Morning light filtered through the high, arched windows, soft and golden, painting warm streaks across the stone floor. It would have been peaceful, maybe even serene, if not for the surreal sight in front of me. Arden, stoic as ever, sat cross-legged on a cushioned stool with Sora perched delicately on his lap. She was humming while he wove careful braids into her golden hair.
It was absurdly domestic. Ridiculously soft. Uncomfortably normal, considering everything else.
I tried not to stare. Instead, I sat cross-legged on the floor, doing my best to look like someone who knew what they were doing. Arden had told me to try and "feel my mana." I knew mages could cast spells, everyone knew that, but the how of it was a complete mystery. He said my mana core was like a second heart his words, not mine and that people with Light or Dark affinities did not use magic the way normal elemental mages did.
That was the most I had gotten out of him. When I asked for clarification, he just gave me one of his signature non explanations. He said it was too annoying to explain in detail and that I would figure it out eventually. Helpful.
So here I was, eyes closed, doing my best not to think about how Sora kept making quiet, pleased little noises whenever Arden's fingers brushed her scalp. She looked absurdly content, almost feline in the way she rested. Her limbs were tucked delicately, her head slightly tilted as she hummed, and if she got any more comfortable, I was going to have to leave the room or combust.
From the corner, Lysandra huffed. Loudly.
"I have better things to do than watch this whatever this is," she muttered, arms crossed and expression sharp enough to cut steel.
Yet she did not leave. She stayed right where she was, glaring daggers with the kind of intensity that would have set lesser people on fire. I could not tell if she was annoyed, jealous, or both. Probably both.
Then came the click of polished boots on stone.
Seraphina entered without knocking. As always, she looked like someone who had stepped out of a painting meant to both impress and intimidate. Her outfit today was a long, flowing garment that shimmered like woven bronze and charcoal, cut high at the sides for mobility but detailed with feathered layers that gave her the look of some ancient priestess or ceremonial huntress. Elegant yet primal. Beautiful in a way that made you forget to breathe for a second.
She offered a small bow, sharp and efficient.
"The Emperor has appointed me to oversee and assist with your mission regarding the cult," she said simply, her voice like velvet dipped in steel.
Her gaze swept to Lysandra first. The princess's lip curled slightly as she turned away without a word, which probably counted as polite by her standards.
She then met Arden's gaze, gave a nod sharp enough to slice parchment, and turned to me.
I tensed. It was always like this with her, like she could see right through me, every crack and splinter. Her stare was clinical, surgical. Not cruel, but certainly not soft.
"What are you doing?" she asked, with just a hint of arch amusement.
I opened my eyes slowly. "Uh, focusing on my mana core? I think? Arden said to try to feel it."
Her head tilted slightly. "And have you?"
"Define 'feel,'" I said flatly.
She did not smile, but something in her expression shifted, like she was biting one back.
Seraphina crossed the room and knelt in front of me with fluid grace, her outfit whispering against the floor as she moved. She did not ask for permission. She simply placed a hand lightly over my sternum and said, "Breathe deep. Not with your lungs with your will. Push your awareness inward, as if you are trying to listen to something inside you."
I blinked. That was not helpful. But I tried anyway.
"You will not hear it the first time," she added, softer now. "But if your affinity is truly Light, the core will be different. It will not burn or surge. It will glow. Faintly. Steadily. Like a star seen from afar. Look for that."
Oh. That was actually kind of poetic.
I breathed in again, this time not trying to focus so hard. Just listening inwardly. And maybe, just maybe, I thought I saw it. A faint, distant glimmer in the center of my being. Like a tiny, steady star waiting to be noticed.
Arden's voice broke the moment. "You are doing better than I expected."
Of course he was watching. Of course.
And somehow, without looking up from Sora's nearly finished braid, I knew he meant it as praise. Which somehow made it worse.
Still, I could not help but sit a little straighter. It was not much, barely a flicker, but it had been something. A start. Seraphina gave a short nod, stood without a word, and returned to her poised, elegant stance beside the door. I had a feeling that was the closest I would get to encouragement from her.
