*Mistland* – an island lost in the endless waters, invisible to the ordinary eye, shielded from the outside world by ancient enchantments. It belonged to the mages, those who once chose to live apart from ordinary people, fleeing their fear, prejudice, and hatred. Here, they built their own state, hidden from time and prying eyes, a state with its own laws, strict traditions, and deep roots.

This island was like another world, living by its own rules. Its shores were encircled by steep cliffs, unassailable and severe, and beyond them stretched boundless forests teeming with life. Dense groves, filled with the fragrance of exotic flowers, reached the foothills of majestic mountains whose peaks were hidden in thick clouds. Here, among misty gorges and azure rivers, magic breathed in every corner, as if nature itself had absorbed the power of those who found refuge here. The meadows, stretching to the horizon, shimmered silver in the moonlight, and by day they burst with lush greenery, glowing with every shade of life. The rivers, pure and deep, crisscrossed the island, connecting cities and villages, while in the distance roared the boundless ocean, bestowing warmth and strength upon the coastal lands.

Across the expanse of this island lay thirteen cities, each governing its own portion of the land. At the head of each city stood a leading family, which protected it, cared for it, and ensured its prosperity. These families had passed down their power through generations, preserving traditions and order. Each city had its own symbol, reflecting its spirit and heritage. The symbol of *Soleil* was the color red – the color of the sun at its zenith, the color of an unquenchable flame, symbolizing the passion and strength of its people.

*Soleil* was one such city. It lay at the very edge of the island, where ocean waves crashed against golden sands, and the hot wind carried the scent of salt and exotic flowers. The climate here was warm, sometimes unbearably hot, with the sun hanging high in the sky, granting the city eternal summer. Its streets were bathed in light, white stone buildings gleaming in the rays of the midday sun, and roofs covered in red tiles reflected the heat like fires lit at sunset. Here, among wide squares, marble fountains, and winding alleys, the life of the mages flowed – strong, proud, and free.

But now, on this morning, the silence of the sunlit city was broken by joyful laughter. On one of the sandy beaches, where the surf washed against dark rocks, a girl ran barefoot across the hot sand, sparkling like gold. She was no more than ten or eleven years old, her chestnut hair flying in the wind, her light white dress flapping against her legs. But what was most unusual about her were her eyes – bright blue, like pieces of a clear sky, they stood out against the backdrop of sunlit Soleil, where such shades were rare. This made her special, strange, and even mesmerizing.

She laughed, clear and sincere, reveling in her freedom, the wind, the hot sun, and the cool waves gently lapping at the shore.

Behind her, desperately trying to keep up, ran several servants. One of them held a light shawl made of the finest fabric, another – a pair of expensive shoes that their young mistress had discarded somewhere on the stone staircase leading to the beach.

— Lady Mire! — came the anxious, pleading voice of one of them. — Please, come back! Your mother won’t be pleased if she finds out you’ve run off to the beach again!

But the girl only laughed in response, quickening her pace. The sand was hot, burning her heels, but she didn’t care. She loved this beach, this wind, this ocean. Here, among the white waves and golden shore, she felt truly free.

— Catch me if you can! — she shouted, turning around and flashing her rare blue eyes with glee.

The servants exchanged glances, realizing it was useless to argue, and continued the chase. This was Mire Sudzukawa – the only daughter of the Sudzukawa family, the clan that ruled Soleil.

Little was known about the Sudzukawa family, but their power was unquestioned. They were not an ancient clan like the other families that had governed Mistland’s cities for centuries. The Sudzukawa had risen to power recently, but they had done so swiftly and firmly, solidifying their position so quickly that no one dared to oppose them. Their name commanded respect, bordering on fear.

It was said that their ascent had been too rapid. No one knew exactly how the Sudzukawa had gained their power, but those who asked too many questions quickly disappeared from conversations, and sometimes from life altogether. Their family was secretive, keeping their distance from the other aristocrats, and the city knew only what they allowed it to know.

The family consisted of three: *Lian Sudzukawa, the mother, a strict and refined woman with cold brown eyes; **Hiro Sudzukawa, the father, about whom little was known, but who had recently fallen gravely ill and rarely left his chambers; and their daughter **Mire*, who had inherited her mother’s strength of character and her father’s rare blue eyes, the color of the clear sky over Soleil.

***

A woman in her mid-thirties sat in a cool room illuminated by the soft light from a window. *Lian Sudzukawa* ran her slender fingers over the rough pages of a book, though she had long stopped reading – her thoughts were far beyond these walls. Through the thin curtain, the fresh sea air wafted in, carrying the scent of salt and sun-warmed flowers.

Suddenly, her attention was caught by the sound of a child’s laughter. It rang out clearly, like a silver bell, cutting through the midday silence. Lian slowly raised her head and looked out the window. On the beach, shimmering in the sunlight, her daughter ran barefoot, chasing the waves and evading the flustered servants.

With a heavy sigh, Lian gently tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and rose from her chair. She walked over to the bed, where an open book lay on a carved table, and softly placed it on the nightstand.

— You’re worrying about her again, Lian?

The man’s voice was hoarse but warm. On the bed lay her husband, *Hiro Sudzukawa*. His face, once strong and commanding, had grown gaunt, and his cheeks in the shadow of the bed seemed hollow. Yet he smiled as he watched his wife.

Lian turned to him, her brown eyes softening for a moment, though a trace of anxiety still lingered.

— She’s not like me, — she said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. — There’s so much wild fire in her… She’s stubborn, free-spirited…

— Just like you at her age, — Hiro gently countered, though his voice trembled.

Lian pressed her lips together.

— I was never like that. I knew what was expected of me. Mire… she’s different. She doesn’t listen, she doesn’t obey. Every time I look at her, I feel as though she sees no boundaries. She doesn’t understand that we’re not ordinary people.

Hiro chuckled hoarsely but immediately winced as pain shot through his chest. Lian leaned forward instinctively, but he weakly waved his hand, signaling that he was fine.

— She… understands more than you think, — he exhaled, catching his breath. — She just doesn’t want to admit it.

Lian was silent for a long time, then looked at him:

— You would have been the best teacher for her…

Hiro smiled, but his eyes dimmed.

— Perhaps.

He didn’t say aloud what they both were thinking. His time was running out. The illness was sapping his strength with each passing day.

Lian stood and walked to the window, watching her daughter.

— I’m afraid for her, — she admitted. — In a world where power decides everything, in a world where blood matters more than words… How will she cope with that?

— She’s a Sudzukawa, — Hiro said firmly. — She’ll manage.

Outside, Mire continued to run along the beach, while the servants futilely tried to catch her. The girl laughed, her face turned to the sun.

***

A knock came at the door.

Lian flinched, as though her thoughts had materialized in that quiet, cautious sound. She turned her head but didn’t have time to speak – the heavy wooden door creaked open, and the butler appeared on the threshold.

— My lady, — his voice was steady, but there was tension beneath it. — They’ve brought him. The last of the *Ambers* line.

Lian felt a chill run down her spine. All her composure, all her self-control vanished in an instant. She rose sharply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

The last of the Ambers line.

She stepped toward the door but stopped when she heard her husband’s weak, trembling voice:

— I miss the days when we first met…

She froze.

Hiro still lay in bed, gazing out the window. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing ragged, as though every word cost him dearly.

— You were just like her, — he continued, watching their daughter still running along the beach.

Lian didn’t respond. She simply left, leaving him alone.

***

She descended to the main gates, where several guards had already gathered. Against the backdrop of the grand white stone walls, reflecting the hot sun, stood a boy.

He was twelve, maybe thirteen. He was almost the same height as her daughter but looked older, as though life had forced him to grow up too soon. His skin was tanned, unusual for these parts, his hair blond but tangled from a long journey, and most notably – his blue eyes. Slightly darker than her husband’s and daughter’s, but unmistakably…

He was an Ambers.

Lian looked at him silently, masking her emotions behind a mask of icy calm.

The city of Soleil was the oldest of them all. The first mages of Mistland had settled here, and from here came the greatest lineages that still ruled this world. Only a few people in Soleil had blue eyes, but among them were the special ones – those whose eyes flared crimson when using magic.

The Ambers tribe.

Once, they had been one of the oldest magical lineages, known for their fiery power. They possessed a blazing magic born in their blood, and their bodies, tanned by the sun, knew no fear of flame. But history had been cruel to their people.

Under the rule of the previous family… they were meant to be wiped out.

In Soleil, everyone had fair skin – even under the scorching sun, their faces remained pale, as if protected by an invisible force. It was a trait of their magic, living in their blood. It shielded them not only from the sun’s heat but also from rapid aging, preserving their youth for decades.

But this boy…

Lian tilted her head, studying him. He was born with tanned skin. His complexion didn’t glow with the same fairness as the others. Among mages, tanned skin was rare. But this boy… He didn’t need protection from the sun. His blood wasn’t like theirs. His magic was part of history.

She smirked.

Lian crouched down in front of the boy, looking him straight in the eyes. She tried to read them.

And in that same moment, his pupils flared crimson.

A stream of fire burst from his mouth, like the breath of a dragon, swift and furious. Heat filled the space between them, tongues of flame rushing forward, threatening to incinerate her on the spot.

But Lian didn’t even flinch.

The air around her swirled, instantly forming a transparent vortex. Wind magic protected her, dispersing the flames, not allowing the fire to touch even the edge of her dress.

— Such temper, — she said calmly, without blinking.

The guards and servants immediately yanked on the ropes tied around the boy, and he collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily.

Lian slowly rose, her dress swaying softly from the residual wind. She looked down at him again, as though pondering what to do next.

— The last of the Ambers line… How interesting…

She took a step closer.

— You know, my daughter also has blue eyes…

The boy jerked his head up. His gaze was filled with everything: hatred, contempt, despair, anger.

— Impure blood! — he spat.

Lian’s eyes darkened slowly. She stared at him in silence, and her gaze grew heavy, as though the air in the room had suddenly thickened.

In a calm but icy voice, she spoke:

— Impure blood?

She stepped closer, her silhouette casting a long shadow.

— How primitive.

She crouched beside him, holding his gaze captive with her own.

— I want to buy you and give you life… Isn’t that better than being killed like the rest?

The boy growled, struggling, but the bindings held him fast. He clenched his teeth, breathing heavily, his eyes darting, but he didn’t beg for mercy.

Lian continued:

— The mistakes of the past must be corrected.

She leaned in slightly.

— I need your blood.

He froze.

— If my daughter has impure blood, as you say…

She touched his chin with her fingers, forcing him to look into her eyes.

