Meanwhile, Damon conducted covert surveillance, his movements shrouded in shadows. He paused, his keen eye spying through a narrow crevice in a partially closed door. Inside, a girl wielded a wand, its glow mending Alice’s wounds and restoring her dress to its former beauty.

Damon noticed the unknown girl donned an attire similar to Alice's. With a gentle touch, she crafted a finishing touch with makeup and brushed Alice’s hair to perfection. "Alice, it's time to introduce yourself to the others," he heard her saying.

Together, the two girls left the room through the opposing door, leaving Damon concealed for a few minutes.

Damon patiently bided his time, entering the room once it lay vacant. He was met with an array of vibrant cushions strewn across the floor and furniture, a striking contrast to the muted, enigmatic world he usually inhabited. His fingers brushed the plushies, and verdant fabric of the bedspread, marveling at its softness.

Amid the opulent surroundings, Damon explored the area that Alice and that unknown girl had occupied moments earlier. Two small, backless mahogany seats and a vanity adorned with cosmetics and a silver-bristled comb beckoned his curiosity.

But as he crouched to check under the bed, he sensed approaching footsteps. He hid under the bed and held his breath. It was a tight fit, but it was his only refuge. Then he noticed that Anna and Leo entered the room.

"Hey!" Damon called out, emerging from his hideout. Anna's sword was ready in her hand, and Leo's gun was pointed at him, but when they recognized him, their tense postures relaxed.

“Alice and another girl just left,” Damon relayed the news, his eyes darting between Anna and Leo.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Anna asked, her brows knitting in a frown.

Damon grinned playfully, his gaze challenging. “Has anybody told you that you frown too much?”

Anna's glare could have withered flowers, but she held her tongue.

“I didn't do anything because it wouldn’t have been appropriate,” Damon explained with a sly smirk.

Leo, the voice of reason at that moment, cut to the chase. “Did you see where they went?”

“They went through that door at the other side of the room,” Damon informed them.

Following Damon's lead, they traversed a passageway with curved walls forming a spiral. The walls were adorned with black tiles while the ceiling and floor were tiled in white. It was a long hall, and it took them five minutes to cross it.

At last, they reached a massive eight-foot-tall iron door with an angel figure serving as the knob. Upon opening it, they found themselves on a spacious circular balcony made of white marble. Intricate railings and columns adorned with representations of demons and angels lined the stairs leading down.

Damon's eyes were drawn upward to a magnificent stained-glass window in the ceiling. Its grandeur was somewhat interrupted by a six-foot-wide hole, allowing snow to drift down like small, ethereal moons.

Anna and Leo crouched beside him, and together they peered through the gaps between the columns, surveying the scene below.

Damon observed a group of about twenty women, one of whom had striking white hair. Two satyrs accompanied her, one bearing a sword and the other carrying a small leather purse. In the midst of them, several children frolicked.

A tall black woman took center stage. “Let me introduce my children to you,” she began, bestowing a kiss on the cheek of the boy on her right. "This handsome boy is Badru." Then she patted the head of a cute girl and said, “And this is Sadhbh.”

The girl flanked by the satyrs, her eyes shifting from green to red, uttered peculiarly, “Naamaah, thy love for children seems too uncouth, disconcerting, debauched, and vicious to this one!”

Damon was taken aback by the transformation in the girl's eyes and thought, 'Strange.'

Naamaah, the tall woman who had introduced the children, was quick to retort. “Ha! Look who is talking... the child that lies with goats and speaks like Shakespeare!” She pointed playfully at the satyrs, who seemed enraged at her words. The peculiar girl merely waved her hand to keep them in check.

The scene unfolding before Damon's eyes was filled with intrigue, and the unknown dynamics between these characters were kind of entertaining.

"The servants this one retains. Pan and Dionysus," both satyrs bowed in unison, their antics adding a whimsical touch to the room. “This one is called Abeona, a Tyme Gazer.”

As the door swung open, Damon's attention was drawn to the arrival of a new guest. "Well! Well! Habondia, you started without me," a man announced, his eyes fixed on a woman wearing glasses.

