*Clink!*

*Clink!*

The crisp chime of two silver coins broke the ambient hum of the marketplace as they landed upon a meager mound of assorted currency nested on a worn, grime-coated shawl. The donor did not bother to acknowledge the presence of the beggar or his greasy rags as he continued on his way.

(Thank you for your generosity.)

Zepher’s gaze trailed the silhouette of the receding benefactor with muted appreciation. It was almost noon and spoils before him were quite high already. While the number of coins might be modest, it surpassed the usual midday collection. Along with the coins, a kind-hearted clerk had offered a barely bruised apple, and an unsuspecting one had lost a cookie to his nimble fingers. Both had swiftly met their end in his stomach. A fruitful morning, indeed.

As he yawned and stretched, weary bones protesting softly, Zepher’s sharp eyes swept over the sea of bustling souls flitting between the market stalls. Most ignored him, but from time to time, a passing worker would raise his hand in greeting, or a lone merchant would exchange a few words about the weather. Zepher, after all, was a renowned figure among the city’s pantheon of paupers.

A loud argument erupted to his left. Turning towards the noise with mild interest, he saw the commotion at the square's entrance, right beside the imposing sculpture of the emperor. A donkey brayed loudly, its cries echoing through the market and drawing attention from all around. Two men gestured heatedly near the animal, but Zepher could not discern the cause of their dispute. Just as he was about to return to his previous activity—the observation of the marketplace—his eye caught a pair of young girls emerging from behind the donkey.

One girl pointed animatedly at the statue and laughed, while the other trailed behind her, subdued. The disparity in their clothing was clear, leading him to surmise that one was the master and the other, her servant. He recognized the shorter girl as a member of a wealthy family that controlled several mines throughout the Empire. However, it was the taller girl who truly captured his interest. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, swaying with her movements. And as she glanced around, he caught a brief look at her pale face and striking reddish eyes.

(Oh, what potential she has! She'd be a marvelous addition, perfect for my performance.) His thoughts briefly wandered, but he quickly reeled himself back. Now was not the moment for daydreams.

Gathering his earnings, he made his way towards the statue. The braying animal at last grew silent, granting his ears some reprieve. Navigating the crowd with ease, he weaved between people like a fish through water, quickly approaching his intended targets.

Ari gaped upward at the emperor’s portrayal. Muscles bulged everywhere, and his beard reached down to his chest while fine mustaches extended outwards. It looked absurd; she was certain no one actually looked like that. Ria rambled something about it 'being cool', but it only made Ari chuckle when she saw all the exposed thews.

Ria was a bundle of energy. Having met just the previous day, it felt as if Ari had known her for years. They had shared stories about their lives and families deep into the night. For the first time, Ari opened up about her deepest worries and fears, a memory that now warmed her cheeks with slight embarrassment. However, she had a sneaking suspicion that Ria was more absorbed in her own tales and would not recall much of what Ari had shared. Regardless, the conversation had lightened Ari's heart, and for that, she was grateful.

Morning had brought Ari a keen urge to explore the Academy, but a sudden announcement that they would go into the city thwarted her plans. Ria seemed unable to take ‘no’ as an answer and due to her persistence, or Ari’s own lack of assertiveness, they ended up right here, at the marketplace.

It differed from the Docks, where desperate vendors peddled their questionable goods from every nook and cranny. Here, stalls were neatly arranged within the square, displaying fresh, appealing wares. Between them, colorful fabrics billowed and snapped in the brisk wind, their rustling harmonizing with the ceaseless bartering that infused the air.

A soft, unnerving voice rang from behind. "Good day, young ladies." Ari spun around to find a bald, emaciated man looming over her. Material scraps dangling from his tattered rags fluttered with the rhythm of the early summer gale. His thin, wrinkle-free skin stretched taut over sharp bones, hinting at the contours of his skull beneath. His skeletal appearance, combined with the youthful smoothness of his skin, made it impossible to guess his age.

A twinge of unease prickled at her senses—something was wrong with this man. As she instinctively tried to take a step back, she collided with a passer-by and the force shoved her back the other way.

“My apologies. It’s quite the crowd today.” The bald man seized her arms and helped her regain balance, bringing her alarmingly close to his face. A grin stretched across his lips, revealing an unnaturally pristine set of teeth. His eyes, wide and intense, appraised her as though she were a priceless artifact. Panic simmered within her. She wanted to flee. But at that moment Ria finally registered the scene and her familiar sharp tone rang out.

“You! I know you!”

The man released Ari, pivoting to face Ria. “Ah, the young mistress recognizes me? Perhaps you might indulge a humble man with a drink? I know of a place—a jewel among taverns—that someone of your stature would certainly value.” His eyes flickered and Ari trembled. She did not want to go anywhere with that man.

“A tavern?” Ria tilted her head, a sly smile forming on her face. “And why, pray tell, would that interest me? But tell you what,”—she smirked, holding his gaze—“do that dancing thing and I get you a drink, or even two.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “Why?” he asked.

“I’ve glimpsed it before, though I was always kept at a distance by my guards. What do you say? Do it and drinks are on me, however many you desire.”

Ari noted how his eyes darted between her and Ria more than once. Was it truly just a drink he sought? As she readied herself to pull Ria away, the man finally conceded.

“Very well. A dance it is then. Let’s add a touch of merriment to this bustling day.”

Almost instantly, he began a dance that Ari found utterly perplexing. His hands flitted from side to side, elbows bent and straightened repeatedly, all the while he shifted weight from one leg to the other. Confused, Ari glanced at Ria, but her friend was already dancing alongside the man, mirroring his steps.

Bystanders parted for them, their hypnotic dance drawing eyes from every corner. Some hurried to leave, while a few merchants threw threatening gestures toward the ragged beggar. Ari struggled to make sense of the unfolding spectacle.

But then, subtly, the atmosphere seeped into her, and she felt the rhythm—gentle at first, like a lapping wave—and then overwhelming. Before she realized it, she was moving, swaying, the world around her blurring into a colorful motion. The marketplace transformed into a riot of dance. As if caught in the same enchantment, some people circled the statue, hands linked, while others lost themselves to individual rhythms at the square’s heart.

Ari found herself dancing with a partner, their hand in hers. Though the individual's face was a hazy blur, she did not mind. Overwhelmed with euphoria, her surroundings became a series of vivid snapshots—the market, the sky, the walls, the people. Every image was rich in detail yet fleeting, making it impossible to focus. Emotions surged within her, erasing the past and immersing her in a timeless present.

A transition happened: her partner vanished. Alone, Ari leaped, letting her dress twirl with her. Before she could settle, hands gripped her shoulders from behind. Instinctively, she did the same to the person in front of her. Her palms touched the stranger’s back, and an uncanny sense of unity formed. Now, she had a lengthy corpus with countless legs. They moved. A serpentine chain of people snaked through the stalls and dancers, swaying rhythmically from side to side.

She had lost track of time. What might have been mere moments felt like an eternity, awash in a luminous, ethereal joy. She was but an empty shell, floating on an endless sea of shallow happiness.

Then, a piercing cold invaded her consciousness. For a brief moment, it snapped her back to reality, only to release its hold, leaving her mind adrift once more. But the insidious cold persisted, creeping into her very marrow, disrupting her serenity. These frozen tendrils grew more insistent, like a storm gathering force. A mounting dread bubbled within, shattering her inner peace. She wanted to scream, to tear the nothingness surrounding her, to return to her previous state, to the bliss. But the effect grew stronger. Her whole ephemeral being froze, part by part. She struggled, tried to expunge it, but it was a hopeless effort. The cold won.

Blinking against the sunlight, Ari stood in the square's heart. She let her gaze wander, trying to anchor herself back to reality. Spotting Ria beside her, a semblance of a smile touched her lips. As memories trickled in and the haze began to clear, she observed the crowd around her. They moved hesitantly, looking as if they feared their own legs might betray them at any moment.

Emerging from her stupor, Ari felt the disorientating blur of waking mid-dream. Seeking stability, she clutched Ria’s arm. Ria flinched, her gaze distant, drifting past Ari. It was only after a few heartbeats that she blinked into clarity, truly seeing her friend. A commanding voice coming from the side interrupted their reunion.

“Zepher!”

The crowd rippled, parting to reveal a tall woman, golden curls cascading down her back. The light blue of her flowing dress seemed to chase her as she advanced with determined strides.

“Have we not discussed this sort of entertainment already?” Without missing a beat, she closed the gap between herself and the tattered man. “Using Mind Power without consent is forbidden no matter how harmless the effect is. Which part of that you do not understand?”

“Zepher is blameless,” he responded, his posture sagged, eyes downcast, a finger tentatively gesturing towards Ria. “This young lady demanded it; how could I refuse a noble’s request?”

The woman’s gaze, cold and piercing, settled on the girls. The shivers that Ari had only just shaken off returned, cascading down her spine in an icy rush. Her efforts to return the stare were thwarted by the chilling intensity of the woman’s pulsating blue eyes—twin sapphires ablaze with an internal tempest. They resembled glowing crystals with a blizzard of white sparks sealed within. Every stolen glance sent tremors of cold racing over Ari, overwhelming her senses and forcing her eyes away.

In the meantime, Ria took a few shy steps to hide behind Ari’s back. Given her shorter stature, she could disappear from the woman's sight just by standing in the right spot.

“Identify yourself, girls.”

The command in the woman’s tone made Ari’s throat tighten, but she managed to respond, her voice a nervous tremor. “Ar-ri, Ariella Lor-r-rage.”

With eyes narrowed to slits, the woman seemed to dissect Ari with her gaze, her focus lingering on Ari’s chest as if attempting to peer right through her.

“Ria, do you take me for a fool? Step forward at once!”

Protestation rose in Ria’s voice, a blend of fear and defiance. “I didn’t know he’s not allowed to do that! He wanted us to buy him drinks! I didn’t know!” She clung to Ari’s dress, desperate for comfort, unwilling to leave her sanctuary in Ari’s shadow.

“Drinks?” The woman’s gaze snapped back to Zepher, who hesitated, weighing his words. But before he could form a response, she dismissed him with an exasperated sigh, turning her attention back to Ari. “So, you’re that Cassem’s girl, huh?”

A small nod was all Ari managed, finally daring to meet the woman’s eyes. The once radiant blue glow had dimmed, the icy chill gone, replaced by a gentle smile. The shift in the woman’s demeanor eased the tension knotting Ari’s shoulders, a breath of relief filling her lungs.

The woman focused on the ragged man once more. “So in the end, this whole situation is your fault, Zepher. Extorting young girls? A grave offense indeed.”

Indignation flashed across Zepher’s face. “Extorting!? I merely sought humble support!”

“No,” she countered, her voice firm. “You preyed on their conscience. But I have an excellent idea. You shall be the one to purchase their drinks. That purse of yours seems to be pretty fat today. I’m sure you can afford that.”

Without thinking, Zepher’s hand darted to the spot where he kept his coins. Even though there were no outward signs of any wealth hidden beneath his rags, his reaction made it clear the woman was right.

“That’s a magnificent idea,” he replied. “Only you, esteemed lady, could be so forgiving. Your magnanimity knows no bounds. I will abide by your decision and shall escort these young women to the finest tavern in the city.” He executed a low bow, attempting to divert attention from his earlier revealing slip.

