Zein was working with the liquidators as usual. Although the inspectors had already moved toward the inner part of the island to retire early and allow Alexander to reopen the bar, Zein preferred to stay with the loading crew.
He liked that physical exertion; little by little, he was forging bonds with his companions and settling into the rhythm of life in that place. That day, his countenance reflected a more evident joy than usual, something that did not go unnoticed by the others.
—You look happy, Zein. Did something good happen to you? —asked one of the triplets, pausing his labor for a moment.
—Nah, nothing out of the ordinary —Zein responded with a light smile while carrying some boxes with determination.
As soon as his shift ended, he said his goodbyes in a hurry to return to the shop. Naoko walked by his side, accompanying him back, though she seemed somewhat restless.
—Hey, Zein... What is your relationship with Kiomi like? —she asked suddenly, nervously fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding his gaze.
—Our relationship?
—Yes. Since you told me you both come from the same place, from Ilmenor, I was wondering what exactly you are to each other.
—Mmmm —Zein scratched his chin, narrowing his eyes as he searched for the right words—. I couldn't tell you exactly, to be honest. I think she hates me.
—She hates you? —Naoko inquired, surprised.
—Yes, I know she does, and she doesn't hesitate to show it —he admitted with a discouraged grimace—. Even though we started on the right foot and at some point I came to think of her as a friend, I highly doubt that feeling is mutual right now.
—And why would she hate you like that?
—Ah, look! We're here —Zein interrupted quickly, pointing to the shop's facade rising before them.
Upon entering, silence greeted them in the main room. It wasn't until they peered behind the reception desk that they found Lyra, sprawled across the chair upside down and plunged into absolute laziness.
—You took forever —she shot back at them.
Zein and Naoko exchanged a look and laughed briefly at the scene.
Since meeting Kiera several weeks ago, the three of them had turned their visits to that house into a constant habit. They went there to immersing themselves in stories passed down through generations or to polishing techniques and deciphering the mysteries of magic. However, the main driver of their encounters remained the same: to unearth their past, to understand who they are and where they truly came from.
Despite the time invested in investigating every manuscript and tale, they hadn't achieved a significant breakthrough. The only thing they had clear was their tribal heritage: due to Zein's affinity with earth, one of his parents must have come from said tribe; conversely, the fluid nature of Lyra's magic indicated that her other root belonged to the water tribe. Even with the frustration weighing on them, neither was willing to give up.
—Nothing yet... —Lyra let out, stretching out as long as she could on the floor while holding an open book over her face.
—This is turning out to be harder than I thought —Zein noted, letting out a heavy sigh.
—Well, I doubt you'll find your origins that easily, given your circumstances... —Kiera commented, scratching her head with a pensive gesture—. I know!
Kiera began rummaging through her belongings with renewed energy. From amidst the accumulated clutter, she pulled out several wooden training weapons and let them drop with a dull thud onto the floor.
—What if we have a practice fight? —she proposed with a redundant smile.
—Doesn't seem like a bad idea, but... do you remember that I beat you in our first encounter? —Zein said in a mocking tone, arms crossed—. To be honest, I don't think you have much to teach me in combat.
—Don't think so highly of yourself just because you won by pure chance. Besides, I was holding back then —Kiera retorted, feigning an annoyance that quickly transformed into determination.
—I don't believe you one bit, but fine, I accept —Zein declared, standing before her with renewed pride—. Let's see if it's true that you were keeping an ace up your sleeve.
Both headed immediately to the backyard, a space wide enough for wood to clash without restrictions under the open sky. It was a square courtyard that seemed designed exclusively for combat; a well-defined pit of dry earth where only the dust dictated the rules.
—So? What are the rules of the duel? —Zein asked, tightening his grip on his wooden sword and flexing his knees into a firm guard position.
—Anything goes. Consider it a real fight —Kiera responded, mimicking his stance with a training spear.
The dirt of the square rose in a light cloud of dust when Zein took the first explosive step. His sword traced a violent horizontal arc from the right, aimed directly at Kiera's torso. However, the spear was already there, planted in an unbreakable diagonal.
In a fluid movement, Kiera's free hand caught Zein's wrist. She pulled him downward with force, breaking his center of gravity, while her leg rose in a direct kick to the sternum. Before the blow connected, Zein reacted by instinct: the ground in front of his abdomen rose in a compact block of hardened earth. Kiera's boot slammed into the improvised wall, shattering it into flying fragments, but managing to reduce the impact enough that Zein only staggered half a step back.
