Surrounded by ashes, Latla stood tall.

She glanced at the monster beneath her, what little that remained, and believed it to be dead. If it hadn’t, then it would be, for her flames would continuously consume and burn the remaining wooden body till it became ashes.

In front of her, behind a bush, was Cirrus—the boy with a cat atop his head—looking at her with an expression of awe.

He’s fine, Latla thought, good.

Having confirmed that he was safe, tension left her body. The darkness creeping in the edges of her vision closed in and transformed her world black. Losing control of her movement, she could feel the sensation of falling… and crashing onto the hard ground. She could hear Cirrus shouting her name, worrying. His voice diminished with each call, lower and lower until… she could hear him no more…

She had hit her limit—her true limit this time. She wished that she could take him out of this dangerous forest herself, but… he should be fine…

He had the cat with him, a reliable guide.

One last thing she needed to accomplish—was to make sure that she didn’t become a burden. He would have better chances without her weighing him down. With the last of her strength, she muttered: ‘… Leave me.’

… And Latla lost consciousness.

***

‘… leave me…’

Past – Snowy Forest.

‘Don’t… leave me…’ the girl pleaded, sobbing.

Two figures loomed over the girl; their faces unreadable despite them being her parents. She shed tears. She didn’t believe this—wished that this was all a horrible joke. Then, they walked away from her, onto their coach, and rode away.

They had disowned her that day.

Because she was manaless.

***

Present.

Latla opened her eyes.

She rose and assessed her surroundings.

She was inside a room, left to rest with a warm blanket covering her.

She recognized this room. Having lost money due to paying for Shadow Wolf Guild’s repairs, she had vacated into one of the many rooms at the upper story of her café. The room was spacious, had the capacity to keep several sizable pieces of furniture: a comfortable bed, a drawer and wardrobe beside, a desk; bookshelves; and windows in front, and deep inside the room was a private bathroom.

Excessive, for a café located in the slums, but rest was comfortable here.

On the drawer was a plate of wrapped sandwiches, a glass of water, and a note. Latla picked up the last item and read the writing:

“Cirrus and I will be occupying one of the rooms inside the café. Please reach out to us when you’re awake. – Scarlet”

For good measure, she checked the other side of the note:

“I want to write notes too! – Cirrus”

Latla chuckled. She was glad that he was fine. Would be more so if only her body didn’t ache from laughing.

Once she had settled down, she went back to analyzing her situation.

Someone must have carried me here, she thought. Cirrus must have left the forest and asked for help. I’ll have to express my gratitude for that person.

Latla stood up from her bed, stretched her arms upward toward the ceiling. Carefully, for her wounds still hurt. While at it, she noticed that someone had changed her into pajamas and had treated her wounds. Scarlet, she assumed.

While stretching, she could see the night sky through the window.

How long have I been unconscious? Latla wondered. A few hours, I hope.

Having done her stretch, Latla took the glass of water on the drawer and chugged it down. Till the last drop. When she finished, she wished for more. And not just more, but also stronger. Like coffee.

She could eat the sandwiches while brewing coffee downstairs.

Latla grabbed the plate of sandwiches and left the room. In the hallway, she looked at the room beside her, wondering if she should do what the note had instructed her: to reach out to Scarlet, but… that could wait. There was no hurry.

She could and would reach out to her once she was awake in the morning.

Thus, Latla descended the stairs.

Stepped lightly on the wood. One, to avoid making any noises; two, to descend with the least amount of pain.

I’ll need to get painkillers when pharmacies open, Latla thought.

Her body was still hurting from receiving the unlisted monster’s blow and still feeling somewhat weak from the poison.

Judging from how she was alive, the herb must’ve been delivered successfully. Cirrus had grabbed plenty, enough to make cure for a dozen or so if needed.

Latla entered the café area. Walked through it; behind, there was a pantry for dining. Twice more spacious than her room; the siphon had last been placed there. As she walked through the dark hallway below, she smelled smoke.

Why was there smoke?

Latla opened the door to the pantry.

The first sight that greeted her was a dim small light coming from an ember: a cigarette. From that light source, she could make up a figure’s silhouette sitting on the table. In the dark, all by her lonesome.

Scarlet? Latla wondered. No. She has a weak body. Unless she has a death wish (not possible), she wouldn’t smoke.

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‘Who are you?’ Latla asked.

‘Sherry,’ the figure answered. Her voice sounded light, weightless. ‘You?’

Sherry. The name doesn’t ring any bell.

In the dark, Latla stretched her arm and reached for the light switch. A normal café would’ve used candles for lighting, but this extravagant café she had received had light crystals installed. Feeling the switch with her fingertip, she flipped it.

Lights from above exorcised the darkness.

Latla could see Sherry: A young woman with short white hair and awful dark circles under her eyes. Wore a white shirt, black tie, and gray skirt. Had bandages wrapped around her neck and wrists. Her build was slim; overall, she seemed harmless.

Never met her before.

‘Oh, hi Boss.’ Sherry gave Latla a casual salute and a smile.

“Boss”? Latla pondered. ‘… I’ll ask this one more time:

‘Who are you?’

***

Sylvia. Past – Dark Room.

