The dome doors hissed open as the four of them burst out, urgency in the air.
Davor snapped his fingers—and like magic, a sleek, futuristic vehicle materialized from thin air. Its chrome body shimmered in the light, designed for exactly four passengers. It looked expensive.
Very expensive.
Rhosyn raised a brow.
"Where did you get that?"
Davor grinned as he walked to the driver's seat.
"Oh, I borrowed it from Verault's son."
He winked.
"He doesn't know yet."
Rhosyn, sliding into the back, blinked.
"Isn't that called stealing?"
"Only if you return it," Davor laughed.
He looked at Ezren, who was still hunched over, pale and panting like he had aged a decade in minutes.
"Just stay here. You look like you're dying," Davor teased.
Ezren forced a smile.
"Hehe… right…"
Davor roared with laughter. The man found humor in everything—even exhaustion.
Rhosyn smirked and leaned against the window.
"Tell Allete to heal you. She's probably napping in her little nest."
Allete was Rhosyn's healing companion—small as a doll, with glowing translucent wings, blue-silver hair, and a voice that could lull wounds to sleep.
Ezren said nothing, only nodding.
"Let's go," Garran finally said, his voice calm and deep.
"We don't know what Mourn's up against."
Rhosyn gave Ezren a quick glance through the half-lowered window.
"Go inside. Rest."
Whirr— the window closed.
Davor gave a playful salute.
"Try not to die from walking."
Then, with a low hum and a sudden whoosh, the car shot forward. A streak of light and wind.
In a blink, they were gone.
Ezren stood there, blinking, his coat fluttering from the car's wake. His slim frame swayed slightly.
"I'm... never running again," he muttered, dragging himself toward the base entrance like a man betrayed by his own legs.
Without a minute, the three arrived at the schoolyard.
They came to a halt, eyes locked on the scene ahead. Mourn was still holding his ground, dancing around the strange mist-like entity that now swirled visibly before them.
Even without focusing, they could all see it now: a living haze of blue smoke, twisting, watching, moving in tandem with the frightened girl standing nearby.
Mourn looked almost casual—like he was playing tag with it, dodging its darts.
The girl, meanwhile, stood frozen in fear, torn between running and staying, her eyes wide with confusion and terror.
Rhosyn stepped forward first, her instincts sharp. She didn't feel malice coming from the girl. No hostility. The threat wasn't her—it was the thing around her.
She slowly moved toward the girl.
But—
"No. Stop, Miss Rhosyn," Mourn said suddenly, voice firm.
Rhosyn paused mid-step.
"Don't come closer to the girl," he added.
She furrowed her brow.
"Why?"
Mourn glanced at the blue mist, then back at her.
"Bluey will attack you."
Rhosyn blinked.
"Blu… Bluey?" she repeated, stunned.
In the background, Davor turned away quickly, shoulders shaking.
"Pfft—Bluey," he whispered to himself, barely holding it in.
Garran gave him a sharp nudge.
This, this, was why Garran was made chief.
Davor always found a way to joke. Even now. Even when they had no clue what this mist really was. Even when the stakes might be fatal.
Garran exhaled and stepped forward.
"Tell us what you've noticed," he asked calmly.
Mourn lowered his blade slightly but kept his eyes sharp.
"Don't approach the girl. This thing—Bluey—it's protecting her. If you get too close, it lashes out."
Davor raised a brow.
"So… Bluey's her guard dog?"
"Can you calm Bluey down?" he asked next, still choking back a laugh.
Mourn didn't answer immediately. Instead, they all looked at the girl—who looked utterly lost.
She clutched her sleeves, eyes darting between their faces and the blade in Mourn's hand. She looked like she had no idea what was happening.
Davor's grin slowly faded.
So did Rhosyn's suspicion.
It was obvious now.
She didn't know.
Garran stepped forward next, voice softer than before.
"What's your name, young one?"
The girl hesitated, her voice fragile."A-Anira Virel…"
She swallowed hard, eyes shimmering."A-Are you… here to help me?"
The way she said it—hopeful and terrified all at once—hit Garran like a punch to the gut.
He'd seen that look before.
On another face.
In another time.
And it still haunted him.
Those were the eyes of someone who didn't ask for power.
Didn't ask to be cursed. Only to be understood.
And maybe—just maybe—to be saved.
"So what's the plan now?" Davor asked.
This time, his tone had shifted—serious, focused.
He glanced at Garran, waiting.
Rhosyn turned her eyes to their captain as well.
Mourn continued dodging, his movements precise but patient. Attacking the mist, he'd already realized, was pointless.
"It's untouchable," Mourn said, still moving. "Can't even slice it. This thing… it doesn't bleed. Doesn't break. Fighting it is useless—it won't die anyway."
That revelation hung heavy in the air.
Rhosyn's gaze sharpened. Davor clenched his jaw.
