Apprehension crawled beneath Zara’s skin as she stepped out of the way to allow this stranger to enter their kitchen. They had never let anyone into their house before; they usually preferred to keep people out.

“Ooh how lovely,” Saren complimented.

Most kitchens in the heart of the capitol were tiny and cluttered. Here in the outer regions, Revan made sure to find a home with just enough space for everything. Drawers and open shelves with kitchen items lined the walls. The window provided them natural light, and Zara had decorated the table and the sill with fresh flowers every other week. The hearth was spacious and clear of junk. The redwood table was wide enough to fit full meals for two. Zara had softened the chairs with forest green cushions. Prian arts of angels, wings, and geometric floral patterns lined the pastel-yellow walls, as they did in every other room—a detail Zara had insisted would make the place feel more like home.

“And it smells delicious in here,” Saren added, grinning at Zara. “You must be quite the cook.”

“Um, th-thank you,” Zara stuttered. The woman practically towered over her. Zara stepped back, nervous.

“How are you so sure Zara was the cook?” Revan questioned.

Saren looked back, brows raised. She smiled coyly at him. “Ah. I apologize. I did not mean to infer that a man had no knowledge in the kitchen. Are you the cook, then?”

Revan regarded her for a good minute before cracking a smile himself. “No. Though I had to ask. You were…hasty in your judgment.”

“A habit,” she said. “Where I’m from, women are a natural in hunting and cooking for their families.” She winked at Zara. “Besides, I have a good intuition, no?”

“Saren, why don’t we let Zara make you some coffee, maybe get you something fresh to eat, and you can tell me all about where you’re from?” Revan approached the woman and pressed his hand over her lower back. She was maybe only an inch or so shorter than his six feet height.

“I’ll heat up some soup for you,” Zara mumbled.

“Thank you, Zara. Soups and stews are my favorite. And it’s the perfect weather for it. I thought for sure it would rain this morning, though.”

“Would you like some bread to go with it?”

“Whatever you have on hand.”

“What other foods do you like?” Revan asked as he seated her first before taking the chair opposite her.

“Oh, usually meats, fish. Of all kinds. I’m really not a picky eater.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Zara grumbled.

Saren looked at her. “I’m sorry?”

“The soup has some beef in it,” Zara said.

“Oh. I love beef. Thank you, really, you didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

“Mm, no, it’s okay.”

Zara’s voice was so low that she wasn’t sure whether Saren had heard her. Not that it mattered because Saren and Revan had moved on to a different topic. Zara listened to the pops and crackles of the simmering coffee instead. She filtered it out, poured it into a fresh mug, and checked on the the soup heating over the brazier, berating herself for letting her nerves get to her.

Think of her as just another person. She should be no different from talking to Revan.

Zara wasn’t used to having company. Strangers had always been foul territory, long before her parents had shut her away. It had taken her long enough to get used to Revan, and still, there were days where she’d get tongue-tied around him, too.

Zara glanced back at Saren. She looked to be closer to Revan’s age—at least by appearance, since he is obviously much much older than the average human. Zara would guess the woman to be in her third decade. Her hair was as dark and as long as Zara’s, except hers was much straighter and silkier. She had attractive brown eyes, a wide jawline, fair skin, and a smile that could melt even the coldest heart.

Her height and build was bigger than the average woman around here. Her hips were wide, her legs were strong, and shoulders were broad. Her northern accent may be thick, but the airy tone of her voice was pleasant to hear. She seemed like a genuinely nice person…

Zara watched as Saren leaned over, giggling at something Revan had said. His eyes crinkled, in a way that made Zara feel like she was invading an intimate moment.

“Zara, watch what you’re doing!” Revan suddenly shouted out, making her jump. “The soup will boil over.”

Zara quickly pulled the pot off the heat, almost burning her hands in the process.

“Are you alright? Do you need help?” Saren asked.

The fire must have reached Zara’s ears. She shook her head rapidly, desperately wishing she could step outside and calm herself down.

“Everything is fine,” she said with a bit of a strain.

“You know, Saren’s a good cook,” Revan announced, like it was something delightful. “She’s been telling me all the wonderful dishes she knows how to make. She is also a marvelous hunter.”

