Trinity of Magic

High among the towering branches of the World Tree, nestled within the verdant crown of the largest tree in existence, stood a grand residence. Unlike structures carved from wood or built upon the boughs, this palace seemed to have grown as an extension of the tree itself, woven seamlessly into its ancient form, as natural as its very roots.

Within its halls, a gathering of great significance was taking place. An ancestor of one of the oldest elven bloodlines had returned, gracing her descendants with a rare visit—an event that occurred only a handful of times each century.

For the younger elves, this gathering represented one of the few opportunities to stand before their revered elder and prove themselves worthy of her attention. Lyriel found herself among them, though she sat about as far away from their honored guest as possible. In the rigid hierarchy of elven society, this was one of the only chances to rise beyond their current station, and the competition for the closest seats had been as fierce as could be.

A competition Lyriel had lost miserably.

“Honored ancestor, favored of Yggdrasil, have you heard of the happenings in the plains?” One of the girls, as beautiful as a flower, asked from close to the front.

The ancestor, surrounded by a circle of eager young girls, turned to the excited speaker with a gentle, motherly smile. It was the first time many of the girls had seen this legendary figure in person. Though she had lived for countless centuries, time had left no mark upon her—her face was unlined, her beauty undiminished, as if she had stepped out of legend itself.

At first glance, she was nearly indistinguishable from the youthful elves around her. Yet, in her eyes lay the first sign of her true nature. Where the bright-eyed girls brimmed with curiosity and excitement, the ancestors’ gaze held an unfathomable depth, a stillness that seemed to stretch across the ages.

The second distinction was in the way she carried herself. Every movement was infused with effortless grace, a quiet poise absent from her younger kin. It was the bearing of one who had seen the rise and fall of nations, who had weathered storms that could break lesser beings.

It was that composure that Lyriel envied above everything else. If only she possessed a fraction of the ancestor’s temperament…

“Which happenings are you referring to, child?” the ancestor asked, her voice warm yet measured.

Lyriel couldn’t help but inwardly smirk at the form of address. Every single one of the gathered girls knew the name of their ancestor—Selvanna Goldleaf—but it was abundantly clear that Selvanna herself hadn’t bothered to learn the names of any of the girls around her. And why would she? They were unlikely to offer anything of true value. Most would inevitably fade into mediocrity, just as they always did in these gatherings.

Though, that was something she would never dare to voice aloud.

“I heard it said that the harvest by the half-bloods is going to be especially abundant this year. The Earth Mother must be blessing us,” the young girl replied, her eyes bright.

Selvanna nodded lightly, but didn’t comment further. However, that seemed enough to please the energetic girl.

Lyriel saw the truth, however. Their ancestor had likely already dismissed the girl from consideration. With a single sentence, the young elf had revealed herself a fool.

To refer to those of mixed heritage as half-bloods might be acceptable in some circles, but to use the term behind closed doors? It only showed how thoroughly she had absorbed the propaganda. Moreover, the Earth Mother’s supposed blessing was clearly not at work either. Anyone with half a mind could see that the bountiful harvest was the result of the lowlanders’ new seeding techniques, not divine favor.

“Honored ancestor, crown of creation, have you heard the latest news from the far east?” another girl called out.

Selvanna Goldleaf turned to face the new speaker and her smile seemed a touch more sincere than usual.

It was a sight that made Lyriel sigh inwardly. Crown of creation, she had called her? It was an excessive compliment, even for an ancestor. Yet, it was clear that the creative address had at least managed to amuse the elder, something Lyriel could never bring herself to do. She was simply no good at finding the right words or tone to make flattery sound sincere, even if she could bring herself to voice it.

“Are you referring to the war?” Selvanna asked, her voice calm but inquisitive.

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes alight with excitement. “I’ve heard that the Empire is being pushed back. Now, even the nations who didn’t want to get involved initially are sending troops.”

Selvanna tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And what do you make of these developments?” she asked, her gaze steady on the girl.

Lyriel also sharpened her ears, focusing intently. This was a topic of widespread interest among the elves, even those in the highest echelons of their society. More importantly, it presented a perfect opportunity to gauge the minds of the gathered girls.

The girl took a moment to consider the question carefully, no doubt aware that Selvanna’s inquiry was a test. After a brief pause, she spoke, her voice confident. ”I think it’s shameful,” she said. ”It exposes the base nature of human leadership.”

Selvanna didn’t react, keeping her expression neutral. “In what way?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The girl didn’t hesitate. “Though they were allied from the start, many nations hesitated to send aid when the war seemed perilous. However, now that victory is within reach, everyone is flocking to the battlefield like vultures to a carcass. It’s clear they’re motivated by the spoils of war, rather than any true desire to help.”

Lyriel bit her lips, her mind turning over the response. The girl had shown some insight, but had failed to see beyond the obvious. Even a child could have deduced this much. How could this answer be enough to please the ancestor?

As expected, Selvanna swept her gaze over the dozens of eager faces gathered before her, opening the question to the room. “Does anyone have something to add?”

A heavy silence descended. In this setting, no one dared speak carelessly; second chances were a rarity.

For a moment, Lyriel considered speaking up. She actually had something of value to contribute—an original conjecture of her own design. It had come to her not long ago, and ever since, it had lingered in her mind, refusing to be dismissed. The idea had emerged after challenging the long-held elven belief in their inherent superiority, leading her to a conclusion that, while obvious, had been overlooked by everyone else.