Arden finally tied off the last braid in Sora's hair, patting her head like someone sealing a masterwork with a stamp of approval. Sora leaned back to look at him, beaming like he had just hung the moon. He gave her one of his faint, unreadable nods in return. She practically glowed.
"Are you done?" Lysandra's voice snapped through the air like a whip. She uncrossed her arms and fixed Arden with a regal stare. "You owe me a service. My hair has been in disarray since you manhandled me. Fix it."
Her tone was pure command, no blush of embarrassment, only the expectation of a debt being paid. It was the voice of someone used to being served.
Arden blinked slowly, gave her a long, unreadable look, then gestured for her to sit down in front of him without a word.
Lysandra rolled her eyes and crossed the room with all the pride of a cat pretending it had not just fallen off a windowsill. "Do not make it weird," she muttered, brushing a few rebellious strands from her face as she sat with exaggerated grace, careful to keep her posture regal even on the floor.
"I was not going to," Arden said, already reaching for the comb he had used on Sora.
From my seat, I could see the way her shoulders tensed, just a little. She was letting him near her again, after all. Not something I thought I would see anytime soon, given the whole 'you knocked me unconscious' incident. Either way, it felt like watching a lion present its throat, not weakness, but something dangerously close to trust.
A few hours later, just as I had started to wonder if we had been forgotten, Seraphina returned. Silent as ever, she gestured for us to follow her without a word. We obeyed, falling into a loose sort of formation. Arden led the way with Sora trotting close beside him, me awkwardly in the middle, and Lysandra stalking behind us like she was too important to walk next to anyone.
The halls of Radames' mansion were still ridiculous, all polished obsidian tile and glowing magi lamps shaped like golden vines. I kept expecting to run into a parade of servants or something, but it was oddly quiet.
Eventually, we reached what I guessed was a dining hall, though "feasting chamber" might have been more accurate. The vaulted ceiling arched so high it seemed to disappear into shadow, and a chandelier made of floating magi glass crystals cast a warm, pulsing glow over the enormous table set in the center of the room. Food was already laid out roasted meats, steaming stews, fruits I did not recognize, and wine that sparkled in the light.
Radames was already seated at the head of the table, elbow propped on the armrest of his grand throne-like chair, swirling a glass of wine with the casual air of someone who was either a seasoned tyrant or a very bored noble. Maybe both.
He raised the glass slightly as we entered. "Ah, good. I can finally offer my hospitality properly. Apologies for the delay. Empire building waits for no one."
We sat. Or, well, we tried to sit normally. Sora nestled in beside Arden without hesitation, and Lysandra took the farthest seat from him while still keeping him in her line of sight. I awkwardly picked the seat next to Seraphina, who remained standing until Radames gave a lazy nod.
"Let this be a toast to our soon to be victory," Radames said, lifting his glass higher. "You have all done well. More trials await, but I have no doubt you will see them through."
We raised our glasses water for me, unfortunately and drank.
He set his goblet down with a soft clink. "Seraphina will be at your disposal for this mission. As much or as little as you require, she is to act as your eyes, your voice, and your shield."
Seraphina inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.
"And," Radames continued, "once you have rested, she will also escort you to meet the head of our Research Division. I imagine you have been curious about our magi tech. It is time you saw the engine behind the empire's edge."
I exchanged a glance with Arden. Magi tech scientist. That could either be incredible or terrifying. Maybe both.
I had not eaten anything this good in ever, honestly. I had had decent meals on the road, thanks to Arden somehow always having supplies on hand without a bag, but this was something else. Every bite was warm and rich and strange in the best possible way.
I did not even realize I was crying until Sora gently passed me a napkin.
"I'm not crying," I muttered, dabbing at my face like it wasn't a total lie.
Sora just smiled. Arden, to his credit, said nothing, but I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Close enough to a smirk to be suspicious.
