EMERGENCY OBSERVATION SHUTDOWN – SUBJECT THIELLE
Containment Pod B-2, Isolation Wing, Emergency Evaluation Center N-4, Seravenn
Designated Name: THIELLE
Emotional Signature: UNSTABLE / NON-PERSISTENT
Manifestation Status: Final Phase / Emotional-Vocal Collapse / Post-Identity Rejection
Time Since Spontaneous Awakening: 6 days, 1 hour, 44 minutes
Containment Integrity: Compromised – Visual Distortion Field Active
? Final Observation Log – Fragmented Transcript:
Subject no longer vocalizes coherent language. Emissions detected are rhythmic, ultrasonic, or mimic internal heartbeat patterns.
Multiple phrases now merge across timeframes. Voice is untraceable; sometimes it overlays three or more tonal registers simultaneously.
—“mirror mirror mirror mirror”
—“…no… not mine… not my throat…”
—“…you’re laughing again… I’m sorry I said anything…”
—[untranslated acoustic burst: 147 decibels — classified as “weeping”]
Eye-tracking sensors fail to capture pupil position. Subject’s eyes remain sewn shut—though no stitching was ever applied by staff.
Reflective surfaces now sustain afterimages for up to 17 seconds.
One assistant claims he saw himself “blinking too late.”
Touch surfaces in contact with subject begin to absorb ambient sound. One restraint buckle emitted a whisper traced to a nurse’s childhood memory. The nurse has been placed under review.
? Note from Dr. Cirelle Thaynn (5th Veil):
“She doesn’t echo us anymore. We echo her.
I have requested a full blackout. This is no longer a containment protocol.
This is grief with a spine.”
? Emergency Addendum:
Sedatives metabolized in under two minutes.
Subject levitated without magical trigger.
Light inside chamber turned black.
Last audible phrase, timestamped 06:03:15:
“I think I was real.
I remember having a name.”
Following this, visual feed collapsed.
Cameras record only a silhouette hanging midair by no visible support.
Mouth: absent.
Eyes: shut.
Stillness: absolute.
Field Protocol 12-Delta terminated.
Subject reclassified: Dominus Caecum.
Human designation revoked.
END OF ACCESSIBLE LOG.
The central station was full of life, even though it was still early. The sky, clear and high, bathed the streets in gentle sunlight. I walked carefully, each step measured. The heels were still a personal challenge, but at least they no longer felt like torture devices. I had gotten ready with care —not for him, I kept repeating— but to feel… worthy. As if my reflection could hold together the chaos simmering inside.
Beside me, he walked in silence, yet with that presence of his that filled everything.
Silas.
He wore that naturally elegant neatness that suited him so well. Crisp white shirt, buttoned vest, gray checkered blazer, fitted jeans, and a briefcase in one hand. He looked confident… though his eyes seemed a little brighter than usual. Nervous?
It wasn’t a date. I had told myself that three times that morning. We were just going to look for some documents. Something practical. Something useful.
So why did my heart keep reminding me he was there?
—Do you mind if I ask you something? —he said suddenly.
—Depends —I replied, not looking at him.
—How do you manage to walk in those? —he asked, nodding toward my heels.
I chuckled softly.
—With a lot of concentration —I replied. And it was true.
—Well, just so you know, it’s working. You walk like you’re floating.
It was a soft comment. It didn’t feel like an empty compliment, but rather an honest observation. I glanced at him sideways, saying nothing. I just kept walking.
The public library of Seravenn was an imposing structure. Dark marble, stained glass shaped like wings, towering ceilings, and an echo that made even silence feel heavy. The smell of old paper, leather, and dust was oddly calming.
We passed the entry checkpoint and delved into the halls. He was looking for records on old tactical developments. I guided him to the right sections, leading him through the aisles.
—Thanks for this —he murmured while flipping through some papers.
—It’s nothing —I said, folding my arms.
We sat at a reading table. It was broad, made of aged wood. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, filling the space with a warm golden hue. For a moment, everything felt suspended.
While he skimmed through a folder, I took a small tin box from my bag.
—Did you like the cookies? —I asked, trying to sound casual.
Silas looked up, a bit surprised.
—The ones you gave me yesterday? I loved them. They were… perfect.
—Well —I said, opening the box with a soft metallic click—, these are the leftovers. I thought we could share.
