Morning had barely settled over Vistali when a black truck rolled to a stop in front of the orphanage gates.
The engine idled softly.
Inside, a man leaned back in the driver's seat, one boot resting against the dashboard. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed most of his face, though the faint scar across his jaw caught the light.
"What are those boys doing…" he muttered lazily, watching the back courtyard from a distance.
He closed his eyes.
He wasn't physically present for protection.
He didn't need to be.
Threads — invisible, intangible — extended from his consciousness outward. Each one tethered to a life he monitored.
Six threads.
Then—
One snapped.
His eyes opened instantly.
"…What?"
Another flickered.
His breathing slowed.
He reached out, connecting his awareness to one of the remaining threads. His vision shifted.
Through borrowed sight, he saw them.
A boy with long black hair.
A girl with black and red strands flowing behind her.
Blood suspended in the air.
Then—
Static.
The connection severed violently.
The remaining threads vanished.
Gone.
All of them.
Silence filled the truck.
The man's jaw tightened beneath the shadow of his hat.
"…I'm not getting paid enough for this."
He turned the key.
The engine roared.
Without another glance at the orphanage, he drove away.
Behind the orphanage, Lyra's breathing was uneven.
The courtyard felt different now.
Empty.
Wrong.
She turned and ran toward the building, panic tightening her chest.
But before she could reach the door—
A hand caught her wrist.
She spun.
"Leave me alone, you look alike!" she shouted.
Kael blinked.
"Look alike…" he repeated quietly, as if tasting the words.
He lowered his voice.
"Can you keep what you just saw… a secret?"
"Why would I listen to you?" she snapped, finally looking directly into his eyes.
They were identical.
Too identical.
"Because," he replied calmly, "I just saved you."
"No one told you to intervene."
Her voice trembled — not with anger, but confusion.
She pulled her wrist free and turned toward the entrance.
Her hand touched the door handle.
Then she paused.
"…Don't worry," she said without facing him. "I won't tell."
And she ran inside.
Kael stood alone in the courtyard.
Wind brushed against his hair.
He exhaled slowly.
"I guess I have to stop posing as her," he murmured.
He glanced down at his own slender frame.
"…Though that's impossible until she grows into herself."
A faint smirk crossed his lips before fading.
He stepped inside.
At the center of Vistali stood a mansion far too grand for a village of its size.
White stone pillars.
Tall iron gates.
Windows polished to a mirror sheen.
The truck rolled to a stop outside.
The driver stepped out, adjusting his coat and straightening his posture. Whatever laziness he carried earlier vanished instantly.
Inside, the mansion smelled of polished wood and incense.
He walked down a long corridor.
Halfway through, he stopped.
A young girl with silver hair stood by a window. Morning light illuminated her golden eyes, giving her an almost ethereal presence.
"Good morning, Uncle," she said politely.
"Good morning, my lady," he replied with a respectful bow. "Have you seen the boss?"
"Father is in the storage room," she answered softly.
Seris Daincrest watched him walk away, her expression unreadable.
The storage room was dimly lit.
Shelves lined the walls — not of food or supplies.
But artifacts.
Strange objects.
Fragments of bone.
Old books sealed in chains.
Standing in the center was a tall man dressed in dark formal attire, his presence heavy enough to suffocate the air itself.
Lord Vaelor Daincrest.
Beside him stood a pale young boy with silver-blonde hair and sharp, calculating eyes.
Orin Vale.
"How were the children?" Vaelor asked without turning.
"I didn't go in with them," the driver replied carefully.
Vaelor's gaze shifted slightly.
"Where are the rest?"
"They were… killed. Or something. I don't know," the driver stammered.
Orin rose from his seated position.
"Those boys were worthless," he said calmly. "But since our lord found them useful… let's see what happened."
He stepped forward and placed his palm against the driver's chest.
A pulse of energy flowed through him.
The driver's eyes glazed over.
The room filled with projected memory—
The courtyard.
Kael.
Lyra.
Blood suspended.
Bodies shattering.
Silence.
The vision ended.
Orin slowly withdrew his hand.
He said nothing.
Vaelor began to laugh.
Low.
Cold.
Delighted.
"Well now…" he murmured.
His eyes gleamed with twisted amusement.
"These two girls…"
He smiled darkly.
"Will be mine."
He had mistaken Kael for female.
But it did not matter.
Vaelor had found something far more valuable than six expendable boys.
He had found power.
And he intended to claim it.