The air outside was cold, almost cutting. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. I couldn’t stop rubbing my hands, as if I could erase the tremor running through my bones.

  Venesse led us with steady steps to the wide clearing beyond the academy walls. There we stopped, and her gaze met mine with such deep tenderness that my chest ached.

  —It is time for Lumina Umbrae to show who they are —she said.

  Reia stepped forward, her figure upright like a beacon in the morning gloom. Her smile was gentle, but in her blue eyes burned the promise of something beautiful.

  —You’re about to see how emotions transform when we let them shine —she said. Though her words sounded almost innocent, there was serene pride in them.

  Without warning, Reia raised her hand.

  Her body began to glow with a golden-white radiance, woven as if from the dawn itself. Warm air surged as her uniform dissolved into motes of magic, and a soft breeze —like the sigh of a spring forest— wrapped around her.

  Her new attire emerged like a hymn of hope. White and radiant with golden reflections and sky-blue accents, both ceremonial and form-fitting, with curved lines tracing the beat of her heart. A short cape trailed behind her like the tail of a comet, and a star-shaped brooch pulsed on her chest, encircled by runes that gleamed like constellations. Her hair, loose and flowing, seemed spun from threads of light, and her eyes… her eyes were two sunrises.

  Beside her, Caelyn closed her eyes, and the air filled with the murmur of rain. Her attire of Silent Rain appeared like a breath: translucent layers shifting like living water. Tiny gems shimmered with droplets on her shoulders, and her arms were clad in liquid armor, soft and undulating. Deep blues and pearl grays melded like a river under the light, each breath moving her garb with the grace of a tear.

  Nysha trembled before her transformation came. Black smoke coiled around her, whispering, almost tangible. From it emerged her attire: ethereal, layered, merging with shadow, like a moonless night sky. Patterns rippled and pulsed with her fear, glinting faintly like lost fireflies. When her eyes opened, it was as if the night itself lived within her… and shielded her.

  And I… simply transformed.

  No dancing lights, no balletic steps. Just a dark sigh, an echo of my own emotion.

  The reinforced bodice revealed part of my abdomen, crossed and sober like a firm embrace. Its sheer fabrics weren’t vain adornments but drifting veils of smoke, secure as the rage I could never fully hide. Black and crimson dominated, but red pulsed in the seams, a fire contained.

  It wasn’t a suit that restrained me or forced me —it flowed with me, as my emotion always had.

  I stood there, feeling small, uncertain if it was enough.

  Reia tilted her head with kind mockery.

  —That’s it? Really? Not even a spin? Not even a flourish? —She raised a brow, smiling—. Come on, Lyss… we’re Magical Girls. At least pretend to enjoy it.

  I couldn’t help but laugh softly. The contrast between her joy and my gravity felt absurd, almost tender.

  —I don’t get it… —I murmured.

  —You’ll learn —she teased, touching my shoulder with her gloved hand. Her touch was warm, a reminder that hope was never cold.

  —Follow me —she said, eyes alight with resolve—. And don’t you dare fall behind.

  My heart stuttered. I remembered the parade, how Lumina Umbrae soared across the sky with impossible grace. Now I knew it was thanks to Reia —and her magic.

  —Wait! —I stammered—. Aren’t you going to teach me first…?

  But it was too late.

  Reia shot upward with a joyous laugh, rising like a spark of light. Something yanked at me, the ground vanished, and cold wind lashed my face. My scream scattered into the sky.

  I was flying.

  Or… something like it.

  My mind was chaos. I didn’t know how to hold myself, didn’t know how to think. Everything I understood crumbled, replaced by a vertigo drumming at my temples.

  Reia appeared beside me, her magic keeping her aloft like a golden reflection.

  —Your mind is crammed with so many things that make you “fly” —she said gently—. But if you don’t sort them, you’ll kiss the ground again.

  —What are you talking about? —I panted—. How…?

  Reia laughed, musical and disarming.

  —I meant to explain before you shot off —she admitted—. To fly, you need to cling to a memory of hope. Or a positive emotion. The more light you carry in your head, the higher you’ll rise. But too much… and you’ll lose where to stop.

