[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-born-as-a-witch":3,"chapter-born-as-a-witch-born-as-a-witch-chapter-193":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Born as a Witch",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1702735,2172,"Chapter 193: Bonus - 5 - Thalanir’s first love","born-as-a-witch-chapter-193",193,"\u003Cp>They spent the remainder of the day in the grove, walking among the flowers and moss, speaking in low, trembling tones. They remembered their childhood adventures, the secret games, the first festival dances, the stolen kisses. Liora smiled sometimes, and Thalanir forced himself to return them, though each smile hurt like a splinter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As dusk fell, she finally turned to leave, brushing the snow of early petals from her shoulders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Goodbye, Thalanir,\" she said, her voice steady now, though soft with sorrow. \"You will always be my first love. Never forget that.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He swallowed. \"Nor you mine,\" he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She stepped back into the path toward the village, toward Eryndor, and Thalanir remained beneath the willow, watching until she disappeared among the trees. The stars began to prick the sky, one by one, indifferent witnesses to a love breaking for the first time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The grove grew quiet, as if holding its breath. Thalanir sank to the moss, hands clasped around his knees, feeling the ache in his chest deepen. The wind whispered through the willow leaves, and he imagined her laughter, bright and distant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He thought of the first time they had kissed beneath this very tree, the first festival, the stolen glances and whispered promises. Each memory burned in him like a star collapsing, beautiful yet painful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet... he remembered her final words, her wish for him to survive this heartbreak, to grow, to continue. He clung to that hope like a lifeline. The grove would endure. He would endure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the echo of her absence would stay with him forever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Winter came again, and he returned to the willow, alone. The pool was frozen, the branches bare, the world quiet and still. He traced the patterns of the frost on the water, as if seeking messages, answers. None came.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But slowly, ever so slowly, he began to find strength in the solitude. The magic he had learned, the runes, the wind, the water—he poured himself into them. Every song of the river, every murmur of the forest, became a meditation, a way to channel grief into something lasting, something he could hold in place of the love he had lost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the village, life moved on. Liora was seen with Eryndor, the glow of affection evident to all. Thalanir watched from afar, heart heavy, yet silently wishing her happiness. It hurt, yet he understood that some loves are not meant to last in the form we wish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And so ended the first love of Thalanir—the boy who had grown beneath the willow with a girl who had been everything to him, yet had drifted away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would carry her in his heart forever: her laughter, her touch, her words, the warmth of her presence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And though the ache was raw, though the world seemed hollow at times, he understood something important: love, even when it departs, leaves its mark. And from that mark, he would grow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The willow grove remained. The forest whispered. And Thalanir, wounded but unbroken, began the slow, steady path of healing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The days after Liora’s departure were heavy with silence. The grove, once vibrant with their shared laughter, seemed hollow. The willow’s long branches swayed with the wind, brushing against the frozen pool, carrying whispers of memories that burned in Thalanir’s chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, he could not enter the grove without faltering. The soft moss beneath his feet felt like the weight of absence itself. The air smelled faintly of blossoms that no longer bloomed for him, and every ripple in the pool reminded him of a voice that had grown distant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet slowly, he began to find solace in what he could control.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He returned to the lorekeeper’s hall with renewed focus, channeling his grief into study. Each glyph traced in dust, each wind current summoned, became a tether to the present. Where once he had traced runes to impress Liora, now he traced them to anchor himself—to understand the world beyond the ache in his heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The elders noticed the change. Thalanir moved with a quiet intensity, a determination that was not born from pride, but from necessity. Every leaf he studied, every river he charted, became a meditation, a ritual of healing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He began venturing beyond the village more often, exploring forests and glades he had never touched before. The river that fed the northern pools became a companion, its rush steady and constant, mirroring the rhythm of his slow recovery. He would walk for hours, listening to the murmur of water over stones, watching how light fractured through the canopy. With every step, he felt the weight in his chest lessen, replaced by a subtle pulse of resilience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sometimes, he would pause at small clearings, tracing runes into the earth, whispering the incantations he had learned. Each motion was deliberate, each chant a thread of strength woven into his soul. In these moments, he felt Liora not as a presence lost, but as a memory honored—a part of him, a seed that had grown into wisdom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The willow grove became a place of reflection rather than longing. He would visit occasionally, walking along the frozen pool or sitting beneath the branches, not to wait for her return, but to remember the lessons their love had left him. The forest itself seemed to guide him: a gust of wind that teased the leaves, a sudden bloom in an unexpected place, a