Chapter 9 / The lake house

April 4th, 15.001.  

The outsides of Bloodspire, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The road to Bloodspire’s capital should have been clear; Dominique’s family name alone ought to have parted gates and silenced border guards. But titles meant little when danger arose. The deeper they push into Umbra, the more obstacles meet them.

Villages emptied overnight, barricades appeared where roads once lay open. Caravans spoke of feral things in the woods—creatures that even Umbra’s hunters feared. Packs of shadows breaking loose from their summoners. Old wards collapsing like wet paper. Even in the vampire continent, where people had lived side by side with all sorts of devils and demons for the last centuries, something had broken.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the capital, several checkpoints and security guards stopped them. In outsiders' eyes, Umbra seemed like a pretty chaotic nation, but it was nothing like that; it was indeed a very well-organized continent, and their politics on dealing with disasters were strict. That was one of the many reasons they could live so close to other beings without crashing into their cities. The ruler's daughter swore under her breath, but even she, with the Velaric last name in hand, couldn’t clear the path. 

So they waited. 

Dominique kept a house above the northern part of the region, on the periphery of the Bloodspire capital. It was a temporary refuge near a lake where they could rest until the borders stabilized. It was close to a mansion, had big windows, and enough room for them to breathe. Most importantly, it was safe. For the following two months, they would call this place home. 

April 8th, 15.001 

The Lake House, Bloodpire, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The dinner table still smelled faintly of herbs and garlic, Eloise’s latest experiment simmering down in the kitchen. Dominique and Sukira had drifted toward the windows, murmuring about the lake, while Risha sat on the floor with a half-finished board game abandoned at his feet. Elon cleared the small table in the living room and set down a small gray box, no larger than a loaf of bread. A quiet hum, a flicker, and a pale-blue screen shimmered into existence above it.

Aaron appeared first on the hologram screen, framed by shelves of maps and scrolls. His hair was messy, and he had black bags under his eyes, but his smile was firm. Ailin’s face blinked-in a moment later, half-shrouded in shadow. Her background was a plain, white wall.

Eloise leaned forward, her voice bubbling with eagerness as she rattled through everything: their trek across Eloria, then crossing the deep sea, arriving at Umbra, Vlad and his failed ambush, and she talked long and long about the boy Risha, now asleep upstairs. She also mentioned the rumors of Elexi, the Course of War, stirring once again.

Aaron’s brow furrowed as she spoke, but he kept his tone steady when Elon asked how Eloria fared. “Stable enough,” he said, though the lines under his eyes betrayed him. “The nobles can’t stop arguing, small towns want more guards, and there’ve been sightings of old spirits leaving the woods. But it’s nothing we can’t manage.” His voice caught just slightly. “I’m more concerned about you. Are you some sort of dad now??”

Elon didn’t jump into the joke. Instead, he asked Ailin where she was. 

Ailin smiled warmly, gaze half closed. “You always worry so much, Elon. You don’t need to know where I am,” she said, every syllable smooth and practiced. “I’m handling what needs to be handled.” When Eloise pressed, Ailin tilted her head, the shadows behind her shifting. “If the rumors are true, then we’ll all need to be ready. That’s all you need to know for now.”

After an hour or so, the siblings decided to finish the conversation. The screen flickered once, and the call ended. Silence lingered at the table. Eloise sat with her quill frozen above her parchment, and the echo of Ailin’s evasive tone seemed to hang heavier than the smell of herbs still clinging to the air.

♥︎

April 12th, 15.001 

The Lake House, Bloodpire, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

Risha’s first days in the lake house were restless. He wanted to run, to climb, to fight something. He had the memories of the battle in his eyelids. Eloise tried to tether that energy by teaching him the basics of healing plants. He listened, yes, but only enough to repeat her words back with glazed eyes before tossing the leaves into the lake when she wasn’t looking. 

Dominique’s attempts to entertain him worked better; her mischief had a way of matching his, but even she could not keep him occupied every hour of every day. Even Cloud, a purebred creature trained to hunt *minor demons, was drained by the little boy’s constant, never-ending energy. 

Eventually, Sukira snapped. She cornered Elon in the library, arms crossed, her voice sharp as broken glass.

“Why aren’t you training him? You saw what happened in the village. Don’t let him turn us to ash because you didn’t bother.”

“Why aren’t you training him?. He replied without even looking at her, deep in his books. 

“I am planning on training him, but it's not the same. I’m not a sourcerer, you see.” 

The memory of Risha’s wild flames still lived under his skin. He exhaled slowly, nodded once, and called the boy into the study from the library’s window facing the backyard. 

♥︎

The study smelled faintly of ink and dust. On the wide old oak table, Elon drew three circles in chalk, each overlapping the other.

Books lay open on the table, their margins crowded with Elon’s neat, uncompromising script. Risha glanced at them, wrinkled his nose, and muttered, “That looks boring already.”

“It is,” Elon said evenly, taking the seat opposite him. “But if you can’t understand magic, it will use you instead of the other way around.”

Risha folded his arms, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t want to understand it. I want to use it. Spells. Fire. The good stuff. Like you!”

Elon’s eyes narrowed, though his tone remained calm. “Would you build a house without knowing what holds the walls up? Without checking if the ground beneath it could carry the weight?”