  Caelyn and Nysha joined us in the air, floating as if born there. Caelyn drifted like a suspended raindrop, while Nysha lingered like a shadow that refused to fall.

  I shut my eyes.

  One thought. Just one that could hold me, lift me.

  Silas.

  His name sparked like silver thread across my chest. The warmth of his laughter, the heat of his hands… the one thing I had ever truly wanted to protect.

  My trembling feet stilled. My body steadied.

  I opened my eyes… and I was flying.

  Wind kissed my face, cold and sweet. My hair streamed like banners, and a cry left my lips —not fear.

  Wonder.

  It was as if my heart had grown wings.

  Reia glided at my side, her golden cape flaring like a banner of hope. She gestured for me to tap my wrist communicator. I obeyed, and her voice filled my ears, warm and serene.

  —You look so natural in the air —she said—. As if you were born for this, Lyss.

  —It’s… normal, isn’t it? —I gasped, breath ragged—. Everyone dreams of flying.

  —Yes. But when you do it for something you love, when your heart lifts your wings… it ceases to be a dream. It becomes truth.

  Her voice was so radiant it made me glance away. I didn’t want her to see how deeply it struck me.

  We pushed through the clouds, dawn streaking everything in gold and rose. Caelyn was a silent, azure reflection of rain. Nysha a fragile shadow that refused to break.

  Then Reia’s voice turned firm.

  —Mom asked me to remind you… you must wear a mask.

  The memory hit like an echo. Venesse had said it before, but I’d dismissed it. Now, in the open sky, it weighed on me.

  —A mask? —I asked, unsettled.

  —I don’t know why —Reia admitted, still smiling—. But if Mom said it… best not disobey.

  I swallowed and summoned magic to my face. A mask formed like a sigh: black, streaked with silver along the cheek, veiling my mouth and nose like a locked secret.

  When the wind struck it, I felt a strange mix of calm and confinement. As if it hid not only my face… but something deeper of myself.

  And so, together, we carved the sky.

  Sometime after flying a long way...

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  —We’re getting close, —Reia’s voice came through the communicator—. The province is just beyond those mountains. Get ready, Lyss. The real flight… is only beginning.

  The province stretched below us like a shattered painting. Houses were open wounds carved into the earth: collapsed walls, torn-off roofs, streets split in two. The river that cut through it still roared with force, its murky waters dragging away timber and memories. The air smelled of damp stone and extinguished ash, and amid that ruined landscape, people moved however they could: elders lifting stones, children hauling bricks larger than themselves, mothers organizing supplies with trembling hands.

  Everything was… suspended. As if life itself had been interrupted by force and was now struggling to continue.

  Reia flew at my side, her figure of white and gold set against the gray of morning. Her voice sounded through the communicator, soft yet steady.

  —We’re going down. Remember to be gentle with the people. We are their goddesses… but also their sisters.

  —How… how do I stop flying? —I asked, swallowing hard.

  Reia smiled, as though she had been waiting for that question.

  —You just let go of what gives you hope. But remember to channel your magic into your legs so you don’t hurt yourself. And… —her eyes gleamed with playful mischief—… try to make it graceful. We are Magical Girls, after all.

  Vertigo struck as I began to descend. I closed my eyes, severed the thread of light that held me aloft, and for an instant I was falling. I poured magic into my legs, an instinct barely understood, and my boots touched the ground with a soft impact. Not perfect… but graceful enough.

  The shouts began the moment our boots brushed the earth.

  —The goddesses! —an old man exclaimed, eyes shining with relief.

  —They’ve come to help us! —a boy shouted, raising his arms.

  —Thank you… thank you! —murmured broken voices filled with emotion.

  Reia stepped forward first, her steps as serene as her words.

  —Do not be afraid, —she said, her voice a song—. We have come to help you. To remind you that hope has never abandoned you.

  A small boy, his cheeks dirty and his eyes enormous, stopped in front of me. His little hands brushed my outfit as if touching something sacred.