Saren chuckled. “It’s practice. I’ve had lots of it.”

“Is that so?” Zara muttered.

“She moved here all the way from the isles of Ghyora,” Revan said. “It’s southeast of the ice block that is Mogheir—”

“Now what kind of tone is that?” Saren reprimanded. “That ‘ice block’ is a gorgeous land, despite what people rumor it as. You act like it’s nothing but some cold, desolate purgatory teeming with savages.”

This explained her sturdy figure, at least. The people up in the far north were made to withstand most of nature’s harshest conditions.

“Isn’t that nice, Zara?” Revan asked while Zara brought the coffee and the soup on a tray, along with some extra flatbread. “You are both from the north. You must have a lot in common.”

Zara raised a brow. “Oh…maybe…”

“Thank you,” Saren said when Zara set the bowl in front of her. “So you’re from the north as well? Which area?”

“Pria.”

“Ohh, I’ve been there once ages ago. It’s beautiful. The mountains, the people, the temples. So polite, and so peaceful there.”

Not anymore.

Zara smiled tightly.

“Oh, and Lilith…she is amazing! The biggest mountain I’ll ever see in my lifetime. I visited in the LightSpring. I hear winters are deadly there too, though not as deadly as my town can get. That I can tell you for sure.”

“Yes, I can only imagine,” Zara said. “Winters are—”

“The worst!” Saren laughed merrily, removing her white coat. She wore a form-fitting lavender dress underneath it.“Ohh but you get used to it I suppose, when you know how to survive. When you’re born there, it’s ingrained in your blood.”

Revan hurriedly took her coat out of her hands and hung it on the nearest hook. She crossed one thick leg over the other, not caring whether her bare calves were visible.

Typical of someone so used to the northern winters that there was no need to layer up in the south. Not that this city was very far south, but definitely more so than wherever Saren said she was from.

“I could never get used to it myself,” Revan remarked.

“Hm? Where are you from, then, Revan?”

He paused for a second, like he’d just remembered his cover. Zara frowned at him. With the way he’d been grinning at Saren, his mind had obviously been elsewhere.

They were supposed to be posing as family, having moved here from Pria. Now he couldn’t even say that, given how he’d just admitted to being so unused to the cold.

“Oh—well—” He cleared his throat. “I am…from the south. Well—not from the south. My parents had moved away from Pria and raised me in Divvi as a boy. I met Zara much later, on a family visit. So, I suppose you could say I’ve become warm blooded.”

“That explains your accent, then.” Saren seemed confused, but she smiled sweetly at him nonetheless.

Zara furrowed. “We’re cousins, were you thinking to mention that?” she said.

“Wha—Oh, yes.” Revan was too busy staring at Saren to really acknowledge Zara. “Zara and I are cousins.”

“Cousins?” Saren was surprised. “I thought you two were married!”

Zara’s heart leaped. Her face warmed again. “No,” she said hastily. “No.”

Revan laughed loudly. “That’s so silly. It’s so silly of you to think that, Saren,” he said through his laughter.

It’s not that funny.

He grazed Saren’s dress sleeve. Zara exhaled and tried to keep her face neutral.

Saren put a hand to her chest, giggling. “Oh, I wasn’t sure. I mean, you two don’t look very alike.”

Zara’s insides prickled. This woman claimed to believe that Zara and Revan were married, yet she had made no efforts into concealing her blatant desire towards him.

“Not all cousins have to look alike.”

“Well, no. But within family, I always expect a little resemblance. That’s strange. You two cousins are then…living together?”

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“We are. It’s a special situation, see, and a private family matter. Zara wished to leave. I opted to come with her, to make sure she’s safe and secure,” Revan explained.

Saren put down the coffee and gave the soup a taste. “That’s very kind of you. I don’t want to pry into private family matters but—”

“You shouldn’t,” Zara interrupted. “How’s the food by the way?”

Saren swallowed it and turned to her. Her smile fell a bit flat at Zara’s bluntness. “Like I guessed, you’re quite the cook,” she said. She turned back to Revan. “I thank you both for your hospitality.”

“Please, we should be thanking you for returning the dagger,” Revan replied. “Right, Zara?” He raised his brow, urging her to be more polite.

“Yes,” Zara mumbled. “Thank you.”