Risha blinked, hesitated, then muttered, “…Maybe.”

“Then it would fall. On you and on everyone inside.” Elon leaned forward, letting the words land. “Magic works the same way.” 

He began simply. “There are three things you must know before casting even the smallest spark. Channel. Core. Resonance.” He tapped each one as he spoke.

Channel: your body or a spell, the pathways that carry the magic energy.

Core: your reservoir, the power inside you.

Resonance: the rhythm between the two, the harmony that gives magic a form.

“Magic isn’t just willpower,” he continued. “It’s a negotiation. If your core and channel agree, the spell flows cleanly. If they don’t—” He flicked his fingers. A spark jumped from his hand, sputtered wildly, and snapped out. “—you get chaos.”

Risha leaned forward despite himself, eyes fixed on the chalk circles. “But I don’t want circles. I want fire.”

Elon’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You already have fire. That’s the problem.” He was really trying to explain things in a way that an impatient 10 y/o could follow. 

He let silence hang before explaining further.

“There are branches of magic. Most of them are learned and need a channel to be used. But Elemental magic—fire, water, air, earth—is the oldest. It needs no drawings, no spells, no rituals. It answers to instinct. It flows through you, using your body itself as a channel. That is why it is the most dangerous type of magic. It doesn’t wait for your consent.”

Risha frowned. “So it just… comes out?”

“Exactly.” Elon raised a hand, conjuring a small, steady flame. The fire swayed but never wavered. “Control means choosing whether it comes out at all, how much, and when to stop.”

The boy’s eyes gleamed. “Can I try?”

Elon hesitated. The memory of blackened ruins flashed in his mind. But this was the only way forward. He slid the chalk toward Risha.

“No. Not fire. Not yet. First, resonance.” He tapped at the table again. 

He drew a simple pattern. Just a line with a circle at the end. “Focus on your breathing. Feel your core. Trace the line with magic energy, then anchor it in the circle. Do it slowly.”

  —O

Risha pressed his palm to the chalk, eyes narrowed. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—flicker. A red shimmer snaked down the line. It reached the circle, swelled, then burst upward into a jagged tongue of flame that leapt too high, licking the air near the curtains.

Eloise yelped from the doorway. Elon was faster; he pinched his fingers together, and the fire collapsed with a hiss, leaving only a curl of smoke.

Risha grinned. “Did you see that??? It was AWESOME.”

“Yes,” Elon said flatly. “And if I hadn’t stopped it, the curtains would have gone up next. Which means next time, you should stop it.”

He paused and then corrected himself. “No. Next time, neither of us needs to stop it; it needs to flow evenly without the need to put an end. You need to control it, kid. Otherwise, you shouldn’t use it.”

The boy groaned, slumping in his chair, but something in his eyes betrayed curiosity.

Elon erased the chalk and began drawing new shapes. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about spell-drawings. The lines, the layers, and the other types of magic need a form to come out. But today—” He fixed Risha with a steady gaze. “Today you learn to stop.” 

Maybe we should take this outside next time, just in case. 

♥︎

April 15th, 15.001

Near the Lakehouse, in the Woods. 

The forest smelled of wet bark and wild mint. Birds cut sharp arcs overhead, but Risha had no eyes for them. His attention was fixed on Sukira, who was pointing at a mossy log.

“Stand on it. One foot.”

Risha stared. “…That’s it?”

“That’s it.” She sat on a rock nearby, with a book open. 

With a groan, he clambered onto the log, wobbling as he lifted his right leg. His arms flailed like sails in a storm.

“This is stupid,” he muttered. “Elon teaches me fire. You teach me—” “—falling!”, he finished the sentence on the ground. 

“Balance,” Sukira corrected, her voice maddeningly calm. She circled him with her eyes like a wolf sizing up prey. “Your body is the spell before the spell. If it can’t hold itself steady, how do you expect it to channel power?”

He scowled. “I don’t need this. I can already do fire.”

“You can already burn things,” she shot back, quick as a whip. “That’s not the same.”

The following hours were a parade of humiliations.

Standing on one foot on the ground. Then on the log. Then, on a branch above the water. Then, from the beginning, but now hopping on one foot, arms out, trying not to fall face-first into mud.

Each time he lost balance, she made him start again. Each time he cursed under his breath, she only smiled wider.

Finally, red-faced and furious, he snapped: “This is pointless!”

Suki’s eyes glinted. She took a step back and lifted her chin. “Maybe you are right.”

She stood up and voided her book away. “Fight me.” She handed him his small wooden sword. 

At first, Risha brightened. A real fight. Finally. He threw his hands forward, holding a wood stick tight while waving it—only to slice through empty air. She had moved, her body twisting like water around stone. Hands on her back. 

And every time, she slipped past, steps flowing into spins, spins into leaps. Her movements looked almost like a dance.

“You’re not even attacking me back!” he shouted.

“You are not even landing an attack on me to fight you back,” she said, vaulting over another blast. “Your own imbalance will defeat you before I need to even think about attacking you.” She gently touched one of his feet with hers, and he immediately fell to the ground, face in the mud. 