— You will cleanse it.

The boy remained silent. His eyes still burned with hatred, but something else flickered in them—confusion.

Lian did not look away, watching as he struggled with himself. The wind whispered softly around her, like a living thing sensing the tension.

The guards stood at the ready, firmly holding the ropes. The fire that had just erupted from the boy’s mouth had scorched the sand beneath his feet, but he himself seemed unfazed by the pain.

—What’s your name?— Lian asked.

The boy squinted slightly, as if deciding whether to answer.

—You want to know my name, witch?— His voice was hoarse, but there was pride in it.

Lian did not respond to the insult, merely raising an eyebrow.

—Deyran,— he finally spat out.

—Deyran Ambers,— she repeated, tasting the name. It was strong, resonant, like the name of a warrior.

Lian slowly straightened.

—Release him,— she said calmly.

The guards froze.

—My lady…— one of them began hesitantly.

Lian shot him a look, and the man immediately fell silent.

The ropes loosened, and the boy jerked free, shaking off the bindings. His chest heaved, his fists clenched. He eyed the woman before him with suspicion, as if expecting a trap.

—You were told that all the Ambers were killed, weren’t you?— Lian continued, as if ignoring his tension.

Deyran didn’t answer, but his pupils flickered with a faint crimson glow.

—How much do you remember?— Her voice was even, devoid of pity.

The boy clenched his jaw.

—Enough to hate all of you.

Lian smirked.

—You’re too young to understand how this world works.

Deyran flared up, his hands trembling, and thin tongues of fire flickered in the air.

—I don’t need to understand this world!— he shouted. —I know one thing: your family killed mine! You destroyed everyone!

He took a step forward, and the air around him thickened with heat.

—Your father… and you… you’re cursed,— he hissed.

Lian slowly shook her head.

—Cursed?— Her voice was mocking. —Oh, child… you’re so sure in your hatred, but you don’t even know the whole truth.

Deyran gritted his teeth.

—What other truth?!

—Your family was exterminated by the order of the previous ruling family,— she said. —Not ours.

He froze.

—You’re lying,— he exhaled.

Lian stepped closer.

—You can feel it, can’t you, Deyran? Your flames didn’t touch me. They couldn’t. You sense the difference between us, don’t you?

The boy didn’t answer, but she saw his breathing falter.

—Your family was destroyed under a false order, but we didn’t give that order. We came to power after.

—And what does that change?!— he shouted. —You’re still one of them! Your chestnut hair… I’ll burn it, and you with it!

Lian tilted her head.

—Perhaps. But is there any point in that? I am Lian Sudzukawa, the representative of Soleil. And you’ve surely heard—I haven’t been in power for long, but I’ve achieved quite a lot. Want to know how?

Deyran gasped for air.

—You’re not going to kill me…— his voice was barely a whisper.

Lian smiled.

—No. I’m going to give you a chance to cleanse my daughter’s blood.

—Cleanse her blood?— He looked up at her, his eyes filled with rage and fear.

Lian glanced at his clenched fists, then at his face.

—You’ll understand when the time comes.

She turned to the guards.

—Take him to the lower halls. Give him water, food. But keep him under guard.

—Yes, my lady.

Deyran didn’t move until they grabbed his arms. He stared at her with burning eyes, but now there was more than just anger in them—a shadow of something else.

—Let’s get rid of the name Deyran…— Lian said calmly before leaving.

The boy tensed, his lips trembling, but he said nothing.

—It’s outdated,— she smiled faintly. —My daughter will give you a new name.

With those words, she turned away, leaving him in silence, broken only by the sound of the waves.

The wind swept across the beach, lifting fine grains of golden sand and carrying them toward the ocean. The waves whispered as they lapped at the shore, leaving cool foam on the hot sand. Mire, still laughing, deftly dodged the servants who were futilely trying to catch her.

The servants were out of breath, exhausted from the chase, but they continued to pursue the girl. One of them still held a light shawl, while another carried her discarded shoes, but none of them dared to grab her by force. After all, she was the daughter of Lian Sudzukawa—the only woman in Soleil whose wrath everyone feared.

But suddenly, the warm breeze turned into an icy gust. The air thickened, ringing as if before a storm. The sand swirled, forming a vortex around the girl, forcing her to freeze.

—My lady!— one of the servants gasped, stepping back.

Mire tensed. She felt the wind, the power.

She slowly turned—and her gaze met the cold, brown eyes of her mother.

Lian stood on the last step of the stone staircase leading to the beach. Her long, dark red silk dress billowed in the wind, and her thick chestnut hair fell neatly over her shoulders. Illuminated by the sun, she looked almost like a statue—beautiful, majestic, but terrifying.

The servants immediately stepped back, bowing their heads, but Mire didn’t move.

—You shouldn’t have run away, my lady,— one of the servants said quietly, nervously rubbing his hands.

—You should listen to your mother…— another muttered, hastily bowing.

But Lian didn’t even glance at them.

She extended her hand, pointing at her daughter.

—Come here.

Her voice was calm, but there was steel in it.

Mire swallowed.

She reluctantly took a step forward, then another. The sand was hot under her bare feet, but that was the least of her concerns now.

When she got closer, Lian sharply turned and walked back up the stairs.

—Come.

—Where?— Mire asked hesitantly.

—I don’t owe you an explanation.

Mire pressed her lips together but obeyed. She hurried after her mother, leaving a trail of footprints in the sand.

They climbed the stairs in silence. The wind still swirled around them, but it was no longer chaotic. It moved in smooth, precise streams, following Lian, emphasizing her presence.

When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Lian stopped and turned to her daughter.

—Explain yourself.

Her voice was even, but Mire could feel the hidden anger simmering beneath it.

—I just wanted…

—It doesn’t matter what you wanted,— Lian interrupted coldly.

She crossed her arms and looked at her daughter as if she were a disobedient child, not the heir to the Sudzukawa house.

—You run away. You don’t listen. You parade yourself in front of everyone like some common girl from a lesser family.

Mire flared up with indignation.

—I’m not a common girl!

—Then act like it.

Lian slowly took a step closer, her gaze heavy, like a stone.

—You’re a Sudzukawa. You’re the daughter of the city’s leader. People are watching you. People judge us by you.

—But I just…

—Enough.

Mire clenched her fists.

—You don’t even want to listen to me!

—Because your desires mean nothing if they jeopardize our reputation.

Lian turned and walked forward.

—You’re coming with me.

Mire felt anger rising inside her, but she didn’t argue.

She knew Lian wasn’t one to change her mind.

***

They crossed the spacious courtyard and headed toward the tall wooden gates leading to the central part of the residence. Lian walked quickly and confidently, her steps smooth but firm. Mire barely kept up, her bare feet barely touching the cool stones of the pavement.

At the entrance stood the butler—an elderly man with graying hair, dressed in a dark blue suit embroidered with the Sudzukawa family crest.

He bowed as soon as Lian approached.

—My lady.

—Is everything ready?— she asked without slowing down.

—Not yet,— he replied curtly, then added in a lower voice: —The boy’s just been taken to wash off the dirt.

Lian stopped instantly. A heavy silence hung in the air. Mire frowned, looking at her mother.

—Who was brought? - the girl asked.

—The last of the Ambers line,— the butler said quietly.

—Quiet!— Lian said, her voice steady but with steel underneath.

Lian’s gaze turned cold. Lian stared ahead, her face impassive, but Mire noticed the slight tension in her fingers. Mire didn’t understand what it meant, but she felt the tension thickening around her mother.

Lian took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. She said something to the butler, then looked at her daughter.

—Come.

Lian walked with confident steps down the long, marble corridor, her movements smooth, almost silent, like a predator who knows exactly where it’s going. Mire barely kept up, her feet barely touching the floor as she tried to catch up, but she couldn’t help but notice how different this house was from everything she’d seen before.

Although this mansion belonged to her family, to Mire it was still a completely new place. The main house of the Sudzukawa family was located in the very center of Soleil, and it was a true palace. But this house was something entirely different. It stood on the outskirts of the city, as if in a secluded corner, away from the hustle and bustle. The building was much less grand than the central residence, but no less beautiful—everything was done in an elegant and cozy style. There was a calm atmosphere here, as if this place wasn’t for living, but for rest, a kind of retreat for the Sudzukawa family.

The corridor was adorned with the same paintings Mire had seen in her own home, but they weren’t about what had happened to their family in recent years. There were no portraits of Lian, no images of the Sudzukawa as rulers—after all, the family had only come to power a few years ago. The walls were decorated with paintings depicting the past: ancient views of Soleil, portraits of ancient mages and great heroes of the past, in which one could make out the silhouettes of warriors and mages long gone from this world. Mire looked at these paintings with interest, almost trying to find something familiar in each one, something connected to her family. And yet, despite her love for this house, it still felt alien, and the memories seemed to have no connection to it.

Mire approached one of the paintings and lingered on the image of the ancient city that was her home, but on the other side of this painting, in its heart, which held more shadow than light, she felt something utterly foreign.

—Mom, which room is dad in?— Mire finally asked, looking at Lian with keen interest. She couldn’t wait to see her father, whom she hadn’t seen since arriving here. Despite her youth, she knew her father was an important figure in their family, and she always felt that much depended on his attention.

Lian didn’t turn around, her steps didn’t slow.

—He’s on the top floor,— her voice was even, but there was a hidden tension in it.

Mire hesitated for a moment, then hurried after her mother. She didn’t know what she wanted to hear, but there was something in Lian’s answer that stopped her from asking the next question. Her mother never spoke much about her father’s condition. She knew he was ill, but no one talked about his ailment. Only rare hints, which made no sense to decipher, made Mire feel that something was wrong.

"He’s weak," Mire repeated to herself, but for some reason, it disappointed her. Why was she being kept from her father? Why wasn’t she allowed to see him?

—When can I meet him?— she dared to ask, but Lian only sighed heavily at her daughter’s question.

—He came here to regain his strength. Let’s not disturb his treatment.

Mire felt her breath catch. She wanted to ask more, but her mother seemed to withdraw. Lian didn’t like talking about her father. She always kept those questions outside their conversations. All Mire knew was his illness, which was hidden from everyone. Why did she know so little about her own father? Why did no one talk about how sick he was?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lian suddenly stopped at a massive door. Mire noticed how Lian’s hand slid over the surface of the door, as if it were her last gesture before opening this secret room.

She placed her palm on the center of the door, and at that moment, Mire felt the air in the corridor grow dense. It was as if magic itself had filled the space. The wind, like an invisible hand, swept through the corridor, and the door slowly opened before them.