“If you hadn’t returned it, who knows what could have happened to it.”

“Yes,” Saren said between sips. “Wouldn’t want it to be stolen, or worse, fallen in the wrong hands now, would we?”

“Not at all. But I must ask how you came about it? You mentioned to me that you lived all the way in the east district.”

“I was out on a nighttime stroll,” she said simply.

“That’s quite a long stroll.”

“I like taking long strolls, especially when a city’s quieted down for the night. I didn’t think the mists would get so bad.” She chewed another bite, looking thoughtful. “I was curious about all that noise, though.”

“…Noise?”

Saren stared at him, skeptically. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear it?”

Revan cleared his throat. “We might have heard…something.”

“…And you didn’t think to come out and take a look?”

“Did anybody else do so?”

“…No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I really don’t know. I don’t this place very well, nor its people. It seems everybody would rather keep to themselves than aid someone in need.”

“That is exactly right. We are a careful bunch. You best learn to be careful yourself.”

Saren scoffed in disbelief. “Careful? I heard two women, screaming for help like their lives depended on it.” She turned back, her eyes on Zara almost glaring. “Was one of them you?”

Zara swallowed, shaking her head quickly.

Saren’s face twitched. “So why was your dagger laying where I heard the screams?”

“I don’t know,” Zara answered plainly. “It must have slipped out of my satchel when I was walking home from the store.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Saren, dear,” Revan said carefully. “Like I’ve said, it would be wise of you to be careful approaching people in the night. Especially among the mists. I know you want to help, and you have a good heart for it, but the people here are different. It’s very easy to run into trouble.”

Saren sighed heavily, clunking her spoon into the half-eaten soup bowl. She took a piece of bread and ripped it forcefully. “I suppose so, but you know what’s even stranger? I could have sworn I heard a dog out there. A wild one. I thought it was—”

“A wild dog,” Revan said as though it were a ridiculous notion. “What would a wild dog be doing here? There are no such animals living around these parts. What, did you think a couple of girls were being attacked by a wild dog? I haven’t heard anything remotely sounding like that of a wild dog. I heard a few shouts, maybe, but that was all.”

Saren looked utterly unconvinced. “There were growls. And they were loud. At one point it sounded like something much bigger than a dog.”

“The mists must have gotten to you.” He chuckled ironically. “It happens. You’re new here. Life in a new city can be scary, but perhaps it’s best if next time if you hear anything out of the ordinary, you stay indoors. Like everyone else.”

“So if someone is out there dying, you wouldn’t lift a hand?”

“I would not.”

“So let’s say, I was out there, being attacked by a madman. You wouldn’t help me.”

Revan gave her a thin smile. “I’m afraid not.”

Saren gaped unhappily. “You’re joking. You wouldn’t help me?”

“To be blunt, Saren, I don’t know you. I’ve only just met you today. Unless you are family, I cannot and will not come to you. Which is why I greatly urge you to be cautious and keep your head down. You’re a nice woman. I wouldn’t want any harm coming to you.”

Saren let out a breath of disbelief. A minute after she’d swallowed a bite of beef, she spoke again. “Zara, what about you?”

Zara flinched. She had almost believed Saren had dropped the subject. She hadn’t expected the woman to suddenly address her about it.

“Huh? Me?” she squeaked.

“Yes, you! You think the same as him?”

Zara lowered her head, unable to reply.

“Unbelievable,” Saren muttered, disgruntled. “This city’s people are colder than the northern isles they claim to despise.” She looked back at Revan. “I would tell you about the suspicious looking sand scattered all over the roads, but you probably wouldn’t believe that either.” She sighed. “I watched the road sweepers cleaning it up on my way here. I don’t know what that could have been—”

“How did you find us?” Revan cut in. “I’m serious. You couldn’t have known just from holding that dagger…could you?”

After some silence, Saren answered, “Of course not. I asked about Zara, from a few shops here and there. I-I couldn’t remember the names of where I went. One of them managed to point me in the right direction.”

“You really don’t remember who? Or from which store.”

“…I feel as though I am being interrogated by a guard.” She chuckled, almost sounding nervous. “What does it matter?”

“No one knows our exact address.”

“Well, I believe I’ve mentioned it before. I have a damn good instinct.”

