"You'll be coming with us for now," Garran said.
Anira looked up at him, confusion and a flicker of worry in her eyes.
He noticed immediately and offered a gentle smile—the kind of smile that somehow made you feel safe, even if the world didn't.
"You'll be fine," he assured her softly. "We just need to confirm and verify a few things. It's standard protocol for someone… unique like you."
"Unique?" she echoed quietly, her voice uncertain.
Garran nodded. "To ensure you're safe—and so are those around you. Once we understand more, you'll be free to go. We just need time."
"Where are we going?" she asked, a little more hesitant now.
"To our military base," he replied. "A place where others like you are given care, guidance… and choice."
Anira slowly nodded, the fear not fully gone, but tempered by the steady presence around her.
Rhosyn stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, her touch grounding. "You're not alone anymore," she said. "You'll be safe with us."
Anira felt it. That warmth. That promise.
"Guess I'll head out then," Mourn said suddenly, already turning.
And without waiting for a reply—he vanished into thin air, a black feather fluttering where he once stood.
Davor's voice broke the silence next.
"Car's ready," he called, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel, the other waving them over.
Rhosyn gave Anira one last gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," she repeated, her voice filled with certainty.
Then she led the girl forward—
toward the waiting car,
toward a new chapter.
The car halted in front of the base.
"Let's just start walking from here," Davor said, pulling the key from the ignition. "Verault's son might see me using this car."
Rhosyn shook her head, unimpressed. "Old man stealing from a child."
"It's not stealing," Davor said with a grin. "Just borrowing—with style."
Rhosyn sighed. "You'll never change."
"Come on," Garran called from ahead, already walking. "Ezren is waiting."
Anira walked beside Rhosyn, her eyes wide as she took in the massive structure before her—towers, training fields, open yards filled with strange equipment.
"Is this… a school?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.
"Hmmm, maybe," Rhosyn replied, amused.
"It's similar," Davor added. "But the difference is—here, you don't just learn math or literature. You learn how to wield a weapon, how to control your power… how to survive."
Anira nodded, listening intently.
"Have you heard about the Night Watchers?" Davor asked, glancing at her. "Did your school ever teach you about them?"
"We did," she said. "They're the ones who keep this nation safe, right?"
"That's right," Davor said, pleased. But then Anira hesitated. She looked at him shyly.
"M-Mister…"
"Yes?" Davor responded, his tone gentle.
"H-How… how can someone become a Night Watcher?"
He smiled. "Good question. What do you think?"
"You have to be… strong?" she guessed.
"Well, yeah, obviously," he said, chuckling. "But more than that—you need the will. The will to serve. To protect. And to die, if that's what it takes."
"Even if you're weak?" she asked.
Davor nodded. "Not everyone is born strong, Anira. Even me. Everything takes time. That's what this base is for—to help people become stronger, step by step."
She looked thoughtful, then asked, "I-Is it… mandatory?"
"Honestly? Yeah," Davor admitted. "Everyone with potential is evaluated. But if someone really isn't suited—like they've got serious health issues—we don't force them. That'd just be sending them to die."
He laughed lightly at his own bluntness, and Anira smiled, nodding quietly.
"Uhm… Mister, what is this place?" Anira asked, her voice small as they reached the heart of the base.
They stood at a large crossroads within the compound. A stone path stretched forward, and two wide corridors split off on either side—one to the left, one to the right. The air itself seemed to shift between the wings: the left felt serene, almost humming with calm, subtle energy; the right, however, weighed heavily on her chest, dark and tense like a storm waiting to strike.
"Oh, that?" Davor said, noting where her eyes wandered. "That's the Aetherion Wing," he pointed to the left, "and that one's the Dominion Wing," he said, nodding toward the right.
Anira tilted her head. "What's the difference? They feel… really different."
"They are," Davor said. "The Aetherion Wing—that's where those born with natural talent, magic, or special abilities go. They're gifted, blessed from birth."
"And the Dominion Wing?" she asked, now looking toward the darker hall.
Davor smiled, but there was something proud in his voice. "That's for the ones with nothing. No powers. No talent. Just grit and the will to fight. The Dominion Wing trains those who refuse to back down, no matter what."
Anira blinked in surprise, absorbing it all. "Which one… are you from?"
"Me?" he chuckled. "I'm the Marshal of this base—I oversee both wings. Keep the chaos from spilling too far. And her—" he gestured to Rhosyn, "—she's our chief medic. Best there is."
He then leaned down conspiratorially and whispered in her ear, "And the guy up front—the scary one? That's our Chief."
Anira's eyes flicked to Garran's broad back. He hadn't spoken a word since they entered the base. Just his presence alone made her straighten up and lower her voice.
"H-He's scary?" she asked.
Davor nodded solemnly. "Very, very, very scary man."
Before she could ask more, Rhosyn shot Davor a glare sharp enough to wound.
He immediately looked away, started whistling, and casually strolled up beside Garran as if nothing had happened.