They looked again at the mist—this creature made of nothing and everything—and realized it wasn't a foe they could defeat by force.
Only Garran remained still. Eyes narrowed. Mind racing.
Then he nodded—once.
Mourn saw it first, then the others.
They all knew.
Garran was the only one who could do it.
He stepped forward.
The wind shifted.
He closed his eyes, exhaled, and let the noise fall away. With a single breath, he reached deep within, channeling his Qi outward, letting his field expand—not with pressure, but with intent.
A command.
A law written into reality.
Then, he spoke—not loudly, but with absolute authority:
"I am the calm. I am the command.
Sync the pulse. Hold the line.
By will, we bind. By clarity, we conquer.
Let the field answer to my order."
The words struck the space like a silent bell.
No sound.
But something shifted.
A pulse rippled out—soft, invisible, but felt.
The air grew heavier. Clearer.
The mist froze mid-move.
It jolted once, then twice, bouncing off the space it now couldn't escape. Up, down, left, right—it kept colliding with an unseen force.
It was caged.
"That's it..." Mourn muttered.
In the next breath, he vanished. A single black feather drifted down where he had stood—his mark.
And now, he stood beside Davor and Rhosyn, their eyes locked on Garran in awe.
The captain stood at the center of the chaos, motionless, unwavering, as the mist writhed within the invisible field.
Davor exhaled. "You really love the dramatic lines, huh..." he said under his breath.
Rhosyn didn't answer. She was still staring at Garran—quiet, respectful, and maybe... a little proud.
Because in that moment, it was clear—
He wasn't just their captain.
He was the anchor that held their world in place.
Garran stood like a statue, eyes closed, Qi still flowing, unwavering. The blue mist thrashed less now—its wild energy slowly surrendering to the field's calming rhythm.
Rhosyn, sensing the tension ease, finally moved.
She walked toward the girl, Anira, whose eyes hadn't left Garran since he stepped forward.
She didn't understand what was happening. Not fully. But something deep within her… felt safe for the first time in years.
Rhosyn stood beside her, offering a gentle smile. Then, slowly, she reached out.
Anira flinched, her body tensing at the sudden touch on her shoulder—— but she didn't pull away.
Her wide eyes locked onto Rhosyn's. Shock. Disbelief. Hope.
And then, like a dam breaking—
Tears.
Quiet, trembling sobs fell from her eyes as her lips parted with a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
Someone had touched her.
Someone was able to touch her. And… nothing bad happened.
She wasn't a curse.
She wasn't alone.
Rhosyn felt it all in a heartbeat—the grief, the isolation, the years of being feared like a plague. So she wrapped her arms around her.
Held her close.
"I know," she whispered, soft and steady. Her hand gently tapped the girl's back, comforting.
"I know."
How many years had this child endured? How long had she carried this silent weight?
The hatred.
The fear.
The loneliness.
Just how many years… had she waited to be held?
Anira buried her face into Rhosyn's shoulder, shaking as she cried. Not out of pain. But release.
And in that embrace, under the flickering dome light and the containment field pulsing quietly behind them—for the first time in a long time—
Anira didn't feel like a monster.
She felt like a girl.
A girl who was finally seen.
Garran finally released his breath as the command field dissipated, the pulsing energy settling into stillness.
He walked toward Rhosyn and Anira, both hands cupped gently together—as if holding something fragile, precious.
"Here," he said softly.
Rhosyn turned with Anira still in her arms, both of them lowering their gaze to his palms.
There, curled up like a dream, was a whimsical blue creature—tiny, mythical, glowing faintly like moonlight in water.
It had a fluffy, rounded body blanketed in soft, downy fur. Two delicate, nearly translucent wings shimmered from its back. Its large, expressive blue eyes sparkled with a kind of ancient innocence.
"Nyuu~" it chirped, almost like a kitten's purr, lifting its head.
Anira's breath caught. Her eyes widened. It was—adorable.
Before she could say a word, the creature leapt from Garran's hands, floating gently to land on her shoulder.
"Nyuu~" it said again, rubbing its cheek against hers with affection.
A genuine, radiant smile bloomed on Anira's face—pure, bright, the kind of smile only a child who had long forgotten how to smile could wear again.
Rhosyn's heart softened. "What would you name her?" she asked, her voice warm.
Anira looked at the tiny creature nestled against her, then at Mourn.
"Bluey," she declared.
Mourn immediately looked away, his face deadpan.
Davor burst out laughing, slapping Mourn's back. "Oh no. You named it Bluey and now it's official!"
Mourn sighed dramatically, muttering under his breath,"Great. That's going on my permanent record…"
Rhosyn laughed quietly, while Garran simply smiled—Watching the scene, the lightness finally settling after so much darkness.
And Bluey—Bluey just chirped again,"Nyuu~", as if proud of her new name.