The gesture caught him off guard for a second, but he smiled, genuinely.
—Now it really feels like a date —he said in a low voice.
As soon as he said it, he tensed slightly, like his own words had betrayed him.
—I mean… not that it is, just… it’s nice, that’s what I meant.
I raised an eyebrow, amused.
—Sure —I said. And I took a cookie, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, even though my cheeks felt warmer than usual.
We talked. Not about food, nor hobbies. Those topics had already been touched. This time was different.
Silas asked what I thought of Seravenn. If I believed the war could ever end. He didn’t say it in a political tone. He said it like someone who thought about it before falling asleep.
—I don’t know —I replied—. It’s hard to picture a different world when you were born into this one.
He nodded, as if understanding more than he let on.
—I used to think that if the war ended, I’d leave this place. I’d look for somewhere else. Somewhere… slower. But lately…
—Lately? —I asked.
—Lately, I feel like staying —he said, not quite looking at me—. Sometimes, the good things show up in the most broken places.
I went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. So I hid in the papers in front of me. He did the same for a while.
A flicker crossed my mind. Neyra. Still missing. Her sharp voice. Her constant presence. The memory of her empty room that morning pricked at me like a needle. But I pushed it away. I didn’t want —not now— to drag that shadow into this place of light.
Silence settled in, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of silence that breathes with you. I allowed myself to sit in it, just feeling him nearby. Then he broke it.
—Can I show you something? —he asked.
—Depends on what it is.
—Don’t worry. It’s just this.
He opened his briefcase and pulled out a small sketchbook. He handed it to me.
I took it and opened it.
Most of the pages were filled with lines, studies of faces, glances, gestures. But one of them stood out.
It was a woman’s face. Not complete, as if he hadn’t finished or didn’t know how to continue. But it was beautiful. Expressive. The hair fell with an odd kind of freedom. And the eyes...
I couldn’t help but feel that the woman he drew… felt like someone I knew. Not because of how she looked, but because of what she carried. As if she held the same questions I did.
—Who is she? —I asked, more curious than I meant to sound.
—I don’t know —he said—. I didn’t plan it. It just came out. I drew her yesterday. She felt familiar but… I can’t place her.
My heart skipped slightly. But I said nothing.
—Does it seem silly?
I shook my head, gently closing the sketchbook and handing it back.
—No. It feels very real.
His fingers brushed mine as he took it. Just for a second. Just enough.
He tucked it away with a faint smile.
And I... I just thought about how easy it was to forget the noise of the world when he looked at me like that.
When we noticed the time, most of the afternoon had already slipped away.
— I have to go — he said. — They gave me an errand at the academy. Something to pick up. Paperwork, I think.
— Always so responsible?
— Only when there’s a reason — he replied.
We stepped outside together. The city center was alive with people, street vendors, music, crowded cafés. We walked to the station, and although the walk was short, the silence between us felt comfortable, like nothing else needed to be said.
— So… did you like it? — he asked as we waited.
— The library?
— No. The time.
I looked at him directly.
— Yes. It was nice.
I didn’t know why, but saying it made me feel… lighter. As if I had let go of something I hadn’t realized I was carrying.
Silas smiled, and his eyes lingered a little longer than usual.
— See you tomorrow, yeah?
I nodded.
And as he stepped onto the transport, he kept looking at me until the very last second.
I stayed on the sidewalk, and for some reason, I couldn’t stop smiling.
There was something different in the air. It wasn’t the weather. It wasn’t the crowd. It was the atmosphere. As if the whole city was holding its breath.
I walked back slowly, still wrapped in the echo of our conversation, when I noticed people gathering in the plaza. Excited voices. Eyes turned skyward. A reinforced stage was being assembled in front of the marble steps of the Empress’s Hall — the one they almost never opened to the public.
That’s when I understood.
— A ceremonial parade… — I murmured.
Not just any parade. This one wasn’t for officers or common troops. No. This was for them.
I saw the first banner flutter in the wind:
“LUMINA UMBRAE — The Squadron of the Final Light.”
I pushed gently through the crowd to get a better view. From where I stood, near one of the side entrances, I had a discreet but clear vantage point.
And then something happened that I had never seen before.
They flew.
Not with transport. Not descending from aircraft or assisted by boosters.