But he stood up. He tried to adjust, to plant his feet, but the more he chased her, the more tangled his steps became. At last, his knees buckled. He collapsed into the mud again, panting, hands red from overuse.

Suki crouched in front of him, face softening. “See? Fire might obey your will one day, but right now, your body does not. If you don’t master both, you’ll destroy yourself before you ever destroy an enemy.”

Risha stared at the dirt, chest heaving. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but the truth of her words rang in his bones.

Sukira offered a hand. “Every morning. At dawn. We’ll train. No fighting. Just balance and resistance. You’ll hate it.”

♥︎

The days at the lakehouse soon fell into a rhythm. At dawn, Risha trained with Sukira—first standing on one foot until his legs burned, then balancing on roots and branches, then leaping clumsily as she slipped past him like smoke. He grumbled at her “boring drills,” but each morning he grew steadier, his body sharper, until even his missteps began to look deliberate. By the time she shoved him into the lake to wash the sweat off, frustration gave way to laughter, and he started to see the point of her games.

After breakfast came Elon’s turn. Where Suki demanded balance, Elon demanded clarity. He guided Risha’s clumsy spell-drawings into proper form, teaching him how intention shaped power, how fire was not something to shout with but to speak through. Some days they studied the logic of symbols, other days the nature of the elements. In that steady cycle, weeks slipped past. 

April 27th, 15.001.

Lake House Library, Umbra, Bloodspire Region [Vampire’s Region]

The house had settled into an uneasy peace. Risha, exhausted from drills, had fallen asleep on a chair in the corner and been dragged off to his room, though his half-folded cloak and muddy boots still cluttered the floor as if he’d only vanished for a breath. Sukira claimed the couch with a novel, her posture regal, her eyes skimming the pages with the kind of concentration that made interruptions dangerous. Elon and Eloise, however, had taken over the long oak table, their stacks of books rising like crooked towers.

The library still smelled like dust, regarding the use, and lake mist, its tall shelves crammed with leather-bound volumes whose spines gleamed in the lamplight. Eloise perched on the arm of a chair, book spread wide across her lap. For once, she wasn’t reciting Elorian poetry or the courtly tales she had grown up with—this time it was a real vampire text, a heavy tome borrowed from Dominique’s family collection.

“Listen to this,” she said, laughter in her voice as she traced a paragraph with her finger. “‘Some cities in Umbra are carved directly into mountain hearts, with skylights cut thin as a knife’s edge—only enough to let in slivers of moonlight.’ Whole generations grew up under that pale glow! Can you imagine?” Her curls bounced as she leaned forward, eyes dancing.

Elon reclined opposite her, expression unreadable but softened at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t have to imagine,” he said mildly, turning a page in his own book. “I’ve walked those caverns. The city I visited was the second largest in the Velmore region, near the Alps. An impressive place”

Velmore was a region made up of a few ancient cities set before the Velmore Alps. Infested with dark magic, it was a fascinating but dangerous province for those without strong resistance to sorcery. Most hunter clans, assassins, and mercenary firms made their home here. It was also the best place to obtain power-enhancing tattoos. A few of its cities were built into the mountains, getting closer to the Alps, lacking sunlight but thriving on moonlight to survive the frosts. Technology here blended with ancient customs and ways. People from this region were rougher, more religious than the rest of Umbra, where most cared little for such things nowadays. They venerated the old spirits and clung to superstition, following ancient traditions to the letter. It was a strange fusion of the future and the past.

Eloise gasped, flipping another page. “They cultivate crops that only bloom beneath the moon! Look—moon-bloomed grains, orchards of glowing fungi, even herds of animals bred to thrive in shadow. Eloria would never dream of such things. No wonder Umbra feels like another world entirely.” She tilted the illustration toward him, delight in every syllable.

Dominique, half-forgotten at the edge of the table with a glass of wine, let out a low chuckle. “Our winters last three parts of the calendar year, and our nights are longer than in the other continents. We built a culture around our geography. That’s why we are more sensitive to the sun. It’s not like we burn alive or sparkle like the humans say, but we are far more accustomed to the absence of sunlight than to the kiss of it.” She blinked an eye at Eloise with that last sentence. 

Eloise’s quill danced furiously across parchment, recording everything with the eagerness of a scholar unearthing treasure. “It’s marvelous,” she murmured, hardly able to keep up with herself. “It’s like discovering an entirely different way to be alive.”

Dominique watched them in silence, and when they stumbled on unfamiliar words, she supplied them. Between Eloise’s delighted exclamations and Dominique’s vivid corrections and storytelling, the hours thinned until the books lay closed and their laughter drifted with them into the kitchen, where wine, herbs, and the sound of a making meal began to reclaim the night.

♥︎

Elon stayed behind, catching Sukira’s wrist as she brushed past. Her skin was cold, as always—colder even than the lake air that seeped through the shutters as the sun went down.

“Tell me,” he said, almost casually. “Does geography explain why you’re always this cold?”

Her body entirely stopped as he grabbed her, but she was still facing the door to continue her path and leave the room. “Maybe.”

He said nothing, waiting, and the silence pressed until she let out a reluctant sigh. Turning back to him, her dark eyes searched his face.

“Do you remember when you burned me with that spell, when we were fighting Vlad?”

