“This is the place.”

  Arriving in Thalassopetris, Niko stopped in front of a multi-storied building, dozens of rooms housed on its many floors. It was a cramped space and clearly not any sort of high-class residence. Insula is what it was called—a shared living space as well as yet another thing that Salcaeli introduced to the nations under it.

  “My patient lives on the fifth floor,” Niko said, gesturing to the highest floor of the building. “Can you two wait for me out here? I’ll be quick; I promise. After that, we can head back.”

  Lilieth and Sibeiya had no qualms with the request. They gave their approval and watched as Niko stepped onto a small platform fenced with guardrails at the side of the building. He pulled a lever, and the entire platform raised upwards, making loud creaking noises all the way to his stop.

  “That doesn’t seem safe,” Sibeiya noted. “What a strange contraption.”

  Lilieth nodded, a beat of silence following.

  “... What? Not going to explain?” Sibeiya asked.

  “Explain what?”

  “Thought you’d be annoying and go into a long, drawn-out explanation about what that thing is and which stooge came up with the absurd idea to make it—seemed like a hobby of yours.”

  “It is not a hobby of mine to have to constantly explain things to an idiot; thank you very much.”

  “I was talking about you being annoying.”

  Lilieth sucked in a breath, calming her own nerves. “... It’s a lift. It lifts you up higher. Satisfied?”

  “What’s got you so cranky?”

  “You bloody started it.”

  Sibeiya sniffed. “You don’t really strike me as the type to use that kinda language.”

  Lilieth tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem like—I don’t know—the prim and proper type. ‘Bloody’ isn’t the kinda word I’d expect you to say is all.”

  Lilieth’s eyes widened a bit. The desert girl was right. How hasn’t Lilieth noticed sooner?

  Bloody—it was a curse word that she’d never used before. In fact, she’d only recently started using it. It was then that she realized: there was someone who did use the term quite often.

  Markosh, the Martialmage who almost killed her ... no, the Martialmage that she killed—he used that word a lot. And now, almost as if it was natural, she found it occasionally slipping into her own lexicon as well.

  Could it also have been tied to her being more irritable as of late? Was she not only mimicking his spells but also parts of his character?

  “...”

  For some reason, the thought made Lilieth uncomfortable. She shook her head. It was best not to think about it in the meantime.

  “It’s just a word,” Lilieth replied to Sibeiya then turned to the building. “At any rate, that lift is of Salcaelite design. The ones they have in Venatica are far better.” She paused briefly. “And quieter. I’d rather take the stairs though.”

  “Why? You can fly, yeah?”

  “I ...” Lilieth hesitated. “I’m not sure I can anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t use the Bedivere spell,” Lilieth explained. “I don’t know what happened, but I can’t cast it anymore. Something must have gone wrong. There’s too much I don’t know about this spell-mimicking.”

  “Hmm…” Sibeiya sighed. “Why don’t you try taking my spell?”

  Lilieth raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”

  “Experience is king. If you don’t know how your mimicry works, best way is to try, yeah? Try stealing a spell from me.”

  “And ... you’re alright with me doing that? For all we know, if I steal your spell, you might not be able to use it anymore.”

  The desert girl shrugged. “I can fight just fine without my spells.”

  Lilieth huffed. Bloody Shebauno. “Alright, what spells can you use?”

  “Scissor and Lampshade,” Sibeiya replied. “You can try taking Lampshade if you want. I think it’s pretty useless.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It tells me if someone’s used a spell near me.”

  “That sounds plenty useful.”

  “Is it? It doesn’t even let me know who used the spell or where. I’ve never found a use for it, so I won’t miss it.”

  Lilieth stared at Sibeiya incredulously. She could use that spell to keep her guard up and know if an attack was potentially coming. Even better, it sounded like a great spell to use when fighting against an Illusionmage; they could omit their chants, so you could never really tell whether or not they were using a spell on you.

  But it was probably a lost cause to try and convince Sibeiya of that, so instead, Lilieth closed her eyes and focused incredibly hard. She waited for a few seconds, but nothing happened.