They flew by themselves.
Four figures descending in perfect formation, surrounded by a warm glow.
As if gravity had decided to let them go.
As if they didn’t belong to the ground at all.
The air around them shimmered. Every movement left a trail of golden particles that faded like sacred smoke.
I couldn’t understand how. Or why. But they did it.
And the crowd knew. The crowd adored it.
Cheers. Tears. Petals thrown into the air.
Someone next to me shouted they wanted to give her their voice.
Another sobbed, whispering “purity still exists.”
And I realized none of them knew her.
And still, they loved her more than anyone has ever loved me.
And there she was.
Reia.
She wore a ceremonial white uniform, lined with pulsing gold light. Her hair, silver and wavy, floated with impossible grace. She walked at the front, with a soft, warm smile. Not staged. Not practiced. Real.
Her very presence seemed to cleanse the air. To shine. To heal.
The other members of the squadron radiated power.
But Reia radiated faith.
My breath caught. Something tightened in my chest.
It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t hate.
It was… discomfort. Pain. Maybe a sense of distance I couldn’t explain.
Like watching a memory that was never mine.
A priest of the Magical Girls faith began a chant. A small child was lifted by his mother to see better. Reia bowed slightly and waved to him. The boy broke into tears.
They were goddesses. Of course they were.
But she…
she was worshipped.
And me?
I was a shadow with a borrowed name.
A containment device dressed as a girl.
A lie, activated among the remains of over three hundred people.
The crowd knelt when Reia raised her hands.
I didn’t.
I couldn’t move.
And then, for the briefest moment, her gaze shifted.
Toward the edge.
Toward me.
I couldn’t be sure. But I swear her eyes stopped right where I stood.
She didn’t see me. She couldn’t have seen me.
But she felt it.
We feel each other. Girls like us.
And for a second…
I felt hope.
And then I remembered what I am.
Near the apartment complex...
She couldn’t feel her fingers.
Every step was a betrayal of the body’s logic. But she had to keep going.
One more step. Just one more.
The air burned in her lungs. Her vision blurred in waves. She couldn’t tell if it was from the blood loss, the venom, or the false memory they had tried to plant in her head. Every shadow around her seemed to twitch, as if the world were watching with knives.
She didn’t know exactly where she was headed.
But her body did. Her body remembered.
The door.
Across the street, Velka already had her hand on the doorknob when a sharp shiver ran down her spine. She turned instantly.
And then she saw her.
A staggering figure. Dragging her feet like willpower was the only thing keeping her upright.
—?Synnara! —Velka shouted, her voice sharper than any alarm.
She rushed to her without thinking, catching her just as her knees gave out. She held her tightly, feeling the trembling weight of her body, the scratches on her face, the faint twitch in her fingers.
—They… they assaulted me —Neyra muttered, her voice broken and automatic. Like repeating something she didn’t quite believe.
But when their eyes met, a barely visible wink gave Velka the truth.
It wasn’t an assault.
Velka understood immediately.
—Come on —she said quietly, slipping an arm around her shoulders. —Don’t say anything else out here.
Carefully, she guided her into the apartment. She locked the door, drew the blinds, and sat her on the couch. No need to look for bandages. She raised both hands, and a soft crimson glow lit her palms. Thin magical filaments began tracing a web of healing warmth across Neyra’s arms and face.
—Tell me what happened —Velka said softly, with the kind of tone used by people already preparing to kill.
Neyra took a breath, pained but lucid.
—The three of them. The women I found… they’re the spies. I’m sure. They’re infiltrated. And dangerous.
Velka nodded without interrupting, focused on her spellwork. Neyra’s skin was starting to close, though the exhaustion wouldn’t fade so easily.
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—How did they catch you?
—One of them… the one with lavender hair —Neyra clenched her jaw—. She pricked my neck with something. A needle. I didn’t even see it. The poison hit instantly. I couldn’t move. I fell. Then they interrogated me. No magic. Just blows. They didn’t know who I was.
Velka swallowed, pressing the light from her hands harder against Neyra’s ribs.
—Did they try anything else?
—Yes. The sweet-voiced one. She tried to implant a false memory. A street assault illusion. I defended myself. Just enough to avoid suspicion. I pretended it worked. They knocked me out again. I woke up in an alley.
Velka finished the healing and slowly lowered her hands.