The room fell silent. Zara turned back to the hearth to clean up while Revan let Saren eat and drink in peace.

Before Saren took her leave, she put on her coat and turned to face Zara. Revan had excused himself to grab something from the “study”—otherwise known as their special workroom.

“I apologize if I was too forward earlier,” she said.

Zara nodded, though she wasn’t sure what exactly Saren had meant by that. Too forward in her opinion about this city, or too forward with her obvious interest in Revan?

Zara smiled tightly at her. “Okay, um. No. That’s okay.”

Saren scanned the hallway behind Zara. It was mostly left bare except for a few old paintings lining the walls. Down the hall was the workroom, its entrance closed and additionally covered by a red curtain. The stairwell next to it led up to the bedrooms. The parlor lay to the right side of the front entrance, concealed with beige curtains.

“How mysterious,” Saren commented. “I bet the rest of your home is as lovely as your kitchen.”

“Thank you. It’s…a bit messy right now.”

Truthfully, they have always kept everything closed off. Revan did so out of years of habit, which Zara had now picked up on herself. It had proven fruitful for this unexpected visitor. Zara didn’t need a stranger poking her nose around their private spaces, no matter how kind or pretty she seemed.

“Hm,” Saren replied coolly, studying Zara’s face. “You’re young.”

“Oh. Yes. I’m turning twenty-three this upcoming—”

“I could have sworn there was more to you and that man.”

Zara shook her head, bewildered. “What? Wait, you are speaking of marriage again?”

Saren cocked her head, her brows knit together as if she was trying to find the answer to a complicated problem. “A bit. You both truly do not seem like family to me.”

Zara bristled, though she did make it a point to remain polite. “I’m sorry if it confuses you, Saren. But Revan and I are what we are.”

“It’s not exactly where my issue lies.” She leaned in, staring at Zara intensely. Zara instinctively leaned back, like Saren was a tower losing its footing. “No. It’s that, maybe, you are both not from where you say you are from.”

“Saren,” Zara spoke softly and patiently, “I know you must believe very strongly in this instinct or-or this strange intuition of yours, but don’t you think you are going a bit overboard? We’ve just met each other today.”

“That’s right,” Saren went on, and suddenly, it was like she was under some odd possession. Her eyes were blank, and her tone was flat.“His accent, it’s as beautiful as him. A rarity. One as old as time. And you…you do not hail from the north, or the south, or the west.”

She was looking straight at Zara, but not really seeing her.

“Saren—” Zara took a step back, frightened.

“You come from the lands in the east.”

“What are you talking about—”

“The far, far east, where no one can go. Because no soul there, can bear any life—”

An alien pressure crept over Zara’s head.

“Revan!” she called out.

Saren flinched, blinking hard. Now she gazed at Zara with concern. “Huh? What’s wrong, Zara?”

She looked as though Zara was the freak who had just shouted out for no reason at all. Zara was in the presence of a madwoman. And this was no ordinary madwoman, either.

“I’m here,” Revan announced, appearing behind Zara. One look at her, and his relaxed face stiffened. “Did something happen? You look troubled.”

“Saren was just leaving.” Zara strode past her and opened the front door. “You should bid her a proper farewell. Now.”

“I am sorry again for bothering you,” Saren said, stepping out. “I was hoping to leave a better impression. You may be the only faces I know in this place.”

“You were wonderful company, dear,” Revan assured her. “You are welcome any time.”

Saren blushed, beaming. Revan pushed past Zara. He had something in his hand, which looked like a piece of jewelry.

Of all things…already?

Zara huffed gruffly. She needed this woman gone. And she needed to consult Revan. No doubt he’d been observing her, and he’d have theories. That was, if he was thinking with his head and not the lust in his groin.

“Take this,” Revan offered, placing the object in Saren’s hand and even going as far as to hold it there. “A gift for your kindness, and a warm welcome to the city.”

Saren looked elated. They stood there together, hand in hand, holding the stupid thing.

Zara stalked forward. “Thank you, Saren. Have a nice, long walk home.”

Saren blinked, and once again, her eyes glazed over in a trance-like state. She let go of Revan, finally, letting the object—a necklace, it looked like—dangle in her fingers.

