavor, while her mother's thoughts linger on the future—and the powers her daughter would one day discover.
As they finish, Elara takes a quiet moment to gaze out the window at the three moons, their soft light casting gentle shadows across the room. Something about their glow feels familiar, almost like a silent call.
Suddenly, the stillness is broken by the sharp sound of something shattering in the next room. Elara jumps, startled, while her mother turns quickly, worry crossing her face.
Alara: "Stay here, Elara."