10 - Anna Crimson

The days blurred together after Luna’s hasty departure from the city.

She had fled with her coin purse heavy, her arms stuffed with sweets, and her heart light with the thought that she had finally outwitted the oppressive spotlight of fame.

Ahead stretched nothing but the open road, her boots tapping a steady rhythm against dirt paths that wound through endless fields and forests.

It wasn’t a smooth journey—not by any stretch—but it was still leagues better than the miserable treks she’d endured before her first city.

Back then, she’d survived on fish that tasted like wet cardboard and berries that actually tasted a bit sweet.

Though now she had real sweets. Now, every time her stomach rumbled, she dipped a hand into her pouch and pulled out caramel-wrapped fruit, sugar-crusted candies, or thick cookies that melted on her tongue.

For Luna Aqua, the difference between fish and sugar was the difference between despair and happiness.

And it wasn’t just food. Before leaving the city, she had purchased a sleeping bag—her second greatest treasure after her candy hoard.

The thick fabric unrolled easily each night, and while it lacked the decadence of an inn’s bed, it was leagues softer than bare dirt or jagged roots.

“Ahh,” she sighed one evening, wriggling into the bag under the broad shade of an oak tree. “This is living.”

She stared up at the night sky, where stars glimmered sharp and clear in the absence of smog or city lights.

Each point of light felt closer here, as though she could stretch out her hand and pluck them from the heavens like scattered gems.

Her heart swelled with a strange mixture of contentment and wonder.

“This world…” she whispered. “It’s really… sinking in.”

The road wasn’t empty. Merchants traveled in wagons laden with crates and barrels, their wooden wheels creaking, their guards walking beside them in mismatched armor. Farmers rode carts pulled by donkeys, bringing produce to market.

When they saw Luna—a silver-haired girl, barely taller than their carts, walking alone with a bag that looked far too big for her small frame—they slowed, concern etched on their faces.

“Little miss,” one merchant called, leaning down from his wagon. “Do you want a ride? The road’s not safe.”

Others echoed the offer, their tones soft, coaxing, almost paternal.

But Luna always shook her head.

“No thanks. I like walking.”

She said it cheerfully, without hesitation, and when pressed, she simply waved and repeated herself.

The truth was simple. Walking had been her hobby in her past life, her method of bleeding away stress after long days.

She liked the rhythm of her boots on the earth, the steady beat of progress under her control. A ride might be easier, yes—but it would take away that sense of self-directed freedom.

So she refused every time, even when the guards frowned and muttered to themselves about reckless children.

The number of people she met on the road was small enough to count on her fingers. Ten, perhaps, over several days. That suited her just fine. She wasn’t in the mood for chatter—only sugar and wandering.

At night, when the wagons were long gone and the world was quiet, Luna made her camps.

She never bothered with a tent. The idea of lugging one around felt exhausting, and she could already imagine herself tripping over poles and strings. Her sleeping bag sufficed.

She chose trees for cover, grass for comfort, and then lay back with her candy stash within arm’s reach.

Each night she gazed upward at the sky, watching the stars shimmer like frost against velvet.

Her old world had stars too, but there they had been dulled, faded by smog, drowned by neon lights. Here, the constellations burned sharp and bright.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured, sucking on a piece of hard candy that clicked against her teeth.

She wasn’t lonely. The world wasn’t monotonous. And for Luna, that was enough.

It was on the fourth day that her path bent toward something different.

The road widened, its packed dirt flattening into grooves worn deep by wheels. In the distance, the outline of a carriage stood still, its frame tall and gilded, its banners fluttering faintly in the wind.

The closer she drew, the clearer the problem became, one of the wheels sat splintered, its rim cracked in two.

A small cluster of people surrounded the carriage. Knights in polished steel, their swords at their hips. Servants with neat braids and tidy dresses.

And in the center, a girl just a little taller than Luna, her golden hair gleaming in the sun.

The girl’s arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a pout. She looked utterly unimpressed with her predicament.

When Luna tried to walk past, hoping to slip by unnoticed, the girl’s sharp eyes spotted her.

“You there!” she called, her voice carrying easily over the murmurs of her attendants.

Luna stopped in her tracks, blinking. She pointed to herself. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” The girl stepped down from the carriage, her dress swishing as she moved with practiced poise.

She approached Luna with confident strides, sizing her up in a way that made Luna feel like a specimen under glass.

Her gaze lingered on the oversized bag hanging at Luna’s side, then traveled up to her face, narrowing slightly in curiosity.

“You’re traveling alone?” the girl asked.

Luna tilted her head. “…Yes?”

“That’s dangerous. Especially for someone… your size.” The girl’s brows knit, her tone carrying genuine confusion rather than cruelty. “Why?”

“Because I want to travel the world,” Luna answered simply.

The words made the girl pause. For a heartbeat, her expression softened—then brightened.

“…I see. That’s rather bold of you.”

The girl’s name was Anna Crimson, daughter of Count Crimson, and the small army of attendants around her confirmed her noble status.

Two maids, a female knight in gleaming armor, three male knights with stern faces, and a mage with robes of deep red.

