When they stepped out of the bright forest
washed in filtered light,
the path broke off without warning.
Below the cliff lay a stretch of flat ground.
It looked like white sand packed tight and hardened.
Beyond its edge—nothing.
Only an endless blue sky.
Like a beach at low tide,
Crys thought.
The forest ended at one edge of the pale ground.
At the opposite edge,
a cave mouth gaped—
like a giant toad with its mouth open.
In the pastoral quiet of Adom Yekitza,
that raw rock face
and the darkness beyond sight
felt out of place.
He stared into it too long
and imagined something—
a shadow passing deep inside.
His body shivered before he could stop it.
“Guess I’ll go first.”
TT stepped in front of Crys and Suguri,
hands in the pockets of his chinos,
and walked forward
as if an invisible floor were there.
A few steps.
Then—
he dropped.
Crys lurched to the edge.
But TT didn’t fall.
He landed lightly,
as if gravity had forgotten him.
Tsek spread his wings at just that moment,
so it almost looked like TT had glided down.
TT turned,
looked up at the cliff,
and waved them on.
Suguri, completely sincere,
gestured.
“After you.”
“I… no, I—”
He couldn’t use magic like TT.
And he couldn’t just jump that far.
Crys stalled without explaining.
Suguri let out her peculiar little “puh” of a sigh.
His face went hot.
Unbothered,
Suguri shifted the sleeping Lesamin onto her shoulder like a backpack,
then lifted a compact from her skirt pocket—
the one cut like a jewel.
She closed her eyes.
“Lovely ride…
lovely ride…”
Then, louder—
“Lovely ride!”
She opened her candy-bright eyes,
and a large balloon appeared—
pink, wrapped with a golden ribbon.
A balloon?
Before Crys could process it,
she tugged it forward
and hopped off the cliff.
The balloon drifted down slowly.
When her feet touched the ground,
it popped with a cheerful pon!
followed by a triumphant little fanfare.
Suguri raised both hands—
expressionless,
and faintly proud.
TT was doubled over laughing.
Now it was his turn.
Crys peered down again.
Nearly vertical—
though if you squinted, maybe it was a slope.
Maybe he could slide.
If there were vines, even better.
Clumsy, but safer.
He glanced back toward the forest,
searching.
“Ad.”
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TT’s voice drifted up.
“Ride that.”
A white cloud floated beside the cliff.
The kind of cloud children draw—
round, impossibly white.
Crys leaned out.
TT looked up at him and nodded.
It might have meant “It’s fine.”
It might have meant “Trust me.”
Crys nodded back.
He reached out.
It looked like cotton warmed by sunlight.
It felt like cold silk.
He pressed a little more weight.
It held.
Right foot.
Left foot.
When he touched it, it was soft.
Standing on it, it felt steady—
like ground.
Still, the sight unsettled him.
He sat.
The cloud moved.
Slowly—
gliding down to TT.
The moment it touched the earth, it vanished—
like rain dissolving into nothing.
Looking pleased with himself, TT held out a hand.
“Isn’t riding a cloud
something everyone imagines at least once?”
Crys took his hand with obvious reluctance.
“Clouds are condensed vapor and ice particles.
Slightly denser than air.
You can’t stand on one.”
“I know, cynic.
I’m talking about imagination.”
TT narrowed his eyes, smiling,
and walked toward the cave.
Crys thought
that expression suited the word cynic better.
They crossed the pale ground.
Here and there,
weathered slabs of stone lay set into it.
Evenly spaced.
Foundations.
They stretched toward the cave.
Whatever once stood here
must have been vast.
He’d seen structures like this in books—
ancient temples.
But Crys tilted his head.
If this had been a temple,
why were only the foundations left?
Where were the columns?
And the roof?
Shouldn’t there be ruins—
fallen columns, broken stone?
Crys stood between the scattered slabs,
glancing left, then right,
lost in thought.
When he looked up,
Suguri was watching him.
Not past him.
At him.
The stare was so direct
he almost looked over his shoulder.
Only the cliff.
Unsure, he pointed at himself.
Apparently, that was the right guess.
Suguri took it as a cue.
“Why didn’t you use magic back there?”
The cliff.
He knew at once.
He’d stalled in front of her.
Then needed TT to help.
Of course she’d wonder.
But to explain why
meant exposing something
he kept sealed.
He looked to TT.
TT answered with easy brightness.
“That one’s on me.
I jumped in too fast.
Stole Ad’s big moment.”
“I’m talking to you too, Theo.”
Suguri looked up at him—
steady, unafraid.
“It’s fine that you’re close.
But doing everything for him
doesn’t help.
This isn’t free time.
We were told
this is practice.
For the magic that decides our Tseva.”
“I retract what I said about zoologist.
Detective suits you better.
You speak as if you’re certain
Ad hasn’t used Yatsar before we met.
Without even considering that possibility.”
“He didn’t jump from that height on his own.
That’s data enough.
You’re on the right track.
Detective’s a favorite.
I want to be a baker.”
