Despite the group bonding from the previous night, Maya and Elena hadn't spoken. Was it wrong for Maya to harbour hope after Elena's surprising interest in her mother? It gave her the impression that Elena could have allowed her small heart to open and reflect on her actions, but the usual silence persisted after their friends departed.

It was exhausting for Maya to pretend as if everything was normal in front of the rest of the squad. She realized that forcing a friendship wouldn't work, and they should acknowledge their differences. However, she was dying to tell Elena about the dragon.

Recently, Maya has devoted most of her time to practising water manipulation in preparation for the upcoming Harvester trials. Additional classes were held for all candidates, which led her to get to know other girls of the Water element. Elena, of course, wouldn't bother to show up to those practices.

Maya gauged her standing and received many compliments for her skills. If none of the other girls had a drastic improvement in the next couple of weeks, Maya had it in the bag to be the Harvester at the Winter Solstice Ritual. Therefore, she worried more about the other elements she was lacking in, like her handling of Spark in the Fire element.

"Most of us find it easier to pick a gesture to ignite our spark," her mentor suggested once. "Something like snapping your fingers, or rubbing them together." Tanya casually opened her palm to reveal a flame. "The simpler the better. It also helps if there is some friction in the movement."

The advice wasn't uniquely given to Maya, but since then, all her fire group members have found their gesture and succeeded in consistently creating a spark. All except Maya, who still relied on her lighter to do it for her.

Lisa, the most talented among them, flicks her nails one off the other as she opens her palm, but finds it harder to do after cutting her nails short. One girl prefers to clap her hands while another flicks her hair, even.

Tanya had warned them not to make it too limiting, but Maya was unable to accomplish it, no matter how hard she tried.

"If you haven't done it yet, you may simply be unable to," Tanya evaluated Maya's progress today. "It is unfortunate, but some simply don't have it. Don't get discouraged and continue working on your control."

Although Tanya encouraged her and reassured her that it was a normal thing, Maya felt deeply disheartened. She was supposed to become the most powerful mage in the world. Missing something like the Spark felt huge for her.

After an exhausting day, Maya finally returned to her room, throwing herself on her bed and glancing up at her family portrait out of habit. This time, something was different.

Maya squinted at the photograph pinned on the sloping wall over her bed.

'No… Elena had destroyed it. My parents' faces shouldn't be looking at me!'

Jumping to her feet, Maya grabbed the image. It was definitely her family portrait, only… slightly larger… and the surface wasn't as smooth and glossy as a film photograph would be.

Tears slid down her cheeks as the lifelike, familiar faces of her mother and father smiled back at her. It was them—accurately so, just as she had remembered them.

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"Did… did she paint this?" Maya asked through sobs.

"Yeah…" Leo said with regret. "She had been working on it for the past days."

So Leo knew but didn't say anything.

Maya closed her eyes and affectionately pressed the picture to her chest. It was as though a part of her heart had been returned to her.

Then she began thinking. The colours, skin tones, the lighting, the fine details almost fooled her that it was a real photograph… The original was destroyed, so how could Elena replicate it so accurately? Was there a brush this fine to make it?

"H-how?" Maya uttered. "Did she take a picture of it with her phone?"

Maya's thoughts ran wild. If that were the fact, then Elena, knowing she would end up burning it, was even more sinister.

"I never saw her use any reference," Leo said. "Most of her time she put into mixing the colours, but once she was satisfied, the image began appearing almost like magic."

For some reason, Leo still seemed baffled. No wonder, he had watched Elena acquiring strange materials, pigments and tools, mixing paint to varying degrees of satisfaction. He didn't know what Elena was trying to make until she gathered all of the ingredients and made it, using strange techniques and layering thin coats of translucent paint until it began looking like familiar people.

"I didn't know she was this talented," Maya admitted, staring at the picture as if it were a miracle.

'Was this her way of apologizing?'

After spending time with Elena, Maya developed a knack for deciphering the feelings of those who struggled to express themselves. Few would have shown such patience with Elena or recognized her subtle attempts at reconciliation after everything that happened.

"Leo, do you agree with what Elena said about my mother?" Maya turned to Leo. "That she was sad and distant…"

"Don't let her twist your parents' image. They were wonderful." Leo sat beside Maya. "I don't remember her much, but she always had a warm smile on her face."

Maya nodded. However, she couldn't disregard Elena's words.

Upon reflection, Maya understood that her mother was a considerably distant person. Just like Maya had been for the past couple of years, her mother lived in fantasies. She was undoubtedly kind, and Maya was certain of her mother's love for her, but her way of expressing her emotions was quite subtle and infrequent.

Despite missing her mother deeply and cherishing their shared moments, Maya acknowledged that her childhood might not have been as joyful as she initially perceived. She couldn't help but question her mother's sadness despite their seemingly perfect life. Their wealth, her parents' love for one another—everything seemed in place. Her mother hadn't experienced the trials Maya had. And yet, it was as if a piece was missing.

All Maya was left with now was regret. They were all signs a clueless and carefree child couldn't see. Now, when she was old enough to ask questions, her mother was no longer there to answer.

'What sorrow held you back, Mom?'

She found herself in a rabbit hole of thoughts. It could all be a product of her imagination. After all, memories were fading. They say we change memories every time we recall them. Perhaps, she only remembered the moments that suited her current mindset—the ones she could relate to the most.

After all, Maya looked so much like her mother now. Her untameable chestnut curls, her clear hazel eyes, her long eyelashes, and her soft, delicate facial features stared back at her every time she looked in the mirror. Naturally, Maya began attributing even parts of her personality to the memory of her mother.

It would happen when someone was gone for a long time. Memories were fickle. The flickers that were left could just be fantasies repeated enough times that they became the truth, like some insane game of telephone you play with yourself.

Elena—and their messed-up relationship—were all she had to call family at present.

The doorknob to their room slowly twisted, and Maya hastily set herself before them. She took a deep breath, ready to meet the person behind the door.

"I accept your apology," Maya proclaimed as soon as the visitor appeared.

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