Mire turned, staring in amazement at her mother, who seemed not to notice this effect, and entered the room first. Her magic, the magic of wind, was powerful, and it was always evident. Lian didn’t enter immediately. She stood as if remembering something. Lian finally took a step forward, and the door slowly swung open.

Mire followed, quietly stepping on the marble floor. The room that opened before them was vast and majestic. Along the walls stood tall shelves filled with books, tomes, and manuscripts, as if this room wasn’t just a library, but a true repository of ancient knowledge.

Mire stopped behind her mother, listening to the silence. It seemed her mother was recalling something important, something long forgotten, but what exactly—Mire couldn’t tell.

Before them lay a vast room filled with heavy books, manuscripts, and ancient scrolls covered in dust and time. The floor was made of marble, and the light streaming through the high windows barely illuminated the corners. The room smelled of old paper and leather. This was a library, but not an ordinary one.

Lian handed the book to Mire with a light, almost imperceptible movement of her hand. This book wasn’t just an old manuscript—it was a key. A key to something Mire couldn’t yet fully understand or grasp. In her hands lay something important, far more important than anything she knew about her world.

Mire silently took the book. She felt its weight, but not just physical. It was the weight of her destiny, just beginning to settle on her shoulders. She tried to understand what her mother was trying to convey. Over the years of their interactions, Lian had never made such serious statements, and Mire felt the tension in the air, as if the very space around her had grown denser. With each passing moment, her understanding became more blurred and hazy.

—You’ll need this book,— Lian said, her voice even but with a hidden heaviness. —Before you meet your new friend.

Mire raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked into her mother’s face. A new friend? The word sounded as if Lian were speaking of something very important. There had been no “new friends” in her life. The Sudzukawa family wasn’t accepted in the city’s high society, and Mire had always remained in the background, as if not trying to fit into this alien world. The elite families avoided them, and children from other cities showed no desire to get to know her.

—Who is it?— she asked, not hiding her doubt and curiosity.

Lian didn’t answer immediately, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were thinking of something far away, forgotten, but important. She opened the book to the right page, and her fingers lingered for a few seconds before she pointed to a line. Mire leaned in to read, and her eyes fixed on one word.

—Ambers,— she pronounced, emphasizing each letter.

ambers. The word sounded as if it were forgotten, overshadowed, but not gone. It was an ancient surname, an ancient lineage. But how could she know about it? Why was her mother suddenly talking about it?

Lian began to explain, her voice quiet but full of determination:

—The Ambers were an ancient lineage, lost many years ago. Their magic was one of the most powerful in this world. But, alas, they mixed their blood with ordinary mages. And over time, as their blood mixed, their power diminished. Over time, blue eyes became rare, and now, in Soleil, only a few have them. Only a handful of them bear the true mark of the ambers. This is your destiny, Mire.

Mire felt her vision blur. She understood that something important lay in these words, but she couldn’t grasp the full weight of their meaning. Blue eyes… they really were something special, but until now she had thought it was just an inheritance from her father. Now, as her mother spoke of it as some ancient legacy, it sounded like something far more significant.

—But it’s not just the color of your eyes,— Lian continued. —There are no pure-blooded ambers left. They were destroyed many years ago. And you, Mire, inherited blue eyes for a reason. This is part of your destiny. But to restore the power of the Ambers, you’ll need to find someone who can bring back this magic. Someone who still carries pure blood.

Mire tried to process everything her mother had said, but the meaning still eluded her. How could she restore the power of the Ambers if all the purebloods had been destroyed? How could she become part of something that had been shattered long ago? And who was this "new friend" Lian was talking about?

Lian noticed her daughter’s confusion, and her gaze softened, though it remained resolute.

—He is the last of the Ambers line,— Lian said. —He was recently found. He is a pureblood Ambers, and only with him can you restore the power of your lineage. You must meet him and together attempt to reclaim what was lost.

Mire opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words. She had never heard of such a person. This "new friend" her mother spoke of was someone who possessed the true magic of the Ambers. But who was he? Where had they found him?

—You inherited your destiny from your father,— Lian continued. —The blue eyes are no accident. This is your duty. You will be the one to revive the power of the Ambers. Your blue eyes… They are the most unique out of all.

At this, Lian paused, and her eyes grew softer, as if trying to convey something important. But there was no trace of regret in her voice.

—As the daughter of the Sudzukawa family, you must hold firm. We did not come to power by chance. We must do everything to restore the lineage, and with it, the strength that can change the course of history.

Mire didn’t understand what exactly she was supposed to do. She didn’t know how this could affect her life, but something in her heart began to stir, pulling her toward a future she hadn’t even imagined. Everything seemed hazy and unclear. But her mother’s words were firm, and Mire felt her life shifting with every word.

—I... I don’t understand,— she said quietly, her voice filled with doubt and uncertainty.

Lian looked at her. Her face grew serious, her eyes hard, as if she were gazing into the future.

—You will understand when the time comes, Mire. But you must be ready. Otherwise, all the power, all the magic of the Ambers, will be lost forever.

Everything around her felt unnatural, but Mire knew she could no longer return to her old life. Everything she knew now demanded change. And her future was not what she had expected.

The capital of Mistland Island, the majestic City of Magic, became the site of a grand event every year — the Festival of Magic. On this day, all twelve of the prominent families representing the twelve magical cities gathered in the palace to meet with the monarch. For the past 15 years, gratitude for the country's prosperity had been directed not to the king, but to Queen Redhart, the first woman to occupy the throne. Her reign was undisputed, and her power commanded respect even from the oldest magical families.

The festival always attracted many locals and travelers. The streets of the capital shimmered with lights, the air was filled with the aromas of rare incense and spices, blending with the lively sounds of music. Magical illusions, woven by the finest masters, floated over the squares, while dancers performed ritualistic movements, accompanied by bursts of elemental magic.

By evening, when the sun painted the sky in crimson hues, a luxurious carriage adorned with the Sudzukawa family crest arrived at the royal palace. Lian Sudzukawa, the head of the family, stepped gracefully onto the marble steps, exiting the carriage with the poise befitting her status.

Her chestnut hair was styled in an elegant updo, revealing a refined face with high cheekbones and deep brown eyes. She exuded calmness and stern confidence, typical of someone accustomed to making decisions that shaped the fate of hundreds. Her husband, Hiro Sudzukawa, could not attend the festival due to his declining health. This sparked whispers among the servants and guests, but Lian showed no sign of concern.

The queen's servants hurried to her, bowing in respect.

"Welcome, Lady Sudzukawa. Her Majesty is expecting you," one of them said with a slight bow.

Lian nodded, not wasting words on a reply. Soon, her daughter leaped out of the carriage.

The girl, around thirteen years old, immediately captured the attention of those present. Her chestnut hair cascaded in soft waves, but what stood out most were her eyes — deep, piercing blue. In Mistland, such eye color was rare, and only found in Soleil.

Murmurs of surprise spread through the crowd, but before anyone could speak, another figure stepped out of the carriage.

A boy, slightly taller than the girl, with short light blond hair and eyes just as blue as hers. His skin was darker than that of most capital residents, which only heightened the sense of surprise.

The servants exchanged glances, realizing that this was not a Sudzukawa family member. Blue eyes had always been a sign of origin from the city of Soleil, and they were also the symbol of one of the ancient tribes that had been eradicated. To see two such children together was an extraordinary rarity.

Ignoring the whispers, Lian turned to her children.

"Miré, follow me." Her voice was calm but authoritative.

The children nodded silently and followed their mother into the castle.

The royal palace was a true masterpiece. High ceilings, entwined with magical crystals, emitted a soft, warm glow. Along the walls stood massive statues of former monarchs, and the stained glass windows shimmered with various hues depending on the time of day.

Miré tried not to look around too often, but her eyes inevitably lingered on the exotic details. In contrast, the boy remained calm, as though such luxury was familiar to him.

A servant guided them into a spacious hall, where the throne stood in the center, surrounded by several guards. Everyone watched with interest as representatives of one of the leading families entered. The Sudzukawa family was fairly well-known. Lian stood before the throne and nodded to the servants.

"Straighten your back." Her voice was soft but firm.

Miré quickly corrected her posture and cast a subtle glance at the boy standing behind. He stared straight ahead, showing no emotion.

Before Miré could speak, the doors of the hall swung open, and Queen Redhart entered.

She was a tall woman with long violet hair styled into an intricate updo. Her presence immediately filled the entire hall — the air seemed to thicken. The queen slowly scanned the gathering, then sat on her throne.

Lian bowed her head in respect. She glanced at the queen as if there was some unresolved issue or conflict between them. But Lian only bowed, then gently nudged her daughter forward.

"Your Majesty," Lian's voice was even. "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miré Sudzukawa."

The queen looked at the girl intently. Her red eyes sparkled like flames. She studied the girl with interest, and it almost seemed like she smirked.

"Blue eyes…" she murmured softly, her lips curling into a slight smile. "Just like her father. Has she awakened her magic yet?"

Miré swallowed hard, feeling all eyes on her again. She bowed to the queen and spoke, trying to remain calm.

"Only recently, when I turned thirteen, I immediately underwent the initiation rite."

"What magic does the daughter of the Sudzukawa family possess?" The queen’s voice was calm, but her red eyes gleamed with curiosity.

Miré swallowed again. The hall fell silent, awaiting her response. Her fingers unconsciously clenched into a fist, but she quickly relaxed her hand, remembering her mother’s instructions — never show weakness.

She glanced at Lian, but her face was a mask of composure. Only a slight, nearly imperceptible arch of her brow betrayed the tension.

Several seconds passed, but Miré still did not answer. Lian then tilted her head slightly and spoke for her.

"My daughter possesses the magic of the Abyss, Your Majesty."

A hush fell over the hall.

The queen furrowed her brows. Her fingers lightly touched the armrest of the throne, and for a moment, the air around her seemed to tremble, as if the very tension of the material had increased.

"The magic of the Abyss..." she murmured softly, as if tasting the words.

"The magic of the Abyss..." Queen Redhart repeated, as if recalling something distant. A faint fire flickered in her eyes.

"I haven’t heard that name in a long time."

Miré didn’t understand the meaning of the queen's reaction, but she could feel it — the queen knew something.

"Was your magic sealed?" the queen suddenly asked.

Miré quickly lifted her gaze.

"I..." She hesitated, but nodded.

The queen smirked.

"Of course. For three months now," Lian spoke in place of her daughter.