—Can you move?
—After that? —Neyra gave a faint smile. —I’ve been worse. I’m fine.
Velka looked at her intently.
—I sent a report to command a few hours ago. With luck, we’ll hear back tonight.
But Neyra shook her head.
—There’s no time, Velka. I felt something. That magic wasn’t normal. Those three are about to do something. I don’t know what, but it’ll be big. We have to stop them before it happens.
For a moment, Velka hesitated. Then nodded, lowering her gaze as if calculating something very dangerous in her mind.
—If command doesn’t answer —she said at last—, we’ll act anyway.
The shadows know when it’s time to step into the light.
And Neyra, even wounded, smiled.
—Thank you, Velka.
—Don’t thank me yet —she replied, rising to her feet. —First make sure you don’t die in the middle of the operation.
One moment before the macabre, Lyss
She was… perfection incarnate. So different from us. So different from me.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp crack.
Not one you feel — the kind that cuts the air before it ever reaches the ear.
My hearing vibrated before I even understood.
Then came the sound.
An explosion.
But not just one.
Several.
One — distant, maybe from the industrial zone.
Another — quick to follow, closer, somewhere in the financial district.
Another — I felt it in my bones. Military.
And finally…
The last one. Academic.
My chest tightened.
— Silas... — I whispered.
The music from the event hadn’t stopped completely, and for a moment, everything sounded like reality itself was dancing with death.
Tump.
Crack.
Resonance.
Silence.
Then screams.
Confusion.
Stampede.
I ran. I didn’t know where, but my legs moved. I didn’t care about the crowd, the pushing, the blood already staining the air. I only thought of him.
“Please, please tell me he hadn’t gone inside yet…”
The world bent.
It wasn’t fear.
It was certainty.
Something had broken. Something big.
My heart pounded to the rhythm of a funeral orchestra only I could hear.
A dance repeating through the history of this world, over and over.
A macabre melody with a score already known.
And still, I ran.
As if I could reach it.
As if I could rewrite the final note.
The city breathed chaos.
The sky hadn’t changed color, but everything else had.
From balconies, windows, and watchtowers, wild eyes rose toward the smoke.
And in the center of the parade, where only a minute ago Reia had smiled like a living goddess… there was now only a gust of wind.
The members of Lumina Umbrae didn’t hesitate.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Each flew off in a different direction, like blessed projectiles.
They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t speak.
They knew what to do.
That’s how hope acted when threatened:
It scattered like cold fire, seeking to reignite the will to resist.
In a Seravenn complex apartment, Velka was still with Neyra, trying to convince her to rest at least one more hour.
— You’re in no condition to move — she murmured, spreading her magic like an invisible balm across the bruises still burning beneath the skin.
Neyra clenched her teeth. She felt useless.
And then — they heard it.
Not through the media.
Not through the communicator.
It was the air that vibrated.
Like a taut string snapped by the claw of some ancient titan.
The shock of a distant explosion rattled the windowpanes.
Another.
And another.
The building trembled — not just in body, but in bone.
The magic inside both girls reacted like a shattered bell: pure dissonance.
Velka stood in an instant. Her eyes, sharper than ever, locked onto Neyra.
— Did you feel that?
— Like a wound — Neyra whispered, rising to her feet with effort. — It was the academy. I’m sure of it.
— That wasn’t the only one. Four blasts… coordinated.
This wasn’t sabotage.
This was an act of war.
Neyra trembled. Not with fear.
With fury.
— It was them. I saw it coming... I knew it!
Velka was already typing, her fingers a blur against the communicator.
— I’m demanding direct response from the Council. This can’t wait.
In the Hall of the Seven Veils, the echoes of the blasts arrived like a murmur…
and a roar.
The seven thrones turned just a few degrees.
As if their robed occupants — wrapped in darkness and symbols of old —
had already foreseen this symphony of destruction.
The Queen was standing.
She didn’t speak.
She simply watched a war map projected above the table.
The zones now glowing in red flickered like open wounds.
One advisor dared to speak:
—Your Majesty, this could be a message… or a direct declaration.
—It’s not a message —the Queen replied.
—It’s a warning. They’re knocking at our doors from inside.
And she added, more to herself than the others:
—The goddess of hope appeared… and at the same time, the ground was stolen from beneath us. Curious.