The woman arched a brow. “As if they were to let you in, but take them somewhere decent.” She then addressed Ari and Ria. “Both of you tread the path of Great Mages now. It’s essential you learn to interact with all sorts of people, and this presents the perfect opportunity. He is harmless. And you, Ria—you’re already stronger than he is. Have some fun at his expense.”

She noted Ria’s continued attempt to shield herself behind Ari and let out a resigned sigh. In a fluid motion, she closed the gap, grasping arms of both girls before they could pull away.

Coldness erupted from the spot where the woman touched Ari. It surged, permeating Ari’s being, causing her to shudder as though she were doused in frigid waters.

“Good, now go and enjoy.” The woman gave their heads a gentle pat, leaning in to whisper. “With his Power, he shouldn’t be a beggar. He chooses to be one. Stay alert. Have your drink and head back straight to the Academy. No lingering or idle wanderings.”

“And you, Zepher,”—the woman pointed at the ragged man—“you are paying for everything. If I hear anything else, you and I will have a most unpleasant conversation.”

After one final menacing glance in his direction, she melted into the crowd.

Ari remained rooted to the spot, the chilling sensation gradually receding. She tried to trace the woman’s departure, but the crowd’s fleeting curiosity waned, and soon the bustling rhythm of the square resumed.

The beggar, despite the woman’s warning, beamed, his grin stretching wide. “Shall we, young mistresses? We have our instructions,” he said, surveying the scene to plot their course through the sea of passerby.

The notion of spending even a single moment with the man repulsed Ari. She contemplated slipping away, but Ria firmly gripped her arm, evidently keen on following him. Ari exhaled, suffering in silence. It was like that the entire day, but she could not utter ‘no’ to her new friend. She said nothing and let Ria lead her forward.

*

From the depths of a huge, transparent glass mug, a myriad of tiny bubbles surged upwards. They streamed incessantly in a frenzied ballet, twisting and twirling, before they burst free at the surface. Along with the crimson liquid’s delicate swiveling, they created an illusion that the drink was living its own life.

Ari eyed the mug warily. Although she had not tasted alcohol before, she had seen a plethora of various brews during her visits to Uncle Hamil. He was not truly family—much like Aunt Kormelia was to her mother, he was a friend to her father’s. She had frequented his tavern often, yet never encountered a liquor quite like this.

Lifting the mug carefully, she took a little hesitant sip. The cold liquid and popping bubbles flooded her mouth, continuing their effervescence as she swallowed. The sensation was strange. Not unpleasant, just…unique. Intrigued by the taste, she braved a more confident gulp, only to find her eyes shining with a teary gleam as the gas threatened to escape through her nostrils.

Wanting to hide her reaction, she set the mug down and turned her head away to look at the tavern’s interior. The tavern itself was also different from what she knew. Instead of wobbly chairs and a dirty, sticky floor, there was sturdy furniture and not a single speck of dust. The place beamed with cleanliness, rivaling the Academy’s standards.

A cursory glance at the other tables revealed a thin scattering of patrons, all of them engrossed in eating and drinking. The sparse crowd was to be expected given the early afternoon hour. All the patrons looked like merchants, and most of them exuded a foreign vibe. She was familiar with their kind; they often visited docks to conduct business. It was better to not cross paths with them, as their status eclipsed that of the district’s impoverished inhabitants. Ari stiffened the moment she noticed them—the ingrained wariness ran deeply in her veins.

“… and once I become the Great Mage of Death, I’ll rid the world of all the undead!” Although Ari had tuned out Ria’s chatter as she examined the interior, the gravity of Ria’s proclamation snapped her back to the present, her pulse quickening in alarm.

Death Power. A taboo. Those unfortunate enough to manifest even a whisper of such talent were, without fail, neutered of their magic. Many plunged into depths of apathy right after the procedure.

This was the second time Ari had heard Ria make such a statement. Yesterday, she had questioned if she had heard correctly, but now there was no doubt. It boggled Ari’s mind that her newfound friend would blurt out something like that in public, especially to a complete stranger. Well, the day earlier they did not know each other either, so at least there was some consistency in her behavior.

A nervous swallow gripped Ari’s throat, her palm involuntarily twitching. She had no desire to be neutered of her Power. The ragged man, Zepher, met her gaze as he sipped his own crimson brew, seemingly oblivious to Ria’s outrageous claim. Despite his apparent ignorance, Ari felt compelled to clarify.

“S-She’s joking. In fact, her talent lies in Life Power!” she exclaimed, her voice tattering.

Ria whipped her head around to face Ari.

“When did you turn into that old bastard!?” Ria’s voice escalated, her palms slamming the table. “I WILL become one, and no one shall stand in my way!” Her face flushed with passion, hands clenched into fists.

Conversations around the room halted as heads turned their way. Ari’s heart sank; she had intended to defuse the situation, but inadvertently magnified it, drawing every eye in their direction.

Luckily, noticing the rapt attention they had garnered, Ria clamped her mouth shut, opting to sulk on the side instead. Sensing the drama had passed, the onlookers soon delved back into their own matters.

“Isn’t it a lamentable state of affairs?” The ragged man’s musing caught Ari off guard. Throughout Ria’s outburst, he had been observing Ari rather than heeding Ria’s fervent declarations. She was unsure what he was alluding to.

The man continued. “For over four centuries, the invasions of the undead have plagued the world. Yet, instead of understanding the Power that animates them, they’ve shunned it. How can they hope to triumph when they’re willfully blind? Perhaps they don’t wish to.”

With a distant look, he cast his eyes upward, lost in thought. The transition gave Ari a moment of respite to gather herself. The forbidden Power of Death did not seem to unsettle him; in fact, he appeared willing to entertain a discussion about it. Ria, emboldened by his words, leaned forward. “So, you believe it holds potential, then?”

He chuckled softly. “Potential? Who am I to say? I’m just a ragged fellow with a handful of parlor tricks. But shunning its study? I do think it’s a losing game. Our adversaries continuously refine their craft. How can we combat what we don’t understand?”

A contemplative silence ensued. He absentmindedly played with a ring on his middle finger, turning it back and forth. After a lingering pause, he spoke again. “The Power, in its essence, is neither inherently benevolent nor malevolent. It’s merely a tool, and it’s the hand that wields it which defines its nature. We shape it with our will and intentions, and we bear the consequences of its use. To outlaw a specific aspect because of havoc it once wrought feels… shortsighted. Yet, the emperor’s decree is absolute—his word is law. Tempting fate by defying it is ill-advised for those fond of their innate gifts.”

The weight of his words silenced even the spirited Ria. A somber stillness settled among them as they contemplated the fading wisdom.

Zepher’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the girl with shimmering silver hair seated across the table. She was the very embodiment of the ideal vision he had harbored for his dream performance. Perhaps a tad too young, but that was a minor inconvenience—he possessed the patience to wait for her to mature.

At first, he had hoped she was but a simple servant. In such a sprawling metropolis, people vanished daily, seldom causing a stir. Her status as a Great Mage adept was also not an issue. True, it would be a bit more troublesome as her disappearance would be noticed, and a search ordered, but the overall level of magical proficiency in this world was notably lacking.

In recent centuries, the entire continent had not progressed; rather, it had experienced a significant regression. The scale of the setback was baffling, and he struggled to comprehend this anomaly. Wartime ought to spur advancement, not stagnation. Was the tremendous blow they suffered four hundreds years ago too severe? The continent’s developed regions had been obliterated, but who would have predicted the once-thriving civilization would remain mere shadows of their former glory, not regaining their standing even after so long a time?

Regardless, the inhabitants of this world, weakened as they were, posed no tangible threat to him. However, Zepher’s calculus shifted upon realizing the shorter girl referred to the silver-haired beauty as a friend—a complication he had no courage to take on.

His focus shifted from Ari, who seemed determined to avoid his gaze, to Ria, whose energetic pigtails swayed as she guzzled down her drink. The semblance was uncanny. He had encountered her twin just two years prior. They were almost mirror images, save for the hair: Ria’s was a deep chestnut, while her sister’s was as black as raven’s feathers.

He shuddered at the recollection of that day.

That day, approaching noon, he emerged from his cozy abode. The sky was pristine, devoid of any mar to its azure canvas. Stretching and yawning, he rubbed away the remnants of slumber from his eyes—he had indulged in a longer sleep than usual. However, his lethargy melted away as his eyes scanned the garden, detecting subtle discrepancies. Those little cues sounded an alarm in his mind. Someone had moved his deck chair. Someone had put a Vinneri flower on his outdoor table—its white petals shone like a polished mirror under the sun’s brilliance. Someone had stolen one of the rare golden apples from his apple tree. And most jarring of all, someone was lying in his hammock.

His first thought was that some brazen servant had forgotten their place, but the idea made little sense. Be it a servant or intruder, his protective wards around the house should have detected any foreign presence. Extending his senses, he probed the spell’s feedback. There was nothing—just the hum of insects and the sporadic flight of a bird. Yet, contradicting his findings, the hammock appeared occupied, taut with a visible bulge, gently swaying in the breeze.

Cautiously, he circled the scene, maintaining distance, eyes darting between the hammock and his surroundings. Engrossed in keen observation and recurrent verification of his wards’ feedback, he overlooked the brittle twig in his path. The sharp crack as it snapped beneath his foot echoed through the still air, resonating like an ominous war drum’s beat. All momentum vanished; he froze, paralyzed by the abrupt disturbance.

The hammock stirred, and a girl’s head popped from within, her eyes locking onto him. In a swift motion, she leaped out, her pigtails bouncing in unison as she landed gracefully on her feet.

(How old could she be? Eleven? Twelve at most,) he mused. Her presence here, deep within his dominion, puzzled him. Several villages lay beyond, yes, but the vast, dense woods should have made it nearly impossible for a lone girl to traverse. Even more bewildering was her attire: a lavish, knee-length gown of the richest black, offset by delicate frills. Short sleeves draped elegantly over her arms, and a sash of an even darker shade cinched her waist, emphasizing the rich fabric. This was no peasant’s garb. What brought her here?

“Hello there,” she greeted him with a sly grin and a casual wave. Her audacity was disconcerting; there was something unsettling in her demeanor. It was as though she owned the place and he was merely a visitor, not the other way around.

In response, he unleashed a probing pulse of energy to dissect the girl’s presence. Its strength was enough for it to be considered rude—bordering on intrusive even—but he had to remind himself that it was his home and he was superior to anything on this planet.

The mental scan yielded a comprehensive spatial portrayal of his surroundings, yet where the girl stood, instead of intricate details, he saw a glaring black hole—no data, no impressions, just an impenetrable chasm of nothingness.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, closing the gap between them with measured steps.

As she advanced, his usually calm and collected senses screamed ‘danger’. Over the eons, he had cultivated an immense might and had not felt the need to cower before anyone for a long, long time. Yet, with every footfall the girl made, a deep-seated dread gripped him, causing his very core to tremble.

His instinct urged him to flee, to forsake everything he had achieved so far, and leave this world behind. But reason pushed back. The girl’s ability to find his secluded refuge suggested mastery over teleportation. And if she could bridge spaces, she might also possess means to obstruct spatial manipulations of others, making it impossible to open portals, or even worse: force them to collapse in the middle of the transit. It seemed wiser to bide his time.

The girl invited herself to his wooden cabin, wandering around and peppering him with a myriad of questions about his life in this remote area. “Why such isolation? How do you sustain yourself? Do the woods not get eerie at night? Do you concoct your own medicines? Or perhaps these are for culinary delights?” Her barrage of inquiries seemed endless. To each, he offered vague, noncommittal answers, all the while gauging her intent.