She looked at Lian, and between the two women, it seemed as though an invisible spark of tension passed through the air.

"But how long will you continue hiding it?" The queen tilted her head slightly. "Even sealed magic still seeks a way out. Do you know what that means?"

Lian remained silent. The queen then turned her attention back to the girl.

"Miré Sudzukawa... Time will tell whether your gift is a blessing or a curse."

The queen continued to scrutinize Miré, as though trying to see through her. But then her gaze shifted upward, to the boy who had stood silently the whole time.

His presence seemed like a shadow behind Lian and Miré — he had not once intervened in the conversation, nor had he made a single unnecessary movement. Only his cold blue eyes calmly followed the events unfolding.

"How interesting..." Queen Redhart suddenly said, narrowing her eyes. "This boy... He is the last of the Ambers family, isn’t he?"

The silence in the hall grew heavier.

Lian didn’t flinch, but Miré felt the air around her mother shift — it was as though she had placed an invisible barrier between the queen and the boy.

"How curious that he ended up in your household, Lian Sudzukawa."

Lian calmly nodded and, without hesitation, called out.

"Luka , come forward."

The boy silently stepped forward, his posture impeccable, his movements confident yet restrained. He stopped next to Lian, slightly bowing his head in respect to the queen.

"Your Majesty, allow me to present Luka Ambers."

The queen tilted her head as if studying him more deeply than her eyes allowed.

"Luka Ambers... The last of the ash-blooded, companion of the Sudzukawa family."

She spoke these words slowly, as though savoring them, then smiled at the corners of her lips.

"So, the Sudzukawa family collects rare treasures. One child with the magic of the Abyss, another with unique eyes that no longer belong to this world... Fascinating."

Luka did not look away.

"The Sudzukawa family has become my home, Your Majesty," he replied in a steady voice.

It was the first time he had spoken. His voice was calm, but there was no hint of submission in it.

The queen did not respond immediately. She studied him, then gave a slight smirk.

"Let it be so."

She turned her gaze back to Lian.

"You’re playing a very interesting game."

Lian slightly inclined her head but said nothing. The atmosphere in the hall grew even more tense. Miré felt something invisible permeating the air, even though no one had spoken. The queen continued to scrutinize Luka , but it seemed her thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.

Lian gave a slight bow, signaling that the Sudzukawa family was ready to leave. The servants standing at the edges of the throne room silently stretched out, preparing to escort them out.

Miré almost sighed in relief, but as they took a few steps toward the door, a quiet, almost mocking voice sounded.

"Oh yes... I almost forgot."

The Sudzukawa family stopped.

Queen Redhart smirked and, resting her elbow on the armrest of the throne, slightly tilted her head.

"Recently, an interesting event occurred in the city of Nox, among the mountains. The eldest daughter of the Kurosaki family has awakened her magic."

Miré stiffened.

"Heavenly magic."

The two words rang out in perfect silence, like thunder in a clear sky.

Lian didn’t move, but Miré noticed how her mother’s fingers clenched into a fist. She didn’t understand why, but this news was clearly not just a coincidence.

The queen slowly rose from the throne.

Everyone around her froze — her movements were fluid, yet there was an internal power in them, as though every step concealed an elemental force, ready to explode at any moment. > LMT: She stepped closer.

Mire felt her mother subtly step forward, as if an invisible barrier had appeared between them. Lian was no longer standing just as the head of the family—her posture had shifted, now standing as if to protect.

And that was what made Mire's heart tighten with anxiety.

Protect from whom? From the queen?

Redhart stopped, her lips curling into a light, almost playful smile.

"Interesting, isn't it?" she spoke softly. "The Abyssal magic and the Heavenly magic... Eternal opposites, bound together."

She slowly scanned Mire with her gaze, then looked back at Lian, but now there was something else in her eyes.

"I suppose they should be introduced."

"Bound...?" Mire finally managed to say.

Redhart turned her gaze back to her, tilting her head slightly as if assessing how much Mire knew.

"Oh, yes. These two forces exist together... and one day, they always meet."

Mire felt as though something deeper flickered in the queen's eyes, something unspoken.

"This is destiny," she added with a faint smirk.

Lian had remained silent throughout, but Mire could feel her mother tense up even more.

It wasn’t that simple.

The queen looked at Lian again, and there was something almost sly in her smile.

"You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? Probably surprised that your daughter possesses this magic."

These words sounded almost innocent, but Mire sensed there was something more behind them.

Lian held the queen's gaze.

"Some things are inevitable, but their outcome depends on us."

Lian said nothing in response. Mire didn’t understand anything.

But she didn’t need to sort through the details to feel it: these two knew each other far better than it seemed at first glance.

The queen shook her head lightly and stepped back, returning to her throne.

"Well... Then, let us watch what the future brings us."

She smiled.

"We will meet again soon, Mire Sudzukawa."

Mire and Luka stayed in the guest room. Lian Sudzukawa, as always, left them to greet other family members, leaving the room for the two remaining. Mire sighed wearily and flopped onto the couch, spreading her arms out. The room was quiet, only muffled voices reached from behind the walls—somewhere out there, her mother was talking with representatives of the other noble families. Mire rolled her eyes as she stared at the ceiling and muttered:

"Mom's hiding something from me again."

Luka , who had been calmly staring out the window, didn’t respond. His face remained impassive as always.

Mire lifted herself on her elbows and frowned.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Luka slightly turned his head, but his gaze still stayed on the glass.

"I’m listening," he replied shortly.

Mire puffed out her cheeks, glaring at him.

"Then why are you silent?"

Luka slowly shifted his gaze to her but said nothing.

It was infuriating.

Mire jumped off the couch, approached him from behind, and tried to scare him, but Luka turned around at the last moment. She didn’t manage to stop herself and clumsily fell to the floor.

"Ouch!" she yelped, rubbing her elbow.

Luka sighed.

"What were you even trying to do?"

Mire quickly got to her feet, crossed her arms, and glared at him.

"I wanted to see if you'd react!"

"You’re acting like I don’t care!"

Luka shrugged.

"What am I supposed to react to? That you’re complaining about Lady Sudzukawa again?"

Mire glared at him.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot that I should just silently agree with everything she does!" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Did you forget that she hides everything from me? Never explains anything! Just says, 'Do as I say,' and that's it!"

Luka looked at her a little more intently, but only sighed.

"She knows what she’s doing," he said calmly.

"Knows?" Mire sneered. "Of course, Lady Sudzukawa never makes mistakes, right?"

Luka didn’t answer. He simply picked up the kettle and slowly poured himself some tea. Mire clenched her fists.

"Do you even realize what you’re saying? Do you remember that last year my mother bought you and made you live with us against your will?" Her voice grew louder, sharper. "She literally said she needed you, that she’d make something useful out of you! Like you were just a tool! Doesn’t that make you mad?"

Luka looked at the tea in his cup as if pondering her words.

"You see the situation that way, Mire," he said finally. "But Lady Sudzukawa saved me from death. I’m not angry."

Mire recoiled.

"You... don’t get angry?" she asked, stunned.

"No," Luka took a sip of tea. "Maybe she’s harsh, but she knows what she’s doing."

"She even changed your name." Mire flared up. "She manipulates people!"

"And so?" Luka looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "The world works in such a way that the one who can manipulate wins."

Mire couldn’t believe her ears.

"You... you just blindly believe everything she says?!"

"No," he set the cup down on the table. "I just see the big picture. Even with the queen... Do you really think Lady Sudzukawa just kept you from her all these thirteen years?"

Mire frowned.

"What are you getting at?"

Luka sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Do you even learn anything? Do you understand how this world works?"

Mire flared up.

"Don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid!"

"And you act like one," Luka remarked coldly.

"Oh, of course!" she threw her hands up. "And you’re so grown-up, right? You understand everything, you’re an expert at everything!"

Luka ignored her sarcasm.

"All the children of the main families are acquainted with the monarchs of the magical world from childhood," he said evenly. "According to etiquette, Lady Sudzukawa should have introduced you as an infant and brought you to meetings every year."

Mire snorted in irritation.

"Horrible! What a tragedy!" Her voice dripped with mockery. "Poor my mom, what a terrible sin not to show me to the queen!"

Luka clenched his fists.

"You’re acting like a spoiled child."

"And you’re acting like my mother’s obedient puppy!" Mire snapped.

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

Luka gritted his teeth.

"You’re part of the Sudzukawa family," he said slowly, with emphasis. "And you should behave with dignity. Not disgrace the family, wear your name with pride. You are Sudzukawa."

Mire shuddered with anger.

"And you’re an outsider to this family."

The word slipped out before she could realize it.

Luka froze.

Mire immediately understood that she’d said something terrible. She opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.

Luka turned away. Slowly, he picked up his cup and continued drinking his tea as if nothing had happened.

That gesture angered Mire more than if he’d yelled at her.

"Outsider!"

She screamed again, not knowing why, but suddenly everything made her furious. After that, she spun around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Mire stormed forward, ignoring the servants who respectfully parted before her. Her thoughts were flooded with anger, hurt, and bitterness. Everything Luka had said, everything she had said…

Why is he always like this? Why does he never show what he feels? As if he doesn't care about anything I say, anything I do…

"Outsider..." she whispered, feeling her own words echo in her mind.

She clenched her fists.

Suddenly, a vast hall opened up before her, filled with people. Men and women in fine clothing, exquisite jewelry, soft light reflected in glasses of wine. Servants moved between the guests, bringing drinks and food.

At the center of all this grandeur stood her mother.

Lian Sudzukawa held herself impeccably as always—perfect posture, a light smile, confident movements. She was talking to someone from the other families, completely unaware of Mire.

Mire had already taken a step forward, preparing to approach when suddenly, someone’s hand gently, but firmly grabbed her wrist.

"Don’t," a quiet voice sounded.

Mire sharply turned around.

In front of her stood a girl her age.

Dark blue hair fell neatly on her shoulders in waves, lavender eyes carefully watching her. She looked graceful, refined—everything Mire never felt herself to be.

"You..." Mire started, but the girl interrupted her.

"You can’t go there."

Mire frowned, surprised.

"I know."

She pulled her hand away and turned, but then felt a probing gaze on her.

"Are you Sudzukawa?" the girl asked.

Mire blinked, turning back to her.

"How did you know?"

"Your eyes," the girl squinted. "Blue eyes, my mom told me how beautiful they are."

"Your mom?"

