Professor Aionia and Headmaster Abraxas rounded the corner past The Marlin and walked towards the tram stop.

“Think he has got it figured out?” said Headmaster Abraxas, a.k.a Dr. Braus Brentley.

“We shall see in due time,” said Professor Aionia, a.k.a Dr. Hana Reiss.

Round the corner of The Marlin, they heard its front door opening, and shuffling footsteps of the waiter-boy outside. The pair briefly leaned their ears to take notice, and continued on towards the tram stop.

“I am curious to see what he does. What serendipity that the inn we walked into was run by none other than Dr. Eramir’s son,” the Headmaster remarked, contemplation in his eyes.

“We have only hinted him the door. It is he who must walk through it,” commented Professor Aionia.

“Well, he did run out of the inn to look for us,” he replied with jest to clear his mind. “He shall do well, even if he chooses not to come.”

“I like the boy. He has conscience,” Headmaster Abraxas continued, taking off his hood. His well-kept hair and beard of lustrous silver-grey shone in the gentle light of the moon and the rings of the earth, contrasting with his powerful features and complexion of deep coffee. He spoke.

“Do you remember what this side street looked like a score ago?”

Both of them stopped to take a deep breath. They appreciated the well-cobbled streets, the brightly-lit antaric lamps of the city, and the quiet slumber of the roads. The air was cool on their faces, and the city was at peace. There were no wails of the bereaved; no cries of children whose paradise were lost.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“I give my thanks.”

“Please mention no word of it,” Professor Aionia replied. “Without your efforts as president, it is difficult to say what our Republics would have become. And yet,” she continued, taking a bated breath, “I am concerned that this blessing of today is transient in the grand tapestry of things.”

Headmaster Abraxas gave a curt nod.

“The legacy of a person is not strictly their individual achievement but how well they teach those who come after them, so it appears.”

“Agreed. But closer to the matter of the present,” Professor Aionia continued, “still no sign of it. And this concerns me greatly. Should it hunt some more...”

“The trail is cold?”

“For the time being. It was present yesterday morning at the center of the city.”

“Traces of an Anghra, you speak?”

“Yes.”

“Does your clarity still stand? It’s been years.”

“Of course. I can still feel them as acutely as ever. They have no choice but to strike the weaves of the world when they alter a core part of their bodies. But this specific Anghra cleverly hid its presence right after. It knows we are here, under the auspices of our Musha,” she answered.

“What do you think it is? For now?”

“A Mora,” replied Professor Aionia.

“How much time do we have left?” enquired Headmaster Abraxas.

“It is not so much time that is of concern but what it shall scheme, especially without our purview. I doubt that it will remain solitary, given that it had been made aware of our Musha’s presence. It has no strength to act out in the open where we can vanquish it, but the more we leave it to its hiding, the more it will gather its strength and wisdom, just like the ones before it. I shall therefore remain here for a little while longer to save those it has abducted, and fully vanquish it if I can.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Understood,” Headmaster Abraxas replied.

By now they were at the tram stop. It was half-past midnight.

“Will you join me next Serayasna at the exam venue in the capital?”

“Yes, of course. I shall never miss the ceremonies of Aeternitas.”

Headmaster Abraxas gave his acknowledgement, relieved. The pair stood at the corner of the tram stop, the glass-roof over their heads, with only the hum of the nearby lights to entertain them. It was like this for a long while until a single ray of light pierced the dimly lit shadows of the street, and came the sounds of wheels on studded rail. The violet tram was named, “Line No. 7”, and Headmaster Abraxas headed aboard the carriage that was entirely empty save for the conductor with greying hair on his metal controls.

The conductor’s eyes went wide beneath his cap.

“Mr. President!” he exclaimed, shaking Headmaster – President Abraxas’s hand.

“Not the president anymore, good sir. Please take me to Central. I will sit at the back. I rather not draw too much attention to myself at this hour.”

“Of course sir, as you speak.”

Headmaster Abraxas made a gesture of blessing to Professor Aionia.

