Rai strolled along the quiet veranda beside the inner garden, the gentle scent of blossoms following her steps as she made her way toward her chambers. The moment was calm—until a sudden embrace caught her off guard.
The girl had the same silken white hair and rich, dark skin as Lia, but her eyes were a curious green, and her frame was smaller—still carrying the softness of early adolescence.
"Rai!" she chimed, clinging to her. "Now that I finally have your attention, you did promise to see my new project when you got back!"
Rai smiled and returned the hug with familiar affection. "Hey, little Thia. Of course—how could I forget?"
Despite the nickname, there was no denying Thia's brilliance. She was thirteen—young, yes—but with a mind centuries ahead of her age. And Rai, older by many decades, often forgot just how quickly Thia danced between childlike enthusiasm and unnerving maturity.
"Tell me," Rai added, eyeing her knowingly, "have you seen the boy your sister's taken an interest in?"
Thia's face bloomed with a sly smile. And then—mischief.
"Oh no," Rai said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What did you do?"
"Nothing~," Thia replied, voice light as she twirled away.
"Nothing?" Rai repeated, suspicion mounting.
But Thia was already gone, her laughter trailing behind her.
Rai sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "She's a genius," she muttered. "And she can be incredibly mature. But stars help me… she's still very much thirteen."
Elsewhere, under a sky kissed by fading sunlight, Lia and Myles sat on the edge of a cliff. The vast expanse before them rolled with wind, whispering through the trees and rocks below.
Myles spoke suddenly, his voice low. "It's… breathtaking. Reminds me a little of home."
Lia, her head resting gently on his shoulder, stirred at his words. "Home? How so?" Her voice brimmed with curiosity—and a quiet excitement. Any window into his past was a treasure.
He let out a soft breath. "I wasn't one to go out much. But when I did… I'd find places like this. I'd sit with the breeze, let it carry my thoughts."
"What would you think about?" she asked, almost a whisper now.
A pause.
"I'd think about… when I'd meet someone like you," he said finally. "The small, quiet moments we'd share. Starting a…"
He trailed off, offering her a faint, wistful smile instead.
She moved closer, resting her head against his chest, arms curling around him. "Were you alone, back in this 'home' of yours?"
Myles turned his gaze to the horizon, eyes reflecting the dusky sky. "No. I had my uncle."
A silence passed between them, not heavy—just thoughtful.
"Your memories… they're still scattered, aren't they?" Lia asked softly.
"Yeah," he said. "But I remember what I felt. Most of it was darkness… but there were moments. Little beams of light. And I think—I held on to them. The way I'm holding on now."
"Myles, I would love to become a beam of light in your life, but one that will stay to the end." She says softly.
Myles turns to her, stroking her head. "You already are, but I can not give in not yet." He thinks to himself.
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the last of its golden rays surrendered to the quiet hush of night. Lia had long since fallen asleep, her breathing steady, her head resting softly against Myles. Gently, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the vehicle, laying her in the seat with surprising ease.
For someone of her stature, she was light—almost weightless. Myles found this oddly amusing, and a rare, genuine smile crept across his face.
He climbed to the top of the vehicle, letting the breeze sweep through his hair as the craft began its smooth, automatic course back to the mansion. The peace didn't last.
He tensed.
A presence stirred behind him—two, in fact.
"Danger," he murmured under his breath, already rising to his feet.
Behind him stood a man and a woman, cloaked in shadows beneath the pale shimmer of twin moons. Their weapons glistened with deadly promise. The man was a large, imposing figure—broad-shouldered and thickly muscled—yet he moved with an uncanny lightness, adorned with two massive gauntlets. The woman beside him was his opposite—slender, poised, and no less dangerous. A sleek, curved scythe rested in her grip.
Myles glanced toward the vehicle's interior. Lia remained asleep, unaware.
He was grateful for that.
"Let me protect you, too," he whispered, eyes narrowing.
He extended his hand—and in a sudden flare of black flame, a jet-black sword emerged from the void, humming with raw energy. Myles took a defensive stance, blade pointed at his opponents.
The man moved first. The woman, unbothered, sat cross-legged and calmly laid her scythe across her lap, as if this were just a formality.
"You play fair," Myles said with a quiet grin, sidestepping the thunderous swing of a gauntleted fist. He countered, slashing at the man's back—but the brute turned with startling precision and blocked it effortlessly.
Myles staggered back, surprised.
The man laughed. "Myles Blasck. I tip my hat to you." He raised his gauntlets proudly. "That's the first time you've held a real sword, isn't it? Yet you managed to scratch these beauties. Nearly indestructible alloy, and you left a mark."
He grinned wider.
"You're a frightening one."
Myles readied himself—but the man vanished from view. In the next instant, a bone-cracking blow slammed into Myles' side, launching him across the air like a ragdoll.
"What's the matter? Can't keep up?" the man jeered.
Myles coughed, blood spattering his lips. He rose, slowly, taking his stance again. The brute lunged again—but this time, Myles parried.
Their weapons clashed, sending shockwaves through the air. The gusts whipped the woman's hair around her face as she remained seated, unmoved.
"How do you know my name?" Myles demanded between gritted teeth.
"Why does it matter?" the man replied.
A pulse of energy surged from the man's chest into his gauntlets. With a roar, he struck Myles squarely in the ribs. The blow crushed bone—his own sword driven into him by the force, biting into skin and tearing through flesh.
Myles collapsed in a heap, blood pooling beneath him. The man raised a gauntlet to finish him off.
Then—flames.
An explosion of fire engulfed the attacker, searing through metal and flesh alike. The gauntlet hissed and cracked from the heat.
The man screamed.
Myles stood behind him—unscathed.
In one clean motion, he swung his blade—and the man's head fell from his shoulders.
Silence.
Myles stared at his left hand, still smoldering with residual flame. His expression unreadable.
"Am I really human?" he whispered. "Or do I just tell myself that?"
But there was no time to ponder. The woman made her move—silent and fast. Her scythe struck from behind, its tip piercing Myles' shoulder. He grunted, turned, and shoved her back with a fiery burst.
He burned the wound closed without hesitation.
Then, with his uninjured arm, he summoned a second sword—twin blades now burning in his hands.
The woman unleashed a concentrated beam of energy toward him. Myles blocked, only to find her instantly behind him, scythe poised to finish the job.
But he moved—just enough.
Pivoting on one foot, he spun with both blades, cutting through the beam and slashing at her position. The woman vanished just in time.
He remained on edge, senses sharpened.
"I've always wanted to try that," he muttered with a half-smile.
Suddenly—like lightning—the scythe arced toward his throat.
But Myles shifted, vanished behind her, and drove both swords through her chest and abdomen.
"It was you or me," he said coldly. "And I chose me."
He raised a hand. Flame surged. The bodies turned to ash, and with them, the blood that stained the vehicle.
In a sleek, futuristic room, a large monitor displayed the aftermath of the battle. Thia stood watching, her green eyes glowing faintly, expression unreadable.
"Not bad," she murmured. "But he needs to be better."
Behind her stood a dark-skinned woman with curly hair—grown, poised, and formidable in presence. Yet she regarded the much younger Thia with deference, almost reverence.
Thia turned to her. "You'll make sure of that."
"Yes, Mother," the woman replied, bowing her head.