Night had fallen over the sea. The vessel sailed on, though at a slower, more cautious pace. Repairs were underway as sailors hammered and patched where they could, but the major parts of the ship had survived. After the inspections, a quiet relief had settled over the crew.
And yet, despite the damage, the mood was unexpectedly bright.
The soldiers hummed and sang as they worked, their voices rising in rough harmonies against the rhythm of the waves. They had witnessed something tonight—something that would be told and retold in taverns for years to come. A white lady, riding a golden bird, calling down a bolt of light from the very sky to slay a sea serpent. To them, it was not merely a battle. It was a legend unfolding before their eyes.
The sailors, usually a superstitious and wary lot, were now upbeat, almost joyful. They moved with a spring in their step, casting occasional glances toward the common room where their mysterious savior lay.
In that common room, the expedition members had gathered.
The space was modest but warm. A fireplace crackled at one end, casting dancing shadows across wooden walls lined with old maps and faded carvings. Near the fireplace, bundled with layers of blankets, lay Ayumu.
She had fallen asleep almost the moment her damp clothes were changed. Her energy was spent—drained by the immense power of the light she had summoned and by the brutal cold that had seized her body after falling into the sea. They had wrapped her in layers of blankets until she resembled a cocoon, her pale face just visible among the folds. Her breathing was slow and deep, peaceful at last.
Beside her, curled on the edge of her blanket, was Vesta.
The phoenix had reduced her size earlier to that of a hawk. But now, as Ayumu's strength waned, so too did her spirit's form. Vesta was no larger than a quail—a tiny bundle of muted yellow and gold feathers made of light that is now a soft, gentle glow.
Nearby, Azhdar—who had also shrunk, now the size of a dog—watched the tiny phoenix with unmistakable amusement. His scaled snout curled into something resembling a smirk. In his ancient, gravelly voice, he spoke:
"Now, the mighty bird now look so pathetic at that size."
Vesta's feathers ruffled. She let out a sharp, indignant shriek. "Be quiet, lizard! I am conserving my master's energy!"
Kaiser, who had been sitting quietly with his elbows on his knees, lifted his head. His gaze moved from Ayumu's sleeping face to the tiny phoenix. "Mighty Vesta," he said, his voice low and respectful, "you need not keep her company. Rhea is here to look after her, and so are we."
Vesta turned its small head to stare at the Black Magis. Its eyes, ancient and knowing, glittered in the firelight. "I am aware of that." A pause. Then, more quietly: "But with what happened today, I wish to inform you of certain things about the White Magis."
All six of them—Kaiser, Rhea, Levain, Drobar, Osmond, and even a still-pale Fifi—scooted closer. The fire crackled. The ship creaked. And the tiny phoenix spoke.
"I have served many masters over the centuries," Vesta began. "But the one thing shared by all White Magis is their lack of awareness of things and their selflessness."
Drobar let out a short scoff. "I think that is quite obvious."
Vesta continued, unbothered. "And the most important thing: the expedition you are going on is dangerous. It took all my effort to pull Ayumu away from venturing into the forest alone las time."
A ripple passed through the group. They exchanged glances, each recognizing the truth in its words. Ayumu was carefree—almost recklessly so. Danger seemed to slide off her like water, not because she avoided it, but because she often didn't notice it at all.
Vesta's voice grew softer, heavier. "White Magis always put others before themselves. It is the main reason I chose to serve them as my masters." It paused, and when it spoke again, there was something akin to vulnerability in its ancient tone. "As I will not be able to stop her from continuing on this expedition, bear in mind that if anything were to happen, Ayumu will not hesitate to sacrifice herself for all of you."
It bowed its small body slightly.
"So I ask you this... Ayumu is now the last surviving bloodline of the White Magis. I wish to serve her for a much longer time. This child grew with me. I have cared for her like a child of my own."
Silence fell over the room.
Most Magis entered into contracts with their spirits at the age of sixteen—or twelve at the earliest. They were grown. They were ready. But Ayumu had inherited Vesta's will at just six years old, when her father, Eomer, had died.
She had been a child who knew nothing of the cruel world, and yet she had been thrown into it all the same.
"Please," Vesta said, its voice steady but soft. "Pull your strength together. Do not let harm befall Ayumu."
For the mighty Vesta to bow before any gathering of magis was no small thing. It was, in fact, unheard of. The room seemed to hold its breath.
Rhea was the first to move. She rose from her seat and knelt before the tiny phoenix. "Mighty Vesta, we do not deserve your bow. Please rise. We will care for Ayumu. What happened today will not happen again."
Levain nodded, his hand over his heart. "Mighty Vesta, we give you our word."
Vesta lifted her head, her eyes sweeping across them all. Then, slowly, she turned to Kaiser.
He was the most capable among them. The most talented. The one whose power came closest to matching Ayumu's own. But on his face was an expression that gave Vesta pause.
Regret.
Deep, heavy regret—the kind that has no easy words. He had not been fast enough today. He had not taken down the serpent. Ayumu had done it instead, effortlessly stepping into the role of protector, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Vesta studied him for a long moment. Then it said, quietly, "I know you are feeling many complicated emotions, young Black Magis." Its gaze flicked briefly to Azhdar. "It doesn't help that the lizard always whispers nonsense in your ears."
Azhdar hissed in protest, small flames licking briefly at the corners of his mouth, illuminating the room in a brief, reddish glow.