“Since when does blind devotion to detectives
come with prophecy?
The sun’s barely moved
and you’re already assuming
he won’t use Yatsar later.”
“People are patterns.
Unless something shifts,
they repeat.
If he isn’t using magic now,
he probably won’t—
unless something big changes inside him.
And Kadeshara said
it’s five bells to the castle.
We don’t know
when bells ring
or how long they last.
Assuming we have time
is careless.”
TT still sounded amused.
Suguri was calm.
No sparks.
Still—
Crys felt suffocated.
And suddenly
angry.
At her.
He stepped in front of them.
“Magic isn’t mandatory.
When you were trying to call your Pirit,
Rone said so.
Someone completed the Initiation of Color
without using magic.
They’re a Master now.
If you want to practice, practice.
You don’t have to.”
“Oh.”
That was all she said.
It disarmed him.
“That’s it?”
“If you’re not in trouble, it’s fine.
I thought Theo was pushing too far.
Like—maybe you’re terrible at magic
and didn’t want to show it in front of me.
But if not using it
is your policy,
then that deserves respect.”
She said it simply.
And walked past him.
Crys wanted to answer.
Defend himself.
Be sarcastic.
Something.
The words rose
and died in his throat.
What stung
wasn’t her.
It was hearing
that TT’s help
wasn’t good for him.
That it was meddling.
He exhaled hard—
like forcing something out of his chest.
And threw the words
at Suguri’s back.
“I forgot how.
When my mom died.”
She stopped.
Her skirt flared slightly
as she turned.
“Oh.”
That was all.
Her face unreadable.
But her eyes—
soft.
He hadn’t seen that look in a while.
Careful.
Sympathetic.
Too gentle.
He knew
it was respect
for the grieving.
He hated it.
Every time,
it dragged her death back—
and the version of himself
who couldn’t save her.
He shook his head,
as if that could scatter memory.
Images flooded anyway.
He broke into a run.
He passed her.
When Suguri moved to follow,
TT—no smile now—
caught her shoulder.
“Seems the meddling
was yours.”
Crys ran.
Across the pale ground,
like ruins bleached by light,
straight toward the cave—
the one that looked,
up close,
even more like a toad
with its mouth open.
He didn’t hesitate.
He almost never ran in real life.
At most,
a few seconds—
chasing a bus,
a train.
His body wasn’t built for it.
His lungs burned,
as if scorched from inside.
His sides and joints ached in scattered bursts.
His legs buckled, bending awkwardly, like something without bones.
Still—
he didn’t stop.
As if distance alone could outrun the past.
Deeper inside,
the light from the entrance thinned.
Darkness gathered.
Only thin seams of light through cracks in the rock
let him see his footing.
His pace broke.
Almost walking.
With his breath tearing at his throat,
he found a rock just wide enough to sit on and dropped onto it.
He breathed in ragged pulls.
Wiped sweat from his brow,
his neck,
with his sleeve.
When his hand brushed his cheek—
it was wet.
He’d been crying.
His hands trembled.
His temples throbbed with each pulse.
He tried to steady his breathing.
A bottle of mineral water
entered his view.
“Ah… thanks.”
He reached—
then froze.
He jerked back.
“Why are you here?”
He’d run off without a word.
Even if TT had followed,
it should have taken time.
He hadn’t heard footsteps.
Hadn’t felt anyone near.
And yet—
TT stood in front of him,
not even winded.
Not a single breath out of place.
Sure, he wasn’t used to running—
but could the difference really be that extreme?
TT misunderstood the question.
His brows drew together,
just slightly.
“Did you want to be alone?”
“N—no.
That’s not what I meant.”
Crys took the bottle
and drank in one long swallow.
Cold—like it had just come out of a refrigerator.
It spread through him quickly.
With each gulp, his pulse slowed and the sweat cooled on his skin.
He drained it.
Exhaled.
Looked up.
“I meant—
I didn’t notice you near me.
That’s what surprised me.”
“I wasn’t near you.
I just got here.”
“How?”
He already knew the answer
had something to do with magic.
But how—
“Clairvoyance.
And movement magic.
You were running.
If I chased you normally,
it would take time.
So I watched remotely.
When I saw you stop,
I moved.
Using movement magic while someone is in motion
throws off the coordinates.
So I waited.”
Crys stared.
TT said it
as if it were nothing.
Then,
with a faint, crooked smile—
“And besides,
a model student told me
this was time for Yatsar practice.”
“Oh.
Suguri’s not with you?”
The question came out
more awkward than he meant it to.
Now that he’d calmed down,
he understood.
TT had defended him.
Suguri had worried about him.
And he—
had lashed out.
Run.
He hated that about himself.
It had been five years since his mother died,
and still—
whenever it’s about her,
he reacts like a child.
He should apologize.
He didn’t know how.
TT knew that weakness.
And chose not to touch it.
“She’s heading to Adama.
Taking her time.
If she walks like that,
it’ll be a while before she reaches the back.”
Relief moved through Crys
before he could stop himself.
Not yet.
Not now.
That was enough.