“You told me not to use fire,” Elon said, his brow tightening. “You also said you’d explain later.”

“I did.” She removed his hand from her wrist and half-sat on the oak table, her posture caught between leaving and staying.

“Vampires, in general, are not well-suited to high temperatures. Fire can cause us wounds that never quite heal. Our bodies, as you were discussing earlier, are not made for heat. The longer we live in the dark, the more our blood learns to carry cold instead of warmth. It makes us durable, resilient against most things tho.”

He stared at her. “And all vampires share this weakness?”

“Most,” she admitted. “Though there are bloodlines who’ve adapted differently. Some who come from sunnier, warmer regions of Umbra are more resistant. But, in general, fire is off the table.”

♥︎

May 4th, 15.001.

Lake House, Umbra, Bloodspire Region [Vampire’s Region]

The garden shimmered with late spring light, leaves trembling in the breeze off the lake. Eloise sat cross-legged on the grass while Dominique worked behind her, fingers deftly weaving strands of golden hair into braids. Each tug and twist was unhurried, almost meditative.

Risha trotted back and forth, his hands overflowing with flowers he plucked from every patch he could find. “All for you!” he said, dropping a bundle of blossoms in Eloise’s lap.

She lifted one, twirling the stem between her fingers. “And what’s its name?” she asked, her tone teasing but patient.

Risha scrunched his nose. “Moonbell. Good for sleeping issues. But don’t eat it raw unless you want to be sleepy for three days straight!”

Eloise giggled, tucking it into the braid Dominique was finishing. “Correct. And this one?” she asked, holding up a stalk of white buds.

“Snowroot. Bitter, but you can mash the leaves to help with a fever.” He puffed up a little, pleased with himself.

Dominique’s hands kept moving, her voice a low hum as she added, “He listens and remembers. You’re amazing, Riri!”

Risha grinned widely at the praise—then hesitated, glancing at the woven ribbons of Eloise’s hair. “Can I… have braids too?”

Eloise’s laughter spilled out like sunlight. “Of course you can.” She patted the ground in front of her. Dominique already reaching for another flower.

“Can I learn how to do them, too??” 

The girls nodded at the same time, enjoying that precious moment. 

“Risha, I’ll teach you, but please wash your hands, you are all sticky!!”. 

Not far off, Sukira dozed in the shade of a tree, Cloud curled like a shadow at her side.

♥︎

May 9th, 15.001.

Lake House, Umbra, Bloodspire Region [Vampire’s Region]

The living room, placed on the mansion's second floor, glowed warm with lamplight, the air steeped in the faint perfume of tea made out of some of the leaves Risha and Eloise gathered earlier. It was after dinner, and calm was reigning over the house. 

“Where’s Risha?” Dominique was clinging to him lately and was incredibly overprotective. 

Her sharp tone cut across the quiet. Eloise straightened, alarm chasing across her face. Elon simply raised a brow.

Sukira, however, only sipped her tea, unbothered. “Relax,” she murmured, setting the cup down. Then, with a dry little smile, she pointed toward the window where she had already been watching. Everyone took a look. 

Dominique was at the glass in an instant. Downstairs, beneath the moon's silver light, Risha balanced on the narrow edge of the fountain of the main garden. Arms out, wobbling, lips pressed tight with concentration. The water caught his reflection, doubling the sight of a boy daring himself into focus.

“You see??” Eloise whispered, guilt slipping into her words. “He’s pushing too hard because she—” Her eyes darted toward Sukira.

“He needs to nail that exercise in order to move forward,” Elon interrupted softly, without looking away. “He’s curious. He wants to keep learning. It's good.” It felt like he was protecting Sukira from Eloise’s upcoming accusations. 

But the fountain’s slick stone betrayed him. Risha slipped, tumbling with a splashless thud onto the harsh concrete floor. Eloise and Dominique jolted up, already rushing for the door, but both Elon’s and Sukira’s hands rose at once, halting her mid-step. “Don’t,” Sukira said firmly.

All of them watched as Risha sat up, clutching a knee scraped raw. He bit his lip against a cry and, instead of running back inside the house, he pressed his hands over the wound. His brows furrowed, and then he started moving his shaky little hands like drawing something in the air.

Sukira leaned closer to the glass. “What’s he doing?”

Elon’s voice carried a note of pride, almost tender. “Healing himself. Or trying, at least. I showed him the spell only a few days ago.”

The adults were watching, holding their breaths. A minute passed, and then, out of his tiny fingerpoints, a few golden, shiny lines started to blow, forming a spell. As soon as the cast was completed, he moved it with both of his hands on top of his injury. Slowly, the angry red cut dulled, closing into a pale mark. Risha exhaled, testing the leg, then returned his focus to the balance exercise. 

Elon’s eyes softened, a flicker of memory crossing his face. “That was the first spell I ever taught you,” he said quietly to Eloise.

Her lips parted in surprise. “My first spell,” she echoed, hand pressed to her chest. “I still use it. Exactly as you gave it to me. Haven’t changed a line.”

At the window, the four of them lingered in silence, watching the boy try again and again. Until he fell asleep on the floor from exhaustion. Cloud, who was next to him the whole time, carried him to bed later.

♥︎

May 14th, 15.001.