"Hmph." Vesta's small form flickered slightly, her feathers settling. Then she turned her ancient gaze back to Kaiser. "The lizard might not have explained things to you fully, but the emotions you feel for Ayumu are not something recent. They are unfinished emotions—passed down through generations."
Kaiser's brow furrowed. Confusion rippled across his sharp features.
"But I suppose that is something you must discover for yourself." Vesta's voice softened, almost kindly. "I hope you all can keep my master safe."
And then, with a faint shimmer of golden light, the tiny phoenix vanished.
Azhdar let out a satisfied humph the moment Vesta disappeared—but his smugness lasted only a heartbeat. He felt the weight of Kaiser's gaze fall upon him like a blade.
"What?" Azhdar's voice wavered. "Wait—"
Kaiser's hand shot out and grabbed the small wyvern by the throat. He lifted him slightly and gave him a sharp shake.
"There is something you are not telling me." Kaiser's voice was low, dangerous. "Tell me now, Azhdar."
"You fiend!" Azhdar squirmed, his small claws scrambling against Kaiser's grip. "How dare you treat your spirit like this!" He said it loudly, perhaps hoping shame would loosen Kaiser's hold.
It did not.
"What does Vesta mean," Kaiser growled, each word slow and precise, "by 'unfinished emotions'?"
Azhdar stopped struggling for a moment. His ancient eyes met Kaiser's. Then he looked away.
"I cannot tell you," the wyvern said quietly. "It is something you must figure out yourself. We spirits do not interfere with the hearts of our masters."
Kaiser stared at him for a long, tense moment. Then, with a frustrated exhale, he released his grip.
Azhdar did not linger. He vanished instantly—dissolving into shadow like smoke fleeing a flame—clearly eager to escape his master's wrath.
Kaiser stood alone in the corner of the common room, his chest heaving. Anger coiled through him like a living thing, gnawing at his insides. He hated this—this not knowing. He had always been the best at everything. The brightest. The strongest. Knowledge came to him easily, and what did not, he seized.
But now? Now he felt complicated emotions—all of them tangled and sharp—and all of them had appeared in the short time since he met Ayumu.
No woman had ever swayed him before. He had seen beauties throw themselves at noble lords, had even had women strip naked before him in offering, their intentions clear. He had felt nothing. Less than nothing.
And yet.
A simple smile from Ayumu—just a curve of her lips, a warmth in her eyes—caused his temperature to rise. Made him feel...shy.
It was unbecoming. Humiliating. Wrong for a Black Magis of his standing.
Kaiser could not take it anymore.
He turned on his heel and left the common room, the door swinging shut behind him.
Inside the common room, the remaining members sat in awkward silence. The fire crackled. The ship creaked. And Ayumu—blessedly, impossibly—slept on, not even flinching at the noise.
Drobar broke the silence first. "Whew... what just happened?"
Fifi crossed his arms, his earlier sickness forgotten in the wake of fresh gossip. "I am curious about what the divine spirits meant."
Levain nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. I wonder what they were talking about."
Rhea sighed—a long, suffering sound that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. She looked at the men around her with undisguised pity.
"Don't you fools learn the history of how we magis from Graitan became part of Epsos?"
Fifi's face flushed with indignation. "We know history! What does that have to do with Ayumu and Kaiser?"
Rhea sighed again, heavier this time. "Lady Theana of the Velmiar family," she said slowly, as if speaking to children, "and Lord Rokhan of the Wrath family."
Blank stares.
Rhea groaned and threw her hands in the air with frustration. Useless. These people are utterly useless.
"Both the late Lady Theana and Lord Rokhan were involved romantically," she explained, her voice clipped. "But both died inevitable deaths. Their longing feelings for each other were never resolved. Most likely, those emotions passed down to Kaiser and Ayumu. That is what the divine spirits were talking about."
Understanding dawned on the two magis like a slow sunrise.
"Oooohhh," said Fifi and Levain together.
Drobar and Osmond exchanged confused glances. As non-magis, this world of inherited emotions and ancient grudges was far beyond them.
Fifi tilted his head. "But then why does Lord Kaiser have to be angry? Doesn't this mean Lady Ayumu is supposed to be his long-lost love? Isn't that a good thing?"
Levain nodded in earnest agreement.
Rhea stared at them both as if they had grown second heads. "This shows that you men have no experience in dating. Pathetic."
The words struck Levain like a hammer to the skull. "That—that is not true, Miss Rhea!" His voice rose in protest. "Take back what you said!"
Fifi puffed out his chest. "I'll let you know that back in Rodh, the girls go crazy for me, okay? They approach me for my wisdom."
Drobar snorted loudly. "You mean they ask you where you got those fairy pyjamas so they can buy a pair for themselves."
Fifi's face turned crimson. "Why, you—!"
In seconds, the common room erupted into chaos. Fifi lunged at Drobar. Drobar laughed and caught him by the shoulders. Levain tried to play peacemaker but only got jostled in the process. Osmond watched quietly, stepping back to avoid flying elbows.
And through it all—the shouting, the scuffling, the ruckus—Ayumu remained in perfect, undisturbed slumber, wrapped in her blankets by the fire. Her breathing was slow and even. Her face was peaceful.
It was as if she had entered a kind of hibernation, utterly unreachable by the noisy world around her.