Hermione Granger didn't wait for her Hogwarts acceptance letter. When she was seven years old, she traveled to Elgaia, a magical world driven by the rhythm of the elements. Dragon knights soar in the clouds, elves write life on the grandmother tree, and dwarves hammer runes deep in the mountains.
She was adopted by the scholar couple of Arcane Vita, moved into Silvercrown City, and met the half-elf girl next door by the garden fence.
Celeste Ignes Ambrosius. Silver hair, ice blue eyes. A hybrid of humans and elves. There were three rhythms tearing through her body: the violence of the heart of the storm, the tranquility of the elven moonlight, and a mark of fire that even she herself didn't know about.
"I can't control it." She knelt on the broken stone floor, her nose bleeding, and her hands were still releasing arcs uncontrollably.
Hermione knelt beside her, wiping the blood from under her nose with her sleeve.
"Then we'll find a way to get you under control. There must be a way."
"What if not?"
"Then create one."
In this world, they do not belong to any side. Celeste is neither human nor elven. Hermione does not belong to the original world, nor does she belong to Elgaia.
We don't belong to any one time, but we are each other's childhood sweethearts