  —Are you a goddess too? —he asked, barely a whisper.

  —Yes… —I answered, with a smile I wasn’t sure how to hold—. I am too… though a little different from my companions.

  The boy grinned and ran off to tell the others, leaving a strange knot in my chest.

  The rest of the day passed in that rhythm. Reia organized the villagers like a choir of light; Caelyn absorbed their sorrow and returned it as calm; Nysha turned her fear into protective shadow. And I… I joined however I could: carrying sacks, raising walls, comforting the children who looked at me as if I were a goddess made flesh.

  By evening, though the ruins still loomed around us, the people were smiling. What might have taken years now looked like a matter of weeks. All of it, because they believed in us.

  As we walked away from the crowd, people still followed us with their eyes. Some elders offered us pieces of bread in gratitude; little children lifted wilted flowers as if they were treasures. I felt that strange weight of being called a goddess… a weight that didn’t leave me until my boots stepped past the last house and we climbed toward the mountain. Every step grew heavier, though it was a sweet kind of exhaustion, one that felt earned.

  When we reached the shelter, Reia lifted her hand and, in an instant, her costume of light dissolved into a soft glow. Caelyn, Nysha, and I followed, our transformations dissipating like mist under the sun. For a moment, I stared at the muted shine of my military uniform. It was like shedding a second skin that still burned faintly against me.

  The mountain bunker was nothing like what I had expected. The walls were paneled with warm wood, lit by soft lamps. A stove crackled in the corner, and thick carpets covered the floor. More than a bunker, it felt… like a home.

  We settled onto cushions near the stove, the heat lulling the tension from my bones. Silence lingered until Caelyn looked at me. Her eyes, gray as a winter sky, seemed able to read through me. She traced the rim of her teacup with one finger before speaking.

  —Lyss… —she said quietly—. What brought you to us?

  I didn’t know what to answer at first.

  —I suppose… it was Venesse —I finally said—. She asked me to join you. And… well, here I am.

  Caelyn nodded, as if she understood that sometimes answers weren’t so clear.

  Nysha watched me from the corner, her legs tucked close to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them like a shield. When she spoke, her voice was so faint I almost missed it.

  —Are you afraid? —she asked. Her dark, wide eyes weren’t inquisitive… only curious, like someone who knew fear better than anyone else.

  —Yes… —I admitted with a tired smile—. But I think… a little less since I came here.

  Reia, who had been watching us silently, finally met my gaze. Her eyes shimmered with unexpected warmth. She reached out and laid her hand gently over mine before nodding.

  —That’s enough —she said, as if confirming something only she could see.

  —What you witnessed today —she added—, what Caelyn and Nysha did… not everyone can do that. To absorb sadness and fear isn’t just a gift. It’s… a burden. Virelle can do it too, but only when it’s truly needed.

  I fell silent, trying to grasp what that meant. Sadness, fear… they had been part of my life for so long that I couldn’t imagine carrying them for someone else. Yet they bore them like a whisper. Like a gift.

  —We are not just a military squadron —Reia continued, her voice as soft as a breeze—. We are… human. And that, Lyss, is what makes us strong.

  Her words lingered in the air, and for a moment the fear that always haunted me felt… smaller.

  Then, without warning, Reia snatched a pillow from the pile nearby and tossed it straight into my chest. I gasped in surprise, and before I could react, another pillow —this time from Caelyn— hit me in the side.

  —What… what are you doing? —I stammered, though laughter was already trembling in my throat.

  —Tonight is for resting —Reia said, a mischievous spark in her eyes—. And for remembering that sometimes, the most human thing we can do is simply… play.

  I was pulled into the little battle, my hands grabbing pillows, my heart… light. Nysha hesitated at first, but when her shadows caught a pillow and flung it clumsily at me, all of us broke into laughter.

  In the middle of that laughter, between soft blows and the warmth of the stove, I understood something: for a fleeting moment, we weren’t goddesses or soldiers. We were just girls who could laugh, stumble, and be happy together. And somehow, that made me feel stronger than ever.

  Back at the Academy...