Kiera gave him no respite and let the tip of her spear drop toward the ground. But the wood didn't strike the surface; it descended as if passing through quicksand, sinking without resistance until it stood vertical. The terrain around her began to ripple like disturbed water.
Kiera brought her arms back in a gesture heavy with tension and thrust them forward with a muffled cry. The ground behind her responded instantly. The earth stretched and tightened like fabric pulled with violence. Two massive ripples were born at her back and shot toward Zein, deforming the surface in their path and kicking up gusts of stones in an erratic trajectory.
Zein was not intimidated. The first strike came from the right, but he met it with a precise kick; his foot collided with the deformed mass and deflected it upward, breaking its inertia. The second attack came from the front, implacable. Zein brought his sword down again and again, slicing through the unstable form with rapid slashes until the energy dissipated, turning the attack into mere handfuls of loose dirt that fell at his feet.
But it was too late.
Kiera was on top of him. Taking advantage of the opening, she swung her spear back and built momentum in one fluid motion. She brought it down in a vertical slash meant to split his guard, but Zein raised his sword in time. The impact resonated loudly, vibrating through his bones.
Without stopping, Kiera's spear slid to one side with feline agility. A thrust surged from below, grazing the left side of his face; the air whistled dangerously past his ear. The assault continued immediately with a horizontal swing toward the right. Zein ducked by instinct, feeling the wood cut the wind just above his head, enough to ruffle his hair.
The spear rose again to descend with surgical precision, but Zein was already prepared. His sword went up and stopped the blow cold. Both weapons crossed in the air, vibrating between them as the dust began to settle beneath their feet.
The clash held for one more instant... and then something felt wrong.
Zein was the first to feel it in the palms of his hands. The wood of his own sword gave way in an unnatural fashion, as if it had lost all its rigidity at a specific point. He glanced down just enough to notice the phenomenon: the blade was contracting and compressing upon itself, acting like a rubber band stretched to the limit.
He moved by pure reflex, turning his head just in time. A fragment of the sword shot out from the side of the blade, stretching and snapping back in a sharp lash that cut the air where his face had been a second before.
Taking advantage of the surprise, Zein pushed the spear forward with all his strength, forcing Kiera to take half a step back to break the proximity. Without giving her a truce, he immediately took the initiative: he raised his weapon and unleashed a flurry of vertical cuts from above.
One.
Two.
Three.
The blows descended with a steady, heavy rhythm, forcing Kiera to retreat as she defended herself with the shaft of her spear. The wood clashed again and again, a dull echo kicking up small clouds of dust under their feet with every impact.
In one of those exchanges, the dynamic shifted.
Kiera slightly twisted the spear at the precise moment of impact. Zein's sword was parried, caught at an awkward angle he couldn't correct in time; the force of the rotation dragged him along, driving his own weapon upward. The movement forced him to fully extend his arm, leaving his guard completely open and his sword suspended uselessly above his head.
Kiera did not waste the second of vulnerability. She repeated that tension-filled gesture: her arms traveled back and thrust forward with controlled violence.
The ground responded once more. The earth tightened and deformed, advancing like a solid tide rising directly toward Zein. He reacted by dropping his sword instantly; his feet struck the ground at the same time, invoking his own magic.
To Kiera's sides, the earth rose in two compact masses that closed in on her with the intent to crush her. Simultaneously, Zein raised a thicker wall in front of himself, accumulating stone and sediment into an improvised bulwark to stop the enemy's advance.
The impact was inevitable.
However, the deformations sent by Kiera did not slam into Zein's wall to knock it down. They passed clean through it, crossing the rock as if it were stagnant water. The blow caught Zein square in the abdomen. The air left his lungs in a sharp burst as his body was projected backward, dragged by an invisible force that his physical defense couldn't even graze.
On the other side, Kiera had already ducked with astonishing agility. The earth masses intended to trap her passed over her head without touching her, losing their shape and scattering into the air like loose sand.
Zein fell hard, rolling across the courtyard dirt before managing to stop, gasping to regain his breath. Meanwhile, the ground beneath Kiera's feet rippled again, preparing for the next move.