Library, Lake House, Umbra, Bloodspire Region [Vampire’s Region]

Risha sat forward, chin in hand, eyes flicking between Elon's steady explanations and the diagrams etched across the parchment.

“So if you make a wall spell,” he asked, eyes wide, “and I punch it—does it break?”

Elon shook his head. “Not usually. It depends on where you punch it, and how… and how hard you punch it.” Maybe I should demonstrate this to him with her help…

Risha leaned in. “What about rope spells? The ones that tie things? Do they stay forever?”

“They stay until someone unties them,” Elon said. “If the caster was clumsy, the knots come loose. If they were careful, it should hold tight.”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “And when you throw magic, like, just throw it… That’s not spelling, right?”

“No. That’s raw magic, the elemental type, remember?” Elon said plainly. “It’s fast, but messy if not done well. But you can wave raw magic, it means shaping it, like turning fire into a torch instead of a wild spark.”

Risha blinked, then grinned, as though fitting puzzle pieces together in his head. His questions kept coming, and Elon found himself matching his rhythm, answering with the same clarity, never once needing to scold.

And as he watched the boy’s mind race through bindings, wards, and weaving—anything but fire—he caught the thought settling in his chest like a quiet victory: Good. At last, he’s curious about more than just burning things.

Eventually, Elon slid a book across the table, the leather soft from use. “This one will help. Read a little each night. The exercises at the back are worth trying, too.”

Risha dutifully flipped it open, tracing the script with his finger. He managed a few pages before his shoulders sagged, and he pushed the book away with a groan. “I’m bored.”

Elon only glanced up from his own book, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Then don’t read that anymore. Read something else, or do whatever you want.”

For a moment, Risha hesitated, as if waiting for a reprimand that never came. Then, quietly mischievous, he dragged over a chair, clambered onto it, and stood above Elon’s resting form on the sofa. Careful, almost reverent, his small fingers began weaving some tiny braids into Elon’s whitish blonde, wavy hair.

Elon didn’t stop him. He simply turned another page; the flick of the pages mixed with the boy’s low hum of concentration. 

At least he is silent now. 

♥︎

May 14th, 15.001 

Library, Lake House, Umbra, Bloodspire Region [Vampire’s Region]

Crayon sketches littered the low table in the living room, crooked spell circles pressed beside lopsided monsters with too many teeth. Risha’s work, abandoned the moment sleep pulled him to bed.

Sukira slipped outside, to the terrace next to the living room, which was also connected to the central garden by a stone stair. She held a cigarette between her fingers. Elon followed a moment later, letting the door shut softly behind him. The lake air was sharp and cool, but the night was calm.

“You’re going to rot your lungs,” he said while firing it for her. 

She exhaled smoke, slow, amused. “You’re going to rot his brain, teaching him all those exercises.”

He didn’t rise to it. Instead, his gaze flicked to the sketch she’d carried out with her—a clumsy knot drawn in green crayon. “He’s paying attention. More than I expected.”

She tilted her head. “So? Sorcerer or not?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no weight added. Just a fact.

Her eyes narrowed, then softened into something like satisfaction. “Thought so. Raw power like that could only mean that.”

“You fought one once. You mentioned that the first time we sparred. I’ve been wanting to ask you about that.”

“Aha. And where’s the question, blondie?” she asked, looking at him while pointing out the obvious. “You know, this dynamic is getting repetitive”.

“You killed that sorcerer? How?”

“I don’t remember.” She was looking straight at the pop of the trees ahead of them. 

For some reason, he believed her. He truly believed her. He didn’t push harder. Silence stretched. He leaned back on the step of the stone stair he was sitting on, arms crossed. She tapped ash onto the railing and shifted the game. 

“Tell me then—how does your magic heal so cleanly? I put a knife very deep right here, and not a scar left.” She pressed his chest with a finger, right where his heart was. “I know. I checked. Nothing, not even a bruise.”

Elon’s expression didn’t move. “It’s simply stronger than your blade.”

That only made her laugh, low and delighted. “Maybe next time I’ll push the knife deeper.”

...next time?

“Do what you like.” He turned away, already finished with the subject. “Just be ready for the class.”

“I’m not following. Now you’ll teach me spells too?” She tilted her head like a hound catching a sound.

“Not you.” His eyes flicked back to hers. “Risha’s been asking how spells break. I think it’s time we show him. You’re the best at it. I’ve never seen anyone who’s not a magician trace and cut through a knot like you do.”

“Well, well. First time you’ve ever said something nice to me. Breaking a sorcerer’s spell? Of course I’ll do it.”

“If he only learns one side, he won’t survive.” Elon’s tone carried no room for doubt. “He’ll need to know how to place traps. How to re-cast what’s been shattered. How to stand inside a half-broken spell and mend it before it collapses on him and on others. I will teach him how to fight against someone like you, someone who understands magic and its ways. He will learn how to survive someone who killed a sorcerer before.”

That pulled her forward, eyes glinting, interested now. “Listen to you. Almost sounds like you’re fond of the boy. Planning to stay glued to his side until he’s grown? You almost sound like you believe he’ll live long enough for all that.”

Elon didn’t flinch. “He will.”

