In the heart of Elorath, the sacred tree stood tall, its roots burrowing deep into the earth, connecting the land to the very elements—fire, water, earth, and wind. It had always been the kingdom’s anchor, its presence a constant blessing that shaped our world. The royal family, bound by ancient tradition, had always embodied the balance of these forces. Four children, each born with a gift from the elements, each destined to represent the very forces that kept our kingdom alive.

But this time, things were different.

I had three siblings before her—each of us marked by the power we bore. My older brother, fierce with the flame, and my sister, fluid and unpredictable like water, were celebrated. My younger sibling, with her connection to the earth, was as grounded and steadfast as the soil beneath our feet. And then there was Eira.

I had been waiting for the wind, the final piece of the prophecy. But when she was born, there was confusion, a subtle shift in the air that none of us could ignore. Two daughters, not one. One, with the breeze in her hair, the wind itself dancing around her, was the child of the prophecy. But the other… Eira, with silver-gray hair, her eyes empty, devoid of the power that defined our bloodline. She was different, and that difference made her invisible.

I saw the way they treated her—the queen, the king—uncertain, distant. They took my siblings in, showered them with affection and praise, their elemental gifts always a source of pride. But Eira, she was relegated to the edges of the palace, hidden away in a quiet room in the farthest corner. No one spoke her name. Her existence was shrouded in silence.

As the days passed, I could feel the isolation she faced, even if I never dared to speak of it aloud. The other servants whispered, their cruelty sharp and cold, mocking her, treating her as an outcast. I wanted to stand by her, to let her know she wasn’t truly alone, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. My place was always alongside my siblings—those who bore the power the kingdom revered.