The morning sun poured through the cracks in the wooden shutters, casting delicate golden beams across the cool stone floor. In the heart of the ancient forest, far from the nearest village, stood a crooked tower, its weathered stones leaning ever so slightly to the left, as if it were caught in a perpetual state of contemplation. At its base, nestled beside a vibrant garden filled with medicinal herbs and glowing mushrooms, was a quaint cottage. Inside that cottage, a girl stirred awake in the gentle embrace of dawn.
"Mmgh... five more minutes..."
A hand emerged from beneath the soft, patchwork blanket, lazily swatting at a shimmering crystal that floated just out of reach, pulsing with a soft chime every five seconds. This enchanted little nuisance had clearly been designed with the cruel intent of tormenting her.
"If I had magic," the girl muttered as she wrestled with the folds of her blanket, her eyes still closed, "you'd be fried by now."
Her name was Zeppelin Isa Okta Nur Indah Sari, though thankfully, most simply called her Zepp. A sixteen years old, she was an apprentice, her smooth, short black hair framing her face like a halo, and her warm, dark eyes, windows to her kind spirit, held a gentle glow… except when they didn't.
Every now and then, and only when certain no one was watching, those eyes flickered with a crimson glimmer. Just for an instant. Just long enough to remind her that something deep within her was decidedly not normal.
Once she finally got up and dressed, Zepp moved through the cozy kitchen with the confidence of someone who had performed these tasks countless times before. Her plain white tunic fit snugly against her form, especially across her chest. She gracefully tied up her satchel, her movements a fluid dance of routine.
She glanced in the mirror, and a wave of relief washed over her as she saw her eyes were black again.
Good.
Later that morning, she was sweeping the path near the garden, her heart warmed by the familiar chorus of forest birds flitting around her. A gentle joy filled her chest as she greeted them with a wave. Zepp was naturally friendly, perhaps overly so, at least in her master's eyes. She often trekked to the nearby village bearing treats, guided lost travelers to safety, and listened intently to the ramblings of elders who reminisced about the "golden days" of the kingdom. The villagers recognized her; they liked her.
And she liked them just as fiercely.
Not that her master approved of her social interactions. Speaking of which...
"You're doing it wrong again," came the voice from above, cutting through the morning stillness.
Zepp glanced up with a resigned sigh. There floated Selva, her master, upside down, lost in a meditative trance while suspended in midair as if gravity were merely a suggestion.
"It's sweeping, Master," Zepp replied, her gentle smile unwavering. "There's no wrong way to sweep."
"You're using a southward stroke. Eastward encourages the flow of mana."
Zepp tilted her head in confusion. "Even if I don't have magic?"
"Spirits hear everything," Selva replied, her tone deadpan and unwavering.
"Then I hope they heard my sigh just now," Zepp murmured, a hint of mischief in her voice.
Still, she continued her sweeping. Even though Selva was strange, strict, and vague about everything including the seal on Zepp's magic, she was family, the only family Zepp had ever known.
Sometimes, as she drifted into slumber, she dreamt of a boy, warm and familiar, yet achingly unknown. A twin, perhaps. Someone she had been separated from long ago. But dreams, she reminded herself, were simply dreams. At least… for now.
BANG!
The door to the tower exploded open, and Selva descended like a scowling storm cloud, her presence commanding and charged.
"Errand. You're going."
Zepp blinked in surprise. "The village again?"
"They need nightshade root and blood lily petals. And I'm busy."
"By busy, you mean..."
"...making tea and cursing birds, yes."
With a giggle, Zepp grabbed her satchel. "Alright. I'll head out now. Should I stop by the bakery?"
"You always do."
"Can't help it if Mr. Harth bakes with love."
Selva grunted in response. "Just don't charm half the village again."
"Hey! I'm just nice!"
"You're too nice. Someday, someone will try to take advantage of that."
Zepp paused for a moment at the door, her smile fading, if only for an instant.
"...If they do," she said softly, her gaze steady, "I'll handle it."
Selva watched her depart, eyes narrowing with concern.
If only Zepp knew what truly slumbered within her.