“Charming abode, quaint and cozy. Nothing like my family’s sprawling monstrosity,” she said, ensconcing shamelessly on his bed. “But what are you doing here, on this planet? In this universe, even?” Tilting her head, she studied him. “You’re not native to either, are you not?”

He faltered, momentarily speechless.

“I beg your pardon, miss?” he stammered, swallowing hard under the weight of her scrutiny. “I’m afraid I don’t quite fathom—“

“Save your pretense,” she cut him off. Her aura, like molten gold, seeped into the room from the darkest void of her being. Reality appeared to warp in her wake, as if space, nature, and the very essence of the world were bending, seeking unity with her presence. She seemed to be intrinsically woven into the fabric of existence—a phenomenon he had never seen before. To his probing senses, the impenetrable hole of nothingness that enshrouded her was fusing with the universe itself.

(This level of control. How? Could it be…)

“Apologies, my lady.” He fell to his knees, head bowed in deference. “While I am indeed a traveler, I’ve never had the honor of crossing paths with a goddess. Please forgive my inattentive reception.”

“I am no god,” she responded, her smile cold and distant, a flicker of displeasure crossing her face as if the title offended her.

“My apologies, I misspoke.” A nervous bead of sweat trickled down his brow as he quickly diverted. “You inquired about my presence here. In truth, I sought refuge on this planet as a retreat, a sabbatical, if you will. My research had grown stagnant, and I hoped the wonders of this realm might reignite my inspiration.” He dared a cautious glance at her, his voice laced with hope. “Perhaps I could receive some guidance from a higher being?”

The girl chuckled, rising gracefully to her feet. “Not my area of expertise, but I admire your craftiness.” She took a deliberate step towards him, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spun a web of half-truths, painting a picture of a weary scholar seeking solace in unfamiliar land. But,” she paused, her gaze sharpening, “I know everything—I’m seeing through the facade. Did you really believe you could hide that this land is the true focus of your research?”

From his kneeling position, he recoiled, falling backward, and scrambled away without daring to stand. “I meant no deception,” he pleaded. “What had begun as a minor side project grew over the years. I am at your mercy. Whatever you ask of me, I shall abide,” he said, his voice trembling.

She tilted her head again. “Good, good,” she affirmed. “But worry not. I need nothing from you. Like you, I’m merely sightseeing in this world, trapped here by circumstances, trying to pass the time amidst my boredom. Your projects are of no interest to me and I won’t interfere, but I may drop by in the future to see how you’re faring.”

In an instant, she transformed into a wisp of dark smoke, dissipating before him. He remained trembling on the floor, rattled to his core, questioning his own abilities as his detection wards revealed no trace of the girl’s existence throughout their interaction. Her parting words echoed in his ears: “When you decide to leave this world, take the stranger with you.”

(What stranger?) persisted as the sole thought in his mind until he finally regained his composure.

It was only much later that he discovered the girl’s identity: a resident of the Empire’s capital, the daughter of a prominent mining magnate. Despite his efforts to uncover more, details were scant. All he could glean was that she was one of three gifted sisters, estranged from society because of some past incident, and involved in clandestine dealings with the emperor himself.

The hum of the past faded, and Zepher returned to the present, his gaze falling on Ria. Her aura pulsed just as any other Great Mage’s would—nothing outside the norm. Her energy was calming, bearing no trace of the foreboding menace that emanated from her sister.

With a heavy heart, he decided that pursuing the silver-haired girl was not worth it after all. The risk was too high, especially if it meant provoking Ria’s sister. On the bright side, he now had clarity about what he was looking for. He only needed to find a suitable replacement, and if memory served him right, Bandawi were said to reside in the Docks. He had largely avoided that district so far—poor people held little appeal—but now it beckoned to him with promise. If he could locate a fitting person, this situation would count as a win, would it not?

“Barman! Another round for my lovely ladies! Bring that specialty of yours!” Zepher’s voice boomed, directed at the plump man standing behind the tavern’s bar.

The barman cast a skeptical glance their way. These young women at the table had already downed plenty. While he harbored reservations about the ragged man’s intentions, Zepher was a regular, often accompanied by people of high status despite his appearances. Therefore, his request was not entirely out of line, yet the barman hesitated.

“Hurry now! Those two fine ladies may become your future patrons. Don’t you want more recognition among Great Mages?” Zepher coaxed, noting the delay.

Sighing, the barman conceded. “Very well. I’m on it.” He would prefer to steer clear of trouble, but sometimes there was no safe choice to make.

Zepher rose to his feet, offering a curt bow. “Ladies, our conversation has been delightful, but duty beckons. Alas, those of my humble station cannot afford much of an idle fun. I bid you farewell and I hope we meet again soon.”

Two pairs of eyes remained fixed on him; relief emanated from Ari, while Ria could not hide her disappointment. “You’re leaving so soon? There’s still so much I want to learn about your abilities, about all the things I glimpsed from afar.”

“My apologies. Another time, perhaps?” He offered another courteous bow. “Until then, savor your beverages.” He made his exit, deliberately overlooking Ria’s crestfallen expression.

“Hey! What about the payment?” The barman’s shout echoed, halting Zepher in his tracks.

“Put that on my tab.”

“Put that on your tab?”

“What?” Zepher asked in an annoyed voice. “Haven’t I always settled my dues? I have needs for my coin tonight. Surely, you can wait? A day or two won’t hurt.”

The barman said nothing in response, lifting two glass mugs with freshly prepared beverages. The girls observed Zepher’s departure from the tavern, jolting slightly as the aromatic drinks landed before them.

“Young ladies, I trust you will enjoy this blend,” the barman said, pride clear in his voice. “While the recipe is a closely guarded secret, I believe Great Mages with discerning palates like yours might recognize some ingredients. Your esteemed presence is always welcome. Please visit often.”

Ari, at a loss for words, simply nodded her appreciation. Meanwhile, Ria had already grabbed her mug, eager to taste the drink right away.

After a sip, Ria’s eyes brightened. “Next, I’ll take you to the Blue District,” she said. “You’ll love it.”

*

With a groan of relief, Ari stretched, her spine popping as she worked the stiffness from her muscles. The tavern’s coziness had consumed more of the day than she realized; the sun had long since reached its zenith and was in eager pursuit of the horizon.

(Eh, we’ve squandered the daylight. Meeting that man was unfortunate. What should we do now?) She turned to Ria, her head spinning just enough to throw her off balance. The sensation was mild, certainly not what she expected.

“Ria, isn’t alcohol supposed to have a stronger effect? I’ve seen grown men struggle to stand after just a single bottle of certain brews. But after all we drank, I hardly feel any different.”

Ria pondered for a moment. “Hm, my father let me taste wine a few times and it was enough to leave my head reeling. You’re right; it’s not how it should be.”

“Do you think that barman watered it down?”

“No,”—Ria shook her head, a sudden heat in her voice—“I think it was Mrs. Tercel’s doing. It’s just like her to offer a taste of joy, only to snatch it away. She’s a monster!”

Ari recalled Mrs. Tercel’s icy touch and shuddered.

“So you know her? I was about to ask about that. Who is she?”

Ria hesitated, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “She was my examiner.”

“So you met her two days ago?”

“What? No. Why two days ago?” Confusion flickered in Ria’s eyes.

“The assessment day was two days ago,” Ari explained.

“Ah! No. She’s like, um, my private examiner. I knew I would go to the Academy for a few years already, and Mrs. Tercel was doing periodic check-ups on me. I was meeting her from time to time.”

Ari raised an eyebrow. “And you’re afraid of her?”

“Afraid?! Of course not!” Ria replied, perhaps a touch too defensively. “Anyway, let’s go. To the Blue District!”

Ari smiled, remembering how her resolute friend was hiding behind her back earlier in the day. But her mood soon plummeted as she realized Ria was leading her towards the part of the city where the wealthiest people lived.

“I don’t think I want to go there…” she said with caution.

“Why? It’s amazing. Sure, it can’t compare to the Academy, but there’s a vast lake with many kinds of colorful fishes that jump high in the air.” Mimicking the fish, Ria jumped too, and then made a playful splash sound as she landed. “You really must see it!” Laughing, she skipped ahead, pulling Ari along.

Ari felt a twinge of guilt, observing Ria’s infectious enthusiasm. She had no desire to dampen her friend’s spirits, but this was one boundary she was compelled to set. The middle-class areas they wandered through were unsettling enough with their prying eyes and whispering judgments. How could she possibly venture into a nobility’s district?

“I… It’s like I do not belong here. I’m poor, and everyone sees that. They all stare at me. Look at my dress. It’s the best one I have, and it looks like a rag compared to what others are wearing. I can’t go any further. Let’s go back, go somewhere else.” Ari stopped, waiting for a reaction.

Ria tilted her head, pondering for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “Hm, yeah, it may bring attention when we go hand in hand like that. Servants usually follow a few steps behind. But if clothes are what worries you, then let’s go shopping!”

And like all the times before, Ria latched onto her hand, tugging her forward with typical fervor.

“Hey, wait, I don’t have any money. Were you deaf when I said I’m poor?” Ari protested, yearning to reclaim some semblance of control over the situation.

Ria laughed. “Don’t you know? The Academy provides its students with an allowance. They’ll start paying after the semester starts, but most merchants are more than willing to extend credit to adepts. We’re good to go.”

With that irresistible grin on her face, Ria forced her way once more. Ari sighed, realizing the futility of arguing with her. She conceded to the fact she could not win with her friend.

The store they entered was small, devoid of windows. Garments hung on the walls, while the central area remained empty, save for a wooden desk on the opposing side. Ari’s eyes widened, flitting across dresses, blouses, and trousers, each appearing more enchanting than the last under the pale, eerie glow of a lime-tainted lightstone. The luminance sculpted the fabrics, highlighting their curves and sharpening their edges.

Dark recesses lurking in the room’s corners, and the shifting shadows trailing behind the Ari and Ria, lent an air of mystery. Each piece of attire seemed imbued with a life of its own, its hues morphing and dancing as they moved deeper into the store.

From a side door adjacent to the desk, a woman emerged. “Good evening, young ladies. Welcome to Elan Boutique. How may I be of service today?” she intoned, bowing respectfully.

“We are here to see Master Toulon,” Ria answered without hesitation.

A note of regret entered the woman’s eyes. “I apologize, but the Master is preoccupied at the moment. Might I arrange a later appointment for you?”

Ria’s head tilted, a quirk Ari had noted to surface whenever the unexpected occurred. Then Ria’s tone turned icy.

“No, I said I want to see Master Toulon. Fetch him. Now.”

The store attendant paled, hearing the commanding attitude radiating from Ria. She hesitated only for an instant before springing into action. “Of course. Please allow me a moment to summon him,” she said, hurrying out of the room.

Ari’s hands folded, knuckles whitening as she gripped herself tightly, a futile effort to maintain composure amidst the palpable tension. Even though she had known Ria for merely a day, such verbal aggression was unexpected and her heart raced, fueled by anxiety.

“Can you believe the nerve?” Ria fumed. “Arranging a later meeting? Who does she think we are?”

Ari subtly licked her dry lips; Ria’s ranting was not soothing her at all.