The newcomer was a man of tall, lean build, Damon estimated him to be in his forties. He has shoulder-length red hair framing his face. His hazel eyes held an air of curiosity, and a neatly kept mustache adorned his upper lip, along with a short beard. He was dressed in a brown suit and sported a single black glove on his right hand. Damon couldn't help but notice the gold pocket watch that the man retrieved and pocketed as he took note of the time of his arrival. By his side stood a girl in her twenties, dressed in a French maid uniform. Her maroon hair cascaded to her shoulders, her fair skin was unblemished and pale, and her hands clasped behind her back, however, she kept her eyes closed.

"Ilmarinen!" Naamaah greeted with a radiant smile as she approached the newcomer. "I think she does not fit your taste,” The man, Ilmarinen, seemed to tease her. “Her name is Annikki."

The girl, Annikki, curtsied gracefully, her dress swaying as she did so, her eyes remaining closed.

The woman wearing glasses cleared her throat, silencing any further jests. Damon couldn't help but ponder, 'I guess she’s Habondia, Völundr’s former apprentice.'

"Some of you know each other, but let me introduce you again," Habondia declared.

“I’m Tess Balcaen,” the first woman introduced herself. She was a middle-aged tanned woman slightly taller than Habondia. Brown hair framed her face and gleaming hazel eyes. She was dressed in black trousers and a white, long-sleeved blouse, accompanied by high-heeled boots. “It’s been such a long time,” Tess said, waving at Habondia who nodded back.

“I’m Joanne Belloc,” a woman in her thirties with vibrant red hair and brown eyes introduced herself. She wore a knee-length brown dress, an air of confidence in her demeanor.

“I’m Mauve Du Bellay,” an elderly woman with a gentle countenance and dark complexion, followed. Her curly hair framed her face, and she had one brown eye, the other concealed beneath a black patch. She moved gracefully in her sleek black robe.

“I’m Juana DeVries,” the next woman said, using a cane for support. Her olive eyes sparkled, and her graying hair, like Du Bellay's, spoke of years of experience. She was dressed in a sophisticated green ensemble, exuding an air of quiet strength.

Naamaah, the tall black woman whose presence commanded attention, chimed in with a casual greeting. "Hi, long time no see!"

A striking dark-skinned woman with loose black hair and soulful brown eyes continued. “Athéné De Lévis,” she gave her name with a serene smile, wearing a shirtwaist dress that accentuated her big bosom.

“I’m Marijke Gil,” one woman stated, and then another, “I’m Anaïs D’Anvers.” Their matching green-patterned dresses, long and curly blond hair that cascaded to their waist, yellow eyes, and bright red lips made them appear almost like mirror images of each other.

"Marijke, Anaïs, Athéné!" Naamaah beamed. "Good to see you."

“By the way, she’s is my nice,” Marijke said, pointing at a young woman whose blond hair and green eyes gave her a vibrant appearance

“Hi, I’m Maaya Wozniak. Niece to meet you.” Her purple hand-sewn wool cap added a touch of uniqueness to her attire, and her choice of a male outfit, with black trousers, a white dress shirt, and a vest, made her look like a butler.

Two middle-aged women were the next to introduce themselves. “I’m Heidemarie Pippin,” said one, and the other, “I’m Flavia Sains,” Both women shared a similar dress but in different colors— Heidemarie’s in beige and Flavia’s in blue. However, their respective features of tan skin and brown eyes for Pippin and wavy blond hair with maroon eyes for Sains set them apart.

“Hi!” Naamaah grinned. “Long time no see!”

“Likewise,” Heidemarie said.

"I’m Dana Abadía. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Xana and Ms. Naamaah," the next woman curtsied, radiating youthful energy with her emerald dress and blonde hair. “I’m Lady Sains's apprentice.”

An albino girl with red eyes, appearing to be in her twenties, stepped forward and introduced herself as “I’m Margarita Brouwer. I’m Lady Du Bellay's apprentice and her great-niece.” Her two-piece blue dress was slightly darker than Sains’. Her presence was enigmatic, a unique addition to the group. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Xana,” she bowed her head.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Gisèle Chaudron, I'm also a newcomer. I’m Lady Pippin's apprentice.” a woman in her twenties with dark skin, curly brown hair, and warm eyes, offered her introduction with a joyful giggle. She wore a white one-piece dress, similar to Sadhbh’s, with an infectious youthful energy.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Following Gisèle's introduction, a green-eyed nine-year-old girl with tanned skin, murmured her name with a touch of indifference, “Maria Randell. Lady DeVries’s apprentice,” Her blond hair, speckled with tufts of silver reached her shoulders. She wore a middy-style white blouse and a burgundy skirt. Despite her youth, her demeanor was reserved.