  “Can you try using the spell first?” Lilieth asked. “Maybe I need to see it be used before I can copy it.”

  Sibeiya shrugged again. “Alright. [Lampshade].”

  Visibly, it didn’t seem like anything had changed. Nevertheless, Lilieth closed her eyes and tried to copy the spell again. She tried to remember the feeling of using Bedivere and Enhance Strength I for the first time. She even started clenching her fists.

  “... You look ridiculous right now, just as an aside.”

  “Quiet, please.”

  She tried chanting the spell’s name several times, but ... nothing. Eventually, she gave up and let out the breath she was holding in.

  “... [Enhance Strength I].”

  Lilieth felt the spell activate. That meant that it was only Bedivere that was affected and not the other spells she’d copied. It wasn’t a case of her losing the ability to cast magic entirely.

  “There has to be some sort of condition I need to meet first,” Lilieth muttered, deactivating Enhance Strength I. “... Or maybe Lampshade is already active? Sibeiya, what does it usually feel like when you use it?”

  “Like nothing, really. But when someone uses a spell nearby, I hear something.”

  The young mage closed her eyes and tried to listen for anything. She immediately perked up.

  “Wait, wait! I hear something! I think it’s working!” Lilieth said. “It’s some sort of ... revving noise. I think I actually managed to copy Lampshade!”

  “Uh, you’re not supposed to hear a revving noise. It’s more like the sound of a bell.”

  “Uh, is that right? Wait, then what is that revving noise?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  A beat of silence. The noise was getting louder and louder.

  “Oh,” Sibeiya said. “I hear it, too.”

  “Look out, look out!”

  An unfamiliar voice yelled out. The two girls turned to see something speeding towards them—a girl on a metal bike. They both jumped to the side, narrowly evading the vehicle.

  The girl on the bike yelped as she tumbled over, rolling across the ground as her ride skidded to a stop, bits and pieces of metal ejecting themselves from it.

  “Ow, ow ...” the girl groaned as she stood up. Her hair was pale blonde, tied into a complicated braid adorned with a top hat, and she wore round-framed brass goggles on her face. Judging from the jacket bodice and the conical skirt she wore, she seemed to be a Salcaelite woman. Accessories and holsters that contained various eccentric tools, all made from brass, decorated her attire.

  “Watch it!” Sibeiya barked at her.

  “Ah! Sorry, so sorry!” The woman dusted herself off quickly, fixed her hat in place, and removed her goggles, revealing bright green eyes. “I didn’t realize the streets would be so packed today! I was testing out my baby, you see.”

  “Your ... baby?” Lilieth asked.

  “Yep! My pride and joy!” She turned to the metal bike on the ground.

  Lilieth had never seen such a vehicle before. It looked similar to a Salcaelite engine-coach, what with all the bobs and rotating gears that peeked out from underneath the metal plates that made up its chassis. Unlike the engine-coaches that were made with sleek, clean designs in mind, the bike felt more cobbled together, like a messy patchwork of metal threatening to unravel into hundreds of pieces on the spot. It was impressive that it held together, nonetheless.

  “She’s a prototype, so she’s not very stable yet—some minor calibration issues to iron out. Good performance so far though, don’t you agree?”

  “You almost ran us over!” Sibeiya exclaimed.

  “Ah, right! I forgot to introduce myself!”

  “Don’t just gloss over what I said!”

  The woman pulled out a card from her jacket and presented it to the girls. “I am Sandrine Isabeau Artois! Edhel Institute, College of Brass, junior member, hi.”

  Lilieth accepted the card, which displayed her face and full name. A standard ID—it seemed authentic as far as the young mage could tell.

  “Allow me to compensate you for the inconvenience!” Sandrine dug into the satchel that hung around her waist.

  “There’s no need for compensation,” Lilieth said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Sibeiya chimed in.

  “It’s not like she actually hit us.”

  “Ah, but compensation must be paid nevertheless! I am not one who enjoys owing anyone anything, so I’d rather not take any chances for the sake of my own conscience!”

  The Salcaelite woman took out a strange-looking brass beetle from her satchel. She wound up a key on its back and set it on the ground. The beetle whirred to life and began crawling across the ground.