Something in the certainty made her pause. Then, with a quieter breath, her tone dropped its edge. “Tell me, then, how long did it take you to control your power as a sorcerer?”

He opened his mouth with an answer ready, fast, automatic, their usual conversation rhythm unbroken. Then the meaning caught him. His voice stalled. The boy wasn’t him. The boy was human. Elon’s face went blank, the weight landing sharp and cold.

Sukira read it instantly. She crushed the heaviness with a flick of ash and a grin. “Fine. I’ll break your pretty little spells for him.”

“You won’t hold back.”

“Never.”

Silence fell between them, the night pressing close, the fountain whispering somewhere beyond the dark. Sukira tilted her chin, half to herself. “Strange picture, isn’t it? You and me, a vampire and a half-elf teaching a little human boy, together.”

Elon pushed up from the step, brushing dust from his sleeve. “Strange indeed. But he’s worth it.”

Her eyes followed him as he moved back inside, and she let out a low, private laugh. “On that,” she murmured, “we agree.”

♥︎

May 16th, 15.001 

The gardens, Lake House, Umbra, Bloodspire Region [Vampire’s Region]

Risha stumbled barefoot into the garden, still rubbing his eyes. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and he had the look of someone who’d been dragged out of sleep by curiosity alone. He stopped short when he saw Elon standing straight next to the lake’s shore, and Sukira waiting with arms crossed against a tree.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice sharp but her mouth twitching with amusement.

“That’s not true!” Risha protested, but Elon’s calm tone cut across.

“Today is different. You’ll watch. You’re going to learn how spells can be broken and mended.”

Elon lifted a hand, and thin lines of pale blue light began weaving into a protective circle on the grass. “Watch carefully. This is a spell, a very basic one. Designed to shield whoever is inside the circle.” The lattice shimmered, its patterns deliberate and neat.

Risha’s mouth fell open. “That looks like—like a spiderweb! But glowing!”

“Exactly,” Elon said. “A web that shields whoever is inside.”

Sukira pushed off the tree, rolling her shoulders. “And webs can be torn.” She opened her palm, her gun snapping into place with a shimmer of her void-light. Three shots rang, not loud but sharp. Each bullet hit the pattern in the exact right places, and the web collapsed in a shower of sparks.

“Woooahh!” Risha’s eyes nearly popped out. “You—you just broke it! Like it was nothing!”

“Not nothing.” Sukira tapped her temple. “Every spell has weak points, the knots. You find the knot, you strike. Down it goes. Easy.”

“Not easy,” Elon corrected, already sketching another spell, this one thicker, layered with loops like rings in water. “If there are several knots, you must choose carefully. Touch the wrong one, and—” He pressed his palm forward.

The web cracked outward with a loud snap, static rippling across the grass. Risha yelped, hopping back as if it might bite his toes.

Sukira laughed, smoke in her voice. “See, that’s what happens when you’re stupid.”

“Or careless,” Elon said flatly. He re-formed the shield, this one tighter, brighter. “A good mage rebuilds before the enemy has finished breaking. If the attack is sloppy, you can repair it instantly.”

“Repairing’s just sewing it back together,” Sukira teased, eyes sparkling. “Breaking is where the fun is.” She flicked her wrist, and the shield split again—faster this time, before Elon even finished weaving it.

Elon didn’t flinch. He snapped another into being, layers nested like gears in a clock. She broke that one, too. He added a twist, she cut through it. Back and forth, a rhythm building between them—strike, mend, strike, cast, strike, mend.

Risha bounced on his toes, clapping his hands together. “It’s like—like puzzles fighting puzzles! What if she breaks all the knots at once? What if you fix it while she’s breaking? What if—”

“Quiet,” they said together, without looking at him.

For a long moment, Elon and Sukira’s eyes met across the glowing threads. Neither angry nor mocking, just measuring, enjoying the lesson. Elon’s hands moved with precise grace, every line clean, every spell a lesson in control. Sukira’s answers were instinct and speed, void-darts striking, grinning like she was dancing instead of fighting.

Elon finally spoke, voice calm but firm. “This is why you must learn both. Break, and you can escape. Mend, and you can endure.”

“And if you’re clever,” Sukira added, her grin sharp as her aim, “you can do both before your enemy even blinks.”

Risha’s whole body shook with excitement. “Teach me all of it!”

Elon almost smiled—almost. “Not yet. Some lessons require patience. For example, traps. Spells hidden inside other spells. Break the wrong way, and the trap triggers. Break all the spell at once, and when it collapses, it burns or electrifies whoever touches the loose ends.”

Risha’s eyes went wide. “Like—like a spell that bites back when they try to break it?!”

“Exactly,” Elon said. His voice was calm, but his gaze flicked briefly toward Sukira, as if warning her not to take the thought further.

Naturally, she did.

“Sounds familiar.” She tilted her head, smirking. “Remember that? In our first fight, I tore one of your wards apart, and the edges lit up like fire.” She mimed flicking sparks off her sleeve. “Burned a hole clean through my tank top. I liked that tank top.”

“That was your mistake for rushing,” Elon replied evenly.

Before he could stop her, she drew her gun and fired into the circle he had just woven. The threads snapped—then spat a crackle of red sparks, arcing outward in a hiss.

