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"Everything you see in front of you will one day be yours, Gemini." Her father said. She sat on his lap, looking over the Grimlands.
"Why?" She asked eagerly. Her father chuckled.
"You are my daughter, are you not?" He asked playfully. She giggled.
"I know! But why will it be mine? Why not FWhip?" She asked. Her father sighed.
"You may be twins, but you are still the eldest, even if by a few minutes." Her father said. She curled up against his chest, feeling sleepy. His white and ginger beard scratched her back.
Five years later he would die in war. And she had ran, leaving the Grimlands on her brothers' shoulders.
. . .
The cold wind and snow bit at me relentlessly. I knew I should have gone around the mountain. But, of course, I didn't. And now I was stuck in a snowstorm.
I pulled my cloak closer, shivering aggressively. I had to find shelter soon. I wouldn't last much longer out here.
It had been over five years since my father's death when I was eleven in our war against the Cod Empire. Foolish little me had run away. Now I was sixteen, and probably going to die tonight.
A sudden, fierce determination overtook me. I WAS going to survive this storm.
I stumbled along, breath heaving. It was a subtle slope, slowly draining my energy. Almost worse than a steep one. But I clenched my fists and kept walking.
Then, almost like a miracle, I saw a light through the snow. I almost cried with relief as I rushed forwards, grasping for the light.
Soon, the tower came into view. That's when I hesitated. The structures base resembled that of a Grimlands tower. But it had a roof of shining, purple crystals. My shoulders sagged. That was the light I had seen. Then I perked up. No fires were lit inside, suggesting it was abandoned and available for me to stay in to wait the storm out.
I quickly found the door and let myself in. I immediately felt warmer.
I found the fireplace, which luckily already had dry logs in. A large purple couch sat in front of it. I struck a match, and soon I had a blazing fire. After a few minutes of rubbing my hands together and blowing into them, I frowned. Why had the logs been dry?
My mind was reeling as I pulled myself up onto the couch.
I saw a mug sitting on the table. It took me a moment to realize what it was. And once I did, my heart froze. Steam was still rising off of it.
Then I heard footsteps and ragged breathing behind me. I gripped the handle of my knife, rolled off the couch, and ducked under the table.
I saw the man walk around and freeze when he saw the fire. He was wearing purple slippers, green pajama bottoms, and holding a wooden staff. His gray beard reached his waistline. He slammed it into the ground with a reverberating thud.
"Come on out, my child. I will not hurt you." He rasped. I slid backwards into the shadows. Once I was, I jumped forwards with the knife. The old man just chuckled.
"You are welcome, as long as you mean no harm. Come, my child, sit. Tell me of how you came to be in my humble abode. My name is Gandalf." He said, a look of genuine kindness in his eyes. He sat while I remained standing.
"I'm... Gem." I said reluctantly. He nodded.
"A fitting name." Gandalf said and snapped. A tray of cookies flew into his hands, causing my eyes to go wide. He offered me one. I was stunned, unable to reject it. I just held it, curiosity piqued.
"How?" I asked. He chuckled.
"Magic." He said as simply as someone would talk about the weather. I just looked at him. He sighed.
"Don't have it from where you're from?" He asked. I shook my head.
"No. It was a very... industrial kind of place." I said. He nodded, then stood again.
"How would you like to learn?" He said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"Um."
He clapped his hands together twice, and we were suddenly sitting in an office. The majority of the room was the desk, and the stone walls were lined with bookshelves. An exit without a door led across a bridge to a moon shaped structure.
I took a step back in surprise at the change of scenery. Gandalf pulled a large, black and gold tome from the shelf. He handed it to me, along with his staff.
"All you need to know is in that Deepholde. That purple book on my desk, Grimoire, is where you record what you learn. I have great faith in you, Gem of the Grimlands." He told me, stepping out onto the bridge. I frowned.
"What? Where are you going?" I asked. He looked at me over his shoulder.
"Away. I pass the torch to you now. You will do great things; I promise you that." Gandalf said.
"But what if I don't want to learn this?!" I had to yell over the wind. He gave me a wry smile.
"I know you do, daughter of the Grimlands. This is how it has always been. You will see one day. I leave the Crystal Cliffs in your capable hands, my child." He said, and in a sudden flurry of black feathers, he had turned into a Raven and started flying away.