  The room was quieter than usual. Without Lyss, the air felt… incomplete. As if the absence of a single voice left behind an echo that none of them could quite fill.

  Velka sat on the edge of her bed, playing idly with a small training dagger. She spun it between her fingers with a concentration that was more an excuse than any real interest. Her lips were curved into a forced smile.

  —You know? —she said suddenly, her tone light—. We could rearrange the beds while she’s gone. Maybe even put flowers on hers. She’d love that… or maybe not. —She let out a dry little laugh—. Though I bet she’d freak out if she found flowers there.

  Neyra, sitting cross-legged on her blanket, raised a brow. In her hands she held a few reports she hadn’t opened—just an excuse to keep herself busy.

  —Flowers? —she repeated, amused—. Or maybe we should put a stuffed toy so she doesn’t feel so lonely when she comes back. —She leaned forward slightly, her warm eyes steady—. You say it as a joke, but I know you miss her more than anyone, Velka.

  Velka snorted and looked down. Her voice softened just a little, though still wrapped in the joking tone that shielded her.

  —Bah… it’s only three days. Nothing. —She twirled the dagger one last time before setting it on the table—. Besides, who needs Lyss when I have such wonderful company right here?

  Caelia, who had been carefully folding a blanket on her lap, smiled faintly. Then, without a word, she stood and placed the blanket neatly on Lyss’s empty bed.

  —It’s the first time in a while we haven’t slept together —she said softly—. Even though we started out in pairs… we’ve grown used to being all four.

  Neyra sighed, putting the reports aside.

  —It’s strange —she admitted—. We know she’s fine, that she’s with Venesse and Lumina Umbrae… but still, it feels odd.

  Caelia lifted her gaze, her gray eyes shining with quiet depth.

  —I know she’s fine. I trust her. Even though… well, trust has never been my strongest suit. But with Lyss… —she shrugged gently—… I miss her.

  Velka gave a low chuckle, raising a brow.

  —Distrust talking about trust? Caelia, that’s almost a miracle. —Then she fell silent for a moment, her eyes lingering on Lyss’s bed—. But yeah… I miss her too. And I don’t know why, but this time it feels different.

  Neyra reached out and tapped her leg.

  —It’s not wrong to miss her —she said calmly—. It’s not wrong to… —she paused, searching for the words—… to not know exactly what it means.

  Velka turned her face away, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. The dagger she’d left on the table caught the lamplight, glinting faintly in the quiet room.

  The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a shared silence, like a blanket against the cold.

  Finally, Caelia turned off her bedside lamp, but left the one next to Lyss’s bed burning.

  —Even if her voice is missing —she said, almost like a mantra—, we are not incomplete. We can shine… even without her. Because we know she trusts us, just as we trust her.

  Velka sighed and lay back.

  —Then… —she murmured with a light smile—. I guess we’ll leave the flowers for another day.

  The three of them laughed softly. And as the room fell quiet again, they understood that the emptiness wasn’t a fracture—just a pause in the melody they shared.

  Deep within the palace of Seravenn, the Queen sat alone in her chambers. The silence was dense, broken only by the faint crackle of an oil lamp.

  Her breathing came ragged, fingers digging into the armrest of her throne. Around her, the air vibrated with a strange hum—like a chorus of distant voices only she could hear. They were not human voices… they were emotions. A swelling torrent that now belonged to her.

  First came pride. Then an exalting fanaticism that set her skin alight. The absolute certainty that no fate could be denied to her.

  Heat radiated from her body as waves of crimson magic burst forth, wrapping her neck and face in a molten shroud.

  When she opened her eyes to the mirror, a deep red veil blazed across them, cloaking her gaze entirely. It was no adornment, no illusion: it was the first sign of an impossible transformation.

  The Queen smiled, serene, as if this newfound power were the fulfillment of a silent vow.

  —Now… —she whispered, her voice resonating with an unfamiliar fervor—. Now I am finally becoming what I was meant to be.

  The mirror trembled. And in its reflection, there was no longer just a sovereign. There was something else, something newly born, that did not wholly belong to this world.