Risha yelped, clapping his hands. “WoOow”.

Sukira only laughed, slipping sideways as another loop sizzled past her shoulder. She darted closer to the weave, cutting into it like a thief breaking locks. Elon’s eyes narrowed; his hand twitched, adding another layer to the spell, doubling the backlash.

The trap collapsed with a sudden flare, and Sukira hissed when a shard of light kissed her chin, leaving a thin, bleeding cut.

Risha gasped. “You hurt her!”

“It was her choice,” Elon said, his tone clipped but not cruel. “She knew the risk.”

“That was a dirty move, prince”, Sukira muttered, brushing the thin line of blood with the back of her hand. 

But Risha was already on her, climbing her body like a stubborn cat. “Hold still!” he demanded, tugging her wrist down when she tried to wave him off.

“Kid—” she started, but he was faster. She lost her balance, worrying that the boy might fall and let herself fall back onto the grass. Risha trapped across her like an overeager pup. His small hand pressed to her chin, and a soft glow sparked between his fingers. Everything happened incredibly fast. 

He beamed. “See? Done!”

Sukira blinked, caught off guard. She ruffled his messy hair with a sigh. “Don’t do that again”, she said, but her voice lacked its usual bite. They stayed both on the floor; the grass was a bit humid and fresh from the morning's dew. 

Elon watched them, his expression unreadable. But inside, his thoughts sharpened: Yes. A sorcerer, through and through. Even when he shouldn’t, he bends magic his way. He didn’t even cast; he just willed it. I taught him that spell only two weeks ago, and now he’s using it without the pattern, in seconds.

His jaw tightened. It took me years to do that. Years. And he’s only ten.

Sukira, still lying, let the boy settle against her shoulder. He took the chance and hugged her. Her fingers ghosted over the spot where the cut had been, now smooth as if it had never existed.

Damn, brat, she thought, though the corner of her mouth tugged upward despite herself.

She looked at Elon. They didn’t have to say the words out loud; they were amused by the same thing. 

♥︎

May 20th, 15.001 

Lake House, Bloodspire Region, Umbra [Vampire’s Continent]

“Knock, knock,” Dominique said in a sing-song tone, nudging the door open with her elbow. “Can I come in?”

Eloise looked up from the book sprawled across her lap, curls loosely around her shoulders. “Of course you can. Please, come in.”

Dominique flopped onto the bed beside her, snatching a pillow without asking and hugging it to her chest. “This place is so boring when Risha’s asleep. I need someone awake to pester.”

Eloise giggled. “I thought you were the one who wanted peace and quiet.”

“Peace, yes. Quiet, no.” Dominique smirked, sinking deeper into the pillow. For a moment, they sat in an easy silence, the lamp throwing warm light across the room.

Eloise traced a finger down the margin of her page, hesitant. “You really don’t mind answering all my questions, do you?”

Dominique turned her head, eyes unusually soft. “I love answering your questions. Go on. Ask.”

“Then…” Eloise’s voice dropped, barely louder than the crackle of the lamp. “Why did your family betray Sukira?”

The grin drained from Dominique’s face. Her voice was steady, too steady, like she’d carried this answer inside her for years. “My father wanted vampires on top of everyone else. To him, Suki’s family—especially Rintaro, her dad—were just stepping stones in his way of ruling. My mom, who was Rintaro’s sister, sent them to be killed so my dad could take the government. He was next in line of succession, in terms of blood power, you know?” She clutched the pillow tighter, jaw tight. 

“And then, when they couldn’t kill Suki, they told her to leave and never come back… but later I found out they’d put a fucking bounty on her head. Years ago. Ugh. I fucking hate my family.”

Eloise’s eyes widened, stunned by the bluntness. “And Sukira’s family? What did they want? I read some things about them and their government, but it was a long time ago.”

Dominique’s voice lightened. “Rintaro was a great man, and Suki’s mother, Corinne, she was the coolest vampire that ever lived, for real, she was like, the best. They believed everyone had a place at the table: elves, humans, vampires, even halves. They thought it made Umbra stronger, not weaker. All the big technological achievements? Those were thanks to his government, he pushed human-vampire collaboration.” She snorted, bitter and proud at once. “My dad hated Rintaro. Sat at his table while cursing his name but playing friends in public. He and my mom used to say things like ‘compromise is just another word for letting yourself be ruled.’ Disgusting pigs.”

Eloise swallowed, then asked softly, “And… your family? How’s your relationship with them?”

For the first time, Dominique faltered. She bit her lip, then let out a shaky laugh. “My mom was never really around. She was too busy playing the duchess, hosting parties, and all that. At least my dad did something… but the asshole just tried to build me like him. He actually achieved it, but one summer I changed. We start fighting over everything. He was stubborn, like a wall you couldn’t move, no matter how hard you pushed. But I kept pushing, because I hated agreeing with him. I hated how he looked at me, like I was some stupid kid chasing pretty dreams.” Her voice dropped, sharp with a quiet rage. 

“He’ll never forgive me for the things I’m going to do. Maybe he’ll even kill me for it one day. But screw it. I’m not going to stand behind him and smile while he burns everything.” 