Soon, a stout, middle-aged man burst forth from the door, arms stretched wide in an exaggerated welcome. “Miss Sarelli! I am so thrilled to have you in my humble store! Tell me, is your dress serving you well? Should there be any issues, I shall address them at once.” His gaze flitted between the two girls before settling decisively on Ria. “And my sincerest apologies for my assistant’s conduct. Her tenure is fresh and her experience is lacking. I shall ensure such inconveniences do not repeat.” Behind him, the woman bowed in apology.

“Master Toulon, always a pleasure,” Ria’s voice took on a smoother tone. “My friend here”—she gracefully sidestepped, extending a hand towards Ari—“requires clothing. We share the room at the Academy.” She emphasized the last sentence.

“Oh, that’s marvelous! Miss Sarelli, your endorsement of my products means the world to me!” Master Toulon’s eyes alighted with a business-savvy twinkle. “Young lady”—he addressed Ari with full attentiveness, as if he had not ignored her all that time before—“allow me a moment to look at you.”

Commanding her into a reference pose with her arms extended laterally, he instructed her to execute a slow pirouette. “Yes… yes, we shall definitely find fitting attire. I just need a minute to think.”

“We want something on par with the quality of my dress,” Ria barged in before the clerk could muster a suggestion.

Master Toulon’s expression tightened. “Ah, that presents a conundrum. The dresses I crafted for you and your sisters were the absolute pinnacle of my work—the best products I have ever made. I’m currently in the process of crafting a shirt which might be of similar standard, but it’s tailored for a man. Moreover, the price for such a creation far exceeds an adept’s stipend.” He conveyed the last with a gentle, regretful shake of his head.

Unfazed, Ria pressed on. “I’ll cover the cost. Show us your second-best offering.”

Ari’s hand clasped Ria’s shoulder, a quiet plea interwoven in her touch. “No”—she swallowed audibly as Ria’s serious eyes found hers—“I need nothing fancy. I’ll buy what I can afford. Something to let me blend will suffice. They are just clothes.”

“Just clothes?” Ria’s head tilted again, a contemplative pause hanging between them before her gaze shifted back to the merchant. “You see? She doesn’t even know. Ignore her. What’s the second best piece of cloth you can offer?”

Ari almost gasped aloud at that development. She could not disagree with anything—Ria was not listening at all, doing whatever she wanted, bulldozing through every objection, every plea. Yet, curiosity flickered within Ari when the Master Toulon spoke next.

“In that case, I may have something of interest. It is not a dress, but an entire uniform. Allow me a moment to retrieve it.”

The man departed, reappearing shortly with his arms cradling a set of meticulously folded attire. He unveiled a buttoned jacket first, followed by sleek trousers and supple, towering leather boots. Culminating the ensemble was a short cape skirt. All the garments were of a smoke white color.

The assistant took the clothes and gestured for Ari to follow. Still ensnared in the web of hesitance, Ari felt a gentle yet firm push from Ria, accompanied by a definitive “Go!” propelling her into the next room. She was led into a rectangular alcove, secluded by hanging fabric.

“Please undress. Your clothing may rest on the table,” the woman instructed, pointing to a sturdy, elongated bench, her other hand deftly adjusting the drapery.

Ari looked at the assistant for a moment, but it seemed she had no plans to leave. Seizing the chance, Ari asked about one thing that had been bothering her since she saw the uniform. “Um, I have a question. I can’t help but wonder…aren’t those clothes way too large for me?” she voiced her doubts, recalling the presentation a few minutes earlier.

“I see,” the woman responded with a gentle smile. “You are unfamiliar with Ao woven textiles. Allow me to guide you. I will explain the details.”

As Ari undressed, she mulled over what she knew about Ao-infused items. The most common ones were lightstones. They were forged by enchanters capable of extracting Ao filaments and turning them into circuits that were later embedded into various objects. However, the problem was, she had never heard about a minimization Power.

She donned the jacket and trousers, both oversized, clearly tailored for someone double her height.

“Draw up your sleeves and hike the pant legs so they don’t trail,” the assistant instructed.

Ari complied, clumsily bunching the excess material around her hands and ankles while trying to keep the trousers from falling down—they were too wide to stay at her waist.

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“Now, channel the Power into the uniform,” the assistant continued, unfazed by Ari’s struggles.

“The Power?” Confusion knotted Ari’s voice, mirroring the quizzical tilt of her head. “Into the uniform?”

“Yes, use your Power,” the assistant confirmed, maintaining an even tone.

(That’s not really helpful,) Ari thought, unsure of how to proceed. “Um, I… My examination was only two days ago, and I haven’t really used the Power yet.”

A deep, empathetic bow from the assistant followed. “Oh, I beg your forgiveness for presuming, young lady. Please, do not worry. It is very simple. Given that you have joined the esteemed Academy, I am sure you can do it. Reflect upon your examination—the sensation of the Power pulsing within you. Try to recapture that sensation and guide its flow into the uniform.”

The assistant’s calm reassurance mollified Ari’s spiraling tension. She reached inward, searching for her source. It was still there, shimmering gently in response to her probe.

(But how does one channel it?) she mused. During the examination, she had a clear goal in mind. It was different now—she was tasked with streaming the Power in its raw form.

The source fluctuated beneath her mental touch, overwhelming her with a profound sense of unity. She became the force. Her will dictated the energy, which surged, eager to permeate every recess of her being.

Abruptly, all of it halted, rebounding as though it struck an unseen barrier before dissipating into nothingness. “I can’t. It won’t come,” Ari said, her eyes opening, reflecting defeat and confusion.

“Don’t rush it. Should the volume be too thin, converge your focus upon a single point of contact. Your navel would be the optimal choice—it once served as a conduit for your mother’s Power. Your body is naturally attuned to channel energy through there.”

(Thin volume? If that tumultuous flood is considered ‘thin’, I wonder what high volume looks like,) Ari mused, but held her tongue. Instead, she dove back into the second attempt.

This time, she reduced her presence within the force, cautiously nudging a lesser quantity of energy forward. Repulsion came again, mirroring the previous outcome, yet a delay lingered before the Power receded. Persistently, she repeated the process. Each subsequent attempt stirred the source—it now boiled, spewing more and more energy, spreading tendrils of searing heat throughout her entire body.

After one more try, the Power reached her skin. Just a step more, and it would cascade outwards. Focusing on the spot around her navel where the uniform caressed her flesh, she permitted the energy to spill over. In the subsequent instant, her consciousness expanded its reach. A labyrinth of threads materialized in her mind, becoming increasingly intricate as she continued to pour in more of her Power.

“Well done,” the assistant affirmed, her fingers lightly grazing the jacket, monitoring Ari’s progress. “Can you see the embedding map linking all the nodes? You must locate the node resembling a mountain range. After you find it, you will notice you can affect it. Play with it a little; learn what it does.”

Ari’s awareness spanned the entirety of the web, taking in each of its complex nodes. These nodes, elaborate structures of intertwined threads, guided energy with meticulous precision along the path of least resistance. Her focus honed onto the particular node described by the assistant, coaxing a trace of power into an alternate filament. In response, dormant pathways within the node blazed to life, while others dimmed, their vibrancy drying up. The pattern of the flow had changed.

“Excellent job,” the assistant voiced her approval. “See there? The left cuff is expanding. Try something different. Shape it, mold it; your aim is to tailor this uniform to be nothing less than an extension of you. It should fit you perfectly.”

A glimmer of understanding dawned in Ari’s eyes as she watched the cloth morph. By steering the force applied to the node, she could achieve varying effects on the fabric. Following that revelation, she immersed herself in the task, taking the better part of an hour to perfect every element of the ensemble to her liking.

Turning around before the mirror, she admired her reflection. The entire uniform, down to the boots and cape skirt, matched her form flawlessly. And it looked stunning—a silhouette of stark elegance, eliciting admiration, but also a twinge of anxiety as unease threaded its way into Ari’s heart.

(Is it truly my reflection? I look like a noble. Can I really have this?) The worries that had plagued her over the past days now surged forth with renewed vigor, amplified by the fatigue from her continual internal struggle to channel her Power.

“Young lady, you look splendid. It suits you very well. Shall we present your new attire to the others?” the assistant offered.

With a slight, affirmative nod, Ari attempted to mask her trembling hands. The assistant swept aside the drape, and together, they emerged from the alcove.

Ria gave a light-hearted groan upon seeing them. “An hour, Ari! Did you weave the fabric yourself in there?” Yet, following the second glance, her tone shifted to one of awe. “Whoa! Look at you! You look wonderful,” she exclaimed.

“Indeed! You look gorgeous, young lady!” Master Toulon chimed in.

“Give us a twirl,” Ria urged playfully.

Ari complied with her friend’s request, the cape skirt dancing around her in a delicate flutter as she spun. With her cheeks aflame from embarrassment, she stopped, looking shyly at her spectators.

“So, how do you feel?” Ria prodded. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, immensely!” Ari realized she had almost shouted and hastily lowered her voice, blushing even more. “I mean, it fits really well—beyond anything I’ve ever worn. It feels so… right.”

Master Toulon’s face brightened with genuine delight at her words, his chest swelling with pride.

“In that case, we’re taking it,” Ria declared with a decisive nod.

“But…” Ari was still hesitating.

“No buts,” Ria interrupted, then turned to Master Toulon. “Thank you for your service. Please send the bill to my estate.”

“It shall be done. A pleasure serving you,” he responded, dipping his head.

“Let’s go, Ari. Now that you’re all ready, we have the Blue District to visit,” Ria said, tapping her foot impatiently.

Ari lingered for a moment, tracing the fine fabric of her new uniform, pondering whether it was appropriate to accept such a lavish gift.

A pang of recollection struck her. “What about my old dress?” she asked, thinking about the clothes left behind in the fitting room.

Ria wasted no time. “Master Toulon, please see to it that my friend’s belongings are sent to the Academy. Under my name—we are roommates after all,” she instructed, her voice carrying a poorly veiled impatience as her gaze flicked back to Ari. “Now, shall we?”

“One more question.” Ari grew in courage to satisfy her curiosity. “I’ve never heard about a Power that alters sizes. How does it work?”

“To be truthful, I’ve never heard about such a Power either,” the man replied. “You see, I design my creations in a way that allows the weave to contract and expand. There are limits, of course, and the version you have seen at the beginning was near the maximum of the size. Expanding it further would compromise the efficiency of the nodes due to the increased gaps between the weaves. Should you outgrow it in the future, please visit us again. In the meantime, enjoy this uniform that can grow with you. I trust it will serve you for many years to come.” He paused, finger brushing thoughtfully against the back of his head. “Ah. I almost forgot. The other nodes. Each of them has a different function. I’ll ensure a few pages of descriptions are sent alongside your old clothes.”

Ari opened her mouth, ready to ask more questions about how it all worked, but Ria did not leave her a chance. She dragged her outside, ranting about how long she had waited and that she would not wait any longer.

A swarm of midges hovered above the lake’s glassy surface, before abruptly meeting their demise in the gaping mouth of a leaping golden fish. Suspended for a mere heartbeat, the fish glimmered, basking in the dying sun’s scarlet embrace, its scales ablaze with mesmerizing patterns. Then, with a flick, it disappeared into the obsidian depths of the water. Ari observed the scene, nestled in the soft grass covering the banks, her eyes lingering on the spot where the fish had vanished. She pictured herself leaping like that—from the familiar into an alien realm, an unknown environment.

(Is it truly possible for me to make such a leap? Or perhaps, in the end, I’ll return to what is normal for me? Just like that fish, I’ll only have a few fleeting moments to shine,) she wondered.

