Within a large, dimly lit chamber, a solitary figure sat in deep contemplation. Cyrus observed patiently from outside, his keen eyes taking in every detail of the scene before him. The prophet knelt reverently before the picture of a young man, his form barely visible through the haze of white smoke that filled the room. White candles flickered all around, casting dancing shadows on the walls and creating an atmosphere of otherworldly mystique.

As Cyrus watched, he felt a sudden tickle in his nose. Try as he might to suppress it, a sneeze escaped him, shattering the silence. The prophet froze at the unexpected sound, and Cyrus's expression turned sheepish.

"I didn't intend to disturb you," Cyrus said apologetically, stepping into the room. The smoke swirled around him, carrying the pungent scent of incense.

The prophet began to cough violently, his body shaking with each ragged breath. Concerned, Cyrus moved to approach him, but the prophet waved him away without turning to face him. "Don't get close," he managed between coughs, his voice strained.

"Are you okay?" Cyrus asked, worry evident in his tone. He hesitated, torn between respecting the prophet's wishes and the desire to help.

The prophet's coughing subsided enough for him to speak, though his voice remained weak. "Be careful out there. Don't forget the bureau is still after you." The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the constant danger that lurked beyond these walls.

Cyrus's eyes, abnormal from birth, quickly adjusted to the dim light, taking on a red hue as they scanned the room. He wanted to ask more, to understand the meaning behind the prophet's cryptic warning, but he knew from experience that such questions would likely go unanswered.

After a moment of tense silence, the prophet spoke again, his voice softer now. "That's my son, Liam," he said, nodding towards the picture before him.

Realizing the sanctity of the moment he had interrupted, Cyrus immediately dropped to his knees. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb his peace," he said, bowing his head in respect. In Arkania, the dead were honored in special buildings called Soul Passages. Legend held that the souls of the deceased would linger in these structures until they had found peace and let go of their earthly attachments. It was considered a grave disrespect to stand and look directly at an image of the deceased, as it was believed to hinder the soul's journey to the afterlife.

To Cyrus's surprise, the prophet's next words contradicted this solemn atmosphere. "No need. He isn't dead," he said matter-of-factly. "Now go and take care of Leora."

Cyrus felt a sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. Take care of Leora? If anything, it would be her taking care of him. Suppressing his amusement, he bowed once more, stealing a final glance at Liam's picture before quietly closing the doors behind him.

As he walked away, Cyrus's mind raced with questions. If Liam wasn't dead, why keep his picture in such a sacred space? The prophet, as always, had his own inscrutable reasons. For now, Cyrus could only observe and wait, piecing together the puzzle one fragment at a time.

Making his way to the villa's rooftop, Cyrus was nearly blown off his feet by the powerful winds generated by the helicopter's spinning rotors. Through the tempest, he spotted Leora waiting for him, as stunning and composed as ever. She wore a crisp black male suit, a stark contrast to her flowing golden hair, and stood serenely beneath her ever-present umbrella. The juxtaposition of her delicate features and authoritative attire only added to her otherworldly appeal.

Cyrus straightened his posture, pulling on his black gloves and adjusting his tie. Standing side by side, the duo cut an impressive figure, a study in contrasts that somehow complemented each other perfectly.

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They boarded the helicopter in silence, the aircraft rising swiftly into the sky. As they soared through the air, Cyrus marveled at the breathtaking view. Blue clouds stretched to the horizon, and the helicopter maneuvered through them with incredible speed and precision.

Cyrus's attention was drawn to strange, glowing orbs floating around them. These light bubbles danced and swirled but seemed to be held at bay by an invisible force field surrounding the helicopter.

"Those are cloud demons. Be careful," Leora warned, her voice barely audible over the roar of the engines.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his voice. "Aren't they just lullabies to scare children from climbing too high?"

A ghost of a smile played on Leora's lips as she replied, "You could give it a try."

Cyrus studied her profile, trying to discern if she was joking. The slight smirk on her face was well-hidden, but he caught it nonetheless. He wasn't about to risk touching the mysterious orbs, but he couldn't help feeling a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Cloud demons, according to legend, were born from the sky's jealousy of the earth. The sky, angry that the earth hoarded all the magic close to its surface, created these creatures to devour the magic of any daredevil who dared to fly through the clouds.

"I'm too old to believe in such nonsense," Cyrus muttered, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to the old tales.

As they began their descent, a massive structure came into view. Towering tribular pillars shot into the sky, their sleek lines a perfect blend of mystery and elegance. But it wasn't the building itself that took Cyrus's breath away—it was its impossible location. The structure stood in the middle of a vast ocean, yet the area immediately surrounding it was dry, as if held back by some invisible force. Water spiraled around the building, unleashing its might but unable to crash against the walls, creating a sight that defied belief.

"Here we are, in the separate domain," Leora announced, closing her book as the helicopter touched down.

Cyrus stepped out, his legs trembling slightly as he took in the full scope of their surroundings. From this vantage point, he realized that the water wasn't just held back—it was suspended thousands of meters in the sky. The sheer impossibility of it made him dizzy.

"What is this place?" he asked, his voice filled with awe and a hint of fear.

Before Leora could answer, a figure approached them. A young, elegant man dressed in a black suit, his jewelry and ornaments speaking volumes about his status. By his side stood a formidable bodyguard, emanating an aura that was both familiar and dangerous to Cyrus.

"Don't worry. The separate domain is an independent space. Perfect for business," the man said, his tone smooth and practiced. He bowed respectfully to Leora. "My dear Leora."

Leora's response was characteristically indifferent as she walked past him. "You know why we are here, Marko."

Marko, unfazed by her cold demeanor, fell into step beside her. "You never told me you'd be coming with a servant," he remarked, casting a dismissive glance at Cyrus.

Bristling at the insult, Cyrus stepped forward. "I'm not a servant, but her partner," he growled, only to find his path blocked by the imposing bodyguard.

Marko waved his hand dismissively. "Leora doesn't need a partner. You can go back on your own."

Cyrus's features darkened, a frown etching itself deep into his face. The bodyguard's hand landed heavily on his shoulder, exerting an immense pressure that threatened to drive him to his knees. But Cyrus refused to back down. He lifted his head defiantly, his canine teeth flashing with energy.

The bodyguard's eyes dilated in surprise, then narrowed in challenge. His own canines flashed, dark energy unleashing in a storm around him. The two energies clashed violently, blue and black forces roaring against each other. Cyrus felt blood trickling from his ears, but he stood his ground, matching the bodyguard's ferocity with his own.

"Satisfied?" Leora's cool voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Marko's eyebrows lifted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Of course. You can come, partner," he conceded. "Prid, let him in."

As the guard stepped aside, Cyrus's eyes darted to Leora, silently questioning whether this had been some kind of test. Then his gaze fell on Prid, the bodyguard. There was no doubt he was a bite, but his powers seemed completely different from what Cyrus had encountered before. Unlike Leora and her family, all associated with golden energy, Prid's was dark and foreboding. Moreover, he showed no respect to Leora, a clear indication that not all bites were on good terms.