  “The Dustbug!” Sandrine waved her hands with a performative flair. “Removes dust, crumbs, and other filth from hard-to-reach places!”

  “It just removed itself,” Sibeiya said as they watched the Dustbug fall into a canal.

  Sandrine cleared her throat then searched through her satchel again. “Minor calibration issue—that was a prototype anyway. How about this then!” She took out a cube and pressed a button on one of its faces. A translucent image of a teacup appeared on top. “Portable illusion projector! Now you can pretend you’re holding a teacup!”

  “Oh!” Lilieth exclaimed, eyes bright with ideas. “That sounds useful. What else can it make illusions of?”

  “Uh, just a teacup. I haven’t figured out how to make it show other things yet. Minor calibration issue.”

  “Your head might have a minor issue, too,” Sibeiya said. Lilieth elbowed her.

  The Salcaelite lady put the cube away and searched around some more. Lilieth and Sibeiya looked at each other, confused at the entire interaction.

  “Ah! What about this then!” An intricate-looking compass sat snug in her hands. “This, right here, is a resonance compass! Ever had to find a duplicate of a magical tool before but couldn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re in luck! This resonance compass reads mana signatures, breaks them down, then—” she tapped the glass, “—the little arrow here points towards the nearest object that matches that signature. Copies, sister-models, derivatives—even modified versions if they weren’t done too sloppily.”

  “That ... actually sounds useful,” Lilieth said. “How do you use it?”

  “Oh, it requires an entire lab and a number of other tools to start the resonation process, and it would likely take several months. I’m also probably the only one who can do it.”

  Lilieth stared at Sandrine. “Then what’s the point of giving this to us if we can’t use it?”

  “You know, I just realized that.” The lady scratched the strap of her goggles then pushed a button on the side of the compass. The needle immediately readjusted, spinning wildly before stopping. “It does have a function that allows it to point to the nearest source of mana. That’s kind of boring though.”

  “That’s just Lampshade,” Lilieth muttered.

  Sandrine dug through her satchel again. “Give me a minute, I’m sure there’s something here ...”

  “You know what? We’ll take the compass,” Lilieth said, picking up the contraption from Sandrine’s hands. “Thank you.”

  “You sure? I have loads more magic items here to—”

  “This is exactly what I need right now; no worries,” Lilieth laughed nervously.

  “Wait, what about me?” Sibeiya said. Lilieth elbowed her.

  The lady scratched her goggles again. “Well, if you say so. Conscience relieved!” She quickly propped her metal bike back up and got on. She fiddled with buttons and dials splayed across its dashboard, and the machine roared to life, its many metal parts clinking against each other. “Then, until we meet again, new friends!”

  With a rev, she drove off, kicking up a dust cloud in her wake. After rounding a corner, she was gone, just like that.

  “I didn’t get anything from that,” Sibeiya commented, dissatisfaction evident in her voice.

  “I’ll buy you slow-roasted lamb later.”

  “Fine. Who was she anyways?”

  Lilieth looked at the card Sandrine gave. “A member of the Edhel Institute, one of the biggest organizations in Salcaeli. They worship Arano the Enigma, God of Secrets, so their modus operandi is the unraveling of all mysteries. They’re primarily historians and archeologists, but there are also people like her: magical tool researchers.”

  “How do you even know all of this?”

  “I read. More importantly, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lilieth turned to her. “About that duel we agreed on with Master Spearman.”

  “Huh? Oh, right—that.”

  Lilieth and Sibeiya’s relationship had been quite thorny since they met. It had gotten to the point that even Spearman felt the need to propose a formal duel to “settle their differences”. The wyvern attack delayed that duel, and with all that had happened so far, Lilieth dared to believe that they were somehow on more amicable terms.

  “Master Spearman said that the person who loses the duels will be penalized,” Lilieth continued. “But, according to the rules he gave, there wouldn’t really be any drawbacks if we just decide not to go through with the duels.”

  Sibeiya pondered for a moment. “Huh... Now that you mention it, Master must’ve thought we were idiots who wouldn’t catch that. Heh.”