"Yes, she’s in this hall too. Nemuri Kurosaki, she often visits your city to relax." > LMT: Mire stood in front of Meruka, gazing at her with surprise. There was something unusual, something special in the girl’s eyes that immediately caught her attention. And then, in her gaze, there was something that made Mire feel awkward. She remembered the queen mentioning Kurosaki. The queen had said that the eldest daughter of Kurosaki possessed celestial magic, linked to the magic of the abyss.

“Celestial magic...” she thought to herself. And now, looking at this girl, she realized that it wasn’t just words. This was a true gift.

She scoffed a little, almost ironically, and stared at her, trying to understand who this person before her was. The girl maintained perfect posture, confident in herself and every movement, as if nothing in the world could fluster her.

“Are you really like they say?” Mire couldn’t resist asking, her voice filled with confusion.

The girl didn’t answer immediately, as if enjoying Mire’s reaction. Her eyes had something light and teasing in them.

“Did you really hear about me?” she finally asked. “I’m flattered.”

Mire couldn’t help but smile, but then she noticed something flicker behind the girl. A small boy appeared, who, despite his young age, looked very serious. He had dark hair, almost the same as his sister’s, and deep dark blue eyes. His gaze was piercing, filled with wariness.

Mire stared at the boy, surprised to see him here.

“Who’s this?” she asked, not hiding her surprise.

The girl gently, but confidently, bent down and took him in her arms. The boy immediately wrapped his arms around her neck, as if not wanting to let go.

“This is my younger brother,” she explained, her face softening and warming as she looked at the baby. “His name is Ryu.”

Mire sighed quietly. The boy looked so small and vulnerable, as though he had only recently come to understand this world. He was around four years old, if not younger.

“He ran off,” the girl continued, trying to hold the boy while ensuring he was comfortable. “He wanted to see mom. I barely caught up with him here.”

Mire couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly the person before her had changed. Just a few moments ago, she seemed like a doll of a girl, but now, as she held her younger brother, her face had softened, filled with care and love. Mire felt her heart tighten for a moment. She had never seen anyone look at family members that way.

“You’re very mature for your age,” Mire said quietly, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

Ryu’s sister looked at her with mild surprise, then her lips spread into an unseen smile.

“I just care for those I love,” she said calmly. “Not everyone can understand that.”

Mire fell silent, her eyes clouding for a moment. Ryu looked so defenseless, so real in his little fragility, and it made her feel a strange sense of envy.

She wanted to ask her another question, but just then, a familiar voice came from behind her.

“Mire, are you here?” a low, calm voice that Mire immediately recognized.

She turned around and met Luka ’s gaze. He stood a little farther from the entrance to the hall, with a servant quietly talking to him. Luka looked calm, even slightly distant, as always.

Mire felt her anger, which had been raging in her chest, begin to rise again. But this time, she couldn’t hide her emotions. She was still upset and didn’t want him to see her like this.

The dark-haired girl, noticing the change in Mire, smiled faintly and casually said,

“I see you know each other. It looks like you’ve had an argument. You seem ready to run away.”

Mire turned to her and gave her a challenging look.

“It’s none of your business,” she replied quietly, but something in her voice revealed irritation.

The girl raised an eyebrow but didn’t say another word. Instead, she simply shook her head, as though surprised by Mire’s behavior.

Mire turned back to Luka . His calm, slightly cold and distant look once again made her feel as if there was an invisible wall between them. Luka still hadn’t moved closer, standing at a distance, in no hurry to approach her. He was the same as always, and it made Mire feel that there was no real connection between them.

“I want to take a walk outside,” she said quietly, deciding not to continue the conversation with him.

She couldn’t stay in this building anymore, surrounded by people she couldn’t understand.

She took a step to the side, but Luka , as always, was persistent.

“Don’t you want to talk?” His voice was soft, but it seemed as though he was trying to get inside her thoughts.

Mire looked at him sharply.

“About what?” Her response was as sharp as a blade.

Luka was silent, but his gaze became more cautious.

The girl with the boy watched their interaction, but her face remained neutral. She didn’t intervene, but there was a faint smirk in her eyes, as if she were sure there would only be more misunderstanding between them.

Mire stood, perplexed and irritated, but her gaze quickly shifted to the other side when the girl took a step forward. Meruka, tilting her head slightly, restrainedly smiled and quietly said,

“Allow me to interrupt your conversation.” She pulled Ryu a little closer and then bowed. “I’m Meruka Kurosaki from the city of Nox. I hope you don’t mind if I intervene. I want to get to know both of you better.”

Mire froze for a moment. She hadn’t expected such a straightforward introduction, especially from someone her age. Usually, girls in her circle behaved much more reservedly and often hid their true identities, preferring mystery and enigma. But Meruka was different.

Luka stood nearby, and, noticing the girl’s unusual behavior, he raised an eyebrow. He inclined his head, lowered it in front of her, and restrainedly introduced himself:

“Luka Embers, from the city of Soleil. Please forgive me for not introducing myself sooner.”

Then the attention shifted to Mire, who, in turn, introduced herself without rushing.

“Mire Sudzukawa.”

All three stood in the semi-darkness of the corridor. Meruka smiled at both of them and continued the conversation. It seemed as if she was trying to distract them.

“It seems we’re all the same age. How old are you? I’m 13, just awakened my magic.”

Mire felt the tension rise. She wasn’t used to such direct, open introductions, especially from a girl who seemed so mysterious and mature.

Luka , always a little distant, looked at Meruka thoughtfully and, almost casually, noted,

“Why did you decide to share your age? Usually, girls hide it.”

Meruka smirked, her lips curving up slightly, but her smile wasn’t fake. She looked at him calmly and replied,

“Because I feel it’ll be easier for us to become friends if we know each other’s age. Why hide it if we’re probably all the same age?”

Mire was surprised to hear such words. In her mind, she immediately thought that Meruka might actually be older than she appeared. There was something in her confidence and way of speaking that made Mire doubt the girl’s real age.

“Do you think Luka and I are your peers?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Meruka nodded, not losing her confidence.

“I feel it.” She smiled, and that smile wasn’t mocking, as if she simply accepted the obvious.

Mire took a step back, feeling the air around them lighten a bit. But her surprise at Meruka’s words hadn’t passed. How could she so easily assume that they would become friends? She barely knew them. Meruka, it seemed, had no trouble socializing with them, as though she had been surrounded by people like them her entire life.

“I’m also 13, but Luka is 14,” Mire quietly replied.

Meanwhile, Meruka signaled to the servant standing a little to the side, and with a smile, handed him her younger brother.

“Take him back to our room,” she said, “It’s time for him to sleep.”

The boy she had been holding in her arms was now trying to wriggle free, his small hands clutching at his sister, but it seemed that he understood it was time to go. When the servant approached, Meruka sighed lightly and handed Ryu to his hands, and the boy reluctantly reached out to the man.

Mire watched the process. Meruka was so natural and confident in her actions that Mire couldn’t help but feel a little envious. She couldn’t imagine being so sure of herself at that age.

“Thank you for your help,” Meruka said gratefully to the servant, and he nodded and left with the boy. After that, she turned her attention back to Mire and Luka .

“I think we shouldn’t stay here, near the hall where all these important people have gathered. Someone might decide to come out into the corridor and they’ll notice us,” Meruka suggested, her voice quiet but insistent. “Let’s find a place where it’s calm.”

Mire, a little surprised by such a suggestion but also intrigued, nodded. Luka , after a brief pause, also agreed, raising his eyebrows and, seemingly thoughtful, didn’t object.

“Where do you suggest we go?” he asked.

Meruka smiled, her face becoming light and open again.

“Let’s go to one of the gardens,” she suggested, confident as ever. “I know where we can find a place to talk peacefully.

Mire once again felt a bit out of place. The whole situation with the new acquaintance and the strange offer from Meruka made her feel uncomfortable. The girl seemed to have no trouble interacting with others. She was so confident in herself and her place in this world that Mire couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be like that.

However, after a few seconds of silence, Mire felt there was no point in standing in the corridor, wondering where to go. Her irritation had subsided a little, and following Meruka and Luka , she decided that at least she should try to find out what these "friends" were like. And perhaps learn something about herself.

Meruka moved forward, and the trio headed toward one of the lounges, leaving behind the empty corridor and hall where all the important people had gathered. Mire walked beside Luka , not quite understanding what to expect from this situation.

Meruka walked ahead with an unusual lightness, as though her steps weren’t even touching the ground. Her dark blue hair, flowing down her shoulders, accentuated her elegance. Every movement was smooth and confident, and the faint smile on her lips was almost imperceptible, like a spring breeze gently caressing the skin. Everything about her — from her refined dress to graceful gestures — indicated that she was one of those people who effortlessly charms others with her sophistication.

Her lavender eyes, like two deep lakes, gazed at Mire and Luka with unseen perceptiveness, and it seemed she understood everything happening around her without saying a word. But her confidence wasn’t arrogant or haughty. On the contrary, there was a lightness in her demeanor that didn’t create distance between people, but skillfully brought them closer together.

Meruka confidently exited the corridor, leading Mire and Luka behind her. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallways until they reached a massive door with intricate carvings. She asked the servants to remain in the corridor and give them a moment to talk. After that, the girl pushed the door open without hesitation, revealing a garden before them.

The air was filled with a delicate scent of roses, which grew abundantly here. Red, white, pink, golden, and among them — rare black ones, mysterious as the night itself. Mire slowed her pace, looking around. She had seen pink gardens before, but never one like this.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said quietly, running her fingers over the petals of a nearby flower.

“This is one of my favorite places,” Meruka smiled. “Roses speak more than people. They can be gentle, dangerous, mysterious. Just like us.”

Mire remained silent, but her gaze was drawn to the black roses. They seemed almost unreal, as if they didn’t belong to this world.

Meruka noticed her interest but didn’t immediately comment. Instead, she took a step forward and pointed to a rose bush of an unusual, deep blue hue.

“Here,” she said, turning her head toward her companions. “Don’t you think they resemble someone’s eye color?”

Luka chuckled but didn’t say anything. Mire merely frowned, quickly averting her gaze from the flowers.

“Your eyes are darker,” she muttered finally, still looking away. “And mine are brighter.”

Luka smirked.

“Of course. You’re our star.”

Mire suddenly turned toward him, ready to say something, but then a light laugh rang out. Meruka covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes were genuinely smiling.

“You really do look like siblings,” she noted with a warm smile.

“What?” Mire and Luka responded simultaneously, throwing equally indignant looks her way.

“Stop talking nonsense,” Mire quickly added, but her voice betrayed a hint of embarrassment.