Day by day, her life had grown wilder. There was not enough time for past events to settle in, and new ones were unfolding like an unstoppable torrent. She traced lightly over the fabric of her new jacket—a touch so soothing it almost brought tears. While still uncertain whether accepting such a gift was wise, she now knew it was irrevocably hers, and she would not relinquish it, no matter the circumstances.

As people’s eyes lingered on her, their gazes now held a different weight. Their demeanor shifted too—she was visible, acknowledged. When she and Ria strolled through the Blue District, meeting various nobles, Ria’s introductions were met with affable respect towards Ari. No longer was she perceived as an inconspicuous servant. However, the formality and palpable coolness of their exchanges felt alien, vastly differing from the warm and open greetings shared in the Docks. Was it her presence, the foreign element, causing this frigid civility? She lacked knowledge, so she decided to not dwell on it too much.

The spectacle of colorful fish breaking the surface of the lake and glinting in the dying light of the sunset brought her a long-awaited peace of mind. Up and down, she followed their trajectories as they leapt, taking to the air, before plunging back into the liquid abyss. Lying there, in nature’s embrace, she felt a rare serenity—in these brief moments she was sure nothing bad could happen. But, as the sky darkened, the water got quieter and the number of splashes steadily declined, signaling the end of nature’s performance.

“I think it’s time to go back.” She yawned and stretched, turning to Ria’s side.

“We’re not going back to the Academy today,” came Ria’s reply, her gaze lost in the vast sky.

A jolt of anxiety slashed through Ari’s tranquil state. “What?” she said, abruptly sitting upright, her eyes narrowing upon her friend.

Ria turned toward her, eyes twinkling. “Tonight,”—a beaming smile sprouting on her face—“we shall dine and sleep in my house.”

*

Ari and Ria crossed the threshold of an unguarded wooden gate, their steps guided by a path of flagstones, winding toward the looming silhouette of an enormous mansion. As they progressed, the shades of dusk deepened and shadows melded with the foliage, shrouding the garden they were passing by in difficult to pierce darkness. The building grew larger with every step, Ari’s heart racing at the sight of its murky walls. She was about to enter a noble’s home.

“Are you sure it’s fine to spend the night outside the Academy?” she asked, clinging to a thread of hope that they might still turn around and leave.

“Yes, I am. We’re not prisoners, and the semester hasn’t even started yet,” Ria responded without looking back. She led Ari straight to the front door. When she was just a few meters before the entrance, she continued. “My sisters are a little eccentric, don’t mind them and try to ignore them if poss—” Ria’s voice faltered, her words dissolving into the cool evening air as she pivoted sharply, only to be greeted by an empty void. She was alone, and Ari was nowhere to be seen.

Ari stood in a shadow-draped corridor on the mansion’s second floor, a gallery of paintings symmetrically lining the space. Even ensconced in darkness, she could make out their ornate frames, but the figures within were indistinct strangers, obscured by the poor light. Mere moments before, an abrupt tug at her arm had drawn her into this enclosed passage, fresh air replaced by walls. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she found Ria—or a semblance of her—veiled in shadows, eyes flickering with a peculiar interest.

“Ria, what happened? Where are we? How did we…” She tried to make sense of the situation, but the logical flow of events was eluding her. Ria had been ahead all this time, guiding her along the path, yet now, somehow, she was behind her. And there was something else: Ria’s dress had changed color. She had not noticed it at first—it was too dark as the lightstones had yet to glow, but the material was not green. It was pure black, matching the shade of the girl’s hair. A chill pricked Ari’s skin as realization dawned: this was not Ria.

“Close, yet not quite,” the girl chuckled, her laughter a low, eerie melody in the dark. “Welcome to our home. I wanted to greet you on my own.”

“Um, hi.” Ari could not find better words. Awash with a mix of anxiety and curiosity, she met the intense stare of the other girl.

“I can’t fathom why you’d choose my sister as your companion. She has a terrible character and her intellect is equally dismal. But, to each their own, I suppose. Make yourself at home,” the girl said in a cheerful voice, but Ari took a step back, sensing the sinister aura pervading her seemingly cordial words.

Ari’s thoughts raced. The corridor was empty. There was no one besides them. Little by little, fear crept inside her heart and she shuddered. How did she end up here? Why did Ria’s sister kidnap her? The girl remained motionless, darkness blurring her body contours as she seemed to fade slowly into the background. Ari’s fists tensed at her sides. (What should I do? Run?)

The soft echo of approaching footsteps permeated the air. Then, without warning, brilliant light cascaded throughout the corridor, emanating from now-glowing lightstones. Blinking against the sudden brilliance, Ari watched as a maid materialized from the brightness, stopping dead in her tracks upon sighting the unanticipated guest. As clarity returned to Ari’s vision, she noted the maid’s eyes scrutinizing her from head to toe before she addressed her.

“Greetings, young miss. My apologies for the lapse in hospitality. Had I known of your presence, I would have ignited the lightstones sooner. Please forgive my oversight.”

Rooted in place, Ari glanced around. The black-haired girl had vanished, leaving no trace of her presence. Weighing her words, Ari hoped she was indeed inside Ria’s mansion.

“Um, actually, I was brought here by Ria’s sister. I’m not sure where I am. Could you perhaps take me to Ria?”

Lifting her gaze to meet Ari’s, the maid betrayed no surprise in her reply. “Understood, young miss. Please be at ease. I shall escort you to Miss Ria at once. Kindly follow me.”

The two embarked on a quiet procession through the corridors, the maid guiding Ari with unwavering confidence. As they traversed the mansion, Ari could not help but be ensnared by its grandeur. Vaulted ceilings gave way to opulent chandeliers, each filled with countless lightstones. The walls bore witness to the house’s storied history through portraits of stern ancestors and rich tapestries of heroic battles. Luxuriant carpets muffled their footsteps, while occasional glimpses into rooms revealed sumptuous furniture and vast libraries. They descended one winding staircase after another. Each one was more ornate than the last, leading them deeper into the belly of the house.

Eventually, they reached a formidable wooden door nestled in the underground level. Before they entered, the maid turned to Ari, her eyes offering a gentle reassurance. “The ladies are currently dining. The eldest daughter can be somewhat capricious. Please forgive her demeanor.”

Ari stepped into a large, well-lit dining hall, where gentle wisps of steam wafted from a lineup of meticulously prepared dishes laid on a white tablecloth. The elongated table, flanked by rows of chairs, was designed to host a gathering of at least fifty, yet it was graced only by the presence of three. Three people who looked alike. Three girls, mirrors of one another, each brandishing upright pigtails, distinguished solely by their clothes and varied hair hues.

Ria’s eyes snapped to Ari upon her entrance, and in a heartbeat, she was beside her.

“Ari! Where were you?” Her voice was a mixture of relief and exasperation. “How could you disappear like that? I was really worried!” Grasping Ari’s hand, she led her towards the table.

Lost for words, Ari could only dart a brief, questioning glance towards the black-haired girl, who, also rising from her seat, now leaned nonchalantly against the back of her chair. Ria followed Ari’s gaze and, with a flare of anger, lashed out at her sister.

“You wench! I knew it was your doing! And you had the audacity to tell me you knew nothing?! I hope you die!” Her ire dissipated as she turned back to Ari, speaking in a calmer voice. “Please, come and sit. After we dine, we’ll retreat to my room. Sorry for my sister; she can be insufferable at times—most times, actually.”

Ria steered Ari towards a chair next to the sister with blonde hair, who sat unperturbed at the short side of the refectory table. Engrossed in her meal, she was oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the surrounding commotion, her eyes never once diverting to meet Ari’s.

“Here,” Ria gestured, her hand gently tapping the chair’s backrest.

As soon as Ari took the indicated seat, the black-haired girl sprang into action, claiming the spot beside her.

“What? Get out. This is my seat!” Ria’s voice scaled up, peppered with frustration.

The black-haired girl smirked. “And if I don’t?”

Ria’s cheeks flushed, a tempest of irritation building in her eyes. Yet, instead of escalating the situation further, she chose a different approach.

“Ari, let’s move to the other side.”

“She stays.” The black-haired girl’s hand landed on Ari’s shoulder, anchoring her in place. “Why must you always be so difficult? Just take a seat across. You’ll be face to face with her. See how your big sister thinks about you?”

Ria’s jaw tightened, her patience wearing thin as she trembled with stifled rage. Yet, to Ari’s astonishment, she conceded, moving to the opposite side of the table.

“Just so you know, we’re triplets—equally aged. She acts all high and mighty because she was out a few seconds earlier. ‘Big sister’ my ass,” Ria grumbled, leaning over the table to choose from the selection of dishes.

“See? She’s just plain stupid. I would reconsider being her friend if I were you.” The black-haired girl’s words continued to needle at Ria, and that last comment proved to be the limit.

Ria straightened, a fearsome determination glinting in her eyes as her hand grabbed the cold hilt of a knife. With the ferocity of a wild beast, she leapt onto the table, her movements embodying an intense, chilling menace. Plates collided and sauce bowls shattered in the wake of her wrath, spoiling their once delightful contents and marring the pristine tablecloth. After two swift steps, she lunged at her sister. They toppled over together with the chair.

Ari watched, ensnared in the cold chains of disbelief, as Ria launched the knife right at her sister’s throat—the drops of blood splattering all over, tarnishing the purity of Ari’s uniform. But Ria did not stop at that. She hit again with the blade. And again. And again. The stabs arrived one after another with the merciless smoothness of clockwork. As Ria’s strength waned, she clasped the knife with both hands and resumed making holes in her sister’s body. There were no breaks, no hesitation—she was unstoppable. Her entire eyeballs transformed, consumed by a haunting gray abyss.

A strange thought pierced Ari’s mind. She realized how much she resented her family, her father most of all—pure hatred surging within her at the mere memory of his face. The blade’s hypnotic swings continued, each motion unearthing a dark, seductive fantasy. She dreamed of the sheer exhilaration it would be to ruthlessly do the same to all those people she despised.

“Ladies, please,” a servant’s voice sliced through the room with a tone of practiced indifference. “We have a guest today.”

It had an immediate effect on Ria, quelling her mindless stabbing. Her eyes cleared, returning to their normal state. Grasping the edge of the table, she pulled herself up and limped back to her seat.

“Let’s eat quickly and get out of here,” she said to Ari in a rasping voice.

Ari sat with an open mouth. She had some strange thoughts just moments ago, but she could not recall what they were about. They faded like a dream upon waking, so she redirected her focus to the current situation.

The room’s silence was deafening. No one was acknowledging what had just happened. The blond-haired sister ate undisturbed, her attention never wavering from her meal—not even during Ria’s onslaught. The servants lining the dining hall remained calm and not alert, their concerns evidently not rooted in the violent outburst itself but in its potential to bother the guest. They seemed not to care about the actual outcome.

Ari looked down at the lifeless, mangled body of the black-haired girl sprawled before her, soaked in a growing pool of ghastly blood. But the nightmare was not confined to the horrific puddle—blood was everywhere: smeared across her face, staining the entire right side of her body, splattered on the table, mingling in the meals. The morbid aura of redness enveloped her, each breath coming in short, harrowed gasps.

At that chilling moment, the door creaked open, and a man, nearing his forties, stepped into the grim spectacle of the dining hall. He froze, eyes widening in shock at the gruesome scene before him.