  “... Did you catch it?”

  The desert girl wrinkled her nose and turned away. “Fine. I admit that I might have been a little … all up in my head.” She sighed. “Maybe that was the point. He must’ve said it ‘cus he knew I’d get worked up and shit.”

  “Would he be that insightful?” Lilieth asked.

  “Who knows? The man’s a black box. Can’t be sure of anything with him.”

  “... So, you agree not to go through with the duels?”

  Sibeiya turned to look at her. “Do you think I’d back away from a fight anyway?”

  “No, but you have to admit, this is all very petty, isn’t it?”

  The desert girl scoffed. “What? Chicken?”

  “That’s not—” Lilieth took a breath. She can be so annoying ...

  Then, to the young mage’s surprise, Sibeiya spoke. “Well, I’m not in a dueling mood at the moment. Consider yourself lucky.”

  Lilieth blinked. “That’s it?”

  Sibeiya raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get used to it.”

  The young mage was at a loss for words at that moment. She didn’t know that Sibeiya was capable of being nice.

  “What’s taking Niko so long?” the desert girl said before Lilieth could think about anything else. “He said he’d be quick. We should check it out.”

  “Sir Niko told us to wait here.” Sibeiya, much to Lilieth’s dismay, was already finishing her walk to the lift and pressing a button to call it down.

  “So?” she replied. “What if something happened, yeah? This ain’t exactly the safest neighborhood.”

  Seeing as how Sibeiya wasn’t going to listen, Lilieth ran after her and entered the lift as well. The desert girl tinkered around with the levers until she finally found the one that made it move upwards. The young mage closed her eyes and gripped the guard rails a little too tightly, breath held.

  “Scared of heights?” Sibeiya asked.

  “No.”

  Sibeiya scoffed but didn’t say anything else until they reached the top. Lilieth carefully crossed the boundary between the lift and the upper hall, where they were greeted with rows of doors.

  “Which one of these is the one Niko is in?”.

  “Don’t start opening random doors, alright?” Lilieth said.

  The two of them walked—Lilieth keeping herself far away from the side that overlooked the street below—until they arrived at an open door. The young mage could hear Niko’s gentle voice inside.

  “Ah, there he is,” Sibeiya said as she leaned against the doorway, looking inside with her arms crossed. “What’s taking you so long? We almost got run over by some weird chick, yeah?”

  Lilieth peered in, seeing Niko next to a bedside. His bag was laid out beside him with all sorts of medical tools and potions inside. Inside was a bedridden child and a middle-aged woman standing nearby, worry on her face.

  Lilieth’s eyes slowly widened, like she’d just seen a ghost.

  “Sibeiya? Lilieth? What are you doing here? And did you just say you almost got run over?”

  “Yeah! And you said you’d be quick, so we’re here to check up on you.”

  “I was just finishing up.” The Healmage turned to the older woman. “Oh, right, let me introduce you. Those are Sibeiya and Lilieth; they accompanied me here. And these two here are ...”

  The woman nodded to the two girls. “I’m Tethys Lytras. This is my daughter, Irene. You must be the doctor’s friends,” she said with a tired voice, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  Sibeiya simply waved back as if that was at all a polite return of a greeting.

  And Lilieth couldn’t move.

  She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. She even tried to wave like Sibeiya did, but her body was tense. Sibeiya noticed Lilieth’s reaction.

  “... You alright?” Sibeiya asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.

  But Lilieth’s eyes were locked on the woman and child. She’d never met them before, of course. This was the very first time Lilieth Lasvenn had ever seen them with her own eyes.

  But she knew who they were even before they spoke their names.

  “Is something the matter, miss?” Tethys asked, growing concerned.

  Even her voice sounded just as beautiful as she remembered.

  “Tethys ...” Lilieth breathed out, unable to help herself, and she found her own heart overcome with emotions.

  Emotions that didn’t belong to her.

  In some cruel twist of fate, she found herself face-to-face with Tethys and Irene—the wife and daughter of Markosh, the man she killed with her own hands.