“Nothing in common,” Luka replied calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

But Meruka just shook her head, smiling even wider.

“You know, people who are close in spirit can argue all they want, but sometimes they don’t even notice how they see each other much more clearly than they think,” she said thoughtfully. “The mind may deny it, but the hearts speak differently.”

She leaned over the roses and, plucking one of the blue ones, lightly tossed it into the air, watching the petals tremble slightly in the gentle breeze.

Mire, turning away, looked back at the roses, but now she could no longer easily ignore them.

“Let’s move on.”

The garden was shrouded in a light mist, gliding along the gravel paths, as if whispering with the flowers. The wind rustled the bushes, making them whisper as if the leaves were trying to say something important. Mire walked a little behind, thoughtfully touching the tips of her fingers to the petals. Meruka led them forward, like the mistress of this place, while Luka walked calmly beside her, his hands in his pockets.

“Sometimes I feel like yelling at him too,” Meruka suddenly said with a light smile.

Mire blinked and turned her gaze toward her.

“Who?”

“My little brother,” Meruka explained, watching their reaction. “He can be so annoying that I just want to grab him by the ears and shake him.”

Mire raised an eyebrow, and Luka only threw a short glance at her but didn’t say anything.

“You… look like someone who never gets angry,” Mire remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s hard to imagine you getting irritated.”

Meruka smiled.

“I just learned to hide it. But sometimes, when he gets on my nerves, I remind myself that he’s my little brother and that he’s still young. He doesn’t understand everything the way I do.”

She slightly tilted her head, admiring the black roses.

“And then I tell myself, ‘Meruka, he’s your family. You have to take care of him.’ Even if he annoys me, even if I’m angry, I always try to make it right immediately.”

Mire paused. She’d never really thought much about things like that. Family had always been difficult for her. A brother… she no longer had a brother.

“Hm,” was all she said, hiding her hands in her sleeves.

They turned the corner where the blue roses grew, resembling pieces of the sky that had fallen to the ground. Mire looked at them and again remembered Meruka’s words about eye color.

“You two should also cherish each other,” Meruka suddenly said, turning toward them.

Mire and Luka both looked at her at the same time but with different expressions on their faces.

“What?” Mire frowned.

“Hm,” Luka mumbled, slightly tilting his head.

“Little arguments are just a tear in the heart,” Meruka continued, lightly shaking her head as if her voice carried ancient wisdom. “People often get angry with each other over silly things, but is it really worth it? When you lose someone you love, you realize that those arguments meant nothing.”

Mire pressed her lips together, staring at the ground.

“We’re not…” she began, but then fell silent.

Luka just looked away, watching the flowers.

Meruka didn’t insist. She simply continued walking down the path without looking back.

The air in the garden was fresh, filled with the scent of roses. They walked slowly, weaving between the bushes, listening to the wind rustling the petals.

“This garden… do you come here often?” Mire finally asked, trying to distract herself from Meruka’s words.

“Yes, my father often has to go to the capital on business,” she nodded. “He always took me with him to see the capital. But I stayed at the castle and came here. It’s one of the few places where you can hear silence.”

“Funny,” Luka smirked. “People usually say they listen to the music of the wind or the whisper of the leaves.”

“I hear silence,” Meruka replied without hesitation. “You can hear more in it than in words.”

Mire rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

They stopped at a small fountain. The water flowed in thin streams, creating a soft, almost imperceptible sound.

“And you?” Meruka suddenly asked. “Do you have a place where you can hear the silence?”

Luka thought for a moment.

“I’d say the sea,” he finally said. “When you look at the waves, they swallow everything. Even thoughts.”

Meruka nodded.

“And you, Mire?”

The girl didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted after a pause. “I don’t think I have such a place.”

Meruka looked at her a little longer than she should have, but didn’t say anything.

They continued walking down the path, weaving through the garden. The wind ruffled their hair, causing the blue roses to sway as if they were dancing.

“I think if you don’t have such a place, it’s worth finding one,” Meruka finally said. “When you find it, you’ll understand what it means to hear silence.”

Mire just silently walked on.

They reached a gazebo, where intricately carved wooden benches stood. Meruka was the first to sit on one, gesturing for the others to join her.

“It’s nice here,” Luka admitted, sitting down beside her.

“Yes,” Meruka nodded, admiring the garden. “You can just sit and do nothing.”

“I don’t like doing nothing,” Mire muttered, crossing her arms.

Meruka smiled.

“Maybe you just don’t know how.”

Mire shot her a displeased look, but something like interest flickered in her eyes.

Luka chuckled slightly, watching their interaction.

The garden fell into peaceful silence, filled only with the whisper of the wind and the distant murmur of the water. In that moment, none of them were in a hurry to leave.

Eden Academy was ancient and majestic, like something out of legend. Narrow arched windows, wrought-iron grilles, painted ceilings. Everything here breathed history—the walls remembered mages whose names had become great, and whispered their secrets to the next generation. Spring wind streamed through the inner courtyard, carrying the scent of flowers and pollen from ancient trees that had stood here since the Academy's founding.

But even this noble tranquility couldn’t withstand the whirlwind that burst through its walls.

“Out of the waaay!” came a voice from afar—still youthful, but loud enough to fill an entire stadium.

Miré Sudzukawa stormed down the mosaic corridor as if an army were chasing her. Her jacket was unbuttoned, tie flapping behind her, and one shoe looked ready to fly off her heel.

Students in embroidered robes stepped aside in surprise; some chuckled, others sighed: “That Sudzukawa again…”

They already knew her. They either feared her. Or adored her. There was no in-between.

The classroom door flew open with such force the windowsill shook. Without slowing, Miré charged inside, nearly colliding with the teacher who was just about to leave. She froze in place, breathing heavily, brushing dark strands from her face.

“Made it…!”

“As always, your signature entrance,” came a calm, almost musical voice.

Leaning against the far table stood Meruka.

Her long dark hair cascaded softly over her shoulders, and the Academy uniform looked like it had been tailored for a fashion magazine. There was no reproach in her gaze, only gentle, ironic surprise.

Direct, yet soft—like morning light.Miré walked over, tapping her fingers on desks out of habit.

“You’re first again?”

“I just know how to use a clock,” Meruka replied coolly, tilting her head. “Shall we go?”

“Let’s go,” Miré agreed, instantly relaxing.

They left the classroom together. The corridors were emptying; classes were over. Miré shrugged off her jacket and tossed it over her shoulder, walking freely like it was her stage. Meruka walked beside her with graceful steps, keeping just slightly to the side—as if she shared the stage, but never tried to steal the spotlight.

“Someone spilled juice on the stairs by the third floor today,” Miré said cheerfully. “I won’t say who. But it was fun.”

“I suspect someone’s getting another warning,” Meruka noted, not looking at her.

“At least it’s not boring!” Miré grinned, staring out the window. “Hey... let’s skip the evening lecture today?”

Meruka hesitated for a second.

“Only if you promise not to drag me to the rooftop again.”

“Fox’s honor!” Miré offered her pinky.

Meruka gave a small smile but placed her hand on Miré’s shoulder instead—as if not accepting the promise, yet not rejecting it either.

“Let’s head to the dorms.”

Meruka picked up the pace. Miré shrugged and ran after her, grabbing her friend’s shoulders with a grin. Students were dispersing, the sun was setting, and the stained glass bathed in orange and pink light. Miré and Meruka passed through an arched walkway into the courtyard, where a cobbled path led to the dormitories.

“So picture this,” Miré animatedly waved her hands, “I burst into the room at the last second before the bell, flung the door open, and this one girl got so scared she nearly flew out the window. And the teacher... he blinked. Just once. And said: ‘Students usually enter more quietly.’”

Meruka walked slightly behind, listening without interrupting. Her gaze was calm and distant. She looked ahead into the alley, where light filtered gently through the trees. Sunbeams touched her face like soft brushstrokes. She barely blinked—almost as if she were catching the last moments of the day.

Suddenly—a familiar, deep voice came from the side.

“Telling stories again? The kind that sound like the start of a disaster?”

Miré stopped abruptly. Her face, a moment ago bright with laughter, darkened. Her brows furrowed. Her smile vanished.

“You again,” she said, without a trace of joy. “And I was almost hoping for a normal evening.”

Luka stepped out from behind a tree. His light hair fell into his eyes, and his navy uniform, threaded with silver, fit him with severe perfection. He held a thin book and seemed oblivious to the tension in the air.

“I thought of inviting you to the library. Some new books just arrived.”

Meruka turned to him gently, her voice calm.

“Sounds nice. But we’ve got the director’s lecture soon.”

“What?!” Miré nearly tripped on flat ground. “We were going to skip it! You said so yourself! ‘Let’s go to the dorms!’”

Meruka turned to her with that same serene smile that always left Miré speechless.

“I said: ‘Let’s go to the dorms.’ I said nothing about the lecture.”

Miré opened her mouth… then shut it with an indignant huff.

“Unfair. You’re like a spell with double meaning.”

Luka smirked, glancing aside.

“So, no one’s coming to the library,” he said with faint regret.

“You can go alone,” Miré snapped. “Maybe even the books will be thrilled to listen to you.”

Meruka couldn’t help it—she laughed. Softly, but sincerely.

“We’ll stop by tomorrow,” she said.

Luka smiled at her words and nodded slowly.

Miré huffed again, tugging Meruka by the arm.

“Come on, move it, or I’ll definitely be late to that awful hall! Director’s lecture, yay-yay, everyone sitting like marble statues listening to some boring tale about ‘the power of ancient magic’ and all that nonsense!"

As always, Meruka only smiled, not stopping her. Her smile gave away nothing, but something in her eyes always seemed to calm Miré down eventually. Their faces were so different, and yet, together, they felt like balance.

“I still don’t get you,” Miré continued, dragging her along. “How are you so calm around him? Around Luka! He drives me crazy! Can’t just leave us alone!”

Meruka nodded, silent, yet fully attentive to every step, every word her friend uttered. She didn’t argue, maybe because somewhere deep down she knew—Miré would one day realize that her irritation wasn’t the point. Or maybe she never would. Meruka still said nothing.

A few minutes later, they were nearly at the dorm. That’s when Meruka suddenly stopped.

Miré didn’t notice right away and almost reached to pull her along. But she caught the pause in time and turned around, seeing her friend standing still, head slightly tilted, gazing to the side.

“What is it?” Miré muttered, clearly irritated. “Don’t tell me you’re off to some other world at sunset or something.”