Silence.
Then, a firm, glacial command:
—Deploy the Blood of the throne Squadron.
I want eyes and fists in every affected sector.
And as for the other matter...
Her gaze fixed on an invisible line across the map.
—To the Shadows of the Crown... authorize whatever they request. No restrictions.
I want results.
The music still played somewhere in the city,
because the city didn’t know whether to keep dancing or fall to its knees.
Smoke was already rising.
Panic had only just begun.
And the names that would shift the course of the war…
had begun to shine, cloaked in dust.
Silas was just arriving at the academy.
The clock struck eleven sharp as he stepped off the transport,
still holding Lyss’s image in his mind like a freshly finished painting.
He walked calmly. The errand he was sent to retrieve wasn’t urgent — or so he thought.
He was just a few steps away from the main entrance when it happened.
A vibration.
An artificial silence.
Then the earth contracted with a deafening roar.
BOOM!
An explosion tore through the air.
The pavement shuddered beneath his feet.
And without warning, the blast wave hurled him backward.
The impact sent him tumbling across the ground. A metallic taste filled his mouth.
For a moment, he couldn’t tell if he was still breathing.
Smoke began to rise before him.
Glass rained down like shards of ice.
—Shit! —he gasped, clutching his side. A burning sensation spread through his arm and thigh, but nothing was broken.
He pushed himself up, dusting off his blazer.
His ears were ringing. Screams around him sounded distant, warped —
as if coming from another world.
The academy was on fire.
—No! —The word escaped before he even realized.
Without a second’s hesitation, he sprinted toward the entrance,
dodging the injured, kicking debris aside, ignoring the pain in every step.
The main door was hanging open, one hinge twisted and broken.
Several soldiers were already there, barking orders, trying to control the disaster.
Silas had no rank. No uniform.
But he had reasons.
And with them,
he stepped into the heart of chaos.
While the explosions shook the city of Seravenn like a funeral waltz, three figures watched from above —
as if admiring a masterpiece performed to the rhythm of an invisible score.
Silke Engel stood at the edge of the rooftop, arms crossed,
a languid, satisfied smile curving her lips.
—Look how they dance... All that chaos from a few well-placed explosions.
To her right, Violeta Raumer twirled one of her invisible needles between her fingers,
like a conductor tuning her instrument after a grand performance.
—No high-priority casualties. Just panic. Confusion. Exactly what we wanted.
A city bleeding without knowing where the blade came from.
Behind them, Elainne Voss silently analyzed streams of data projected from her emotional staff.
Her expression was serious — but not concerned.
Finally, she spoke, with surgical precision:
—Confirmed. The maneuver has been interpreted as an unidentified terrorist act.
The Shadows will activate.
They’re falling right into the pattern we designed.
Silke let out a barely audible laugh — like the hum of soft poison.
—They’re as predictable as ever.
Then, her gaze shifted briefly toward the smoke rising from the academy district.
—To think this all started because a librarian gave me a bad feeling.
—Should we let her live? —Violeta asked, still watching her escape trajectory.
—For now. —Silke shrugged with a languid sensuality—
If she survives, the scare will be enough.
If not… well, our goal will have been met.
She paused, savoring the smoldering spectacle below.
—Art, after all… is also demolition.
Elainne closed her projections and turned with authority.
—We remain in the zone until tomorrow.
Final adjustments and surveillance are still required.
—One more day… —Violeta murmured—.
Enough to finish the symphony.
Silke smiled, her eyes gleaming with contained fire.
—Then let’s keep playing.
Let this city not breathe in peace until we’ve left.
They didn’t flee.
They didn’t hide.
They simply stepped down from the stage,
ready for the final act.
In a street of Seravenn
I was running.
The streets of Seravenn stretched out before me like a maze of noise and fear.
My breathing was nothing more than a distant echo, drowned by the growing hum of my magic.
I didn’t care if anyone saw me.
I didn’t care about breaking disguise, cover, or protocol.
There was only one thought piercing through me like an arrow: Silas.
The world blurred around me. People, vehicles, smoke columns—
all dissolved at the edges of my vision from the speed.
Only when I saw the blackened towers of the academy did I know I had arrived.
It was on fire.
I stopped in place. My boots screeched against scorched concrete.
For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was the heat choking me... or the fear.