"Wait! Come back!" I yelled after him. But he was gone, lost to the storm. I felt paralyzed. He had just left, telling me to learn magic, something I didn't even realize was real until a few minutes ago.
I stepped back into the office. It felt, strangely, like home. Like this was what I was meant to do.
So, I studied.
. . .
Three Years Later
I stood on the bridge of my tower, stroking the gray fur of my cats' head as I looked over the forest valley below me. An abandoned house sat on the cliff edge. I hadn't ever really taken the time to explore it.
It had been three years since I had begun my studies, although I wasn't able to consider myself a Wizard yet. I had a lot to learn still, and I hadn't done anything important enough to hold that label. For now, I was a mage.
The Tower sat on the edge of a cliff face, the cold stone walls lined with amethyst. A river rushed by, somehow able to force its way up the mountain only to go flying off the edge again. The Crystal Cliffs, Gandalf had called it. A fitting name.
I turned on my heel and began the hike to the valley to practice. I had never been able to figure out how the staff worked. All I knew was it was supposed to help amplify your power, but I never could figure out how to do that.
After a few minutes of walking, I reached the forest floor, my cat, who I had named Gandalf (You know why) close behind. He laid down on his side in a patch of sunlight, cleaning himself. The cherry blossom trees shed an occasional flower, making me feel at peace.
I focused on the target in front of me. Closing my eyes, I felt the wind gently blow across my skin. I reached out, willing the air to bend to my control. The wind picked up, and Gandalf gave a surprised meow. I didn't let it distract me.
I stuck my arm forwards, breathing in and out. In. Out.
Once the wind reached its zenith, I willed it forwards.
The sudden sound of a hurricane blasted my ears. I gasped, opening my eyes. A roaring tempest blew around me. Gandalf hissed, running up to me. The trees rocked, threatening to fall at any moment. My cloak fluttered around me. The target had been ripped to shreds by the hurricane force winds.
I stood in the eye of a hurricane. I had summoned one in the middle of a landlocked area.
Cursing, I stuck both arms out and willed the storm to dissipate. It didn't.
Panicking, I flung my arms, willing it to blow away instead. Sweat dripped down my brow from the sheer concentration of the spell. My arms trembled, and my legs felt weak.
With a shout, I put all my energy into a massive surge of wind.
The hurricane suddenly blasted away, its clouds flinging in every direction at hundreds of miles an hour. I fell to my knees, completely drained. Gandalf pawed at my shoulder, concerned.
I shakily rose to my feet, using a tree as support. I smiled slightly, scooping Gandalf up with one arm.
Then I heard something screaming.
. . .
I grabbed a branch as a walking stick, looking up to the sky. Gandalf wiggled out of my arms in protest.
High above, I could see a person with metal red wings falling from the sky, a flurry of all sorts of colorful words streaming from his mouth.
I said a word I hadn't said since I had almost been kidnapped in Mythland when I was fifteen.
Raising my arm, I cast a purple ball of energy at the falling man, catching him right before he plowed into the ground with a mighty thud.
Gandalf immediately scurried over to him, meowing at the guy like him falling from the sky was the biggest inconvenience to his little cat life ever. I hobbled over.
The man had messy ginger hair, blue eyes that shined with mischief, a black bomber jacket, a white undershirt, dark brown cargo jeans, and dark grey combat boots. He waved Gandalf off, causing the small silver cat to hiss.
"Darn cat..." He growled. I marched up to him.
"What was THAT?! You could have gotten us BOTH killed!" I yelled at him. He stood, brushing dirt off himself.
"I'm sorry, princess, but I was a little busy trying not to die!" He snapped, turning around. He frowned when he saw me.
"Gem?" He asked, shocked. I narrowed my eyes. Then I realized who had just fallen into my valley.
"Fwhip!" I cried, launching myself into my brother's arms. He took a step back in surprise.
"Gem...? What? You're alive?" He said softly. I held back tears.
"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have run away." I said. He let me go.
"You were proclaimed dead. How long have you been here? What are you wearing?" He laughed.
"Three years now." I responded. He hugged me again. This time I broke down.
I had found my brother.