A Secret World of Magic Book 1: The Prodigy

Just survive… keep walking… you have to.

The forest ground beneath me seemed to hate me.

Every step I took was heavier than the last.

I had tripped and fallen so many times, I couldn’t even feel my own hands anymore.

Each impact made me cry and forced me to run even faster.

Something was hunting me—the forest animals stiffened, ears twitching toward the shadows.

I felt its searching… like fingers sliding through the leaves.

I pressed my palms to my ribs, proof I hadn’t already dissolved.

Every time I thought of my grandparents, my heart shattered into a thousand shards.

Now, I couldn’t even cry.

What the hell was happening? Had I gone mad?

Maybe this was just another nightmare and I’d wake up gasping any second.

But the pain flaring with every step told me otherwise.

No dream ever burned like this.

I had been on the run for so long.

The exhaustion only made it harder to walk, because I’d been unable to run for some time now.

Every breath I took was difficult, my lungs burning, unable to breathe.

And my body felt so strange, like an empty shell wandering through the night.

Just keep walking, after all, they’re dead because of you!

The forest hissed.

I spun around.

My eyes focused on the surroundings… listening to noises.

All I saw was darkness, and for the first time in my life, I was glad to be engulfed by it.

There was no one behind me… no one was following me.

I fled for hours without a proper break.

Still in my hand was the envelope my Grandmother had given me a few hours ago, as she pushed me to the door.

“Run, Iris… Run as fast as you can. Everything you need to know is in this letter… and do not turn around. When you’re safe, open the letter and read it. Follow the instructions… We love you,” cried Grandmother.

I turned to Pops, a gentle smile as he nodded, right before his eyes got a purple glow.

His violet glow petrified me.

This soft, light lent him something magical; he was no longer just the familiar grandfather.

A being from the beyond.

The color shimmered like the last hint of a sunset reflected in his eyes, warm yet mysterious.

His whole being seemed to transform, his features appearing more noble, dignified.

It was as if he had suddenly assumed the wisdom and grace of a being who walks between worlds.

His violet eyes held unspoken tales… of forgotten worlds, star-whispered secrets, and a shield I’d never seen.

Light pooled in these orbs—a dawn sealed in amethyst.

This gaze was timeless, as if it had lived through centuries and yet preserved every detail of the world with a childlike curiosity.

It was a look that made me feel both humble and safe… a power in those eyes that didn’t command, but rather protected.

I was surprised and scared, my eyes wide, staring at my grandfather.

But Grandma pushed me through the door and started mumbling some words.

Not unfamiliar words. Unhuman.

I felt warmth around my body and saw mist that embraced me.

For a fleeting moment, my body grew weightless, suspended like mist, before the warmth and lightness dissolved into nothing.

When I realized that I was no longer in my family home, but somewhere in the middle of the forest, I gasped.

Was this a dream?

The man I had dreams about since I was a little girl.

They both stayed behind to keep me alive, giving me a chance to run away and save myself.

Did I truly watch them die?

Just keep walking… Grandma and Pops would want it.

I was tired, hungry, and scared.

Rain soaked my clothes, and my tangled hair still carried the dirt and leaves from last night’s desperate escape through the forest.

I was running away, like a coward, crying and scared.

But Grandma forced me to leave… she insisted on taking the letter, and run away.

I should have stayed… even if it meant for me to die. I owed it to them!

But it was impossible.

After running away for hours, I found myself on unknown ground.

That’s good, isn’t it?

That meant I had escaped far enough to be able to rest. At least for a while.

For the first time in a very long time, I seemed to come across a residential area.

I found a hiding place in a warehouse somewhere far away from people.

I needed to find a phone—the police must be searching for me by now. But how the hell was I going to explain all of this to them?

The building stood there like a forgotten colossus, its windows blinded by dust and darkness.

As I pushed it open, the front door squeaked like a stifled scream.

Inside, the air was thick with mustiness and the sweet smell of decayed goods.

Shelves, crooked and worm-eaten, were lined up in endless aisles, filled with things that no one needed anymore.

Broken dolls with staring glass eyes, faded clothes hanging from the racks like ghostly shells.

Water was dripping somewhere, a slow, irregular heartbeat.

I thought I heard footsteps lost between the aisles, but when I turned around, there was only silence and the feeling of being watched.

By the shadows between the shelves.

From the empty eyes of the mannequins.

From the warehouse itself, breathing as if it were alive.

I collapsed on the floor crying and curled up against the cold wall.

I only needed half an hour of rest. Just to regain some strength, so that I could continue.

But I was too tired, and with my eyes closed I drifted away.

I woke up in terrible fear when I realized it wasn’t a dream. Everything that happened to me last night.

I was still confused and scared, thinking about the events that happened.

I wasn’t dreaming… I saw it, didn’t I?