"You're too young to be so unenthusiastic," Naamaah interrupted, but Maria remained unfazed, a picture of unyielding composure amidst the diverse assembly.

"Welcome to the new members," Habondia concluded with a note of finality, her voice filled with the weight of authority.

Damon observed the room as it filled with the murmur of introductions. The anticipation hung in the air like a cloak, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Soon, he heard the sound of footsteps drawing near, and a door swung wide open. Two more individuals joined the gathering, each with their unique presence.

The first was a woman of graceful age, her attire a stark contrast to the others. She wore a black blazer paired with dark trousers. Her thin gray hair was tied with a barrette, forming a neat ponytail that shimmered in the ambient light. "I’m Cristina De Hard," she introduced herself, her countenance warm and welcoming.

The second newcomer was the girl Damon had observed earlier, diligently styling Alice's hair. She appeared to be shivering, her anxiety evident. Her white-blonde hair was elegantly drawn back into a chignon, adding to her air of youthful timidity. "She’s my apprentice, Katherine Nonell," Cristina introduced the girl, who curtsied gracefully in response.

"With De Hard and Nonell, my group is complete," Habondia announced, marking a momentous occasion. "It is time to present our guest of honor. Abeona, Naamaah Crow, and Ilmarinen Seppälä, The Arlo of Words."

The man, Ilmarinen Seppälä, acknowledged the introduction with grace. "It’s a pleasure to meet you," he said as Abeona curtsied in response.

Finally, Alice made her entrance into the room, radiating a quiet, innocent charm that drew everyone's attention. Damon couldn't help but admire her, her presence standing out amidst the assembly.

Naamaah, struck by Alice's youthful beauty, couldn't resist approaching closer to get a better look. Her cheeks tinged with a blush of admiration. "What a lovely child!" she exclaimed; her eyes gleaming with fascination.

But Abeona was having none of it. She swiftly interceded. "I shalt not allow thee get closer, fustilugs! Who knows what obscene things thee may do!"

A collective look of confusion passed among the group, and Naamaah, seeking clarification, implored, "Can someone translate, please?"

Ilmarinen couldn't help but chuckle, finding the situation amusing. "She doesn’t want you close to Alice!" he explained, a smile playing on his lips.

Abeona sighed, her hand meeting her forehead in exasperation. The language barrier seemed to persist, but the intentions were clear, and the harmony of the assembly remained intact.

"She doesn't seem special, nothing out of the ordinary," Ilmarinen commented, his voice laced with intrigue. With a magnifying glass in hand, he examined her, playfully jesting with the tool. "But her hidden power proves otherwise. It's truly fascinating."

Naamah, once fervent, seemed to calm down. She gracefully seated herself, gently placing the children who had accompanied her on her lap.

Abeona's eyes, like temperamental flames, shifted from red to blue and red back again as she focused on Naamah. She beckoned her satyrs to take their places in her chair, a peculiar transfer of authority.

All of Habondia's loyal followers mirrored the same action, finding their designated seats. Habondia, the orchestrator of this enigmatic gathering, settled into her throne, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the contours of a pendant.

The central focus shifted to Abeona and Alice, who stood at the heart of the circular room. Abeona, slightly shorter than Alice, moved closer, her hands resting on Alice's shoulders, and pressed a tender kiss to Alice's forehead.

Damon, the ever-watchful spy, observed with a furrowed brow. ‘What’s she doing,’ he wondered. The connection between the two girls was palpable. A gust of wind swirled around them, lifting their skirts and making their dresses flutter while creating a dance of snowflakes on the ground.

Abeona ceased the kiss, turning her gaze toward Naamaah. Damon's curiosity deepened. ‘What’s going on?’ He glanced at Leo and Anna, but they, too, seemed perplexed.