—No... —I whispered.
I went in.
The main door was wide open, twisted by the blast.
Inside, soldiers and medics ran back and forth.
Screams, orders, smoke.
A woman was crying over a stretcher.
A boy, covered in dust, searched desperately for his squad.
A little girl sobbed. Everything was confusion.
And me… I was just looking for him.
I ran through rubble. I called his name.
Sometimes silently, sometimes aloud, as if saying it might protect him.
Then it happened.
One of my heels snapped, catching on a cracked tile.
I stumbled and fell forward.
My knees hit the concrete, and I felt my skin tear open.
But it didn’t burn.
Not yet.
I ripped off my shoes and left them behind.
I didn’t think about what lay ahead.
Not the fire.
Not the glass.
Not the pain.
Only him.
I checked collapsed hallways, empty classrooms, bloodied corridors.
Until I saw him.
He was sitting against a wall, covered in gray dust, hair a mess, lips split, dry blood staining his cheek.
He looked… tired.
But he was alive.
He was alive.
—Silas! —I shouted.
He lifted his head with difficulty, as if he couldn’t believe he was seeing me.
I ran to him. And without thinking, I threw myself into his arms.
I hugged him as if letting go would cause the world to fall apart all over again.
My face sank into his dirty shoulder, and I felt the warmth of his heartbeat.
My eyes burned. Hot, salty tears.
—You’re alive… you’re alive…
He didn’t speak right away. He just held me, one hand trembling on my back.
—If you keep hugging me like this… I think my rib really will break now —he whispered with a weak laugh.
I exhaled, half sobbing, half laughing, and pulled back a little.
—Sorry… I didn’t mean… it’s just…
—Don’t apologize. —He shook his head gently—. It felt good. Comforting.
I looked at him. Up close, his face was scratched, but his eyes…
his eyes were as alive as ever.
—Can I…? —I asked, without finishing, lifting my arms again.
He nodded.
And we embraced once more.
There, in the middle of the fire, the rubble, the end of normalcy…
I felt it.
For the first time in my life,
I felt safe.
In another part of the city
Velka and Neyra stood by the window of a high apartment, watching the smoke columns rising across the skyline. The city was in a state of emergency, and the tension hung in the air like static.
Velka held a military communicator, her fingers drumming against the frame with sharp-edged patience. Neyra, still wrapped in bandages and covered in bruises, paced back and forth nonstop.
—"Can you calm down for one second?" Velka asked with a sigh, her tone trying to sound casual, but failing to hide the anxiety.
—"I can’t," Neyra replied, clenching her fists. "Not after what I saw. Not after what I know. I can’t just… stand still."
The communicator vibrated. A blue light blinked, and the voice of Central Command came through—cold and authoritative:
—"This is Central Command. Operatives Mirelle Faeron and Synnara Heldewyn are hereby authorized to act with full freedom to locate, identify, and neutralize those responsible for the attacks."
Velka and Neyra exchanged a look. The order was clear. No protocols. No guidelines. Just truth and action.
—"‘Neutralize,’ huh?" Velka said with a crooked smile, setting the communicator down. "Sounds like we’ve got a blank check."
—"Finally," Neyra whispered, her eyes gleaming with something wild. "Finally."
—"I’m making the call." Velka picked up the communicator again and started dialing. Her eyes locked on Neyra’s with fierce resolve. "This changes everything."
Neyra nodded. And as Velka connected the third member of their unit, the certainty that there would be no turning back filled the air.
I was still holding Silas when I felt my phone buzzing inside my coat pocket.
My heart skipped a beat.
I pulled away from him, reluctantly, and answered. It was Velka.
—"Lyss?" Her voice was firm, but laced with concern. "Are you okay? Where are you?"
—"I’m fine," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’m at the academy. I found Silas. He’s safe… for now."
Velka exhaled sharply.
—"Listen. We’ve been cleared. No restrictions. Command wants results, whatever it takes. We already have a target. Three of them."
—"Names?"
—"No names. Just descriptions. The one in charge has white hair, skin almost colorless, and a smile that... doesn’t look human. The second one is silent, always carries a cane. And the third... she moves like a dancer. Uses needles like part of her body."
My throat tightened.
The woman from the library.
The soft smile.
That sweet, strange scent.
Dead flowers.
I didn’t know her name. But I knew her face.