Meruka didn’t answer right away. Instead, she simply pointed toward the horizon, where the setting sun was slowly vanishing behind the edge of the world, swallowing the last light.

“So beautiful,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Miré fell silent, instinctively turning her gaze to where Meruka pointed. The sun had nearly gone, leaving behind a warm, muted glow in the sky.

"And this is why you stopped me?" Miré asked in bewilderment, steering the conversation back to her usual tone. "To adMiré the sunset?"

Meruka nodded quietly, her eyes still fixed on the sky. She could have said more—perhaps she could have explained why this moment mattered, why she clung to this instant when the world seemed to slow down. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply kept walking, as if words would have been too much.

Miré stood for a while longer, the cold autumn wind brushing past her as she watched the last light fade. With a trace of puzzled reflection in her eyes, she realized Meruka had once again done something that left her thinking, offering no clear answers.

But then Miré snorted and turned toward the dormitory, following after Meruka.

“All right, all right, I get it. Let’s go, it’s evening already—we’ve got better things to do,” she said, striding forward.

Meruka said nothing, stepping into the building quietly and calmly. Her footsteps were nearly silent—like she had become part of the night.

Miré led the way, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her uniform, but the trace of recent thoughtfulness still lingered in her eyes. Time kept ticking on, and as she walked beside Meruka, the world around her seemed just a little softer.

The fog had yet to lift, and the morning light barely seeped through the classroom windows. The curtains stirred slightly, as if the air itself was trying to wake the students—unsuccessfully. Miré sat at her desk, completely absorbed in the fact that she had somehow survived the previous lecture without falling asleep. Now she could feel her eyelids getting stubbornly heavy.

She rested her head on the desk, yawning, and muttered with a doomed expression:

“I didn’t get enough sleep. This is a disaster. That principal and his lectures... they never end. How can one man talk for so long? I swear he spends all day preparing just to bore us to sleep, going over ancient magical forces again and again.”

Meruka sat beside her, unhurried. Her light gaze, despite the early hour, remained composed. A faint, nearly invisible smile touched her lips as she quietly replied:

“You always say that. Maybe if you went to bed right after the lecture, you’d get some sleep.”

Miré snorted and raised her head from the desk, mumbling:

“I have a life outside this academy, you know. I deserve to do something for myself at the end of the day.”

Meruka smiled again. There was something about her that radiated ease and peace, as if morning exhaustion simply didn’t exist for her.

“You’re not wrong. But if I were you, I’d go straight to bed.”

“Oh, of course, you’re just a walking source of calm perfection.” Miré rolled her eyes, then added, “You know what? I should just bring a pillow to his lectures. You’re totally right—it’d be better to sleep through his speeches about how ancient mages ‘felt the flow of the elements.’ I will listen... with my eyes closed.”

Still smiling, Meruka smoothed a few stray strands from her tidy ponytail and shook her head:

“If you act like that, you definitely won’t learn anything new.”

“Oh please, you know I only remember what I think is important for me.” Miré leaned back, letting her legs dangle from the edge of the desk. “And you—what, you keep all those lecture details in your head or something?”

“It’s just habit.” Meruka glanced toward the window, that same calm, thoughtful smile returning to her face. “By the way, the library got some new books. Remember?”

Despite her tiredness, Miré perked up immediately. She could feel, instinctively, that Meruka was holding something back.

“You want to go today? Really?”

Meruka nodded but didn’t rush to answer, giving Miré a moment to feel her interest. She knew her too well.

“Last time, they said they’d bring in books about ancient magic—lost knowledge, not really taught anymore. Oh, and some legends too… I’d love to read them.”

Miré squinted slightly, trying to piece it all together.

“I hope it’s just the two of us. And no Luka…”

Meruka tilted her head a little, her gaze clear, though she didn’t rush to answer.

“I think he might be interested too. We can invite him. But you know he’s usually busy with his second-years.”

Miré snorted again, her expression instantly more skeptical, her tone tinged with mild irritation:

“Of course, he’s always busy with his second-years. And the moment you ask him for something—poof—he’s gone. Ugh, whatever. Do you really want to invite him?”

Meruka simply shrugged, as if the idea was so obvious there was no point arguing.

Just then, the classroom door opened and the teacher entered. Miré instantly straightened up, her face flipping into an expression of utmost seriousness—a stark contrast to her earlier demeanor. She’d mastered the role of the “student in class,” even if her thoughts were far from the lecture.

Meruka, in turn, rose slowly, a soft smile on her face, and quietly left the classroom without a word. She never liked drawing attention to herself, especially in large groups, and preferred to slip away unnoticed.

The old Eden library stood apart from the academy’s main building. A cozy, almost forgotten structure, overgrown with grapevines, its crooked sign and heavy wooden door gave it the charm of something ancient. The creaking of that door was recognizable from afar. Inside, it smelled of damp paper, dust, and something warm and familiar—like history itself had curled up between the shelves, whispering long-forgotten tales.

When Miré and Meruka approached the door, Miré nudged it open with her shoulder and stepped inside—only to let out a loud sneeze.

“Achoo!” echoed through the room.

“Heh…” Meruka couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “You react like that every time. As if you didn’t know this place is coated in centuries of dust.”

“I keep hoping someone finally got rid of her,” Miré muttered, scratching her nose. “But no... same as always. Even the air here crackles.”

“The air of knowledge,” Meruka replied with a chuckle and stepped inside.

The library was dim. Tall shelves stretched almost to the ceiling, and old chandeliers cast a warm amber light across the room. Somewhere in the distance, an ancient clock creaked. In the silence, even their footsteps on the wooden floor sounded too loud.

In the farthest corner, behind a desk piled with stacks of books, sat the old librarian. Her skin was wrinkled like parchment, her silver hair gathered in a neat bun. She was sorting through volumes, leafing through the pages like old letters.

Seeing the girls approach, she lifted her glasses and smiled.

“Ah, my favorite visitors...” she said, her voice rough with warmth. “Still searching for what others have long forgotten?”

Meruka was the first to approach, bowing slightly.

“Good evening, Miss Arvina.”

“Good evening, child.” The old woman looked at Miré. “With her again, Miré? Or did you finally decide to enjoy the scent of ancient wisdom on your own?”

Miré smirked, brushing dust off her sleeve. “I came solely out of pity, grandma. Didn’t want you getting bored in here.”

Arvina laughed. “Oh, you have a sharp tongue. That’s good. Knowledge is easier to digest when the tongue is sharper than the lesson.”

Meanwhile, Meruka leaned toward the desk.

“You had a new delivery, didn’t you? You mentioned it last time.”

“Ah yes,” the old woman nodded. “Just brought in yesterday. Nothing particularly valuable... but I set aside a couple of volumes that might interest someone like you. They're by the west window, in the niche between geography and forgotten myths.”

Miré immediately darted off. “I’m first!”

“You’re always first,” Meruka said softly, smiling just a little.

She lingered a moment longer, and before following, she bowed politely.

“Thank you, Miss Arvina.”

The old woman looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment. Then, almost out of nowhere, she spoke—softly, nearly a whisper:

“It’s a pity to watch two flowers wither beneath the sun.”

Meruka froze.

The words were strange. Vague. Not threatening—but unsettling. As if spoken not in passing, but with heavy knowledge.

“What did you say?” she asked.

Arvina merely nodded, continuing to leaf through her book.

“Just thinking out loud, child. Go on. She’s waiting.”

Meruka didn’t press further. But as she walked away, her steps grew quieter. And behind her, the words still echoed in her ears.

Miré stood by the shelves, running her fingers along the spines of books with a kind of excitement few ever noticed in her. But here, far from prying eyes and needless words, she was herself—focused, attentive, almost gentle with the old volumes. Her fingers slid across the bindings, reading titles aloud:

“The History of the Sunset Lands... The Secret Symbols of the Elemental World...” she muttered with a grimace. “People used to be terrible at naming books.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Meruka reminded gently, appearing beside her with a soft smile. “Maybe it’s something interesting.”

Miré snorted. “I know... It’s just, old books are so typical, the one you want always takes forever to find.”

They continued browsing in silence. The titles varied wildly, from ancient legends to algebraic manuscripts. Some tomes were fragile, others embossed in gold. Meruka moved a bit slower, with a kind of reverent care. She loved the silence of such places—where each step sounded like a word whispered in someone else’s dream.

And then her hand stopped.

A book.

It stood out at once, like a shadow among light. The cover—black, like scorched charcoal. No title, no embossing, no name. Ancient, as if burned from within. The pages peeked from the binding—yellowed, uneven. Its scent was... strange. Not just dust. It smelled dry, dark, foreboding. Like old smoke.

Meruka reached out cautiously, as if afraid to wake something dormant. She touched the cover—and in that moment...

“Meruka! You here?” Miré’s voice called from behind.

Meruka flinched.

Her hand jerked, the book slipped from the shelf.

And with it—so did she.

“Ow!” she cried out, falling to the floor right at her friend’s feet. The book landed beside her with a dull thud, raising a small cloud of dust.

Miré blinked in surprise, leaning down.

“Did you see a ghost or something? Or is that your new spell—flight without takeoff?”

Meruka looked up at her, a bit stunned. Then she laughed, glancing away in embarrassment.

“You... startled me. You spoke so suddenly...”

“You? Startled? Now that’s a headline.” Miré held out her hand to help her up. “Looks like you found something interesting. What is it?”

Meruka picked up the book. Up close, it looked even stranger. It felt colder in her hands than it should have. The cover seemed to absorb light.

“I... don’t know. It doesn’t even have a title. Just black. Like night.”

Miré squinted.

“Maybe just some old student’s diary. Or... a cursed book that brings spiders to life.” She grinned. “Don’t tell me you actually want to read it.”

Meruka slowly nodded.

“It’s... pulling me. I don’t know why. But it’s not like the others. Not at all.”

Miré fell silent, watching her. Meruka’s eyes, usually calm like summer skies, now looked tense. And this wasn’t normal curiosity. Something about this book—or Meruka’s reaction to it—made Miré uneasy too.

“All right,” Miré finally said, stepping back. “But if that thing starts whispering to you at night, don’t forget to wake me. We die together, got it?”

Meruka smiled faintly, holding the book in both hands, as if it were something fragile and important.

“Don’t joke like that. Books don’t kill.”

They both looked at the book. And in that moment, even the old library seemed to hold its breath.

Miré, still glancing around, suddenly froze as the heavy door on the far end of the hall creaked open. The sound stretched out like a rusty breath, breaking the silence that had felt almost sacred. She turned, squinting.

