Zyar’s presence leaves no doubt that he has longed for this moment. It is almost impossible that he did not know my mother passed the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda to me. But why, for heaven’s sake, has he waited seventeen years to bring me back? Confronting him now would be futile. I once thought he would have pity for me when King Mukuta wanted to marry me to Lord Louweris. But now I know better: he did not prevent it out of compassion but to further his own plans.

“The first step to mastering the weaving of thoughts,” Zyar explains in a calm voice, “is to become the mistress of your inner self. Every being, no matter in which dimension it resides, is a prisoner of its own fears, desires, and dreams. Among us Elindine, the Losniws are the ones free from this weakness. You must have read that in the book I gave you yesterday.”

“If the Losniws are so powerful,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on him, “why haven’t they long since seized the throne before forming an alliance with the Sonatius Mortaeda? If weaving thoughts is truly such a formidable gift, they should be unstoppable.”

Zyar nods thoughtfully and crosses his arms over his chest. “Logically, that should be possible,” he replies, “but as you have discovered, using higher abilities significantly shortens the user’s lifespan. Only a handful of Losniws ever had the endurance to complete it. Eldralith and Keldor were two of them.”

My gaze wanders to the Kairon. Can they hear us? In the distance, Sylas sits at a garden table, completely absorbed in the book in his hands. From this distance, I cannot decipher the title.

“To learn the weaving of thoughts, you must first bring your inner conflict into harmony,” Zyar speaks calmly, but his words carry the weight of a command. I stare at him, bewildered. “Sit before the Kairon, on the ground, and close your eyes.”

I do as he asks, sinking into the damp grass. The cold seeps through the fabric of my pants, and goosebumps chase over my skin. Once more, my gaze drifts to the Kairon, who float serenely in the water, before I close my eyes and the world is enveloped in darkness.

“And what now?” I ask, struggling against the urge to open my eyes and ensure that nothing threatening is happening.

“Let the Kairon touch your soul,” he replies. “Focus all your attention on them. They are your guides.”

I concentrate on the Kairon, who swim in a circle as if the silence itself belongs to them. Though my eyes are closed, I see them crystal clear in my mind. The world grows still, and in that silence, I hear the soft sound of water droplets falling onto the surface of the water in a steady rhythm. The gentle splashing brings a profound peace to my being.

Then, suddenly, two figures emerge from the darkness: Noctalis and Solaria. The symbols on their foreheads begin to merge in a slow, hypnotic dance until they become one. The darkness rapidly recedes, and a blinding light bursts forth, enveloping me completely and bringing warmth to the cool emptiness. The small pond where the Kairon swam has transformed into an endless ocean.

“Breathtaking,” I whisper in awe, glancing down, astonished that I am once again standing on the surface of the water. Above me, a fantastic display of colors unfolds – a kaleidoscope of hues flowing into one another, harmonious and vibrant. But where have the Kairon gone?

A sudden tremor ripples across the water’s surface. The sea begins to vibrate, and panic overwhelms me as I desperately search for something to hold onto in this endless, deep ocean. My knees tremble, and a wave of fear rises within me – fear of the unknown that lies before me, something I cannot grasp or understand.

With a thunderous crash, a massive being breaks the surface. Noctalis rises, the manifestation of darkness, as white and endless as night itself, with fins that stretch upwards like wings. His body shimmers in deep blues and purples, and his sharp, glowing eyes sparkle like cold stars. Saltwater sprays in all directions, huge droplets falling back into the sea like rain as Noctalis shoots upwards with a powerful stroke of his tail. He hovers for a moment, frozen in the air, before he plunges back into the waves with a dull, rumbling crash.

Barely has Noctalis disappeared when the water glows with a warm, golden light. A new rift opens in the waves, and Solaria rises, the manifestation of light. Her body radiates in bright gold and red, as if she were formed from pure sunlight. Her scaly skin glows as if the light itself were flowing from her veins into the darkness of the sea. Solaria raises her head and emits a clear, melodic call that rolls over the water like distant thunder, bright and fearless, an echo in the quiet expanse.

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For a breathless moment, they face each other — Noctalis and Solaria, darkness and light, two ancient forces born from the depths of the ocean.

“Vespera,” Noctalis’s voice thunders, echoing like a dark storm through the air. His eyes, snow white and deep as abysses, bore into mine.