It was as if someone pulled the ground out from under my feet when I realized. My grandmother used charms…

I didn’t know much about my parents; I only heard nice things from Grandma and Pops.

My parents loved each other a lot and were very happy when I was born.

But unfortunately, they died in a car accident, and so my grandparents took over the care of me.

The only thing I had from my mother and father was a picture.

I often looked at it, and I quickly realized that I did look more like my mother.

She seemed like a nice woman, her long black hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, as if shaped by the night wind itself.

Each curl seemed to refract the light differently, sometimes deep as ebony, sometimes with a hint of dark purple, as if she carried a secret in her shadow.

Her eyes were wide and green… not the flashy green, but the warm, vivid green of moss-covered stones, of forests that time had forgotten.

I wished I had more memories of my mom.

I missed her so much in my life, just like my father.

My grandparents cared for me lovingly, as if I were the most important thing in their lives.

But still, I felt empty.

I never stood out and we lived a modest and very boring life.

During school I never had friends; I was quite lonely.

Grandmother always told me, “One day you will find real friends who are just like you.”

After finishing school I found a job and took care of them.

I avoided people and I didn’t socialize, because I knew that others would consider me strange.

A girl who heard voices from a young age and had the strangest dreams.

I was not the kind of girl that people surrounded themselves with.

And I highly doubted they wouldn’t think I was crazy, and believe any of the things I could tell them about my creepy dreams.

Grandmother was the only one who believed me.

I told her about my dreams.

Sometimes she seemed a little worried.

But I would be too, if someone told me they talked to strangers in their dreams since childhood.

Last night, as I walked in from work, the sound of Grandma and Pops’ raised voices could be heard from the hallway.

The sound of their arguing rooted me to the spot, keys still dangling from my fingers.

“We won’t let them take Iris from us. They killed our Liora… Oscar, be ready, we don’t have a choice. We cannot hide anymore… play humans anymore. The time has come, we need to protect her. She is powerless,” Grandma howled, a raw sound of panic.

When they saw me standing at the door, they pulled me toward them in a panic.

Their eyes were full of fear, looking behind me.

A hard shove. The door slammed open.

I turned around and saw three tall men with dark hair and black eyes.

The darkness around them was not just the absence of light… It was something alive.

It clung to their silhouettes like viscous tar, dripping from their shoulders and trailing in threads behind their steps, as if the night itself would not let them go.

Even the bright light of a streetlamp bashing on the pavement did not dare to illuminate them completely.

It was swallowed up by their contours, as if someone had erased pieces of reality.

Their faces were only dimly recognizable, but the shadows in them were deeper than they should be, as if their eye sockets were leading to nowhere.

When they breathed, the darkness flowed with them, pouring from their mouths like smoke that knew no fire.

And their hands... their hands were barely visible, as if they had already half melted into the darkness surrounding them.

Did they follow me? They appeared in some black mist... where did this mist come from?

“What is happening? Who are you?” I screamed, staring into the eyes of the man who was walking toward me.

I recognized him immediately... That’s... the man from my dreams.

His long, black hair fell to the ground like torn silk, but it didn’t move in the wind... no, it crawled as if there were a thousand tiny spiders hidden in it, controlling each strand like a separate being.

His face was as pale as decayed moonshine, his skin stretched over sharp bones, as if death had not been able to complete him.

Yet his eyes...

Empty. Not simply black, but absent... Two smoldering holes into eternity, filled with a hatred older than time.

No glint, no recognition, just an icy, insatiable hunger.

When they fixated on me, I felt something inside me hollowing out, as if these pupils were devouring my soul piece by piece.

His gaze traveled down my body and he smirked, “I finally found you,” he whispered.

But at that moment my grandmother pulled my hand and pushed me through the door leading to the veranda.

Pops mumbled something, standing brave in the way between us.

But the man just laughed.

It started as a soft, husky giggle... the sound of dry leaves scraping over gravestones.

And then it grew, swelling into a hollow, vibrating laughter that seemed to come not from his throat but from the abyss behind his eyes.

Each burst of laughter was like a knife thrust, cold and calculating, as if he were feeling not just pleasure... but satisfaction.

A loud, evil laugh... while he threw Pops to the wall with just a movement of his index finger.

My grandmother screamed, a piercing, ragged sound that would freeze my blood forever.

The mist swallowed me up. But not before I saw how their bodies fell. As they both fell.

My grandfather, frozen in place with those purple eyes wide open.

My grandmother slumped like a marionette with her strings cut. Her hands, still half outstretched, as if searching for me in the fall.

I was alone. Wrapped in this, breathless nothingness. And the worst part?

I still heard them.

The dull thud of their bodies hitting the floor. One... after the other. Until there was nothing but silence.

Silence...

Then—the crinkle of paper in my hand. The letter. Their last gift.