“Hello, father,” the blonde sister greeted in-between munching two large pieces of meat, her voice devoid of emotion.

The man surveyed the room, his gaze flitting from one horrifying detail to the next. Once he noticed the blood-streaked face of a young girl unknown to him, he paused, allowing himself a moment to absorb the chaotic scene. Finishing his contemplations, he then turned to the servants.

“Bring food to my room later. I have a lot of work to do. A lot,” he emphasized. “I cannot stay for dinner.”

“Yes, Master Sarelli,” they responded in unison.

The man swept one more glance across the room and began his retreat.

An odd feeling, like the tug of a bizarre dream, toyed with Ari. (Am I losing it? Is my mind going mad?) she mused. The situation made no sense at all.

Wisps of black smoke suddenly whirled at the corner of her vision, and a shiver of irrational fear that she was on fire skated down her spine. But soon the realization came: it was the blood she was covered in. (Blood evaporating into black smoke?) That made even less sense.

“Father, wait!”

Ari turned her head to the source of the voice, only to see the black-haired girl impossibly standing there, animated and cheerfully waving at the retreating figure.

“Look, this is Ari,” the girl beamed. “She’s Ria’s newfound friend from the Academy.”

The man paused, reluctantly dragging his feet to a halt. He turned around, his face an unwilling mask of courtesy. “Pleasure to meet you, Ari,” he began, forcing a semblance of warmth into his words. “Please make yourself at home. I’m thrilled that Ria is already making acquaintances with other adepts.” His eyes darted toward the door. “Please forgive me now. I have a lot of work to do. A lot,” he said, slipping away into the dim corridors before someone could stop him again.

The black-haired girl righted her chair and settled down, a playful mockery lighting her eyes. “Feeling better now, Ria?” she teased, her voice a soft dagger edged with scorn.

Receiving no response, she shifted closer to Ari, leaning on her shoulder. As the girl’s face approached Ari’s, her tone dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sad, isn’t it? A father who fears his own children. I think it’s very sad.” She nodded to herself, affirming her own statement. “He wouldn’t normally come here, especially not with all the ruckus Ria was making. But I soundproofed the hall; he was clueless.” Her laughter twinkled. “We usually dine later, but since I knew you were visiting, we gathered early. I bet he wanted to grab a bite before we’d swarm in.”

Ria’s eyes shot daggers at her sister. “Stop bothering her,” she growled.

The black-haired girl tilted her head to the side, a mirror image of Ria’s past gestures, and Ari could not help but wonder if it was some odd familial trait.

“You haven’t even introduced us properly. Let me do your job,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips as she pointed at Ria. “This one you probably know,” she addressed Ari. “She is the youngest and the dumbest of our trio. In case she’d forget to give you her name, and I wouldn’t be surprised by that, she’s Ria.” She then pointed to the blonde sister absorbed in her meal. “This is Mia. She’s rather non-talkative but can devour any amount of food you’ll throw at her. And the last is me—” Her finger hovered toward herself, but she was interrupted.

“Her name is Kia,” Mia spoke to them for the first time this evening. “She thinks she knows everything, but in reality, she’s a little bad in the head.”

Kia’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “But I do know everything. I have omnipotent wisdom.”

Mia snorted, a flicker of disdain crossing her face. “Mhm, and you’re confusing wisdom with knowledge. You’re just as stupid as Ria,” she said, then went back to her meal, clearly not interested in further discussions.

Kia brought her attention back to Ari. “So that’s how it is. I know. Our father is not known for creativity, and thinking about three names at once was probably too much for him,” she said, letting go of Ari’s shoulder. “Being the eldest, my name is the original, and theirs are just poor, uninspired variations.” She winked and went back to her own plate.

Ari’s curiosity momentarily outshone her bewilderment. “But how can you claim to know everything? And how did you know I’d come here today?” she questioned, as she doubted Ria would have told her sisters about their visit in advance.

Kia leaned toward her again, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I see the threads of time, the past and future, woven as one.” She paused, nearing Ari’s ear so close that Ari could feel her breath. “Kittens. Tiny, defenseless kittens.” Her words drew the color from Ari’s already pale cheeks. “And the blaze, the cries—a cacophony of terror.” Kia watched as Ari’s hands trembled, a hint of cruel satisfaction in her eyes. “You remember it well, don’t you? But let’s not dwell on old echoes. The future, you see, often mirrors the past.” She stopped for a few breaths, her gaze locking with Ari’s. “Mirrors, but not exactly,” she continued. “Next time it will be a dog. A poor, unsuspecting pup. And after you do what you must do, when you look at the fire again, a silent fire this time, you will remember I knew all along.”

Ari’s grasp faltered, and the drink she had been holding splashed onto the table as she jolted upright in her chair. Across from her, Ria’s head snapped up, another storm clearly brewing behind her narrowed eyes. And then the door swung open again.

“Little lady, you didn’t inform me you were coming!” A familiar face of the old butler appeared at the entrance.

Instantly, Ria’s simmering fury found a new target. Her hand shot out, seizing the closest plate piled high with food, and whirling on her heel, she hurled it in the butler’s direction.

“Don’t call me ‘little’, you bastard!”

The contents of the plate scattered mid-flight, raining down a cascade of food that traced a path across the hall.

Ari could only gape, the chaos unfolding before her acting as a sudden balm to the panic that had clenched her a moment before. The tension, the fear incited by Kia’s cryptic prophecy—all of it dissolved into absurdity. She felt an urge to laugh; the ridiculousness of the situation combined with the mounting strangeness of each passing day was overwhelming. What next? She wondered. What fresh madness would tomorrow bring? Would she keep her sanity?

“… What?” Kia’s sharp tone snapped Ari back to the present. It was not a sound of disbelief, but annoyance. “You have some problem?” Kia’s gaze was fixated on an empty spot in the middle of the table, where not a single dish had been placed—in fact, because of the table’s sheer length, most of it remained bare except for the side were they were sitting. “I thought so,” Kia finished after a few seconds of silence, returning to her feast.

Ari’s eyes shifted to Mia, who had paused mid-bite to watch Kia as well. Catching Ari’s glance, Mia raised her index finger to her temple and circled it several times. “Crazy,” she said.

Ari smiled and picked up an empty cup, filling it with nearby citrus water. It had been flecked with Kia’s blood droplets not so long ago, but now it was crystal clear. All the blood had dissolved into that strange black smoke. (Whatever,) she thought resignedly. Her boundaries of what was normal had expanded.

*

Melia gazed through the window. Dark, gloomy clouds had covered the sky early in the morning and remained adamant to stay. A thin drizzle fell over the city, adding to the mood of the overcast weather. Drops of water, too small to make a sound, clung to the window, accumulating and racing down the glass pane. She focused on the two of them, competing head-to-head. They swallowed smaller droplets in their paths to the bottom, steadily growing larger and hastening their descent.

“Princess Melia, is there anything else you require?”

Her attention momentarily flickered, her focus on the raindrop duel disrupted. She turned slightly, acknowledging the maid’s presence, her mind pulling back from the window’s melancholic scene.

“No, thank you, that’s all for now,” she responded, dismissing the servant with a polite nod. The refreshments she had requested earlier were neatly arranged on the table.

“The examiner has already arrived and will be with you shortly, Princess.” With a respectful bow, the maid retreated, leaving Melia alone with her thoughts.

Melia returned her gaze to the window. She had missed the chance to see the winner because of the interruption, and while other raindrops began their own struggles, those trivial contests now seemed inconsequential as she contemplated the impending examination. She exhaled slowly, a sense of resignation washing over her while she idly played with the frills of her dress.

The examination was perhaps her final opportunity to escape her fate—the fate of a princess possessing nothing but the useless title. The succession line to the ‘throne’ was long, and as a woman, her prospects of ruling were nonexistent. She scoffed softly to herself. Her father’s grandfather had settled nomadic tribes and built cities. Since then, they had been playing a pretend game of being a civilized nation. Technically, he was her great-grandfather, but she had never felt like a part of the family.

Her mother came from a clan refusing the new way of life and remained wandering across the steppe. The details of how she, a nomad, became the seventh wife of the king remained a mystery to Melia, but while she was alive, she told her daughter countless stories about the never-ending plains, about a flat as a pancake horizon, and about massive herds of animals roaming free.

The death of her mother two years prior had abruptly thrust Melia into premature adulthood. On the surface nothing had changed, but Melia, being a clever child, quickly grasped the bleakness of her future. While true princesses married influential men from other tribes, maintaining their status, for someone like her, whose mother was from a lower caste, there was nothing. They would sell her as a mere business token to whomever was at hand.

To make it worse, the influence of her father was waning. The two other largest tribes already sniffed the blood, and the demise of the ruling clan was only a matter of time.

She laughed bitterly at herself. A fourteen-year-old child wailing over her non-existent future. There was no way out, nothing she could do. The only glimmer of hope lay in her upcoming meeting with the examiner; becoming a Great Mage would change everything. She would no longer be under the rule of her father. But it was a futile dream.

As part of the royal family, she had undergone a preliminary check for magical aptitude at the age of eight, which had yielded nothing. Since then, she had been overlooked, forgotten. Now at the cusp of turning fourteen, she faced the mandatory examination—her second and last opportunity. The early trials were never conclusive, but to say she had even a slim chance at success would be an overestimation. Each year, the Academy admitted only around one hundred new adepts, and from what she heard, only half of them met real standards for a Great Mage. The rest were children from wealthy families who showed potential just good enough to allow their parents to sponsor a costly buy-in. The title was priceless—Great Mages ran the world.

Two sharp knocks reverberated throughout the room. She clamped her fists and issued a hasty, “Come in!” but despite her resolve to maintain the regal appearance, her voice broke a little. The door opened to reveal a short, rotund man, followed closely by a solitary servant. Melia’s eyes were immediately drawn to the man’s enormous belly; he seemed to be more wide than tall as he shuffled into the room with a side-to-side waddle.

“Princess Melia,” he began, pausing to offer a courteous bow, “it is my great honor to meet you. Your radiant beauty dispels without fail the dreariness of today’s gloom. My apologies for the delay—an unexpected incident on the road held me back for two days.” His eyes briefly scanned the room before he continued. “Please, take a seat on the bed. This won’t take long.”

Melia settled onto the plush duvet, attempting to mask her racing heart with an air of indifference. The servant placed a chair right in front of her.

“We should conduct the examination in privacy,” the man stated, lowering himself onto the chair and giving a meaningful glare at the attendant. The chair squeaked under his weight, eliciting a discreet smile from Melia.

She gestured for the servant to leave. As the examiner tried to get comfortable, the chair protested more, groaning and creaking. Alone now, Melia watched the man’s little eyes dart around, avoiding direct eye contact. His face, already flushed, grew increasingly red until he grunted, satisfied. Finally, finding the right sport, he settled in and focused his attention on her.

“My name is Rick Orteves, and I am here to conduct your official examination. Depending on the outcome, if the source of Power residing within you is substantial enough, you will have a duty to attend teachings. The examination is straightforward; simply follow my instructions. Do you have any questions before we start?”

Melia’s response was a mute shake of her head, her throat too tight to form words.

“Very well. Are you ready, then?”

She nodded affirmatively, her heart pounding in anticipation.

“Good. Now, close your eyes, steady your breathing, and try to relax,” he instructed, gently taking her hands.