Yet, despite her certainty, she knew better than to voice her opinion. This meeting wasn’t meant for the likes of her. She had never been able to compete with the other girls, her logic drowned out by the louder voices of the majority or silenced by the threat of violence.

She could never win, and today... today would be no different.

But then, as her eyes met those of the revered ancestor, something stirred within her. It was as if a current ran through her, awakening a strength she hadn’t realized she possessed. Before she even fully understood what was happening, the words were already spilling from her lips.

“I…” she began, her voice wavering slightly. “I wonder what the Empire stands to gain by allowing this situation to continue…”

A hushed murmur swept through the room as all eyes turned toward Selvanna, eagerly awaiting her response to the perplexing statement. Meanwhile, Lyriel’s gaze dropped. By the great spirit of the Earth, what had she done?! What had come over her?

Already, she could hear the dismissive murmurs around her, discussing her foolish outburst.

The ancestor leaned forward, her gaze fixed intently on the unremarkable girl in the back of the room, her full attention seemingly captured by her.

“Explain,” she said.

When Lyriel’s gaze locked with the ancestor’s once more, it felt as though an invisible current surged through her, drawing her in as if she were being pulled into the depths of a bottomless abyss. The tranquil blue of Selvanna’s eyes seemed to absorb everything in its path. Sweat began to form at the back of her neck, trickling down her spine, dampening the fabric of her silken robes.

Yet, amid the rising tension, something else stirred within her—a strange and unfamiliar strength. It was the courage of an animal cornered, desperate and determined to survive. In that moment, she understood with unmistakable clarity that her fate hung in the balance. For better or for worse, the course of her future would be determined by her next words.

“I just… think that…” she started haltingly, but firmed up a moment later. “It’s not very likely the Emperor didn’t foresee this possibility when he started a war. He must have made preparations for this very situation long ago.”

“Why do you think so?” Selvanna pressed, her gaze unwavering, as if daring her to say more, to go even further.

Lyriel hesitated, her mind racing as she searched for the right words. She knew the answer—it was simple, really. But speaking it aloud was another matter.

“Because...” she began, her voice almost faltering as she struggled to gather her confidence, “…he is the smartest being in the world. To assume anything less from him would be the height of arrogance.”

“Preposterous!” one of the others cried out, her voice sharp with disbelief.

The rest quickly followed, their protests rising in chorus. Even those who remained silent either shook their heads or simply looked away. It was an absurd statement to make. How could a human possibly be considered superior to the entire elven race?

The ancestor, however, leaned back in her seat, a small, approving smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With a simple motion of her hand, she silenced the gathering, the room falling into immediate stillness. “What is your name, child?”

“…Lyriel,” she replied, the word slipping from her lips like a whisper, as though it drained the last of her strength.

“Lyriel, Lyriel, Lyriel…” Selvanna repeated the name thrice, letting the sound of it linger in the air. “Tell me, child, why are you sitting so far back?”

Lyriel’s gaze flickered to the girls in the front—the ones who had made it abundantly clear what would happen if she dared to step out of line. For a fleeting moment, the idea of exposing their actions crossed her mind, but it vanished just as quickly. She knew better than to strike with a borrowed hand.

“It seems I was too late to secure a seat at the front,” Lyriel said, the words coming out smoothly, much to the visible relief of the perpetrators.

“I see,” Selvanna said, her voice steady and calm, though it was clear the subtle actions had not escaped her notice. “Try to be on time in the future.”

Lyriel nodded eagerly, like a bird pecking at grain. It was unbelievable. Out of all the gathered girls, she alone had managed to catch the ancestor’s attention—had even received a measure of praise. The turn of events was so far removed from her expectations that her mind struggled to keep up.

Her lips, so often set in a perpetual frown, twitched upward now and then, betraying the elation she could barely contain. Not even the jealous, hostile glances directed her way could dim the triumph thrumming in her chest.

What could they do to her now? Mock her? Beat her? Scorn her? What did any of it matter in the face of what she had accomplished today? One word from the ancestor held more weight than decades of scheming and flattery.

Slowly, the other girls seemed to grasp the futility of their actions. Their attention shifted back to the ancestor, their minds working furiously. If they couldn’t drag Lyriel down, then there was only one path left—to elevate themselves to her level.

Easier said than done.

Among all the topics discussed, none seemed to truly capture the ancestor’s interest. Though she engaged politely, it was clear that she found little value in the substance of their words. Trade, magic, innovations, gossip—no matter what news the eager girls presented, Selvanna remained unmoved, her expression betraying only mild curiosity at best.

That was until one girl dared to speak a name—one known to all, yet spoken only in hushed murmurs.

“…My father recently corresponded with Cassius Leafless,” she blurted out.

Silence fell like a blade. Even Lyriel held her breath. This… was bold. Reckless, even.

Cassius Leafless. His very name was a wound left to fester, a bitter stain on the pride of the elders. A genius among elves, exiled by their own decree—a decision that had long since soured into a source of frustration. Every triumph he achieved outside their lands was another blow to their authority, another reminder of their failure.

Lyriel, like many others, believed his exile had been a mistake. But she, like everyone else, was wise enough never to say so aloud—not even in private.

To everyone’s surprise, Selvanna did not react with anger or disdain at the mention of that name. Instead, the corners of her mouth lifted into a fond smile.

“Cassius…” she murmured, her gaze settling on the girl who had dared to speak it. “Tell me, what has that child been up to lately? Is he still fooling around with that Titan girl?”