Naamaah blushed, her uncertainty stark in contrast to Abeona's inscrutability. Abeona's eyes changed, they turned completely white except for a thin black halo that separated the sclera from her white iris and white pupil. "Gadzooks!" she whispered.

Then, a deafening explosion charged the air, causing the very room to tremble. Naamaah, along with her two children, fell to the ground, startled and disoriented, after being pushed from behind by the shockwaves.

Steve and Hatta entered the room after having opened a hole in the wall behind Naamaah's seat.

“Come on,” Damon clicked his tongue. "Here we go again."

"Ah... Spanto!" Naamaah cursed, her spell going wide of its mark.

Abeona's crimson blood eyes shot a stern look at Steve and Hatta, her gaze a burning rebuke as Naamaah tended to her now dust-covered children.

Raising her hand, Abeona directed her satyrs to chase after the intruders, creating an opportunity for escape. The Janas swiftly ascended the stairs leading away from the balcony where Damon, Leo, and Anna hid.

Damon's keen eyes spotted Hatta locked in a fistfight with one of the satyrs. A tremendous roar echoed through the room, shattering the stained glass ceiling, and two children leaped from the roof.

"Bietka, Ravi?" Damon called, emerging from his cover. "Leo, Anna, come with me."

He descended the stairs, joining the fray as Bietka skillfully used a blowgun to spit seeds that ignited the satyrs' fur in flames, and Ravi wielded a maze to incapacitate their adversaries.

"What are you doing here?" Damon inquired.

"Mother sent us to help," Ravi replied.

"Where is Alouqua and Naga?" Damon pressed further.

"Mother is not here, but Father went to destroy the core of this castle," Ravi revealed.

"The core?" Steve inquired.

"A core? A floating core?" Damon scratched his head in confusion. "I guess there was one."

"Indeed. There’s a flying core. Father says it should be in a deep well," Ravi explained.

"A well of Baku? How could I ignore it!?" Damon lamented.

“Wait, hold on one sec!” Steve interrupted. “A flying core? Like those used to make airships fly?”

“Jackpot!” Damon said, realizing that the kids wouldn’t know how to answer that.

“Why would anyone hide a flying core in here?”

“Beats me!” Damon chuckled. “Perhaps the ladies that just ran away?”

“There’s no time to argue about that!” Bietka interrupted with a scowl.

“Why would anyone build something like that? I don’t know,” Ravi fidgeted. "We don’t know where it is, but Sir Zaid told us there was one built here many years ago."

"Zaid!? Zak’s father?" Steve frowned.

"Yes, that’s right," Bietka nodded.

"I thought he’d betrayed us like his son did," Steve remarked.

"Mr. Zaid would not!" Ravi's voice carried a blend of shock and conviction. After a brief pause, he continued, much calmer after Bietka patted his head. "He’s always been on our side. Mr. Völundr and he have been friends for a long time; he won’t betray us."

"Let's get going,” Bietka redirected the conversation, declaring. “There’s some other fish to fry.”

Damon, with his extraordinary physical condition, sprinted after escaping Janas closing the distance in mere moments. He focused on the women ahead, assessing the situation.

Naamaah had the girl Sadhbh slung over her left shoulder, while the boy Badru clung to her right arm. Habondia followed closely, occasionally glancing back to keep an eye on him, casting but narrowly missing the projectiles she cast.

Damon managed to reach Abeona, grabbing her by the skirt and tearing the fabric. She fell, resembling a fruit dislodged from its branch, landing face-first.

"Thou Ralph Spooner zounderkite!" Abeona spat blood, her rosy purple eyes brimming with disdain.

"What?" Damon arched an eyebrow, puzzled by her cryptic words.

As the Janas retreated, Abeona remained, left behind while Leo and Anna passed by.

"I heard you were the most powerful," Damon smirked, challenging her.

Abeona rose to her feet, wiping the blood from her broken nose. With a curtsy, she spoke in her peculiar, archaic tongue. "Then this one shall end thy existence, Muntz-watcher!"