The ground undulated, soft at first and then with greater amplitude, like a tide under her absolute control. Every step Kiera took seemed not to belong to her; the terrain itself propelled her, sliding her forward with an unnatural fluidity that defied the laws of the courtyard.
Zein looked up, still struggling to catch the breath the blow had stolen from him. His sword lay several meters away on the loose dirt. He tried to reach for it in a desperate move, but it was in vain; his fingers barely brushed the ground before he pushed off, but the distance was still too great and his time had run out.
Kiera was already there.
The tide beneath her feet carried her to him in a blink. The tip of the spear stopped in front of his chest, firm and precise, just a breath away from his body. The duel was over.
Zein let himself fall completely onto the dirt, sweating and exhausted, trying to process the speed of that last exchange. Kiera simply approached with a calm expression and extended her hand. He took it, allowing her to help him to his feet again.
—You are someone with a rather closed mind —Kiera blurted out as soon as he was upright.
—What? —Zein asked, bewildered.
—You should have a more open mind —she insisted, turning to walk toward the house with a light step—. Come, follow me.
Both entered and went up to the second floor. Zein had never been to that level, so a strange curiosity washed over him as he crossed the threshold. Naoko and Lyra followed close behind, equally intrigued to discover what secrets the upper part of the dwelling held.
Upon arriving, their eyes met a fascinating artifact. A long tube rested on an articulated metal structure, held by rings and screws that allowed it to be tilted precisely toward the immensity of the sky. Its surface, dark and polished, barely reflected the dim light of the surroundings. At one end, a small eyepiece invited the eye to draw near; at the other, hidden deep within the cylinder, a set of lenses waited, aligned with millimetric care to reveal what the human eye could not reach on its own.
—You need to see beyond your daily life. In your entire existence, you've only known a small part of the world —Kiera declared, pointing at the artifact—. That is why I had the upper hand for most of our fight.
Noticing that Zein remained silent, processing her words, she continued with a firm voice.
—But you can improve and surpass me. You know that magic is based on the four elements, don't you?
—Yes —Zein nodded.
—Well, that's where we're all wrong —Kiera stated confidently—. Of course the four elements are the foundation, but they aren't everything; in fact, they are quite limited.
—What do you mean by that? —Zein asked, his curiosity displacing the exhaustion from the combat.
—You should know that modern spells are mostly based on outer space. Even my own magic is born from concepts that come from up there. That's why I have this. —Kiera approached and placed her hand with pride upon the polished cylinder—. It's a telescope. It allows you to see beyond the earth and directly observe the reaches of the universe.
Kiera made a gesture that encompassed the entire room.
—In this room, there are books about space and all kinds of knowledge that will serve you if you truly want to evolve.
Zein kept silent for a moment, letting his gaze wander across the room. He admired the collection of star maps and ancient volumes, feeling the weight of a world much vaster than he had imagined. Kiera began to walk toward the exit, but before crossing the threshold, she stopped and pointed to her head with a finger.
—Remember: the trick is in the imagination.
Leonor pressed her temples while reviewing the reports on the bed. She ruffled her hair, letting out a snort of frustration.
«Dammit. They had to give a mission like this to me,» she thought. «To "make disappear" Zein Ravenscroft because those aristocrats find him a threat.»
She traced a cynical smile.
«Right, a "risk." Those idiots fear what they cannot control.»
She stood up and walked toward the table, scratching the back of her neck. She thought about the total freedom they had given her: arrests, executions, bonfires, or assassins. She poured herself a cup of tea.
«The Duchess sent someone from her circle. She said they would appear at any moment. I wonder what...»
She took a slow sip, trying to soothe the stress. Upon turning toward the bed, she found a hooded figure just a few inches away. Leonor gave a violent start; the tea spilled over her clothes while she coughed, nearly choking.
—Forgive me for almost drowning you, my lady —the figure said, pulling back the hood.
It was a young girl, blonde and short in stature. Her hair fell straight down to her nose, covering her face like a thick curtain, except for a meticulous circular gap over her right eye. Through that "window" peeked a fixed pupil. An empty gaze, without a trace of determination.
—What... what is your name? —Leonor managed to ask, catching her breath.
—My name is Patoshe Vereil. From today on, I am under your command —she responded with a slight bow.
—Right...
The silence settled between them. Leonor felt a sharp nervousness in the presence of someone who didn't seem human in the conventional sense; the girl observed her with an expressionless curiosity, awaiting her next order.