"Yes, you have done magic before. Do you not recall the memory of you and your grandmother that I resurfaced?" Oryen pointed out gently.
It was only then that it came rushing back.
Fragments at first—blurred, distant—then clearer. The feeling. The moment. The power.
Dydra's breath hitched slightly.
"But… how come I didn't feel any pain back then?" she asked, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Why did I feel it now?"
Oryen was quiet for a brief moment, her aged gaze studying the girl carefully, as though searching for something hidden beneath the surface.
"I genuinely don't know," the old witch admitted at last, her tone honest, unguarded. "Magic is not always consistent—especially not power like yours."
Dydra swallowed, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.