The food made me remember things I had buried. Warm firelight in our cottage. My parents' soft voices. The way the air had smelled of bread and pine. And later, after they were gone, the drafty, broken down hut in the slums where I had lived alone. The endless errands. The trash work. The looks people gave me when I came begging for scraps. Rat. Leech. Nothing.
But now I was not alone. Arden had saved me. Brought me here. Taught me, or at least tried to. I still did not really understand half of what he said, but he had stayed. Helped. Watched over us. Something had shifted inside me, and it glowed with the faint, steady light of a new understanding. Maybe I looked up to him a little, not that I would ever say it out loud.
After the meal, Seraphina led us out of the feasting chamber and into the complex's deeper halls. The hallways were quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that made you feel like you were walking through something that did not breathe. The walls shimmered faintly with magic, a soft hum vibrating underfoot. It was strange, unsettling, like I was walking in the bones of something ancient and alive.
We passed more of those strange figures tall, hunched shapes that moved with precise, mechanical steps. I could not help but stare, but I tried to be subtle about it. They did not look entirely human, but they did not look like machines either. Their movements were stiff and jerky, as if someone had sculpted a person out of metal and gave them a soul, but not the kind of soul that made you feel warm inside.
One of them turned the corner ahead, and I watched as it disappeared from view. My stomach churned a little, unsure of what to make of them. "What are those?" I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer.
Seraphina, ahead of us, glanced over her shoulder, her face as unreadable as ever. "Automatons," she said, her voice calm, almost like she was naming an everyday object.
"Automatons?" I repeated, feeling the word slip off my tongue awkwardly. It was not a word I was familiar with, and I could tell from the way she said it that it was not something particularly special in this world.
Seraphina gave a slight nod, her expression unchanged. "Machines. Constructed beings. They are built to serve a variety of purposes, depending on their design. Some are tools, some are protectors, and others are more specialized."
I blinked, not quite understanding what she meant by that. "So, like, they are alive?"
Her gaze drifted to one of the automatons ahead, which was walking with its stiff, measured steps. "Not alive," she said. "But they act like it, sometimes. Some even learn. A few of them can even think for themselves, to an extent."
I glanced at the one she had pointed out. It did not seem like it was thinking about anything at all, just walking in a straight line with mechanical precision. "And you, you trust them?"
Seraphina's lips twitched slightly, almost as if she were suppressing a smile. "Trust is an odd thing. I find them useful. And I suppose I find them a bit cute, in a way. In their own manner, of course."
That was the most terrifying definition of 'cute' I had ever heard. The idea of finding those things cute was hard for me to grasp. But Seraphina said it so matter of factly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
She did not seem bothered by them, so I wondered if maybe I was just overreacting. But then again, I had the distinct feeling that Seraphina did not react to much.
We passed more of them as we went on, and I could not help but notice that some of them had strange, glowing markings on their bodies, flickering like distant stars in the dark. The sight made my skin crawl, though I could not explain why.
"Why are they here?" I asked, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that was slowly creeping up on me.
"They are part of the Dalthun Empire's infrastructure," Seraphina explained, her voice unwavering as we walked deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. "They perform tasks that require precision, stamina, and consistency things that even the best of humans cannot manage. They are useful in ways you might not understand just yet."
Before I could ask any more questions, we reached a vast chamber cluttered with all sorts of things I did not understand. Copper pipes snaked across the ceiling like overgrown vines, and shelves were packed with half built gadgets, mana conduits, and glowing blueprints etched on transparent stone. It looked like the workshop of someone who thrived on chaos or perhaps, created chaos.
In the center of this mess, a figure looked up from her workbench.
She was an elf, the first I'd ever seen up close. Her ears were long and delicately pointed, peeking out from a wild mess of short green hair that stuck out from beneath a hat covered in gears, compasses, and monocles.
Her overalls were stained with what I hoped were oils or inks, not other substances. Her waistcoat was half buttoned, and round, wire framed glasses were perched precariously on her nose.