The world around them transformed into sepia tones, except for Abeona herself. Her irises shifted, first to pure white with a black halo, then to bright orange like that of a lemur, and finally to metallic gray like a lizard. From her purse, she retrieved a slender pipe, approximately a foot in length, tapping the tip with her right hand to ignite it. She didn't smoke the tobacco, but her Thaumaturgy was most effective with it as a catalyst.

"This one disdains smoking, but it enhances this one's Thaumaturgy," she explained. With a few deft motions, she made the pipe draw three circles in the air with the smoke before pocketing it. From her purse, she produced a dagger, its copper handle adorned with ornate details and a sharp black Damascus blade. "It is time to bid thee farewell."

As Abeona brandished the dagger, the tension in the air thickened, and Damon, no longer frozen in time, swiftly dodged her lethal strike, narrowly avoiding a devastating blow to his stomach.

“I also know this ability. A Time Gazer taught me,” he declared with a smirk, revealing a newfound confidence.

For the first time, Abeona's stoic visage displayed a different expression, a mixture of shock and intrigue. Her amethyst eyes widened, and her mouth slightly opened, a sign of her bewilderment.

“How can thee halt this one's tyme?” she inquired, fluttering her eyes in astonishment.

Damon maintained his calm demeanor, seizing the opportunity to explain. "I don’t stop time the way you do. I'm not a Time Gazer to do so."

Abeona was taken aback by his revelation, her amethyst eyes displaying a rare vulnerability. "This one is the last Tyme Gazer, how? This one has killed those all."

Damon clarified, his grin widening, "I move faster than your time."

Abeona's guard dropped, and she stared at him in disbelief, her now bright blue eyes mirroring her confusion. "Moving festinate'r than this one's tyme?"

“Faster and slower,” Damon added, emphasizing the last word.

“Can this one see who is't thou art?” Abeona extended her right arm, a gesture that signaled her willingness to understand further. Damon knelt, and she kissed his forehead, initiating a link between both their minds. As her white hair levitated and a whirlwind began to surround them, a sense of déjà vu washed over him, he now knew that this was what Abeona did to Alice.

Abeona, now disarmed by what she saw, fell onto all fours. Her expression remained stoic, but a cascade of tears streamed down her cheeks. She bit her lower lip so hard it began to bleed.

“Ahura Zarathustra!” she whispered, revealing her deep emotions.

“One of my many mentors! What was he to you?” Damon inquired, sensing the weight of her response.

Abeona cried and sniveled, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “This one's purged from mine own mind all the memories of him!” She eventually composed herself. “That gent has been one of the few this one has loved in this one's life!”

“I spent time with him for about two months. When I mastered this Thaumaturgy, I never heard from him again. He simply disappeared... What happened?” Damon sought answers, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern.

Abeona remained silent for a few somber minutes, allowing a few more tears to escape.

“You killed him, didn’t you?” Damon's accusation hung in the air.

She nodded, confirming his suspicions. “This one shalt not allow someone else’s use of the arts of tyme.”

Without warning, she lunged at Damon, the gleaming dagger in hand. He swiftly dodged, but not without a price; her blade left a searing slash on his arm.

Their battle took on a dance-like quality, akin to a bullfight. She became the relentless bull, pursuing Damon's agile and elusive movements. In a moment of fleeting opportunity, he grabbed her hand and redirected her momentum, striking her chest with an open palm and fingers curved inward. She staggered back, panting heavily, only to gather herself for another assault.

The skirmish reached its conclusion with her sprawled on the ground, the dagger wedged beneath her right breast. Dark purple blood began to flow, yet she remained alive. Coughing and gasping for breath, she lay there, her strength waning.

Damon, a few feet away, raised his hand as if he had peeled away a sepia-colored canvas that had enveloped their surroundings. The world regained its natural colors, and the oppressive sensation of confinement dissipated. The wind stirred once more, and life returned to its ordinary flow.

"Wherefore did thee allow this one out of this one's tyme?" she asked, her words punctuated by painful pauses and the taste of blood in her mouth.

"You are on the brink of death, and no one would have known," Damon replied, seating himself on the ground. "I do not make a habit of killing others. If you seek death, you must get it yourself."

"Death, for this one? Death!" She giggled, though each chuckle was tinged with the rasp of her remaining strength.