What fate has wrought [Plot]

It didn't feel right.

Rebellion was seething within Reim, and the war between the Kou and the people of Reim had begun, and yet here Minerva was, staring off the balcony of a luxurious abode with wine and meat, needing only to lift her finger while soldiers and citizens alike struggled against their assailants. Her face distorted into a grimace.

Look at you. Is this what you came home for? To live life sheltered again when you have the power to do something to help your country and your friends?

She waves away the drink, folding her arms across the balcony railing and staring out over the way. She hadn't heard from, much less seen any of her friends in over a month, and it was beginning to get to her. The constraints of societal norms. The endlessly pointless ceremonials. This wasn't Minerva. Not by a long shot.

She glared down into the central garden with disgust. Amends could be made, but her heart would never let another do work she wasn't willing to do herself. She gathered a hunk of phlegm in the most unsightly manner she could muster before spitting directly into the fountain.

"This is not who I chose to be."

She turned, her face seething with determination and a reborn disgust for the aristocracy.

---

Minerva stood in front of the mirror, staring at the girl she had left behind when she returned. The soft, gentle sweep of her once-again silver locks was a relief to the girl. Blonde was the color of her mother anyway, and while they may have both been magicians, they certainly were not the same. She pulled the locks back, tying them into the pigtails she had worn the first time she left.

The air about her was different now. She was no longer the rebellious teen that rejected her parents. She was a woman now. One with an ideology and an unwavering spirit. If her fate lay in the high echelons of society, then no longer did the magician chose to accept it idly.

Minerva threw her cloak over her shoulders, fastening at a purposeful angle. Her boot connected with the butt of her staff, kicking it into her waiting hand. The weight was familiar, yet strange. She hadn't even touched her staff since her return. She gave her medium a gentle channel. Lighting arced around the tip, but no longer was the shade of her arcana the soft, golden hue it had been before. It now shone cold, blue, and radiant.

She spun her old friend, remembering fondly the times she had shared with it, and the friends she had made. Her mind wandered to Jahangir, and a soft blush fell across her face. He would be the first priority for her.

And so it was that Minerva left once again, her fate set not by her birth, nor her circumstance, but by her own decisions and her own power. The young sorceress descended into Reim, more determined than ever, and more alive than she had been in past.

The small black bird quickly flitted behind her head before disappearing into the nothingness it had come from. She knew what her aim was, and she would let nothing get in her way.