She smiled faintly at Zara, looking more through her than really at her. “It was once a beautiful place. I sense it. I do not mean offense. Pria is not your ancestral home. It is not for most people. That land had been taken for thousands of years, by Lilith’s people. I would know. It was my people who were exiled to the north.”

What are you blathering on about?

Zara just wanted her to leave. The pressure on her head was becoming too uncomfortable to bear, and even with a bit of her own residual magic, she couldn’t get rid of it.

Suddenly, it vanished when Revan clamped his palm on Zara’s shoulder.

“Saren, that’s enough,” he ordered sternly.

Saren blinked again. “Huh?” She looked down at the necklace and smiled bashfully. Like she hadn’t just been a mumbling oddity a second before.

Revan lowered his tone back to how it was previously—calm and cheery. “We were just saying to come again, when you feel lonely.”

Saren nodded at them both, though her eyes lingered on Revan. “I may take you up on that offer.”

“Would you like me to help you retrieve a carriage?” Gray clouds have once again blocked the sun. It could rain soon.

“I’d rather walk. I enjoy it. Thank you.”

Good.

She headed down the hill, finally on her way. Zara did not lurk around her own front lawn to watch. She immediately marched back into the house, leaving Revan behind.

But not long after she’d begun tidying up the kitchen, Revan had appeared to stop her.

“Do not wash anything yet,” he commanded. His expression was hard, and his posture had tensed. He was in training mode. Zara’s curiosity overrode the irritation she’d been feeling earlier.

“This is about her, isn’t it? Revan, I think there is something wrong with her—”

“Like there is something wrong with us? Put everything she touched on the tray and bring them to me. Do not wipe down the table or any of the chairs.”

Zara obeyed, though that didn’t stop her from unleashing the barrage of questions she’d kept stifled. “What are you going to do? You know something. What is she? Have you figured it out? Is…is she a mage?”

“Not quite.”

Zara set the tray on the table and waited as Revan rushed back into the workroom and returned with some thin white cloths.

“What are you doing?” she inquired.

“You wanted to know how I keep watch over you?”

Zara halted, her eyes widening. “Y-You’re going to…to show me that now? And you do spy on me?”

Revan didn’t answer her. He continued taking swift wipes off the dishes and the table.

“That necklace you gifted her,” Zara mentioned, “I suppose it has something to do with that?”

He did not answer her right away. Once he finished with the chair cushion, he said, “When she said Ghyora was her homeland, I had a hunch about her. She confirmed it for me, though, just before she left.”

“What did she confirm?”

“She’s a descendant of the Mogheiri people.”

“But that’s—no?…That’s not—”

“It’s possible. The Mogheiri were outcast from all the fertile lands of the north, such as Pria and its companion city, Bazant. You would know this too if our history hadn’t been rearranged a thousand times by politics.”

Zara closed her mouth. He must have been right. She did not know those people had been cast out. She also didn’t know they could have such human-looking descendants, never mind one so pretty like Saren. She wondered, then, what kind of breed Saren was. Could she be classified as half-human then?

What a terrible thought. She was starting to think like Naz.

With a tired groan, Zara replied with, “That’s…I did not expect that. Okay. Um, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Revan folded the cloths. “This should be enough for now,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve even managed to swipe samples from her coat earlier as well.” He then spoke to Zara directly. “We should keep her close. I know how she makes you feel, but remain civil with her. Be her friend.”

“Friend?” That was absurd. “But I—”

“You both need it. Companionship, right? This could be a new start for you. You may like her more once you get to know her.”

“Like you got to know her?” Zara spat. “Is this about me, or you?”

Revan scowled. “I have my own plans. She may be useful, is all. Now should we begin your next lesson?”

“Y-Yes!”

Zara followed him to the workroom. There were several glass jars laid out on the long table, two already stuffed with cloths. Next to one of them, lay an ornate, handheld mirror.

“Please remember what I told you,” Revan said. “Keep her close. The Mogheiri, they are seen as a savage and ruthless bunch, but certain groups of them are special.”

Zara’s heart raced with anticipation. “And the necklace?”

Revan’s lip curled as he picked up the mirror.

“Special people have special abilities, Zara. And those abilities are ones I want to keep.”