bird’s song that lifted his spirits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thalanir discovered that grief was not meant to bind him. It was a teacher. Each pang of loss became a compass, showing him where he could grow, where he could devote himself. He learned to listen not only to the forest, but to the rhythm of his own heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Months passed, and summer returned in full bloom. Thalanir no longer felt the sharp pang of every flower, every festival song. The grove held memories, yes, but no longer chains. He walked through the village differently—steady, calm, assured. Villagers who had once known him as the shy boy beneath the willow now saw an elf whose presence radiated quiet strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He continued to practice his arts, sending currents of wind through the village to cool the children, channeling gentle breezes to scatter pollen and petals, and tracing runes that enhanced crops and gardens. His gift, once private and intertwined with Liora, now became a part of the community. Each act, each small flourish of power, was a tribute not to her, but to the resilience she had helped awaken in him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One day, standing at the edge of a forest he had not yet explored, Thalanir realized something profound. He could leave the grove behind. Not erase it—it would always be a part of him—but step forward into the world, carrying the lessons of love, loss, and strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He took a deep breath, feeling the wind in his hair, the scent of pine and wildflowers filling his senses. For the first time since Liora’s departure, he smiled—not with longing, not with sorrow, but with quiet acceptance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The path ahead was unknown. There would be challenges, moments of loneliness, and perhaps even future heartbreak. But he would face them with the steadiness he had learned beneath the willow, with the strength of a heart tempered by love and loss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And somewhere, in the recesses of memory, he carried Liora—not as someone lost, but as someone who had shaped him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stepped forward, leaving the grove behind, yet carrying its spirit with him, a seed of resilience ready to bloom in the wider world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thalanir soon found that solitude was no longer empty—it was fertile. He began wandering further from Sylthariel, following hidden paths through dense forests, discovering glades bathed in sunlight and streams lined with stones smooth from centuries of flowing water. Each step forward was a meditation, each breath a quiet affirmation of life’s persistence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He learned to listen deeply: to the wind rustling through leaves, to the hum of insects in the underbrush, to the subtle tremor of the earth beneath his feet. Nature spoke to him in a language he had never fully understood before, and he realized that grief, too, had a language. It whispered not just of loss, but of lessons, of endurance, of the strength one gains when love departs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In these travels, he discovered small ways to honor Liora’s memory without clinging to it. He would gather fallen petals from wildflowers, pressing them carefully into his journals, sketching runes around them, tracing the patterns of the wind through the forests in delicate symbols. Each page became a tapestry of remembrance and growth, a bridge between past love and present resilience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The villagers began noticing subtle changes in him. Children would follow him through the fields, fascinated by the way he could summon a playful breeze or make leaves swirl into gentle spirals. Farmers would consult him for guidance on crop protection, amazed by the quiet authority in his voice and the wisdom in his gestures. Even the elders, who had watched him since childhood, remarked on the calm strength he radiated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thalanir did not seek their praise—it came as a byproduct of his own transformation. Every act of care he performed, every moment he spent perfecting his art, every rune traced in soil or sand, became a small step toward reclaiming himself. The ache of first love remained, but it had softened into a quiet echo—a melody he could carry without being overwhelmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He also began to travel along the river that cut through Sylthariel’s forests, following its curves to villages beyond. He met healers, lorekeepers, and craftsmen, learning new methods, sharing his knowledge, and observing the lives of those who thrived beyond the walls of his childhood home. With each new horizon, he felt the weight of heartbreak lighten, replaced by curiosity, wonder, and a sense of purpose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet, in the evenings, he still returned to the willow grove. Not to linger on what was lost, but to sit beneath the familiar branches, to feel the pulse of memory woven into the wind. Sometimes he would smile at the ghost of her laughter, sometimes he would close his eyes and let the cool shadow of the willow soothe the lingering ache. And always, he reminded himself: he had survived this first love. He had grown from it. He was ready for what life might yet offer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time midsummer approached, Thalanir had begun to understand something profound. Healing was not about forgetting; it was about embracing the past while stepping boldly into the future. The love he had shared with Liora had shaped him irrevocably, but it would not confine him. With every step beyond the grove, every runic pattern traced in the soil, every river he followed, he claimed more of himself, more of his path, and more of the life that awaited him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The willow’s shadow remained, a quiet companion, and Thalanir knew that he would always carry a piece of it with him. But he was no longer rooted there. He was free, ready to meet the world with an open heart and steady hands, ready to honor the past while embracing the future.\u003C\u002Fp>",1868,"2026-06-06T14:30:21.780Z",1,"novelbin.me","a0c926d25eeba3c7e38f600604394339b1d56d04efb715c4ec142368803de064","born-as-a-witch-chapter-194","born-as-a-witch-chapter-250",479,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fborn-as-a-witch-cover.jpg"]