Veni Vidi Vici
April 21, 2105
The afternoon sun poured gently over the quiet town of Eloria, where the air always smelled faintly of rain and jasmine.
Streets shimmered with a lazy golden light, and the soft hum of life drifted through the air — a bicycle bell, the flutter of leaves, the low murmur of distant conversation.
On a small café terrace tucked between ivy-covered buildings, a girl sat alone, her fingers tracing circles on the rim of her cup, her name is Zanaria, she wasn’t waiting for anyone — not yet — but something about the stillness felt different today, as if the world itself was quietly holding its breath, waiting for a story to begin.
The bell above the door sang softly as it opened, its melody weaving through the quiet hum of the afternoon. Zana paused, her fingers still around her teacup, and lifted her gaze from the worn pages of her spell book. A slow smile touched her lips when she saw him—Thrain, her childhood best friend, approaching her table and sitting across from her, putting his own book on the smooth and soft surface of the table.
He leaned casually against the frame, that same familiar grin tugging at his lips.
He said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on her
Thrain
“Still stuck in practicing spells again?”
Zana laughed, a quiet, knowing sound that filled the space between them.
Zanaria
“Some of us actually improve with practice”
She said, setting her cup down.
Zanaria
“You, on the other hand, still rely on charm to get by.”
Thrain chuckled, leaning closer, his boots soft against the wooden floor of the cafe.
Thrain
“It seems to work every time.”
She rolled her eyes—but couldn’t quite hide the smile that followed after hearing the slightly flirty response,
Zanaria
"Really? On who exactly?"
Thrain paused, the one word slipping out before he could stop it. His grin faltered for just a second, replaced by something softer—something he couldn’t quite name.
Zana tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
Zanaria
“Me…? what do you mean?”
She asked gently, though a faint warmth crept into her cheeks.
He hesitated, eyes tracing the way the afternoon light caught in her hair.
Thrain
“You haven’t changed much,”
He said finally, his voice low.
Thrain
“Still here, surrounded by books and spells… like time never touched you.”
Zana smiled, though there was a hint of melancholy in it.
Zanaria
“Maybe time just learned to move slower here.”
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. The quiet between them felt fragile—like a spell itself, holding them in a moment neither wanted to break.
May 1, 2105
(Imagine theres a cauldron)
She loved brewing potions like how she loved admiring him secretly.
The sun had begun to sink, painting the sky in soft gold and lilac. The little shop glowed with the warmth of candlelight, the scent of herbs and old parchment drifting through the air.
Thrain leaned over the counter, watching as Zana carefully stirred something glowing faintly in a glass vial. The mixture shimmered like liquid starlight.
Thrain
“You still make potions the same way,”
He said, his tone somewhere between admiration and disbelief.
Thrain
“No shortcuts. No modern charms.”
Zanaria
“Some things are better done by hand,”
Zanaria
“Even if they take longer.”
Thrain
“You always did like doing things the hard way.”
She finally glanced at him then, her eyes catching the light.
Zanaria
“And you always liked distracting me while I worked.”
Thrain
“Maybe I just missed watching you lose focus.”
Zana’s hand stilled, her lips
curving into the faintest smile she had ever used,
Zanaria
“You might end up in my next spell.”
Thrain laughed, though there was something in his gaze—something warm, a little wistful—that didn’t fade as quickly this time.
Outside, the wind whispered against the windows, carrying the promise of something stirring again—something neither of them were ready to name just yet. Thrain then suddenly leaned in, brushing away the stray hair that had fallen on Zana's face, pulling it back behind her long elf ears.
Thrain
“I don't mind being under your spell.., After all, I'm already in it.. ”
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