This novel also recounted the fate of the Emperor's true daughter, Magda Featherfield, who grew up far from the splendor of the imperial palace.
The book had been written from multiple points of view, revealing Magda's story in intricate detail. Micheal's heart tightened when he saw her name, his thoughts lingering on her tragic past.
The Featherfield estate, once a proud symbol of nobility, had become a crumbling relic of its former glory. Its halls, now empty and silent, stood as a grim testament to her family's fall from grace. Yet, this decline was not because of the Emperor failing to keep his promise to Livya.
After the Empress's death, the Emperor fulfilled his promise to bail out the Featherfields from their debt without delay.
The true collapse began with Steffan Featherfield, once an ambitious and rising noble. He navigated the treacherous waters of the business world like a shark, unafraid of losses or gains, always certain of his ability to recover.
What truly shattered him was not impending financial doom, but the death of his wife. Livya, his healthy and vibrant partner, had temporarily accompanied her ailing friend, the Empress, to the palace. Yet, she returned home with blue lips, gray skin, and barely able to speak.
The estate doctor revealed that Livya had been poisoned by a forbidden concoction. Steffan, ever the loving husband, devoted himself entirely to nursing her. He didn't even look at their newborn daughter as Livya slipped between unconsciousness and hysteria day and night.
When she slept, she seemed trapped in terrible nightmares, and when awake, she shed silent tears as she gazed at Steffan. Guilt gnawed at her, knowing the truth she couldn't share. She had swapped their daughter with the Empress's child, a heinous act she feared Steffan would never forgive.
Livya's guilt and physical agony consumed her for a week until her death. Until her final breath, she did not reveal the secret of the child swap to Steffan. It was only after her passing that Steffan truly looked at the child she left behind.
The baby's bright crimson eyes were unlike any of Livya's or Steffan's relatives. As she grew, soft black curls appeared on her head, a feature that deepened Steffan's unease.
Livya had insisted this child be named Magda, a stark departure from the name Flora they had chosen for their own.
Steffan allowed her to grow, doing the bare minimum to keep her alive, hoping nature would take its course. Yet, Magda thrived despite the lack of care. Her resilience and vitality seemed almost unnatural to him.
The year Magda turned one, a nanny entered her dark nursery and found her playing happily. Little mana wisps danced around her hands, illuminating the room in soft light. Alarmed, the nanny informed Steffan, who confirmed that mana manipulation came as naturally to Magda as breathing.
Steffan saw the unmistakable likeness of the Emperor in the baby's features. Her crimson eyes and innate magical abilities left no doubt in his mind. Magda was not his child.
He thought back to the Emperor's unexpected invitation to a pregnant Livya and her initial hesitation. He recalled her poisoning, her delirium, and the Emperor's swift move to settle the Featherfield debts. It all pointed to one harrowing conclusion.
Steffan assumed that the Emperor had taken advantage of his wife, and Magda was the product of that disgrace. This realization crushed him. That night, Steffan drank until he couldn't recognize friend from foe—and it wouldn't be the last time.
As Magda grew, the remaining Featherfield relatives isolated Steffan, poaching what little wealth was left.
By the time she was five, Magda learned to forage for herbs to sell, feeding herself and her alcoholic father with the help of her nanny. Her sharp wit and mana tricks earned her the nickname "The Witch of Featherfield."
Magda's resilience grew stronger over time. Slowly, she became the acting head of the household, caring for her father, who had long given up on his life.
Magda learned to be content with what she had. She knew how to find food, and her father never hit her like the parents of naughty children she'd seen.
Their broken estate library held books on magic theory, and for Magda, that was enough.
-----
When Magda turned ten, an elder boy from an affluent household tried to waylay her. By now proficient in various spells, Magda managed to outmaneuver him and reach home safely. She thought she was safe, but that evening the boy returned with his mother and some neighbors.
They accused Magda of using mana to attack the boy.
"I was only trying to protect myself," Magda told Steffan, her crimson eyes wide with fear. As usual, Steffan appeared indifferent to the unfolding chaos.
The boy's furious mother turned to Steffan, her voice sharp with disdain. "It's no wonder your wife sought other men with a husband as indifferent as you!" she spat.
Steffan's calm demeanor cracked at her words.
He stepped forward, his tone cutting. "If I react, will you take back your words? If I fix my daughter, will you punish your son for trying to harm her?"
Steffan's challenge was met with a taunt, fueling his simmering rage.
To everyone's shock, Steffan grabbed a whip hanging by the door. He whipped Magda like a madman, her pleas and tears doing nothing to stop him. Her cries only seemed to aggravate him, and he struck her harder.
The onlookers, horrified, slipped away one by one. That night marked a turning point. Steffan began frequenting taverns and docks, coming home drunk and late. Magda learned to avoid him when he was drunk because he would whip her just to see her crimson eyes glimmer with tears.
When Steffan sobered, guilt consumed him. He begged for Magda's forgiveness, sometimes even helping to bandage her wounds. Despite everything, Magda loved her father—a deeply flawed man.
-----
At fifteen, after a particularly bad incident with her Featherfield cousins, Magda met a scout from the prestigious Academy for Special Talents. The scout recognized her magical abilities and offered her a place at the Academy. Magda thought Steffan might stop her from leaving, but he surprised her.
"Go," Steffan said, pushing her toward the scout. He closed the door behind her, leaving Magda with no choice but to follow. That moment marked the beginning of her journey.
It was the first time Magda saw the capital, a vibrant and beautiful city. The Academy stood as a paragon of Imperial might, its grandeur both awe-inspiring and intimidating. The week-long journey had left her exhausted but curious.
The scout bought her first set of clothes that were solely hers and a full meal. For a moment, Magda felt as though nothing could surprise her anymore.
But she was wrong.
As she climbed the Academy steps, her thin and malnourished frame drew stares. Magda was used to being stared at for her features, but these stares felt different. Unlike the malicious looks from her village, these carried an air of scandalous curiosity.
In the room for her entrance test, hushed whispers passed among the seasoned mages acting as invigilators. One of them instructed her to place her hand on an instrument and inject mana until she felt breathless. Magda did as told, but she felt no strain, no breathlessness.
She watched the instrument's bars climb steadily, oblivious to the shock etched on the invigilators' faces.
"Impossible," someone murmured as some others ran out of the room. Their sudden departure caught Magda's attention.
"Did I do something wrong?" she wondered aloud, her voice trembling with uncertainty. The remaining invigilators were too fixated on the rising bars to answer her.
Hours passed before Magda felt even a mild strain, caused more by body aches than mana exhaustion. By then, the room was filled with spectators, including the Headmaster, who watched her intently.
The Headmaster noticed her fatigue and stepped forward. "You've done enough," he said kindly. "Step outside for now."
Magda's heart sank. "Are they going to send me away too?" she thought, her chest tightening with fear. But the Headmaster's next words surprised her.
"Get her a uniform and assign her a room," he instructed one of the staff. Magda blinked in disbelief.
The scout had warned her that the Academy's entrance tests were brutally hard and lasted a week. Yet here she was, receiving her uniform in mere hours.