The days passed quickly in Rouse Palace. Elizabeth did not leave her chambers even once. It wasn't out of fear of running into the princes—she knew they posed no immediate danger for now—nor was it because of the Council, with whom she had reached a tacit agreement of non-aggression. Her seclusion had a far more ambitious purpose: training.
She needed to understand how one of her other versions had communicated with her. After all, one Elizabeth had managed to break through the veil of time or space to warn her. If magic existed in this world—and it did—then it had to be possible to contact her memories, protect them… or at least prevent them from being erased.
She tried everything she could think of. First, transcendental meditation. Then, visualization techniques, guided breathing, and even yoga poses. She sat for hours with her eyes closed, waiting to hear a voice, a vibration… nothing. She tried acting like a "magical girl": shouting made-up phrases with flamboyant names, extending her arms to the sky, wishing lightning would shoot from her fingers. She invented spells like she was in a fantasy anime.
And, as expected, absolutely nothing happened.
"Do I really have no talent for magic?" she grumbled.
But that wasn't true. She knew it. In one of her memories, she had felt a strange energy coursing through her hands. Brief. Intense. And then… darkness. The rest of the memory was completely blocked.
And then she remembered.
"I'm the princess!" she exclaimed aloud, leaping to her feet.
Of course. As princess, she had access to the most advanced magical archives of her kingdom, to all the ancient texts and the greatest masters. Why waste time improvising like an amateur witch when she could learn from the most illustrious sages?
Without hesitation, she summoned her smartest maid and gave clear instructions:
"Bring me a true scholar of magic. Someone who can answer my questions… directly."
It didn't take long. Less than an hour later, the door to her salon opened softly, and in walked a man of distinguished bearing, with perfectly groomed gray hair and beard, and bright red eyes like ancient rubies. He was escorted by a guard in a black cape, Sir Valdur, and followed by two palace maids. The protocol was strict: no man could be alone with the princess without the presence of at least one guard and one lady-in-waiting.
The old man gave an elegant bow.
"Your Highness," he greeted with a deep, calm voice. "I have come at your summons, as instructed."
"Thank you very much, great sage," Elizabeth replied, wearing the best smile she could fake.
In truth, she had no idea who the man was. He looked wise… but he could just as well have been the music teacher.
"How rude of me," the old man said, naturally sensing her confusion. "It is only fair that Your Highness may not recognize me. I am Vincent Roseauth, Director of the Royal Magical University. A five-star level master sorcerer."
Elizabeth swallowed hard.
It was inexcusable for a princess not to know who the director of the magical university was—one of the most important figures in the kingdom.
She gave a brief bow in apology.
"I beg your forgiveness for my ignorance, great master Vincent Roseauth."
"Oh heavens, no, Your Highness," he replied with a nervous smile. "Please, do not bow to this old man. That would certainly break protocol. Tell me, princess… how may I serve you?"
"I wish for you to help initiate me into magic."
The old man furrowed his brow, surprised.
That request wasn't just unexpected. It was nearly unthinkable. Elizabeth had refused formal magical education since reaching the appropriate age. As the only child of the deceased sovereigns, her will was law. No one could force her to take classes if she didn't want to.
What had caused this sudden change of heart?
"Your Highness… while the royal family possesses extraordinary magical talent, this is not a science learned in a matter of days. And your pilgrimage begins in a week. I'm afraid there wouldn't be time to master even the most basic concepts."
He was right. Absolutely. A real problem.
"Why have all the Elizabeths been so lazy and useless?" she thought bitterly, clenching her teeth.
She took a deep breath. She couldn't give up so easily. There was always a solution. Always.
"Of course, I would love to learn directly from the greatest magic master in the kingdom," she said with a persuasive smile. "But I understand you can't leave the university for three years… Is there anyone competent who could be my private tutor during the journey?"
The old man blinked. The princess… truly wanted to learn magic.
Vincent remembered her father. And her father's father. He had been teacher to both. His best friend and almost brother had been Elizabeth's great-grandfather. Technically, though she didn't know it, he was her great-uncle.