"Don't listen to that man," Rhosyn said with a smirk. "He lives to talk nonsense."
Anira smiled nervously, glancing again toward Garran.
She was still unsure, still a little scared.
But more than anything…
She felt safe.
"This is Ezren, the one you saw earlier," Garran finally spoke as they stepped into the clinic.
Inside, lounging in Rhosyn's swivel chair like he owned the place, sat Ezren—shoulders slouched, eyes half-lidded with boredom. On top of his head lay Allete, Rhosyn's tiny helper spirit, stretched out on her tummy, looking just as uninterested.
But the moment she spotted Rhosyn, Allete's face lit up. She zipped through the air and perched on Rhosyn's shoulder with a delighted squeak.
"Is she okay now?" Ezren asked, rising from the chair and brushing imaginary dust off his robes. His eyes fell on Anira. "We can begin."
The Pillars turned their attention toward her.
Anira blinked, looking around, confused by the sudden attention.
"You'll be fine," Rhosyn assured her gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. "He's just going to check something. Come, lie down here."
She led Anira to one of the clinic beds. The girl obeyed without resistance, her trust in them outweighing her uncertainty.
Ezren moved beside her, his presence calm. Anira fidgeted slightly, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed.
"It's fine," he said, voice softer now. "You'll be okay."
He paused, then looked her in the eyes. "Before we begin, I need your permission to see your past. Your memories."
Anira hesitated—but then she nodded, albeit nervously.
"Good." Ezren glanced at Rhosyn. "Miss Rhosyn, could you ask Allete to entertain the blue one? There's something... off about it. I don't want distractions."
"Alright," Rhosyn replied, already stepping toward Davor, who was holding Bluey with both hands, trying not to laugh as the little creature wriggled excitedly.
"Allete," Rhosyn said gently. "Go say hi to your new friend, and play outside. But not too far, alright?"
Allete gave a playful salute and fluttered over to Bluey—who was much larger than her—and gave a cheerful chirp. Bluey let out a familiar "Nyuu~" before bouncing in place.
"Davor, watch over them, please," Rhosyn added.
With a grin, Davor nodded and followed the two small creatures as they floated and skipped out into the sunlit courtyard.
Now alone, Ezren turned his full focus back to Anira.
He placed his hand gently over her eyes.
"Close your eyes," he said. "Relax. Don't think about anything. Just breathe."
Anira took a deep breath.
Ezren's own eyes closed, and a quiet power filled the room.
"Echo Sight."
The world around him dimmed as he slipped into the depths of her mind—
Into her memories.
Ezren stood still for a long moment, hand resting gently on Anira's forehead. His eyes were closed, brows drawn tight with concentration. The room was quiet—unnaturally so—as if even the walls were holding their breath.
Then, with a long exhale, Ezren slowly stepped back. He opened his eyes.
Anira had fallen into deep unconsciousness, her chest rising and falling steadily, peaceful yet distant—lost in whatever remnants of memory Ezren had unlocked.
He straightened his spine, then turned to look at Garran. There was something different in his expression now—his calm demeanor weighed down by the weight of truth, of discovery.
His gaze met Garran's.
A silent nod.
But not just any nod.
The kind of nod that said: We've found it.
We've found her.
"I'll go call Sir Davor," Ezren said quietly. "You can go on ahead."
"I see," Garran replied, tone low and unreadable. He exchanged a glance with Rhosyn before the two silently turned and exited the room, making their way toward the command office.
Not long after, Ezren appeared at the courtyard, waving over Davor, who had been watching the little familiars play chase around the tree.
His expression was serious, making Davor raised a brow. "Something come up?" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck as he followed, but Ezren remained silent.
Inside Garran's office. Davor sat down, resting one ankle over his knee.
"Something wrong? This boy never tells me anything," Davor said, noticing their expressions. Realizing they didn't know either, he chose not to press further and sat down quietly.
"Why am I getting nervous?" Rhosyn said softly, her arms folded, legs crossed, her gaze locked on Ezren.
Ezren stood before them and swallowed.
"Do...Do you still remember her?" he finally asked.
The room went still.
"Who?" Garran replied, voice calm but wary.
A long pause followed—so long that it felt like the walls might crack under the pressure of whatever Ezren was about to say.
Then he spoke.
"The missing couple… from the Dawnbreak Covenant. The researchers."
The words struck like thunder.
Rhosyn's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.
Garran sat straighter, his normally impassive expression revealing a flicker of something—recognition. Memory.
"You mean—" Rhosyn began, but couldn't finish.
"Isleen and Lewin," Ezren confirmed.
Silence fell.
Those names were more than familiar.
They were once the Covenant's brightest minds—pioneers of relic research, creators of the foundation upon which much of today's magical understanding stood. Half the breakthroughs in relic activation, aether refinement, and sacred seal replication were credited to them. But they vanished a decade ago without a trace, leaving only unfinished research and a void no one could fill.
And now… they were connected to her?
To Anira?
…Who were they to her?