Anna herself was fifteen. She admitted it with a faintly smug lilt, as if daring Luna to be impressed.

Most students began the royal academy at sixteen. She was younger by a year, a testament to her early mastery of magic and studies. Genius, she seemed to imply, was the Crimson family’s inheritance.

But despite her poise, her confidence, and her entourage, Anna’s tone carried something else, boredom.

“Everyone around me is so… old,” she sighed, glancing toward her knights, the youngest of whom was twenty-three. “Do you know how dull it is to spend your days surrounded by people who treat you like a porcelain doll?”

Luna popped a candy into her mouth and crunched loudly. “Can’t say I do.”

Anna blinked, then laughed, a sound more genuine than her carefully rehearsed speech.

Perhaps that was why, after only a few minutes of talking, she decided she liked Luna.

“You should ride with me,” Anna said suddenly.

Luna froze mid-bite of her candy apple. “Eh?”

“You heard me. It’s far too dangerous for a girl your age to be walking alone. My carriage has plenty of space.”

Luna waved dismissively. “No thanks. I like walking.”

Anna frowned. “Walking? You’d prefer trudging through mud and dust to sitting in a comfortable seat?”

“Yes.”

The noble girl blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Why?”

“Because walking’s fun.”

Anna tried again, and again, each attempt more insistent than the last. Ride with me, she argued. It’s safer. It’s faster. It’s easier.

Each time, Luna shook her head, smiling politely but firmly.

Anna’s frustration grew visible in the twitch of her lips, the tapping of her foot. She wasn’t used to refusal. People usually bent around her like reeds to wind.

Then, she noticed something.

Every time Luna said no, her hand snuck into her pouch, fishing out another candy. Each refusal was punctuated by a bite of something sweet.

Anna’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“…Do you like cookies?” she asked.

Luna froze. Her eyes darted up. “…Cookies?”

“Yes. I have a whole tin of them in the carriage. Chocolate chip.”

Silence stretched for three heartbeats. Then, at last, Luna said, “Fine. I’ll ride with you.”

Anna’s triumphant smile nearly split her face.

The two introduced themselves properly at last.

“Anna Crimson,” the noble said, offering a hand with a flourish that would have made her father proud.

“Luna Aqua,” Luna replied, shaking it distractedly, her eyes already sliding toward the carriage where cookies apparently waited.

Anna grinned, thrilled at her victory. She had found a companion near her age, someone who spoke bluntly and refused her charms—until sweets tipped the balance.

But there was still a problem, the carriage wheel lay broken, splintered and useless.

Anna muttered her frustration aloud, wishing aloud for an earth mage to fix it.

Her tutor, a fire mage, could only shrug helplessly. None of the knights had the faintest idea how to repair it.

The journey would be stalled until a craftsman could be fetched.

Luna, however, tilted her head.

“…I can help,” she said.

Before anyone could ask how, she lifted her hand. Ice gathered, shimmering bright, and with a sharp gesture she reshaped it into a solid wheel, dense and glistening. It fused to the carriage with a hiss of frost, the cracks sealing in crystalline strength.

Everyone stared.

The maids gasped. The knights exchanged wide-eyed glances. The tutor froze, her lips parting in disbelief.

A little girl had conjured a wheel from ice, crafted with the precision of a master artisan.

“Who… is she?” someone whispered.

Luna, oblivious to their shock, only thought, Cookies now, right?

The wheel glittered in the sunlight, crystalline veins catching the glow like cut diamonds. Frost hissed faintly where it fused into the broken steel, leaving the entire carriage steady once more.

For a moment, no one moved.

The knights stared with open mouths, their gauntleted hands hovering awkwardly as though half-prepared to rush forward and stop her. The maids clutched their skirts, eyes wide as saucers.

Anna’s tutor, the robed fire mage, pressed a trembling hand to her chest, struggling to reconcile what she had just witnessed.

The noble daughter herself was the first to break the silence.

“That…” Anna’s eyes sparkled, and a delighted smile broke across her face. “That was amazing!”

Luna blinked at her, before smugness filled her. “It’s just ice. And you said cookies.”

Anna laughed, a sound bright and unrestrained, so different from the poised tone she had used before. “Yes, yes, cookies. You’ll have as many as you like.”

The promise was all Luna needed. She beamed, brushing her hands together as if dusting off the matter entirely.

The tutor, however, stepped forward, her brows knitting. “Lady Crimson, please. This girl…” Her gaze flicked to Luna, uncertainty warring with suspicion. “The spell she used… that was no simple conjuring. That wheel is dense. Solid. A child should not…”

Anna raised a hand, silencing her with practiced ease. “She fixed the wheel. That’s all that matters.” She turned to Luna, her eyes softening. “And she’s my guest.”

The knights glanced at one another, clearly unsettled but unwilling to contradict their young mistress. The tutor pursed her lips, but bowed her head in reluctant concession.

Luna, meanwhile, was already chewing on her cookie.

Once the carriage rolled again—its new ice wheel surprisingly smooth on the dirt road—Anna insisted Luna ride with her.

The interior was lavish in ways Luna had only half-expected.