The princess's gaze was no longer that of a spoiled child. It was mature, determined. Serenely resolved.
The old man smiled.
And then, to everyone's surprise, he knelt before her.
"I, Vincent Roseauth, Director of the Royal Magical University of Aurelthane, would be honored to accompany you on your pilgrimage. I will be your tutor for these three years, if you will allow it."
Elizabeth was speechless.
Just like that? The greatest mage in the kingdom was going to accompany her?
He wasn't a bodyguard… but having a sorcerer of his level by her side was an advantage she couldn't waste.
"Thank you very much, Master Vincent. I am truly honored by your decision. Would it be too much trouble… if we began immediately?"
"Immediately?" he asked, curious and amused.
"Yes. I'm truly eager to learn."
Vincent adjusted his robe, clearly pleased.
"Very well, let us begin with the basics. Tell me, what do you currently know about magic?"
"Well… magic is the world's energy source. It drives industry, the economy, and everything depends on our precious Blood Stones."
The old man slowly nodded, forcing a smile.
"Yes… I suppose that's something," he murmured, disappointed. "Allow me to start again from the very foundation."
Vincent stood tall with solemnity and, in a calm voice, began his lesson:
"There are three main schools of magic: amplification magic, elemental magic, and modification magic. There is also a fourth type called unclassified magic, but that… is more delicate territory."
Elizabeth straightened in her seat, alert. Her mind absorbed every word like water in the desert.
Vincent noticed her concentration and smiled. He continued:
"Elemental magic, on the other hand, governs the natural forces: fire, water, air, earth... even time, gravity, and other fundamental laws of our world. To control it, mages use the Veda Codes: ancient words, enchanted formulas, precise invocations that alter reality."
"And if you mess up a code?" Eliza asked, frowning.
"The result is... unpredictable. And usually disastrous. A syntax error can cause anything from uncontrolled explosions to the reversal of a magical law. Also," he added seriously, "this magic demands a prodigious mind. To use it effectively, you must be able to process a massive amount of information in real time. A single mistake... and you could self-destruct."
"So... only geniuses can use it."
"Yes. And it also requires a magical battery: vital energy from the user or another source. It's versatile, powerful... but also the longest and hardest path."
Eliza nodded. Her face reflected genuine interest, a spark that hadn't been seen in her before. As if, suddenly, magic was calling to her from deep within her blood.
Vincent, encouraged, continued enthusiastically:
"And finally, the most feared: modification magic. This can alter anything, even the very laws of nature. Rewrite existence. Change the flow of time. Turn stone into flesh, shadow into light..."
"So it's like alchemy?" Eliza asked.
"Alchemy is just one branch. This magic goes much further. However, it comes at a very high cost: it consumes living souls as fuel. Usually, those of non-human races or animals. For that reason, it's highly regulated and considered dangerous."
"And still it's not banned?"
"No. Because it can be useful. Very useful. Though only high-ranking agents, authorized modifiers, can use it. They must take unbreakable oaths... and are constantly monitored."
Elizabeth shivered. That magic... was it the one being used to erase her memories?
Vincent let a few seconds pass so she could digest the information, then continued:
"Now then, all these magics can be used for offense or defense. Magic is neither good nor bad. It's just power. And the one who wields it decides how to use it."
"I understand…" murmured Eliza. "And what about unclassified magic?"
"Ah, that…" Vincent replied with a tenser smile. "We call it that because it doesn't fit into any category. They're mixtures, hybrids, inventions of secret groups. The magical elites of each kingdom study it in private, guarding their discoveries under lock and key. It's what is taught only to a few... to those we consider heirs of hidden knowledge."
"I see. So... how are mages classified?"
Vincent seemed pleased with the question.
"There are three official levels... and a fourth, rarely mentioned:
Awakened: people who are just beginning to sense and manipulate magic. Usually under 300 years old. Many spend centuries mastering the basics.
Initiates: competent mages. They've mastered one type of magic fluently. They are powerful, versatile. The five princes, for example, are Initiates.
Masters: they dominate two or more types of magic with skill. They are considered national treasures.