“Salvus, Dr. Reiss.”

“Salvus,” she replied, “See you back at Aeternitas.”

***

It was deep into the night, and the faint fog of the evening had cleared to give way to an unusually crystal sky. Normally, clouds would have scattered the pale moonlight here and there, but tonight, the pure sky let it fly unfiltered onto the window of Elwin’s little bedroom in the repurposed attic. The glass glistened and shone; the panes brilliant with white when Elwin moved his head in specific angles. Like the curious and rather strange evening that had taken place a few hours earlier, Elwin found himself unable to sleep, his head filled with a myriad of thoughts. Who were those two people? How much did they know my father? How much did my father know them? Why did they leave me the train ticket?

“Elwin, are you sleeping?”

His bedroom door softly creaked and in came his mother, carrying a glass of warm chamomile tea. Elwin pretended not to worry his mother with the prospect of staying up this late when she’d insisted he sleep and she finish the inn work downstairs, and held his eye shut, but he couldn’t really keep his eye still when he pretend-slept, so his mother caught him on and gave him an admonishing look.

Anna pinched him gently on the cheek and said, “I brought you chamomile tea. I could feel you restless all the way from the night study.”

Elwin groggily sat up from his bed, still insisting on the ruse that he was indeed asleep, or at least half asleep, but he knew his mother knew everything about him, and sheepishly took the tea.

“Thank you,” he said, giving it a little sip.

Anna tousled her son’s hair, and stood up to return to her bedroom, when –

BANG – THUD – CRASH – the cacophony of shattering timber and breaking brick pierced the slumber of the night.

Both of them froze in an instant. They craned their ears and replayed the noise in their head to determine its source. It was not from their third floor; it was from the second floor just below, from one of the guest rooms.

Elwin dashed out of his bedroom and down the stairs, snatching a laundry pole for defense while nearly flying off the rails, Anna right behind him, shushing Andre along the way to stay put. They raced through the corridor of the guest floor, throwing cursory glances at the unoccupied rooms whose doors Elwin left slightly ajar per protocol, just in case anything like this happened – but nothing seemed off. It was at this moment both of their hearts sank – because it meant the noise must have come from the room with the only guest, which used to be Carl’s study. Elwin had given that room to the haggard but innocent looking man earlier last evening, because it had the comfiest bed, but how he regretted it, what disaster he must face now!

Elwin’s family had experienced burglary once before, back when Carl was still alive and continued to bring fame as one of the Mythrisian Republics’ most distinguished explorers. Back then, the two burglars wanted to snatch away his father’s tomes and journals for sale at some underground auction. His father fought both of them off with graceful gusts of wind, but Elwin right now wasn’t very well trained in Water, let alone the rest of the Elements. Elwin, the laundry pole trembling in his hand, sneaked to the study as if holding a spear, and Anna did the same with another. What if he entered and the man lunged at him? Threw fire upon his face? Hurt his mother and little brother? He would have to fight like an animal. But there was nothing in that room, even though it was once his father’s study – they’d moved everything upstairs and above, every single note and book from each nook and cranny! The man would have found nothing but dust!

Elwin halted his breath and waited for a moment, signaling to his mother in a count of three – then swung open the door of the room in a mighty bang, the timber rattling in its frame.

Elwin’s eyes almost immediately met the crawling silhouette of the frizzled man, fumbling in his hands a package, a hole in the brick wall next to him. He shot a brief glance at Elwin, terror and confusion written across his face. Elwin and Anna pointed the laundry poles at him like long lances, their tips shaking, and the next thing they knew, the man had darted to the window and smashed it to smithereens with a gust of air, leaping off from it like a lynx onto the street with the package in hand.

Elwin hurriedly inspected the hole in the wall, and even before he knelt to reach it, he caught whiff of his father’s old cologne emanating from it. A secret cache must have been there all along, and the frizzled man had – was running off with whatever package was inside.

He had no time to think. Elwin leapt out the window after the man, softening his landing with soles of vapor he’d instinctually ballooned on his feet.