The faint glow of the city and the heat of her burning house melted into the night.
"I left it, Ma. Just as you told me to. And this..." Her grip tightened around the wooden box. "...I have it now. But what now, Ma? You never said where to go. Or maybe... maybe you did."
A flicker of realization sparked in her mind—Baieliya, the verses, the fallen one, the cursed one. The box—her inheritance—was not just a memento. It was a map, a key, a compass pointing her forward. Eira steeled herself. This was her Ma's last wish, and she would honor it, no matter how long it took—even if it took a lifetime.
Maybe, just maybe, one day she would be strong enough—brave enough—to rise above all of Ivenia and drink in its vast beauty with a single gaze.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as they ran, her chest heaving, sweat carving cold trails down her skin. But none of it mattered. Her thoughts swirled like a storm, beginning to stitch together the threads of a plan.
First, she would open the box. Face what awaited her inside. Whatever it held would shape the path ahead. Fear loomed—thick, uncertain—but so did a strange exhilaration, like the first spark of a fire in darkness.
And then there was the boy, Vardant.
The one who now ran beside her. He had been her escape, her freedom from the cage that held her. But could she trust him? Could she tell him about the inheritance, the secrets Ma had buried so carefully? He had a friend waiting beyond the city's edge. What if they wanted to take it from her?
But deeper still, beneath the doubt, her heart whispered something else—something quiet, but undeniable.
There was something about him. Something different.
Even now, with his hand in hers, she could feel it. His presence. His aura. It wasn't ordinary.
And so, she chose to trust.
The city wall loomed ahead. As they neared it, Vardant called out, "Here. This way." They veered right, running alongside the massive structure. A towering wall of reddish-yellow sandstone encircled the entire city like a serpent of stone.
After a while, Vardant slowed, then reached for a crack in the wall barely visible in the dim light. They ducked and slipped through.
Beyond the wall stretched an ocean of sand. In the distance, scattered huts and crumbled brick ruins emerged like islets adrift on golden tides. This was the barren land, west of Kenl. Eira had heard of it. No junk drifters flew over this region, and few ever scavenged here. But that didn't make it safe. It was perfect for those who lived in shadows—outlaws, thieves, and worse.
The sand sucked at her feet with every step, turning her run into a slow, grueling trudge. Her throat was parched, her breath ragged. Vardant noticed.
"Just a bit more," he said, pointing to a rise in the distance. "See that dune?"
Eira looked. It was more than a dune—an inselberg, worn and stubborn, its rock face standing resolute against the drifting sands. At its base, carved into the stone, was a cave—not natural, but crafted. A refuge. Their hideout.
They circled the rock and stopped before a humble wooden door, plain save for a dark green emerald glass set into its center.
"At last…" Eira dropped to her knees, panting, her fingers curling into the sand.
Vardant gave her a soft smile and beckoned her forward. She nodded and rose, following him inside.
The cave was little more than a single room. Dark. Cool. Dampness clung faintly to the air. A lone lamp dangled from the ceiling, its dim glow falling directly onto the center of the room where a sturdy table stood cluttered with papers.
At the table, a boy stood—about Vardant's age—with hair like frost and a stillness that seemed carved from ice. His hands were braced on the table, his head bowed, eyes fixed on something unseen.
Vardant tossed the bag into a corner and let out a heavy sigh. Eira lingered behind, quiet and guarded. Vardant approached the table.
"Kael... I messed up," he said, voice low.
Kael didn't move. Silence stretched.
Then, suddenly, Kael jabbed his finger at the map laid out on the table. "Here. This should be the infiltration point." His finger slid across to a small square—an open plaza, likely within Halsa's palace. "And here... is where we'll blow Halsa."
Without glancing at Vardant—or even acknowledging Eira—Kael strode over to the bag and started rummaging through it.
"Hmm. All sorts of women's garments. A curious collection, Vardant. Some unresolved obsession?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Where's the ignis bloom? Buried deeper in this mess?"
"I used it," Vardant said.
Kael paused. "Used it?" he repeated slowly. "So... is Halsa dead?"
"No. I used it on a guard."
Kael tilted his head. "And the guard?"
"Dead."
A beat of silence.
"Brilliant," Kael said bitterly. "After a year of planning, disguises, infiltration... all to get our hands on Halsa's secret potion, and you used it... on a guard."
He finally looked up. His gaze drifted past Vardant—and landed on Eira.
"And you are...?"
"I, uh—" Eira began, unsure.
"I brought her," Vardant cut in. "Kael, just listen. Let me explain."
Kael folded his arms. "Explain, then."
And so Vardant did. How he escaped the guards. How he met Eira. How they tricked the patrol. The chase. The fire. The run. The box. And everything in between.
Kael listened in silence, his expression hard and unreadable. When Vardant finished, he let out a slow breath and said, "Then this can only be called misfortune."
Vardant looked just as worn. Both boys had spent countless days and nights planning their strike against Halsa—only for fate to play its cruel hand.
"To free this city..." Vardant murmured, "We'll have to start all over again."
"For now, we let it go," Kael said quietly.
He walked over to the center table and pulled out a wooden chair, its legs scraping softly against the stone floor. Sitting down, he faced Vardant and Eira. The dim light of the hanging lamp painted his face in golden hues, shadows clinging to the sharp edges of his features.
He turned his gaze to Eira.
"Eira," he began, voice calm but firm, "your house is gone, and you fled the scene. Whether it's fair or not, the blame will fall on you. If your family hasn't heard already, they will soon. Kenl is a vast city, but not boundless. Word travels. And when it reaches the right ears, they'll come looking."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on her.
"You can stay here with us, if that's what you want. But understand this: we are thieves. You've seen it with your own eyes. Most of the guards know our faces now. If you came to us seeking safety... I can't promise you that. We barely have it ourselves."