Illuminated: beings who transcend all rules. One is born every 10,000 or 20,000 years. They can use magic without suffering its consequences. Their power is unmatched. They are the ones who rewrite history, change eras, and decide the fate of kingdoms."
Eliza felt the air stop. Her ancestor... one of the first kings of Aurelthane... had he been an Illuminated?
"An Illuminated is like... a god?"
"You could say so. If one appeared today in another kingdom... we would simply surrender the crown."
Elizabeth remained silent, her eyes fixed on the carpet, feeling the sage's words still echoing inside her. An Illuminated... one every ten thousand years. Without consequences. Without limits. A part of her wondered if this had something to do with what was happening to her. The voices. The vanishing memories.
"You mentioned you are a Five-Star Master," Eliza asked, as if trying to return to solid ground. "What exactly does that mean?"
Vincent smiled, with restrained modesty.
"The stars are decorations awarded for magical discoveries, theoretical contributions, research achievements, or extraordinary services to the nation. Technically, anyone can earn them, even an Awakened... though no one has ever done so from that level," he laughed softly.
"So... you've made unimaginable contributions?"
"I've done what I could in my lucid years," replied the master, with a nostalgic look. "My greatest contribution wasn't a new spell or a brilliant theory. It was teaching thousands of young people to understand the power flowing through their veins. Training entire generations of mages, educating leaders, healing wars... and now," he said with a light bow, "having the honor of instructing you."
Elizabeth felt a strange blend of gratitude and responsibility. The old mage before her wasn't just a scholar—he was a living remnant of a forgotten era, a survivor of the Thousand-Year War. A symbol of knowledge who had now chosen to entrust her with the future.
A soft knock at the door interrupted the moment.
The palace butler, dressed in a purple jacket with golden trims, entered with a formal bow.
—Your Highness, pardon the interruption. Your birthday celebration is ready to begin. The noble families are already gathered in the Grand Hall, awaiting your entrance.
Elizabeth stood gracefully, though her mind was far from protocol.
—Thank you. I'll be there shortly —she replied.
Then she turned to Vincent, with a faint smile.
—Master, it will be an honor to learn from someone as wise as you. I hope you don't mind if we continue tomorrow where we left off.
—No, Your Highness. The honor is all mine —he replied with a deep bow.
Eliza turned, her gown swaying gently behind her as she walked toward her dressing table. Her maid already awaited her with a new gown: a deep emerald model adorned with enchanted pearls that floated like fireflies around the fabric—ready to make her the center of the kingdom.
As she prepared, her mind kept circling one word: Enlightened.
What if she not only inherited the blood of one… but also their power?
The palace bells chimed softly, like a distant echo amidst the enchanted music drifting through the hallways. Elizabeth advanced slowly toward the entrance of the Grand Hall, flanked by two handmaidens adjusting the folds of her enchanted dress with every step. Sir Veldora followed close behind, a shadow of unyielding vigilance.
As she crossed the massive double doors, everyone in attendance stood up. Hundreds of nobles and representatives from the great houses watched in reverent silence. Even the princes—scattered across the flanks of the hall—ceased all conversation to fix their gaze upon the young heiress.
The emerald gown hugged her figure as if nature itself had woven the fabric. The floating pearls shimmered faintly, like the spirits of the stars had gathered to escort her.
Yet that silence was not only admiration. It was vigilance.
Because everyone knew—everyone sensed—that what was at stake was not merely a crown.
Elizabeth climbed the steps of the central throne. She did not sit yet. She turned gracefully, her face serene, and raised her voice with natural authority:
—Thank you all for attending this celebration. Today I turn fourteen... and with it, the selection period officially begins. I am certain this will be a fair, noble… and revealing process.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
She smiled inwardly. She would not tell them yet what she had learned. She would not reveal her search for the other Elizabeths. Nor that someone was hunting her memories.
Not yet.
But she had made her decision.
She would not be just a decorative princess. She would not be another pawn on the board. She had begun to learn, to act, to prepare.
And when that tournament begins…When each kingdom receives her…When the Ether stirs…
They will realize that this is not the Elizabeth from their history books.She is another.She is the one who will rewrite the ending.