—"Lyss?" Velka said again, pulling me back.
—"I’m here," I replied. My voice was colder now. Harder.
I looked at Silas. His face had gone pale. He was watching me silently, trying to understand.
—"Velka," I whispered. "Where does he live?"
—"He?"
—"Silas. I need to know. To keep him safe."
Velka hesitated only a second. Then gave me the address. I hung up before she could say anything more.
I turned back to Silas.
—"I have to go," I told him, my voice trembling from the storm inside me. Anger. Fear. Love. "An emergency came up. Stay here. Take care of yourself. Don’t trust anyone you don’t know."
—"Let me help you," he said, stepping forward, his eyes wide with worry.
—"No," I said sharply. "Not this time."
I placed a hand on his arm.
—"Promise me."
—"I promise."
I nodded and turned away. I couldn’t stay. Not now.
And just as I was stepping out of the building… I saw her.
A tall, radiant figure, her silver hair glowing as if kissed by light itself.
Her eyes, as warm as a dawn that didn’t burn, met mine.
Not with judgment.
Not with warning.
Just... curiosity.
Reia.
Our eyes met. Time seemed to stop.
Everything thickened—the air, the sound, even my heartbeat. The flames danced in suspended ritual, smoke rising in soft spirals, as if the world had surrendered to the beauty of the impossible.
In front of me stood a luminous figure: Reia.
Her white hair floated without wind. Her eyes, so full of hope they hurt to look at, stared at me like they already knew who I was—perhaps better than I did myself.
—“So my intuition didn’t fail,” she said, her voice light and clear, cutting through the stillness. “The girl from the parade… it’s you. A magical girl.”
I swallowed hard. Everything inside me trembled, but I forced myself to stay steady.
—“It’s true,” I answered. “But I’m on your side. I’m part of the Shadows of the Crown.”
She tilted her head slightly, a flicker of recognition in her gaze.
—“Oh… I’ve read about you,” she murmured. “Shadows of the Crown. The most mysterious… and dangerous squad.”
I nodded without pride.
—“I’ve been ordered to stop those responsible for this.”
—“I understand,” she said. Then, without looking away—“But tell me something. Do you know that you’re different?”
Her words caught me off guard. I looked down for a second, unsure.
—“I know,” I said quietly. “Sometimes I feel… like I’m too different from the others.”
She chuckled softly, not mockingly—just truthfully.
—“I’ve heard that my whole life. ‘Reia, you’re different. Reia, you’re special. Reia, you’re not like us…’” —She mimicked the voices perfectly. “And I don’t say this out of arrogance. But sometimes... it gets tiring.”
She paused, letting the words breathe.
—“Of course, it’s true. I’m not like anyone else.”
Her honesty disarmed me. It was so real it hurt.
—“Yes… you are,” I admitted.
Her smile warmed the space between us, like sunlight from childhood.
—“And now that we’re here, are you going to take care of this?”
—“Yes,” I answered with conviction. “I was ordered to. And I will.”
She nodded, satisfied.
—“Then… go on.”
She turned slightly, as if to walk away. But before doing so, she glanced back over her shoulder with a playful gleam in her eyes.
—“By the way… the boy you were hugging is very handsome.”
I didn’t even think. My hand moved on reflex, fueled by that burning emotion inside me. Not rage, not envy. Something more primal. A need to defend what was mine.
I didn’t realize I had lashed out until the heat of the motion was already there.
But she raised her hand—and stopped me. Effortlessly. As if hope itself had caught my wrist in midair.
—“Forgive me,” she said calmly, without fear. “I didn’t know he meant that much to you. I should’ve understood better.”
My hand trembled in her grasp. Sparks of magic flickered softly between our fingers.
I lowered my gaze, ashamed.
—“I’m sorry…,” I whispered. “I got carried away. This emotion is new to me. I don’t know how to control it yet.”
Reia let out a soft laugh.
—“You don’t have to apologize so much. I burned down half a forest the first time hope overflowed in me. It’s not about what you did—it’s about what you’ll do now. I forgive you. And don’t worry… we all carry something inside. Learning to live with it is part of the deal.”
Her words hit me like a balm. I nodded in silence, grateful.
She looked at me one last time, with that impossible light still in her eyes.
—“Take care of your own, Lyss. The world is about to ask more from you than what feels fair.”