She stared at the flame that her lighter produced: serene, stable, and smooth.

Everyone has this within them, she thought whilst sitting on her desk. A flame that pushes the void away. The will to live.

Sylvia needed it. But had no want for it.

‘You’ll hurt your eyes if you stare at it too long,’ warned a voice.

‘… I didn’t ask for your presence,’ Sylvia responded. Didn’t even bother giving him a glance.

‘I’m aware. But I thought this might interest you.’ He dropped an article on the desk. ‘And in case your curiosity is piqued, I’ve collected her background.’ He dropped a file on top of the article. ‘Please check it out.’

‘…’ Sylvia shooed him. He left her room.

Something that might interest me…

All by her lonesome, she checked the papers.

***

Past – Khiva’s Gate.

There Sylvia was, having arrived with barely anything.

Her possessions were simply her apparel: white shirt, black tie, and gray skirt. Nothing more, nothing less.

Her coming here had been an impulsive decision after all.

***

Dark Room.

She read the name written on the papers:

Latla Altaveli.

***

Past – Khiva’s Bazaar.

Sylvia walked through the crowded bazaar. With difficulty.

She had lost count of how many times she had been carried away by the crowd and ended up in a foreign area, essentially resetting her whole progress.

This annual event was, to her, the worst time to be here. Yet, she pushed forward, toward the slum area.

***

Dark Room.

“A manaless.”

“Abandoned by her family at a young age due to that.”

“Aspired to prove her worth by becoming the greatest mage in all of existence.”

***

Past – Café.

With persistence, she finally reached her destination.

This extravagant building stood out inside the slum area; made her search easier.

She’ll turn this café into a guild someday, Sylvia thought.

Someone was sweeping the front of the café, a woman with scarlet hair. An employee from this place, Sylvia could tell.

Now, she wondered, what’s the easiest way to infiltrate this place?

‘Um… Sorry…’ Sylvia approached the scarlet haired employee, wore a troubled face. ‘Are you hiring?’

The employee was surprised at first, then smiled. ‘Yes. For a barista. Would you be interested to apply?’

That was easy. ‘Yes.’

***

Dark Room.

She lit up her lighter.

Everyone has this within them. She stared at the flame: serene, stable, smooth. Enticing. A flame that pushes the void away. The will to—not just survive, but—live.

Behaves the same way too.

Sylvia burned the papers which she had read.

She stared at the flames: ecstatic and erratic. Watched as it spread from paper to paper.

‘Latla Altaveli…

‘Can your flame push away my void, I wonder?’

***

Past – Café.

‘What’s your name?’ scarlet-hair asked.

My name? Sylvia thought. Not wanting to use her real name, she made one up on the spot.

***

Latla & Sherry. Present – Café’s Pantry.

‘I’m Sherry, Boss,’ she answered her question.

‘That isn’t enough,’ Latla said. She also demanded that she put her cigarette off. To which she complied by pressing the burning end on her tie.

‘Well, it’s S-H-E-R-R-Y. With an S, not a B, otherwise I’ll be Bherry.’ She giggled. ‘Double R, not triple, else that’ll be weird to say. With a Y and not a W-H-Y, though Sherrwhy would be a funny name.’

Is she messing with me intentionally? Latla thought.

No reaction whatsoever? Sherry observed.

Latla changed the question, ‘Why are you here?’

‘Why? Here? Well, I couldn’t sleep. So, I decided to smoke here.’

‘How did you get in?’

‘How did I get in? Well, through the door. I twisted the knob, it opens with a click, I push the door, and I enter!’

Latla was losing her patience.

Oh? Sherry “felt” the heat. Her anger might burn me to cinders. I should stop.

‘You called me “Boss”. Why?’

‘Because you’re my boss, Boss.’ Again, she gave her a casual salute.

‘How did I become your boss?’

‘When I got employed here.’

‘You got employed here?’

‘Yes.’

‘By whom?’

‘Scarlet.’

Scarlet did? Latla thought. To which, she remembered the instruction that she had given her: to secure income for the guild. Sherry’s employment could be related to that. Latla recalled what Scarlet had written on the note.

Latla glanced at Sherry. She wasn’t getting anywhere with her.

I hate to wake Scarlet up, but I have to reach out to—

‘How did you do it, Boss?’ Sherry asked. She wasn’t getting anywhere with her; the feeling was mutual. Might as well be direct about it.

‘How did I do what?’

‘… I was abandoned when I was young. Just like you. Except, I’m not as… ambitious as you.’ She showed her bandaged wrists. ‘How did you do it?’

Abandoned just like me? Latla thought. ‘I’ve publicized myself as being a manaless, but never as being an abandoned child. I’ll ask this one last time: Who are you?’

‘You haven’t answered my question, Latla Altaveli.’

‘You want to have ambitions,’ Latla clarified the problem. ‘The way I see it, you’re already ambitious enough to have done your research on me and come here. Just do what you did.’

… I suppose, she thought, your flame is that contagious.

‘Your turn to answer my question.’

Sylvia smiled. ‘I’m Sherry, Boss.’

I’m reaching out to Scarlet. Latla’s decision was final this time.