Plush cushions lined the seats, golden embroidery stitched along the curtains, and a small chest at Anna’s feet rattled faintly with the sound of metal trinkets or perhaps jewels.

But Luna had eyes only for the tin of cookies on the seat beside her.

Anna watched in amusement as Luna plucked one after another, her expression blissful as sugar melted on her tongue.

“You really do like sweets, don’t you?” Anna asked.

“Mhm,” Luna said around a mouthful. “They make everything better.”

The noble girl tilted her head, studying her. “You’re strange. Most children your age would have jumped at the chance to ride in a noble’s carriage. But you refused until…” Her lips curved upward. “Cookies.”

Luna shrugged, reaching for another. “Walking’s fun. Cookies are better.”

That made Anna laugh again, a genuine laugh that startled her attendants outside the carriage. They weren’t accustomed to such sounds from their mistress.

As the carriage trundled forward, Anna’s curiosity only grew.

“Luna Aqua,” she repeated, savoring the name. “Where are you from?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Luna answered vaguely, licking crumbs from her fingers.

“No family?”

“Not really.”

“You’re traveling alone. That’s unusual.”

“Maybe.” Luna leaned back against the cushions, looking utterly at ease despite being surrounded by people who outclassed her in status a thousandfold. “But I like it that way.”

Anna rested her chin on her hand, her eyes narrowing in thought. She wasn’t used to evasive answers. In her world, people either lied poorly or bent truth to curry favor. Luna did neither. She simply didn’t care to elaborate.

And that made her fascinating.

Anna’s tutor, however, wasn’t charmed.

The fire mage sat stiffly across from them, her eyes locked on Luna like a hawk eyeing a rabbit.

Her fingers twitched, faint sparks of mana glimmering as though ready to conjure a ward at the first sign of danger.

Finally, she broke her silence.

“That spell,” the tutor said sharply. “It was not something a common child should wield. Who taught you?”

Luna tilted her head, as if the question itself was strange. “No one.”

The woman frowned deeply. “Impossible. Ice conjuration at that density requires not only control but—”

“Let it go,” Anna interrupted smoothly. “She helped us. That’s enough.”

The tutor bit her tongue, but her eyes never left Luna.

Luna, oblivious, reached for another cookie.

As the hours stretched, the tension eased.

Anna peppered Luna with questions—her favorite sweets, the places she wanted to see, the kind of magic she preferred.

Luna answered honestly when she felt like it, brushed off what bored her, and occasionally distracted herself by pressing her nose to the window to watch the world blur by.

It was, for Anna, refreshing.

Here was someone who didn’t treat her like a noble, who didn’t flatter her, who didn’t hang on her every word. Someone who spoke bluntly, smiled when she pleased, and valued sugar over politics.

By the time the sun dipped low, painting the fields in gold, Anna found herself thinking something she hadn’t in years.

This might be… fun.

Outside the carriage, the knights exchanged quiet murmurs as they walked beside the rolling wheels.

“Did you see that?” one whispered. “The wheel. She just—”

“Conjured it, like it was nothing. I’ve never seen precision like that, not even from apprentices at the mage tower.”

“She’s no ordinary child.”

Their voices dropped lower, edged with unease. But when Anna leaned out the window and flashed them a smile, they snapped their mouths shut and straightened.

Whatever suspicions they held, they wouldn’t dare contradict their young mistress.

Still, the thought lingered among them, Who is this girl?

That night, they made camp in a clearing near the road. Tents rose quickly, fires crackled, and the maids prepared a meal of roasted meat and vegetables.

Anna invited Luna to sit beside her at the fire. Luna accepted, but her focus never strayed from the plate of cookies Anna had brought from the carriage.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Anna teased as Luna reached for another.

“I’ll risk it,” Luna said solemnly, munching happily.

The maids exchanged glances, smiling faintly at the odd pair. The knights kept their watch, though their eyes flickered often toward the small girl with the silver hair and unsettlingly sharp magic.

The tutor stayed silent, though her gaze remained piercing.

Later, when the fire dimmed and the stars spread wide overhead, Anna leaned closer.

“Luna.”

“Mm?”

“I’m glad you joined me.”

Luna blinked, mid-bite of another cookie. “You bribed me.”

Anna laughed softly, shaking her head. “Maybe. But still… it’s nice. Having someone my age around. Someone who doesn’t treat me like…” She trailed off, eyes distant. “…like porcelain.”

Luna tilted her head, studying her. Then, with no ceremony, she held out the last cookie from the tin.

“Want half?”

Anna’s eyes widened, then softened. She broke it neatly, accepted her share, and for the first time in a long while, ate with the easy joy of a girl rather than the burdened poise of a noble’s daughter.

The knights saw it and quietly turned their gazes away, as though guarding a secret moment.

The tutor, however, whispered under her breath, “Just who are you, Luna Aqua?”

The carriage rolled onward the next morning, its ice wheel holding firm, and with it began a companionship neither girl had expected.

Anna Crimson, the daughter of a count, and Luna Aqua, the mysterious silver-haired traveler with a sweet tooth and impossible magic.

One curious, one oblivious. One cautious, one carefree.

And both, in their own way, delighted to have found each other.