“Probably Luka ,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Too careful opening it. Playing polite again.”

The corners of her mouth twitched—an impish spark lit up her face. This was the perfect moment.

“Time to show him what real horror looks like,” she whispered with a smirk and slipped between the shelves, her cloak brushing softly behind her.

Meruka watched her go, unable to hold back a faint smile. There was something warm about Miré, even when she tried to scare someone—it felt like play.

Left alone, she once again looked at the book in her hands. Everything about it beckoned: the texture of its darkened cover, the scent of dusty secrets, the slight tremble in her fingers. She sat down on an old wooden chair by the wall—it creaked, as if protesting its age. The book rested on her lap, heavy and... almost alive.

She slowly opened it.

The first page was handwritten in thick ink, smudged at the corners. The handwriting was erratic, as if the writer was holding back tears or losing patience.

"These notes I dedicate to my only and first friend—..."

The name was strangely erased. The letters were smeared, scratched out, as if someone tried to hide them. But the lines continued:

"...and his first love, whom he couldn't protect."

Meruka frowned. She ran her finger over the paper—it was rough, old, as if it had absorbed the suffering of every written word. Yet, the text pulled her in.

"We finally moved to this remote island. Thanks to my friend's magic, all dangerous plants and creatures were destroyed. He protected us... but I'm afraid. Afraid to look him in the eyes. His magic... it scares me."

"Every time he uses it, the

light in his eyes fades. I can't explain it otherwise. He's losing himself. And I'm afraid I'll lose him... just like he lost his beloved."

"He... he killed her. Not by will, but by fate. They weren't meant to be together. As I understand... she had to be destroyed. Her magic had to be absorbed by his. He possessed a very terrifying magic. The Magic of the Abyss. It's not just magic—it's a sentence. It consumes everything around, and first and foremost—the bearer."

Meruka's fingers grew cold.

The Magic of the Abyss.

She slowly lifted her gaze from the page, her breath becoming slightly uneven. The air in the library seemed different—dense, heavy, like before a storm. The cozy silence vanished, leaving only the thudding pulse in her chest.

Miré...

Her friend possessed the Magic of the Abyss. That magic. So ancient that even the elders knew little about it. So ancient that Miré couldn't even fully use it. And what does it mean... it consumes the bearer...

Meruka looked at the next page, hesitant to turn it. But everything inside her knew—the answers were there. And perhaps, the end too.

This wasn't just a book. It was a warning. A chronicle of someone else's pain. And a mirror reflection of their own fate.

Somewhere nearby, a quiet chuckle from Miré was heard—she was probably hiding behind a column, preparing to scare Luka.

But now that sound seemed distant, like a voice from another world.

Meruka looked at her hands—her slender fingers trembled slightly.

She clutched the book tighter and whispered almost inaudibly.

— "You... killed her?"

And suddenly, something rustled behind her. As if someone approached closely. Meruka turned sharply...

But there was no one there.

Only dust danced in the beam of light from the western window, and on her lap lay a black book, whispering a story that could no longer be stopped.

A sudden scream pierced the corridor's silence, followed by an angry voice full of indignation. A moment later, an old woman's shrill cry was heard. Meruka flinched, pressed the book to her chest, trying to compose herself.

— Miré... — she whispered through clenched teeth and took a deep breath, hiding the book under her jacket. Then she quickly headed towards her friends, trying to appear as if nothing had happened.

In the reading room, accessible through one of the side doors, the old librarian was already scolding someone, clutching her chest:

— I have a heart condition, mind you! — she thundered, casting a stern glance at those gathered. — Such sudden noises are no joke! Want to scare someone into a faint, girl?

Meruka stopped at the door and froze, seeing that the scolding was directed at her friends. It seemed all the anger was aimed at Luka, even though he was the victim in this situation. Miré awkwardly lowered her head and blushed, bowing deeply:

— I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... really...

Luka stood nearby, clearly unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of someone else's displeasure. He also blushed slightly, trying not to look at the old woman.

At that moment, Meruka approached them—calm as always, a faint smile on her lips.

As soon as the old librarian noticed her, she fell silent, then gasped, placing a hand on her chest—not out of fear, but surprise:

“Oh, Meruka… my child! You’re like their older sister!” She shook her head in relief, as if the very appearance of the blue-haired girl had dispelled all her anger. “Keep an eye on them, will you? They're going to give me a heart attack…”

With that, the librarian slowly walked away, muttering something under her breath about “noisy kids and poor hearts.”

Miré crossed her arms and squinted at Luka:

“See? This is your fault. Screaming like a girl. Loudest one here.”

Luka snorted, smirking:

“Of course. It’s always my fault. And you must be the angel with wings—just haven’t learned to fly yet.”

“If it weren’t for your face, I’d be peacefully floating through the skies,” Miré huffed.

“Sorry that it's so beautiful,” Luka said with an exaggerated expression.

“Ha! Humility won’t be the death of you,” Miré muttered, turning away.

Meruka chuckled softly and stepped between them, as if trying to shift the mood.

“You know… I think I’ll head out. It’s kind of… noisy today.”

She turned away, as if not wanting to explain, and took a step toward the exit.

Miré looked after her, surprised, but didn’t insist.

“Alright. Just give me a sec…” She quickly returned to the shelf and grabbed three books, hugging them close.

“Three?” Luka raised a brow. “You’re not gonna read them anyway.”

Miré shot him a look.

“Quiet. I just feel them.”

Luka grinned, but before he could reply, Miré smacked him hard on the shoulder with one of the books.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“For the smirk,” she sniffed.

They left the old library and walked down a narrow, shaded alley where the branches whispered overhead. Miré chatted animatedly, gesturing with her free hand:

“Did you know they used to keep magical birds in the old eastern wing of the academy? Well, supposedly.

One student said he heard strange sounds at night, like someone rustling feathers and singing in an unknown language… Can you imagine? Creepy and awesome! If only I could see it, even for a second—”

“Miré,” Meruka interrupted quietly without turning around.

“Huh?” Miré fell silent, clutching the books. “Actually, I wanted to ask. That black book… you just left it? What was that?”

Meruka paused for a moment. Then kept walking, still not turning around.

“It was empty. There was nothing inside. I just put it back."

“Empty?” Miré frowned. “But…”

“Sometimes books are empty not because they have no words,” Meruka said softly, “but because they’re waiting for someone to see their reflection in them.”

Miré fell quiet, sensing something strange in her friend’s tone. She didn’t ask again.

Luka walked behind them the whole time, hands in his pockets. He didn’t say a word, just listened.

The wind tousled his hair, and the dappled shadows danced across his face.

Miré frowned as she noticed Meruka growing more distant, her steps so soft they barely made a sound, as if she were fading into the twilight air. Miré bit her lip, slowed her pace, and walked alongside Luka.

He glanced sideways at her, brow raised as if to ask what was going on, but thought better of it. He only snorted.

“What’s with the snort?” Miré asked casually, extending a foot in front of him just as casually. “I was going to ask your advice. But now?”

Luka stumbled, flailing like a tightrope walker in a storm.

“Hey!” he yelped, nearly grabbing a nearby bush. “Are you nuts?!”

“Totally,” Miré smiled sweetly. “That’s for the snort. And the smirk earlier.”

“And what advice did you want, exactly?” he grumbled, brushing off his shirt. “How to stop being grumpy all the time?”

“I’m not grumpy. You’re just an oaf. You walk like a goose in the rain.”

“What?!” Luka’s eyes flared. “Did you just compare me to a goose?!”

“Yep. And you hiss too. Like a kettle. Only less useful,” she smirked—then suddenly went silent.

At the bend in the path stood the student council president—tall, straight as an arrow, with the eternally stern face that could scare even the boldest fools in the academy. He silently looked at them over the top of a folder filled with papers.

Miré straightened like a soldier at attention and nodded politely.

“Good evening, President.”

He didn’t reply. Just adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, gave a restrained nod, and walked past.

Only when his footsteps faded did Miré exhale, like she’d just escaped an artifactology test. Luka rolled his eyes.

“Phew… saved books and my honest biography,” she muttered, then caught up with Meruka, who was still walking quietly, lost in thought.

“Hey…” Miré nudged her shoulder gently. “You’ve been weird since the library. Like you’re not really here.”

Meruka didn’t answer right away. She only pressed an elbow slightly against her side, as if guarding an invisible secret.

“Just tired,” she answered briefly. “It’s… noisy today.”

Luka, catching up, didn’t miss his chance to chime in:

“Maybe she’s just trying to process how much you talk.”

Without a word, Miré smacked him again with her book.

“Ow! Are you sleeping with that book or what?!”

“No, I patrol with it,” she snorted. “And you’re the first offender.”

Meruka smiled slightly. The faint shadow across her face lifted, just for a moment.

“And why’s that?” Luka snorted, straightening up as Miré glanced at Meruka again. “Because I look more like a Sudzukawa than you?”

“More like a peacock,” she muttered, then stuck out her foot again without warning.

Luka nearly stumbled forward, but managed to leap over her leg and rushed ahead to Meruka.

“Wait!” He caught Meruka’s hand in a swift motion. “Alright, seriously now. What’s going on with you?”

Meruka flinched slightly at the touch, but didn’t pull away.

“You’re like… not here,” he added, more softly.

Before she could answer, the familiar thud came from behind. The same book—“the one she just felt”—smacked Luka square on the back of the head.

“You don’t even know how to touch people with respect,” Miré grumbled.

“Do you go to the library just to assault people with knowledge?!” Luka hissed, rubbing his shoulder and shooting her a sour look.

Meruka smiled gently—almost soundlessly. Then looked away and shook her head slightly.

“I’m just tired… I’ll head to my room. Maybe nap a bit.”

“Now?” Miré raised a brow. “It’s barely lunchtime!”

“Must’ve been the library,” Meruka said quietly, gazing up at the sky through the leaves.

Miré pressed her lips together.

“But that never happened before. We’ve always hung out there. What’s different now?”

Meruka lowered her eyes, as if weighing her answer, but in the end, she only shook her head.

— Just one of those days.

Luka took a step forward.

— Let me walk you. You shouldn’t go alone.

But Meruka shook her head again.

— No. I’m fine. Really.

And without waiting for a reaction, she turned and walked away, as if trying to forget with every step that anyone had ever been waiting for her.

Luka watched her go, hands in his pockets.

— Something’s definitely not fine, — he muttered.

Miré clutched her books tighter. Her face was more serious than usual.

— And whatever it is, it started after the library.