> Koimar

>

> Noun

>

> Translation: Fish

>

> Definition: "Koimar" is the term to denote fish, specifically referring to the Dual-Headed Fish known as the Spirit of Healing. This unique creature is revered specially in the elven culture for its mystical properties and its symbolic representation of healing and balance.

Lunch was over, and Claramae busied herself with tidying the table while Godmama began to wash the dishes. The soft clinking of utensils provided a soothing, rhythmic backdrop to the otherwise awkward silence. Noctavia has not yet returned after complaining about the buzzing sound in her ears.

The twins, Maggie and Maddie, sat almost motionless at the table, their presence barely noticeable. They were so still. It was as if they were holding their breath, but their wide eyes betrayed their curiosity. Unblinked eyes which feared that even the slightest rustle or breath from them might shatter the deep introspection of Yeso.

He was sitting at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on the door, and seemed to be probing, waiting for her. Noctavia had yet to come back.

So, his impatience translated into tapping with his fingers on the wooden table surface. Each tap resonated nervously in the hushed room, the sound reverberating as if in slow motion, amplifying its significance, getting louder and louder.

Yeso's gaze inadvertently fell upon the faeries, who were watching him with an expression that bordered on dreadful. Then, he quickly shifted his attention to the others in the room. "She's been away for quite a while, hasn't she?" he asked.

Claramae responded calmly as she gathered the dirty dishes. "She did seem quite upset. But give her some time; the woods aren't big enough for her to get lost. And let's not forget, her Spirit is with her. So, please, just relax."

Yeso's attention then drifted to his sleeping baby, Orlo, with his fiery red hair, who lay peacefully in his basket with a small white mouse cuddling against his cheek.

"He sleeps a lot," he remarked, almost to himself but still with a gentle smirk.

"It's a baby. You think too much, Yeso. You worry too much. Don't you have anything better to do?" Claramae retorted with a hint of annoyance as she grabbed the broom to begin sweeping the floor.

"Maybe I should go for a walk..." Yeso mused, rising from his chair while the twins' eyes followed his every move.

"You need to stay here and watch over Orlo. We're all busy," Claramae scolded, emphasizing her point with the broom in her hand, "What is wrong with you today?"

But Godmama interjected, "Let him go. The baby is fine, and Yeso clearly isn't."

"Excuse me, everyone... I'll just be off for a brief five minutes," he finally said, standing up, "I'll be back in no time."

He wouldn't. This was the last time the faeries would see the little boy with diamond hair and eyes of a colour none could name, born and raised between them. He would be soon gone. And for a long time, Claramae would regret the last word she told him.

Yeso scoured every nook and cranny of Faewood in his desperate quest for Noctavia, retracing his steps to even the most minor, most secluded spots he knew.

He revisited the little clearing where he had found her moons before talking about her visions, his eyes scanning every inch of the familiar terrain, but it yielded no sign of her. He raised his voice, calling out her name with such strength that it echoed through the trees, startling the birds into flight.

"Zonnestra!"

This behaviour was uncharacteristic of Noctavia. She was well aware of how her absence would unsettle him, how it would send ripples of concern through his heart, stomach and even to his staatgut.

She knew the depth of their Hexe, the promise of always being there for one another, always being within reach. She knew better than him.

But Yeso was gripped by this chilling emptiness, an unsettling void where once he could sense Noctavia's presence. It was as though their bond had been inexplicably cut off.

Confusion swirled in his mind. Had she intentionally blindfolded herself from him? Was she harbouring anger or resentment towards him? Was it the noise she was complaining about, and she didn't want to share this pain with him? What was it?

As Yeso ventured deeper, the eerie stillness of the forest was abruptly shattered by a growl. The sound was unnerving, unlike anything he had encountered before. It was a raw, tortured sound, filled with rage and agony, like that of a gravely wounded beast writhing in the darkness, desperately seeking an escape from its pain.

Instinctively, Yeso's hand moved to the hilt of his dagger - a weapon made of copper that he always carried with him, and Noctavia had an identical one. Among his peers, the black-robed ones wielding a copper blade were often viewed with contempt. They criticised its unpredictability, how its edge could dull suddenly, making it seem unreliable.

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However, there was a deeper reason behind Yeso's choice of weapon. Copper demanded intentionality; it wasn't a blade meant for mindless violence. To effectively use it to kill required a genuine, deliberate intention from the wielder. And this aligned with Yeso's principles; resorting to violence was never his first response.

With his hand firmly on the dagger, he moved cautiously towards the source of the growl, prepared for whatever he might encounter.

Yeso cautiously traced the source of the ferocious sound, his movements akin to a prey rather than a predator. He trod the path leading close to the ormsaat, staying low to the ground, expertly blending with his surroundings to remain undetected.

Each step ensured he made no sound. As he drew closer, what he witnessed stopped him in his tracks, presenting a scene he never anticipated facing in his lifetime.

There, before him, was the Howling Night, Noctavia's wolf, lying on the ground in a state of distress that was painfully evident. The mighty creature appeared debilitated, its mouth drooling and foaming, while its legs twitched and convulsed as if caught in a futile attempt to escape some unseen terror.