“Child of the vessel,” Solaria continues gently, almost like a melody. Her black eyes sparkle inscrutably, as if she already knows the answers. “Why do you enter our world? Name your reason.”

The words stick in my throat. Before me, the Kairon rise – beings of immense presence that I can hardly comprehend. Once small and unremarkable in my hands, they now loom like mighty mountains, looking down at me, insistent and immovable.

With a trembling voice, I reply, “I… I must learn to weave thoughts.” The truth burns on my tongue, but I feel that they already know it. “The Sonatius Mortaeda has chosen me as his vessel.”

A silence blankets the ocean, heavy and relentless. Only the roar of the waves breaks the stillness, drowning out the wild pounding of my heart.

“Isilyn Entium has shown weakness,” Noctalis growls, dark fury in his eyes. “And you? Will you face your destiny?”

My insides surge. Destiny. That word carries the weight of a burden I can barely grasp. But the thought of Elindros is like an anchor. If I reject the Sonatius Mortaeda, I risk losing the peace.

“Yes,” I say hesitantly, feeling the fear in my voice. “I… I must face him. Elindros must not fall into the hands of evil.”

“But who defines what is good and evil?” His eyes bore into me, searching for the answer I cannot admit to myself.

Solaria steps forward, her voice a gentle whisper: “You have lived among humans for long, Vespera. Even if the Sonatius Mortaeda has chosen you, you could turn against us, side with the Losniws. But you have made a choice.” Her eyes sparkle like stars in the deep night sky. “Why?”

A knot tightens in my chest. If I had encountered the Losniws earlier… perhaps I would have turned against the Solniw. Perhaps everything would have been different. But now… now they feel familiar to me, and I sense an answer bursting forth from within me.

“I want to help the good.” The words leave my lips, but they sound foreign, uncertain, as if they are merely an illusion.

The Kairon stare at me, inscrutable and cold. Then Solaria whistles, a sound that cuts through the ocean like a sword. Suddenly, she vanishes into the depths, and Noctalis steps forward. His fin rises, immense and merciless, before I can utter a sound of protest.

“Face your fears.”

In a blinding, terrible moment, I feel his fin glide through my body. An unimaginable pain surges through me, crashing over me in waves as if I were being torn in two.

With a gasp, I wrench my eyes open — and find myself in Zyar’s garden. Above me hovers Sylas, his face tight with concern. Beside him stands his father, with a cold, calculating gaze. I look down… and see the warm red spreading across my skin, blooming over my abdomen.

“B-Blood?” A scream escapes me, panicked and disbelieving, as I place my hand on the wound. “But… that was just…”

Without a word, Sylas places his hands over mine. I feel a cool wave envelop my injury — water forming a protective layer that soothes the pain.

“A scar will remain,” Zyar says soberly and emotionlessly. “Noctalis and Solaria are not convinced of your determination. Did you lie — or are you uncertain within yourself?”

“Uncertain?” I hiss indignantly, feeling rage at his indifference. “I was torn in two by those beings! And all you care about is whether I gave the right answer?”

Zyar barely shrugs. “Sylas is already healing you,” he replies coolly. “So tell me about your conversation with the masters of nature.”

The compassion I expected is absent. Instead, only the image of those Kairon remains, wise and majestic, who tore me apart — leaving nothing but a deep wound behind.

“They do not believe in my intention to fight the Losniws,” I reply, still overwhelmed by the shadows that the encounter has left within me.

“The Kairon are never wrong,” Zyar states with firm conviction, his gaze piercing like lightning in the darkness. “Why do you fight by our side?”

“Well...” I stammer. “You said that the Losniws want to seize the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda to ascend to the throne. That simply cannot happen!”

“But why not?” the man asks, his interest now burning like a blazing fire, and the disinterest that surrounded him earlier has vanished like a shadow in twilight. “The Losniws’ takeover would be an advantage for you!”

“I have already only longed for peace in the world of humans,” I reply, as my thoughts drift to the walls of the castle that have imprisoned me all these years. “These precious hours are the first I experience in freedom. If the Losniws actually seize control and want to destroy the peace in Elindros with their new order, I will not stand idly by! I will rise against them!”

Despite Zyar’s unyielding conviction, my heart whispers to me that my decision to stand with the Solniw is the only right one. I must not be swayed by my emotions. In Elindros, a war looms, a storm that could sweep everything away, and I will do everything in my power to prevent it.