I stared, my village-born mind stuttering to a halt. Elves were creatures of stories, said to be graceful and ancient. She looked like a whirlwind that had collided with a jewelry box.
She did not look up as we entered, too absorbed in whatever bizarre contraption she was tinkering with.
"Oh!" she chirped, practically skipping toward us. "New faces! Live ones, too! How delightfully squishy!"
I blinked. Arden blinked. Sora blinked.
Lysandra stepped back like she had just seen a particularly unfriendly ghost.
"I am Thalia," the elf announced, pushing her wire-frame glasses up her nose with both hands, a gesture that seemed more habit than necessity. "Officially, I run the Applied Innovation Division. The 'uppers' call it Magi-Tech Research. I call it the 'How-Did-That-Not-Explode' department." She offered a sharp, lopsided grin. "You're the group causing all the interesting ripples. My favorite kind of visitors."
Seraphina sighed heavily, clearly used to this. "Thalia. We discussed the protocol."
Thalia waved her off dismissively, then her gaze snapped to Sora. Her head tilted, one hand coming up to flick a series of tiny lenses on the multi-lensed apparatus strapped over her goggles. A soft, crystalline whirring sound emanated from the device as the lenses rotated and locked into place.
"Hold on," she murmured, the playful energy replaced by sharp focus. She took a step closer, the humming device now aimed squarely at Sora. "Your mana signature... it's all wrong. Too clean. Too stable." She squinted, not just with her eyes, but through the complex optics. "What are you?" she asked, her voice low with the intensity of a researcher who had just found a contradiction to every known law of magic.
Sora looked up at her, her smile flickering just a bit. The open warmth in her eyes shuttered, replaced by a careful, guarded stillness. "I am a person," she said, her voice quiet but firm, a shield raised against the unspoken accusation in Thalia's gaze.
Thalia leaned in even closer, practically vibrating with the need to poke and prod, but before she could ask another question, Seraphina snapped her fingers, sharp as a whip.
"Thalia," she said, her tone clipped and sharp, "that is enough."
Thalia blinked, then glanced at Seraphina like she was being pulled out of some mental rabbit hole. She straightened up immediately, looking almost apologetic but also a little annoyed.
Thalia blinked, pulled from her intense focus on Sora. She straightened up, shooting a sidelong glance at Seraphina that was equal parts deference and irritation. "Right, right. Protocol. No unscheduled prodding."
She clapped her hands together, the sound startling in the quiet room, and her attention snapped back to us with unnerving speed. "Fine! Let's stick to the script. Who's ready to see the engine room? I've got prototypes that would make a battlemage weep and a teapot that's developed a shocking vocabulary."
Seraphina did not so much as twitch. She just gestured for us to follow, her eyes still a little too focused on Thalia to show any softness. "Come along."
And just like that, Thalia was off, humming something that sounded like a war march with a missing beat. A maddening war march, to be honest.
I looked at Arden, who merely shrugged, as if he was well accustomed to this bizarre scene. Then I turned my gaze to Sora. She had moved a half-step closer to Arden, her earlier unease now a visible tension in her shoulders. She gave me a faint, strained smile when our eyes met, but it was a poor disguise for the alarm Thalia's question had sparked.
Lysandra muttered something under her breath as we followed Thalia down the stairs. "Mad genius, my foot," she grumbled. "What kind of lab does not even have a single normal person?"
I had no answer. Normal had become a distant memory the moment I had met Arden.
The air shifted as we descended cooler, denser, heavy with that peculiar hum of magic and machinery layered together. The stairs creaked underfoot, and the light grew dimmer with each step, like the walls were closing in. I found myself leaning forward, not because I wanted to, but because I had to see.
Something waited down there. I did not know what. Answers, maybe. Or questions I did not want to ask.
But the deeper we went, the clearer it became. The surface was only the start. This false peace, this guided tour, it was all the calm before a storm I could not yet see.
And something beneath it all was watching.