Melia complied, stealing one last glance at the man and his unusually long mustache, a style uncommon among the Argenta. Plus, the size of his body; he was clearly a foreigner. No Argenta would grow that fat, not even those living in the cities. And a low level mage for sure. The royal family would never allow their children to attend the public examination. It would be a disgrace, especially if the child would turn out to be a Powerless. Instead, they called for a dedicated examiner, but for someone like her, they would not spend too much money.

(If only I weren’t the only one… if only there were some other king’s child turning fourteen this year…)

Melia stood in the darkness. She did not know how and when she had come to this realization. Around her, an array of stone butterflies hovered, each frozen in a unique pose, as if an unseen hand had halted their dance mid-flight. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the nearest one. Its limestone texture felt coarse and scabrous. She attempted to dislodge it, to pluck it from its place, but it resisted her pull, anchored by some invisible force.

“That’s nice. The source is already manifesting. Let’s see if it’s any good.” The man suddenly materialized to her left. “It should be calling you. Focus on that sensation and embrace it. Let it run through you, let the Power flow.”

She felt a faint, electric tingle at the back of her mind. The butterfly under her touch fissured; a network of cracks rapidly spider-webbing across its surface. She withdrew her hand, watching in wonder as the brittle stone shell crumbled away, unveiling delicate, azure wings beneath. Then the wings flapped, and with a newfound freedom, the butterfly took flight, spiraling amidst unseen currents. As it whirled past her, a long-forgotten memory stirred to life, and she remembered.

She remembered a plain with not a bulge in sight, covered by blooming argent grass. A sea of little white flowers waving back and forth. The sun and a cloudless blue sky. And her mother, wailing on the open steppe over the grave of her brother, stroking the round stones of a cairn erected in his memory.

The gale blew across the land, pulling up Melia’s dress, and as she fought to keep it down, the world turned azure. Thousands of fluttering butterflies rose from the grass in a spectacle of flickering colors. The wings, argent on one side and blue on the other, blinked in the rhythm of their delicate flaps. How could she forget? It was the only time when she had ventured beyond the city walls, the only time when she had seen the steppe.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the poignant memory engulfed her. The scent of the flowers, so distinct and fresh, filled her nostrils—it was so vivid, so tangible, as though she were there again, despite being no more than five years old when it had happened.

One by one, butterflies broke free from their stone casings. They fluttered around her, some perching on her shoulders and head, while others continued their erratic flight. The darkness of her surroundings morphed into a blend of azure and argent, mirroring the plains from her recollection.

“Excellent visualization,” the man’s raspy voice cut through, breaking her immersion. “However, it tells us nothing about your Power. It is but a facade, or perhaps a sign of a taint. Focus on the Power. Uncover the nature of your source.”

Reluctance gripped her; she did not want to let the scene go—it felt as though a part of her mother lived here, within those dancing butterflies, and she feared that delicate echo would shatter with the slightest disturbance. But there was no other way. She lost herself in the purposeless movements of the wings. The connection was there, a thin thread of the flowing Power. She followed it, delving deeper into the network of pulsating veins until it all blended together. What remained was a point. A singularity. The source. Her source. She touched it.

Everything stopped. Just for a moment. Then, a dark green orb popped out of nothingness, and the butterflies rushed forward, swarming together, converging around it. Their wings changed colors, forming new patterns of black and the orb’s sickly emerald glow. They now looked more like moths searching for light. As she drew upon her source, they responded in kind, fluttering synchronously, resonating with the surging Power within her.

“No…” the man muttered to himself, but she heard him well. “No, no, no,” he repeated, his voice rising. He looked at her, his face etched with terror. “Do nothing. Not a thing. Calm down and let it all go. Do not channel the Power any further!”

But it was too late. The current was already sweeping over her body, poised on the brink of release. “I… I can’t,” she said, realizing there was nowhere to put what she had already willed.

“Get out! Wake up!” he said, urgency beaming from his voice. Then he disconnected from her mind, not waiting for a response.

She tensed, trying to contain the overflowing Power. Soon, the sensations of her real body returned, and she opened her eyes to a scene of disarray: the chair overturned, the man pressed against the wall, his eyes wide with fear. His expression resembled that of an animal trapped in a cage, waiting for its butcher.

“Do not channel!” His hands were shaking.

“I can’t stop it. I have to release it.” She was calm, and it surprised her. The man’s behavior was strange and it should have alarmed her, but at that moment, nothing could affect her. The energy, craving nothing but to escape, filled her with bliss.

The man rubbed his sweaty hands, his gaze scanning the room for anything that could help him. His sight stopped on a large potted plant with a thick stalk and broad leaves sitting in the corner. “There!” He pointed at the plant. “Go and touch it. Then release your Power slowly. Very slowly.”

Melia rose from the bed and stepped towards the pot. The man, still glued to the wall, moved in the door’s direction. After closing the distance, she touched one leaf and let the awakened force rush through her fingers.

“Steady, I said. Restrict it as much as possible.”

The running Power filled the plant, but suddenly, the flow reversed. A new stream of energy, a different kind of energy, entered into her from the point of contact. It was rejuvenating, like the first breath of air after the storm. At the same time, she watched the plant’s vitality drain away, its once vibrant leaves withering one after another into a brittle, brown husks.

“Do not use it ever again,” the man said, his voice shaking. “Ever. Stay in your room. I need to notify the King and the Academy. If you don’t try to use it, you will be safe. Do you hear me? I will arrange everything. We will help you.”

Melia stood in the corner, not reacting, keeping her eyes on the now-dead plant. The examiner spared her one last glance and quickly exited the room. Left with her thoughts, she touched the dried stems, which crumbled under her fingers, falling to the floor. The influx of the new Power, coupled with the release of her own, restored sharpness of her mind. Hundreds of thoughts rushed through her head, but they all led to one conclusion, one explanation that fitted what had just happened. She was a Death Mage.

*

Heavy clouds veiled the stars and twin moons, casting the night into darkness, broken only by the warm glow seeping from the windows of the mansion. Perched atop the estate’s wall, Naymila’s gaze remained fixed on a particular room. Although its location was too elevated to discern details from her vantage point, it hardly mattered. She had marked her target a long time ago, and now its bright blue silhouette gleamed in her vision, ignoring all obstacles. The silhouette flailed its hands, gesticulating in short bursts; clearly, the Docks girl was still awake.

Naymila could guess that the girl was with Ria Sarelli, her newfound roommate. A simmering frustration grew within her: she wanted to kick the girl’s ass. Instead of sitting patiently in the Academy, the girl had ventured on a trip the very next day. It had taken Naymila hours to realize she was gone, but at least tracking her down proved effortless thanks to the mark she had left on her. Once both girls retired for the night, Naymila would be relieved of her duty.

(‘Relieved’, for sure…) She gritted her teeth. Her assignment should have ended the moment the girl was admitted into the Academy, but naturally, Master Toaro had a change of heart and forced her into extended babysitting.

However, Naymila could not deny that this unexpected turn of events was not without its perks—perks delivered today. The dubious dealings of Sarelli with the emperor were the subject of public whispers. Perhaps, Naymila mused, she might seize the opportunity to unearth some information or catch a glimpse of concealed secrets. Her master, having remained tight-lipped, had explicitly forbidden her from getting close to the mansion. Yet fortune seemed to favor her today. The mandate to ensure the Docks girl’s safety certainly superseded the prohibition.

“Ho! A stalker!”

The sudden voice right next to Naymila shattered the night’s stillness, making her spring to the side like a startled cat. It gained her precious distance from her former crouching spot. The speaker, a diminutive figure standing confidently on the same wall coping, was barely discernible in the darkness. However, Naymila’s night vision was good enough to recognize the intruder, who was none other than one of the sisters, Kia Sarelli.

Unfazed by the precarious height, Kia stepped closer with the ease of a tightrope walker, balancing effortlessly on the narrow parapet. She then tilted her head. “What are you doing here? In my house?” she asked, her voice a mix of amusement and challenge.

Naymila eyed Kia warily, her mind racing. (How did she sneak up on me? I still sense nothing,) she mused. This was the girl her master warned her about, the child entangled in personal dealings with the emperor. In a flash, weighing available options, she made her choice—to confront and gauge the truth of the rumors herself.

Her blade caught the faint light as she lunged towards Kia, intent on confirming the girl’s alleged abilities. If Kia was fortunate, she would escape with mere scratches.

“What a poor decision,” Kia remarked coolly, her head now tilting the other way. “Don’t you have some survival instinct or something?” Then, in a blink, she surged forward.

Naymila’s body halted abruptly mid-air. Though her limbs continued their forward trajectory, her torso felt pinned, as though skewered in place, impaled. Time stretched into an agonizing eternity before the rebound came, carrying the crackling Power of Kia’s fist. It catapulted Naymila backwards, hurtling her away from the wall and towards the unforgiving cobblestones below.

She crashed, her instincts barely protecting her head from the brutal impact. Gasping for air, she grappled with an invisible vice constricting her lungs. Desperate to draw breath, she fought to stand, only to collapse again, her body refusing to cooperate, overwhelmed by the shock and pain. The ground spun around her in a dizzying dance.

Her lungs grudgingly allowed shallow, rapid breaths, just enough to keep consciousness anchored. She tried to piece together what had just happened as her eyes darted around, desperately scanning her surroundings.

“Great Mage, huh? You’re so weak, and you dare to attack me?” Kia’s voice dripped with derision as she advanced, unhurried, one deliberate step at a time.

Naymila attempted to crawl away from the incoming girl, but her muscles were in mutiny, unresponsive and incoherent in their movements. She ended up writhing helplessly on the cold ground, unable to gain even the slightest distance.

Kia latched onto Naymila’s ponytail, swinging her violently into the air. Moments later, a searing pain radiated through her scalp as Kia’s unyielding hold halted any further ascent, then mercilessly slammed her back to the ground. Naymila’s body met the street with a resounding thud.

“Isn’t there more to you?” Kia taunted, lifting and plunging Naymila repeatedly as if she was a weightless toy. The relentless assault forced Naymila’s body into the rough cobbles time and again. “What are you afraid of?”

Pain enveloped Naymila, her thoughts scattering in chaos. She could no longer focus, her actions driven by pure instinct. When Kia finally released her hair, Naymila seized the moment, rolling to the side with the last vestiges of her strength. “What are you?” she gasped, hoping to stall for time as she spat bloodstained saliva onto the stones.

Trembling, she looked up at Kia and recoiled in horror. Kia’s eyes had turned an abyssal black, resembling voids more than human eyes. Naymila could now see the girl’s aura and she spat more blood in shock. Reality itself seemed to warp and bend all around them. Darkness oozed from every crevice, responding to Kia’s gestures with unsettling servitude.

“Well, I guess I could introduce myself,” Kia said, her lips curling into a malevolent grin. “I am the Sister of the Void. Bringer of Emptiness. Carrier of Nothingness.” She paused for effect. “I am Tarh-o-Theal Kattamaria, the chief general at the service of the Lord of Darkness, leading his countless armies.” Her laughter rang out, tinged with dark amusement. “Or at least, I will lead them in a future so distant, it makes no sense to speak about now.”

Naymila’s own Power source responded to Kia’s grand proclamation. It churned, a tempest of energy coursing through her veins. She fought to contain it, to suppress its pressing flow, but it would not listen. Already agitated beyond control by the pure darkness swirling around, it now entwined with reality, distorted by the girl’s presence, defying Naymila’s will. (All these years of training for nothing,) she thought, drowning in her own Power, unable to stop the channeling. Her energy, raw and unbridled, came forth. (No, no, I can’t let it go. I’ve held it all this time; I can’t fail now.) She tensed, her muscles coiling tightly like a spring, every fiber bracing against the flood.