Her tone cracked—just for a second. She covered it with a crooked grin. “I don’t care if I’m young. I don’t care if people think I’m stupid. I want something better than what they left us. And if that means throwing away my family’s name, then good. I’ll build something new instead. I plan to spend all their money while I do it. Hehe”

Her eyes shone with defiance, but Eloise could see the loneliness hiding beneath—the ache of someone who had cut herself free from everything she knew and was still choosing to hope.

“This is getting deep,” Dominique said suddenly, tossing the pillow up and catching it again. “Ask me something else.”

Eloise chewed her lip, tucking her quill into the book’s spine like she always did when she wanted to hold on to someone’s words. Then another thought hit her, light and clumsy. “Oh! How do you know Aaron? I noticed you two talking back in Eloria, and I completely forgot to ask.”

That earned a sudden, crooked smile from Dominique. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”

It was a friendly, teasing answer, but for some reason it tightened Eloise’s stomach, made her cheeks warm. Why do I feel like this? It isn’t jealousy. Or… maybe it is?

Her face betrayed her thoughts, cycling through frowns and half-smiles before she could stop herself.

Dominique squinted at her, amused. “You’re making faces. Stop that.”

“I’m not—” Eloise tried to protest, but Dominique cut her off with a gentle nudge of the pillow.

“Hey, Eloise. Call me Domi.”

The request caught Eloise off guard. “Domi,” she repeated, softly. The word felt heavier than it should, strange in her mouth.

Dominique’s grin softened. Without thinking, she reached out and caught Eloise’s hand in hers, squeezing once.

Eloise didn’t pull away. Her heart skipped, her chest tangled with questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Her mind started wandering faster than she was planning to.

“Oi, oi. Don’t run away to thoughtsland. Let’s go and wake up Risha.” 

♥︎

May 27th, 15.001

Lake House, Umbra, Bloodspire Region, Umbra [Vampire Continent] 

The midday sun came in through the long windows of the dining room, painting the table in stripes of gold. The meal was halfway gone when Dominique broke the silence with the small, grey-sealed envelope in her hands.

Her expression was unreadable as she tore it open. “It’s from Umbra’s Council.”

Everyone froze. Even Risha, who had been dunking bread into his bowl with messy determination, lifted his head.

Dominique scanned quickly, then read aloud: “Permission granted. We may enter the capital on the second of June. Bla, bla, bla. Border patrols will escort us in. Expect checkpoints.”

“Okay. It's around eight hours by car, if the roads are clear. We leave on the morning of the first.” Suki added.

Eloise exhaled like she’d been holding her breath. “Finally.”

Risha’s chair scraped sharply against the floor. He shoved it back, fists tight, eyes wide with something he didn’t want to say in front of them all. Then, without a word, he bolted from the room.

“Risha—!” Eloise half-rose, but Dominique grabbed her wrist and said, rather peacefully, “Don’t worry. His a kid, he needs to get angry at us sometimes.” 

But the peace didn’t last, as hours after lunch, when the sun was already starting to set, Risha was nowhere to be found. Dominique was going crazy. Everyone was looking out for him.

But it didn’t take her long. All the signs were there: muddy boots in the grass and a strong trail of magic pest was written into the air. She found him crouched inside the trunk of a giant, half-dead tree near the lake, knees hugged to his chest, face buried so he wouldn’t have to see the world.

She didn’t try to drag him back. Instead, Sukira lowered herself down beside him, leaning her shoulder against the wood, looking at the lake and not at him. 

“I’d stay here forever too, you know,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the glittering water. “This place is easy. I like easy things. It’s a good dream.”

Risha peeked up at her, frowning. “So why don’t we? Why do we have to leave?”

“I actually don’t have a good answer for you this time, kid,” she answered, plain and honest, “we just need to keep going. Hard things are waiting for us ahead. But if we stop moving forward, we stop living.” She tilted her head toward him, a rare softness in her gaze. “It’s the only way. Even when it hurts.”

He sniffled, wiped his sleeve across his nose, and nodded fiercely, like he wanted to believe her. Then, without warning, he jumped up and ran for the house again—straight to his room, where the sound of drawers being pulled and bags being stuffed soon echoed through the halls.

Everyone saw him appear out of the woods, and Sukira followed him. Instead of running fiercely, she just popped using her void. Cloud ran after the boy as soon as he saw him, like chasing a prayer. 

“He’ll be fine,” Sukira said simply, sliding into a bench in the gardens. “He’s packing.”

Elon gave a small hum. Dominique’s brow furrowed as though she wanted to chase after him.

“Should I go check on him?” Eloise said, still worried. 

Sukira cut through all of it, her voice low but firm: “Don’t coddle him. Let him carry his own weight. It’s the only way he’ll grow strong enough for what’s ahead.”

The evening fell quiet around her, her words settling like stone. None of them liked it, but none of them argued.

Sukira leaned back, her gaze drifting past the treeline toward the fading horizon. Ahead. That was the word she’d given the boy, but it weighed heavily in her own chest. The capital was no dream, no safe lake house. It was sharp edges and old ghosts, the place where she’d be forced to face everything she’d spent years running from. Her family’s betrayal and their bloody games of power. She had told Risha to keep walking, even when it hurt. Now she had to prove she could do the same.

♥︎