Eira nodded and spoke, "I know, and therefore I won't ask much either. Speaking truthfully, even I am uncertain of my future. For all, I can't go back to where I came from. The only hope I have... is this." She gestured towards the box in her hand.
Kael gave a curious look at the box.It was mesmerizing — made of some strange black rock with greyish marbling, and atop it were golden engravings, etched in the likeness of some ancient script. What made it all the more curious was that the box had no lid, no slide, no hinge. It was one seamless piece of stone, sculpted in the shape of a box."If so, Eira, then open the box," Kael said mockingly.
During all this time, Eira had not once looked directly at the box. Only now, as she tried to open it, did she realize there was no visible opening. Her face showed concern.
Kael laughed. "Seems the box is not ordinary. Let me have a look."
Eira hesitated, then placed the box on the table before them.
Kael turned it, studying it from all sides. "As I guessed — this is no ordinary box. It's sealed with some kind of spell. It cannot be opened through normal means."
"Maybe this will do," Vardant said, grabbing a hammer from the side. He placed the box on an anvil and, with all his might, swung down.Eira's heart skipped a beat — what if the box shattered completely?The hammer struck with a heavy thud... yet the box didn't have so much as a scratch.
Vardant grunted in frustration. "What is this thing even made of?"
Eira sighed in relief, but her confusion only deepened.Kael, on the other hand, now looked completely intrigued. "I wonder what lies inside. That strike could split a rock in half, yet it didn't even leave a mark. No doubt — this box holds something of great value."
Eira picked up the box from the anvil and turned it in her hands. "Surely, there must be a clue to open it."
"There is," Kael said. "The golden engravings — they resemble a script. But only if we could read them."
Eira stared at the markings. The symbols were strange and unfamiliar, yet something about them stirred a sense of recognition. Though she had served as a maid, her Ma had insisted on teaching her how to read and write. This script was nothing like anything she had studied… and yet, the longer she looked, the more it stirred within her — a whisper of familiarity. A memory hidden deep in the heart.
Then suddenly, she knew.
She dove into her bag and began rummaging.Vardant and Kael both raised their brows at her urgency."Found it!" she exclaimed.
She placed a small safe on the table beside the black box.
"Did you find something, Eira?" Vardant asked.
She nodded, a spark lighting her face. "Yes. This script on the black box… I've seen it before, though I couldn't recall it at first."She opened the safe and pulled out a binding of loose pages. "My Ma taught me how to write through verses, poems, and songs. And sometimes… when she was lost in her thoughts, she'd hum in a strange tongue and write in this script. I copied a few verses down — just for the sake of it."
She flipped through the pages and found verses that matched the script on the box.
The three leaned closer. Beneath each verse was a rough translation — not a direct one, but a phonetic rendering into the modern tongue of Menengqualoan-Qualkani, followed by brief explanations.
"Interesting…" Kael muttered. "If we can match the syllables and words, we might be able to decipher something. But it won't be easy. See here — 'Nar Shibshinak Rumi, akso mata krus.' The meaning written is 'One with the Rumi is divine.' But it's not word-by-word. We'll have to study these carefully to interpret their structure."
"We can only try," Eira said.
"Then so shall we. I'll help. This box… it's far too intriguing."
The two of them sat, spreading the pages across the table.
As for Vardant, matters of script and verse never truly interested him. So he busied himself sorting the contents of the bag into what little cabinets they had.
Time passed on, the two scratched their heads, while Vardant tried every possible way to open the box.
Hammer it."Damn, this doesn't break."
Burn it."Why is it not melting?"
Boil it in a cauldron.Wearing a crooked witch's cap and clutching a twisted stick, he stirred the bubbling broth like a mad sorcerer. With dramatic flair, he dropped the box into the cauldron, muttering made-up incantations. A cloud of green fumes hissed and burst into sparks — yet the box floated unharmed."Spells don't work on it either."
Worship it."I hereby request the great heavenly spirit to bless me and open the box." He bowed thrice, hands raised to the heavens.
Curse it."Oh Great Evil Lord, whose sins know no bounds, I summon thee to crack this cursed thing open!"
Vardant spared no effort. His techniques were meticulous, his theatrics precise — but luck, as always, did not favor him.
Exhausted he fell to the floor and drifted off to sleep. He was woken by the unison shout of Kael and Eira, " Found it!" .
The engravings on the box read: "Grimyan uss Dar'Zen.""Now," Kael said, studying the script closely, "'Grimyan' means 'blood,' 'uss' means 'of,' and as for 'Dar'Zen'—there is no direct translation. But in this verse: 'Dar'Zen mirquirya aslo mera daip te,' the meaning is 'Dar'Zen, your devotion has filled my heart.' It likely means 'child' or 'daughter.' Eira, your Ma is referring to you here."
Eira nodded. "This is the closest we could infer."
Kael reached into his pouch and pulled out a small pin."Prick your finger with this. Let your blood touch the box."
Eira hesitated, staring at the sharp tip for a moment. But then, with resolve, she pricked her little finger."Ouch!" she winced.
A few drops of blood welled up and dripped onto the black stone.
The moment her blood made contact, the golden engravings shimmered—shifting from gold to a deep, glowing red.
"More blood," Kael urged, eyes wide with anticipation. "All the engravings must turn."
And so Eira braved the pain and let her blood flow freely.
The box trembled. Crimson light seeped from its edges, flickering like fire. Slowly, it began to rise into the air, hovering above the table, vibrating with an unseen force. The room filled with a strange hum. Then, suddenly—A blinding flash of light exploded outward, throwing a gust through the chamber.
The box fell back onto the table with a dull thud.
All went quiet.
They leaned in.Inside… was something that seemed , not so interesting at all.