“What are you afraid of?” Kia echoed her earlier question. “Is that how you want to spend your life? In fear of what? Yourself?” Her face drew perilously close to Naymila’s. “I can see it. Doesn’t it feel familiar?” Kia’s smile widened as she touched Naymila’s skin.

In that moment, the Power surged like a tidal wave. Darkness enveloped the street, creeping into every crevice, every shadow. Naymila, connected to this dark energy, felt an unexpected unity with her surroundings: the stones beneath her, the walls around, the rats scurrying to hide in their pits, the stubborn weeds breaking through the cobblestones. She perceived the intricate weaves of energy in an eternal dance of what she knew as reality. As she lay on the street, her vision absent yet all-encompassing, she saw herself from the side: a woman and a girl, each with eyes like black voids, locked in a mutual gaze.

Kia withdrew her finger, and the darkness dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Naymila’s Power calm, as tranquil as a lake on a still day.

“Eh. Trash is trash. Time to go. You need to ponder more on your miserable existence,” Kia said.

Naymila struggled to resist, but her body ceased to heed her commands. Once again, Kia seized her ponytail, dragging her mercilessly along the street. Her back scraped against the cold stones, the sensation distant, as if pain had lost its edge.

Suddenly, the world around her morphed. Colors swirled and blended into an indistinct haze. In the next instant, she was inside a room. The interior was familiar, but her muddled mind refused to form coherent thoughts, making her unable to recall where she was.

With a swift motion, Kia swung Naymila once more. Her body arced through the air, bracing for another harsh landing. But instead, the fall transformed into flight. The details of the room whirred past as she soared, her muscles tensing in anticipation of the inevitable impact. The impact that never came. Instead, she halted gently in mid-air, floating gracefully until she was lowered onto a couch, where soft cushions cradled her aching body.

“I found some of your trash on my property, and I’m kind enough to return it to you in person. I hope you’re grateful,” Kia said to someone else in the room.

Straining to turn her head, Naymila’s eyes found her master. A cough of relief escaped her lips, and she took a deeper breath, a wave of relaxation washing over her at the sight of him. In her master’s presence, she felt a renewed sense of safety. Today was not her day to die.

“Miss Sarelli, what a surprise,” Cassem Toaro said, standing behind his desk, his gaze fixed on Kia. “Thank you for returning my pupil unharmed. I apologize for any inconvenience she may have caused,” he added with diplomatic calm.

Kia’s head tilted, her expression betraying a flicker of dissatisfaction with Cassem’s composed response. “Hum, good. Keep your pets on a shorter leash next time.” Seemingly disappointed by the lack of confrontation, she turned towards the door. As she moved, a large, glass-like sphere materialized in her path. Unperturbed, Kia stepped forward, her form beginning to warp and twist. Colors melded and swirled around her, and in moments, she vanished, leaving nothing but the empty air where she once stood.

“She didn’t even say goodbye.” Cassem strode around the desk, his fingers thoughtfully stroking his short beard. “I told you to stay away from that house. How are you feeling? Any broken bones?”

“I don’t think so,” Naymila managed, her voice hoarse from the blood she had swallowed. “At first, she got me by surprise. I compensated for the following strikes and impacts, nothing but a few bruises, if I’m lucky. But what is she exactly? She threw me around like a rag doll.” Naymila paused, her statement not entirely truthful. While confident about the absence of broken bones, she suspected a few minor internal bleedings. She needed a healer.

“Make sure to visit the infirmary later,” he said, scrutinizing her condition. After a brief silence, he addressed her question. “Regarding what she is…” He seemed to weigh his words carefully. “The entire trio of sisters is something uncanny. You’re familiar with the hierarchy of the Power. Elemental forces forming more complex types and so on. But even the rawest elemental Power is not a basic one. There are two primordial forces: Darkness and Chaos.”

“I’ve never heard of them. I doubt anyone at the Academy has,” Naymila interrupted, her gaze fixed intently on her master. The Powers he mentioned sounded exotic, reigniting the old suspicions she had harbored over the years about his peculiar actions and random bits of information he shared with her—information no scholar of today would possess. “Is this part of lost knowledge?” she probed further, her curiosity piqued by these mysterious forces.

“Don’t talk. It’s not the time for questions,” he said. “So, the world is built in 99.99% from the Dark Power. The elusive Chaos Power makes up for the scant remainder, a mere 0.01%. Encountering someone who can wield pure Darkness is rare. There is something that makes people use only compound energies. As for Chaos, I had never even heard of anyone capable of manipulating it. And then I met the Sarelli sisters.”

He paused, his gaze drifting as if revisiting a memory. “They were just little children then, five or maybe six years old. The emperor himself requested I assess them. The youngest, Ria, appeared relatively normal, especially when compared to her siblings. She possessed a potent affinity for Life Power. Then came Mia, the middle child. Even at that young age, she was already manifesting Power, albeit playfully, using it to levitate toys and such.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “You’ve probably guessed by now—Mia is a Chaos Mage, the first of her kind. I was astounded. But my astonishment only grew when I encountered the eldest, the very girl you met today.”

He winked, a lightness in his tone despite the gravity of his words. “When I examined her, I was confronted with pure Darkness, unaltered and raw. The memory is etched in my mind: she stood there, composed and confident, while I knelt before her, utterly dumbstruck. She told me to ‘take it easy’ and even patted me on the shoulder. Can you imagine that?” He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “But that made me wonder. Two extraordinary sisters and one seemingly normal? So, I took another look at Ria and examined her more closely. And, lo-and-behold, she too is a Chaos Mage. It’s a paradox—she wields Life Power, which should theoretically be incompatible with Darkness-derived energies. Not that we have any prior knowledge of such mages—there were never any before—but these Powers do not mingle together in nature. Yet, in her, the Chaos Power lies dormant, but it is surely there.”

He sighed, the weight of his revelation hanging in the air. “In short, all three are anomalies—freaks of nature. I had hoped to study them once they joined the Academy, but unexpectedly, the emperor granted two of them an exemption. Another mystery, but the eldest sister differs from the other two. She acts more like an adult than a child, even back then when she had been a tiny child. With her Power, it wouldn’t be strange to me if she had blackmailed the emperor. Which is why I had asked you to stay away from them.”

He looked at Naymila, his expression turning serious. “And I’m telling you all this because I’m expanding your duties. You’re to observe both girls now. Ari and Ria. But whatever you do, stay clear of Sarelli’s mansion.”

Naymila looked at her master, stupefied. In truth, she had not expected to hear anything of value from him.

“Rest now. I hope I satisfied your curiosity,” he said, his voice trailing off as he returned to his desk.

“In a moment,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Each movement sent sharp waves of pain through her body, a constant remained to stay still. Her mind churned over the newfound knowledge, mulling over the disconcerting undertones in Cassem’s words. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she closed her eyes.

In her mind’s eye, a tree materialized—barren, with dry branches clawing at the void, its trunk hollow and sheathed in cracked, peeling bark. It was her source. She touched it and it shivered, oozing dark fluid from its fissures. Slowly, black leaves unfurled, forming a dense canopy. Flowers bloomed, morphing into small, dark fruits. Everything was shrouded in black, yet she perceived each detail with vivid clarity. The fruits began to ripen, but she cut the Power supply and the process halted. She feared the fully grown fruits.

(Does he know?) she mused, opening her eyes and turning her head to observe Cassem. (Why would he take me as an apprentice? I wasn’t any good. I was concealing my Power.) A wry smile crept onto her face. She had once thought her source was of Death Power. On the examination day, barely keeping herself from panic, she had framed it as a Power related to space manipulations. She lived her life being sure her deception worked. (But did it? Why would he take an interest in me? Unless he knew all along, and I am just one of his test subjects.)

Cassem, sensing her gaze, met her eyes.

“Should you be spending nights so often here?” she tried to taunt him. “You have a wife and a daughter. And the Academy’s aura is known to tamper with one’s… drives?”

“Such minuscule effect obviously won’t affect me. It’s just barely strong enough to keep the students more focused on their studies than on… other pursuits,” he replied with a smile. “How is it going with Rob?” he asked in turn.

“It’s going,” she said in a weak voice. The irritation of not knowing how much her master knew about her source gnawed at her, but she could not ask him without exposing herself.

Deciding to switch topics, she asked. “How did she get in and out of here? Was that teleportation?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Isn’t that forgotten knowledge as well? From before the invasion?”

“I think so.”

His lack of engagement signaled the end of that line of questioning. Naymila caught her master many times in the past on sharing information no one else possessed, and now she was adding two more pieces to that collection.

(“What are you afraid of?”) Kia’s question echoed in her mind, haunting her thoughts.

Kia emerged from the portal into the garden. It was nearing midnight, yet the majority of the mansion’s windows still radiated light. A woman in a pristine white dress awaited her, the fabric seeming to glow in the moonlight.

“Yo, lil sis,” the woman greeted with a smile.

“What are you doing here? Why are you not slumbering?” Kia approached her, not a shred of warmth in her voice.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like them kitties. Can’t I have some fun once in a while? I’ve slept enough.”

“You stalk Ari, don’t you?”

“Well, I have my cravings. Don’t you have any?” The woman retorted with a smirk.

“I can’t have any. I am the Void,” Kia answered, her tone deathly still.

“Ah, right, I keep forgetting how pitiful you are, lil sis.” The woman grinned. “And what of our little cousins?”

“Nothing new. They have the privilege of ignorance, like always. They have no idea what their true nature is. Sometimes I envy them.”

“Heh, poor lil sis.” The woman rolled her eyes. “You’re at least having some fun.” She shook her head. “I’m off. Just wanted to drop by and say ‘hello’. Look at that ugly stare he’s giving me.” She pointed at the mansion’s door where a large black cat sat, gazing at them intently.

“Take care,” Kia said, not bothering to wait for the woman’s departure and strolled towards the mansion.

“That girl you roughed up earlier. She’s one of yours, isn’t she?” the woman’s voice came from behind.

“Yes, she is. Now, off you go,” Kia replied, her patience thinning.

Kia reached the black cat, giving it a gentle pat on the head. “The seventh—checked,” she said.

“Checked,” the cat confirmed with a nod.

The door opened before her, and Kia descended the stairs to the dining room. Inside, the space was spotless, betraying no signs of their earlier meal. The room was nearly vacant, save for another cat lounging in the center of the table, idly flicking his tail.

“Ari’s already upstairs,” she informed the cat.

The cat opened his eyes briefly, then shut them again, blatantly ignoring her. She wanted to say more, but suddenly his body floated upwards. He levitated without changing his posture, and like a ghost, phased through the ceiling.

“Sometimes, I’d gladly trade places with you, sister. Eternal sleep does hold its allure,” Kia whispered to herself. (I hope no kitty heard me,) she added in her mind, glancing around. (They are already insufferable enough.)

A ripple of disruption in the fabric of the universe washed over her. She turned her head, peering at the wall as if to glimpse beyond it. The information gleaned from such a minor cosmic event was limited, but what she sensed differed from the usual small wormholes made by those alien miners.

“Ah, a little kitty-god has arrived.” Her mood improved. She would actually get some fun soon. Relatively speaking.

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