And then time resumed.
The flames regained their wild rhythm. The screams returned, and with them, the chaos. Reia turned and walked among the wounded to help them—with the grace of a goddess walking among mortals.
And I… I moved on.
With a heart a little more tempered.
But the resentment still burned within me. Like a dark root, deep and silent.
The walk back to the apartment was a whirlwind of thoughts.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About what she had done. About how she had almost killed Silas.
My heart burned with a cold fire, each step more certain, each heartbeat filled with a silent promise: she will pay.
When I arrived at the apartment, they were already there. Velka and Neyra waiting for me as if the chaos outside didn’t exist —as if we were just three girls about to spend a normal night together.
But we weren’t friends. We were weapons. And tonight, more than ever, I could feel it in my bones.
The moment I stepped in, my eyes locked onto Neyra. She was bruised, bandaged, shadows of pain lingering down her neck.
—What happened to you? —I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
Neyra held my gaze for a second, then looked down, as if carefully choosing her words.
—Those three girls… they captured me. The one with white hair, the tall one with the sweet voice, and the one who moved like a heartbeat. They hit me. One of them tried to twist my memories. Almost succeeded… —she paused—. But I got away.
Anger boiled inside me, but it wasn’t the first emotion to reach me.
I stepped closer.
—Neyra… —I said quietly—. I want to say I’m sorry.
She looked up, confused.
—Sorry?
—I should’ve listened to you. Trusted you. If I had… maybe none of this would’ve happened. I let myself be blinded. I was wrong. And still… you kept going. You didn’t give up. Thank you for not giving up.
Neyra blinked, surprised. Then she smiled —small, but real.
—I just did what felt right. Even if it cost me a few ribs.
—Still —I added dryly—. The next time you joke about me being a “princess”… I won’t let it slide so easily.
—Was that a threat? —she asked with one eyebrow raised.
—No. It was a promise.
Velka, who had been watching with her arms crossed, let out an exaggerated sigh.
—Such a touching moment… but if we don’t go hunt some culprits now, they’ll bill us for everything we’ve eaten these past weeks.
The three of us laughed, briefly.
We moved to Velka’s apartment, where we had more privacy. There, Neyra laid out the magical traces. She had been tracking them for hours —obsessively. Energy fragments, residual auras, emotional distortions.
That was all we needed.
We transformed in a blink. The energy cut through me like a blade of truth. My body responded to the rancor.
We left through the rooftop, cloaked by the night. Chaos still roared in the distance, but in my mind, there was only one image.
The woman with white hair.
And this time, she wouldn’t run.
Somewhere in the rubble...
The smoke was thick as tar. The concrete lay fractured, and bodies—some alive, others not—were scattered like abandoned dolls after a storm.
Beneath the ruins of one of the collapsed evaluation centers, something stirred.
First came the fingers—bony, trembling, coated in dust and dried blood. Then a hand. Then a face.
But it was no longer her.
The creature that emerged from the wreckage looked like a girl, but it wasn’t. Her eyes were stitched shut with black thread. Her mouth sealed by a crust of enchanted flesh. And yet, she moved. As if something unseen were pulling her limbs, as if the air itself demanded she rise.
She walked like a puppet. Twisted. Jerky. Each step sounded like dry twigs snapping, or bones forced to remember how to move.
A nearby rescue patrol spotted her. One of the agents—a young man, his soul still unscarred—called out.
“Hey! Are you alright?!”
He ran toward her.
But before he could reach her… he dropped to his knees.
His face froze in a mute grimace of pain. The magic around him collapsed. His emotions evaporated.
His soul… went silent.
She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She didn’t need to.
Around her, the air began to hum. Lights flickered. Shadows stretched unnaturally.
And then, without voice, without mouth, without even intent—
a single word formed in the minds of all nearby:
Caecum.
It meant nothing. And everything.
Blindness. Absence. A sound with no echo.
A name not spoken, but felt. Like a curse sewn into reality with threads of dread.
That was the first word of her new existence.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t beg.
She simply walked.
The security cameras caught her silhouette for just a few seconds more before she vanished into a cloud of distorted static.
She was no longer a patient.
She was no longer Thielle.
She was a Dominus.
The Dominus of Silence.
The Witch who devours screams.
And she had awakened.