"Howl?" Yeso's concern overrode any sense of caution. He swiftly sheathed his blade and rushed to the Spirit's side. "Howl, what happened?" he asked.

Confronted with Howl's distressing state, Yeso found himself torn. He couldn't bear to leave Howl in such a condition, yet the necessity to locate Noctavia was more pressing than ever. The thought haunted him - what if Noctavia had succumbed to a fate similar to her Spirit?

Desperate for any clue, Yeso pleaded with the Howling Night. "Please talk to me, buddy. Where is she?"

"Traitor..." The word, barely more than a strained whisper, escaped Howl's snout.

"Who?" Yeso's brow furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of the cryptic accusation. Who could Howl be referring to?

"Traitor! Verratung!" Howl summoned every ounce of his strength to articulate these words. His voice degraded with pain and effort.

"I need more than that," Yeso urged. "Tell me what you need; help me to help you so we can find her. I'm begging you."

But the wolf's condition seemed to deteriorate, his ability to speak dwindling rapidly. All he could manage were pained growls and whimpers, leaving Yeso with more questions than answers.

Bewildered and anxious, Yeso tried to soothe the agitated wolf, gently stroking his fur. He could sense the Spirit's saatgut waning, slipping through his fingers like sand. "No, no, no... hold on, please hold on. Think about your Master. Think about how heartbroken she'll be if you're gone, alright?" Yeso's voice was on the verge of breaking. "I mean, she still has to give you plenty of belly rubs, right? Buddy?"

In a surprising burst of strength, Howl responded, "Look! Look around from above."

"Look around from above? What do you mean?" Yeso started to look up at the canopy of trees, seeking any sign or clue. "I don't see anything."

"From above! You bird..." Howl managed to snarl, his voice strained, ending in a cough.

Realizing what Howl meant, Yeso gently laid the wolf on the grass and began to remove his robe, revealing his hidden wings. As the robe fell to his feet, his majestic wings unfurled and stiffened, ready for flight.

With a powerful thrust, Yeso took to the air, soaring above Howl's position. He flew higher, each beat of his wings carrying him further into the sky.

From this elevated vantage point, things started to fall into place. The higher he flew, the clearer the situation became, offering him a perspective that was impossible from the ground.

Hovering above, Yeso observed Howl lay at the centre of a charred circle, distinctly divided into four quadrants. Each section bore a symbolic representation: one held the emblem of a cup, another depicted a sword, and a third featured what appeared to be a wand or perhaps a branch.

Most ominously, in the quadrant where the coin symbol should have been, there was instead the chilling image of a human skull.

This sight struck a chord of recognition in Yeso. The layout bore a resemblance to the alchemical design he had once created for Xendrix, a design intended to enable the human to summon him. However, the modifications were glaringly evident from this height.

It was inconceivable that a human could comprehend and manipulate alchemy to such an extent and in such a short time. The Prince had been with them for around six moons. How did he accomplish this?

No, Xendrix had duped them all, and this was the only logical conclusion Yeso could draw. He began to question the previous events: the spider massacre, once deemed an accident by a clueless human, now seemed like a deliberate act. Could it be that Xendrix had intended to bring those creatures to life using necromancy? Was necromancy, indeed, his plan all along?

But even a Menschen would need aeons to learn all the complex web that builds alchemy. There was no way that Xendrix, with his age, would have surpassed a Magi. Unless he wasn’t human? No! Noctavia told him he bleed red. How?

What was Xendrix's ultimate goal? And crucially, why was Noctavia involved in this dark scheme?

As Yeso descended and his feet once again touched the ground, a heavy weight of guilt settled over him. In a moment of devastating clarity, he realized that the blame lay at his feet. He hadn't just provided Xendrix with the Invoka mir Ketten, a powerful piece of alchemy; he had also, perhaps most damningly, revealed Noctavia's true name when he was too spirited by ale – Zonnestra Duvencrune.

This act, born from a misplaced trust, had potentially opened a door for Xendrix to exploit their bond and use Noctavia as a pawn in his twisted game.

The gravity of his error was overwhelming. Yeso understood that he had inadvertently armed Xendrix with the very tools he needed to enact his plan, whatever that may be.

But first, he needed The Howling Night.

> Teaching alchemy is an immensely challenging endeavour, especially for human students or others with little to no magic exposure. Before delving into the complex interplay of shapes, forms, words, and their various layers in alchemy, I find it essential to first explain the concept of magic itself, which takes longer than just one semester. While I agree that it's a complex subject, it's not beyond cognition. However, I've observed that those with red blood typically require double, if not triple, the time to grasp these concepts. And personally, as a professor, I don't mind, and I'm more than happy to teach at their own pace. However, I saw many students drop my classes for the same reasons. And there is nothing I can do. As an academic professor, my learning journey is ongoing. Every day, I learn and discover new insights, identify more efficient methods, and focus on enhancing my teaching approach for my students. In response to your question in mind, no, it is unrealistic to expect a mastery of alchemy within six moons. Even from infancy to one's mid-twenties, achieving the level of mastery that Xendrix Kaspian displayed is virtually impossible. It's simply not feasible unless... ——The Hexe - Book One by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer