At the edge of the arena, within a pavilion reserved for the Institute's elite, two figures observed the match's conclusion.
If Ian were here, he would recognize them instantly.
Volon, the guy who he saw at the Arcane Engineering ball, he stood at the edge of the pavilion, arms crossed as he watched the match come to an end.
Beside Volon stood Urimaer, the one who had saved Ian and Myrra at Efsagroth. Both were among the top five in the Institute's rankings.
Volon exhaled. "Well, that's that. No surprises."
Urimaer's gaze lingered on the arena floor but he didn't say anything.
Volon smirked. "Obviously. Nindrol's good, but against Oncith? He never really had a chance. The moment Oncith stopped playing around, it was over."
Urimaer crossed his arms. "Still, he pushed him close."
Volon shrugged. "Sure. But close isn't enough."
He glanced around at the empty pavilion. "Seems like it's just us today."
"Rallientha is still at the Entropic Divide," Urimaer replied. "And Axilya…"
Volon chuckled. "Yeah, she didn't even bother." He tilted his head, stretching his shoulders. "They put all five of us in the same ranking, but let's be honest, if the four of us fought together, we still wouldn't be able to take her down."
Urimaer didn't argue. There was no need.
A silence hung between them for a moment before Volon finally pushed himself away from the railing. "Well, no point standing around. I'll catch you later."
Urimaer just gave a slight nod.
With that, they parted ways, leaving the pavilion behind, their conversation lingering in the air.
At night, Enira strode through the quiet, lamplit streets of Ian Themar's wealthiest district, her every step fluid and deliberate. The grand estate before her was an opulent display of power, one belonging to a city council member she knew.
She wore a full black robe, its high-waisted belt cinching tightly, accentuating an almost unnatural silhouette. The fabric should have hidden her figure, yet it didn't. Every movement carried an effortless grace, the material flowing like liquid around her, yet somehow unable to obscure the perfection beneath. The belt emphasized her impossibly narrow waist, the smooth curve of her hips, the long, sculpted lines of her legs occasionally glimpsed through subtle shifts in the robe's heavy folds.
Two guards stood at the entrance, their uniforms pristine, their expressions impassive. As she approached, they straightened instinctively.
"May I know your name, Esteemed Guest?" one of them asked.
"Enira."
A brief verification. A nod of approval.
"You may enter."
She passed without hesitation, her golden eyes unreadable, her presence lingering even after she had stepped through the grand entrance.
Inside, the estate was alive with soft music, the murmur of conversation, and the clink of delicate glasses. The grand hall stretched before her, filled with guests in finely tailored suits and opulent gowns. Some wore elaborate masks, their identities hidden beneath artistry and gold. Yet, despite the extravagance surrounding her, Enira remained distinct, her presence impossible to ignore.
Her golden hair, flowing over her back in waves, caught the light in a way that made it seem almost otherworldly. Her eyes, luminous and sharp, scanned the room with quiet purpose. Whispers followed her movements, guests exchanging hushed words as they stole glances in her direction.
A smooth, refined voice cut through the murmur of the crowd.
"Are you new here, young lady?"
Enira turned toward the source, her golden eyes meeting the gaze of a tall elven man. He was young, or at least appeared so, with the ageless grace of his kind. His features were sharp, elegant, with high cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted jawline. His brown hair was gathered loosely at the nape, a few strands falling artfully across his forehead. Dressed in a deep blue coat embroidered with subtle silver patterns, he carried himself with effortless poise, but there was something else about him.
A feeling.
Not quite hostile, not quite welcoming. It was as if he was studying her, assessing, peeling away layers unseen by others.
Enira maintained her calm expression. "I suppose that depends on what you mean by 'new.'"
The elf's lips curled into a slight smile. "A clever answer. But I don't recall seeing you at these gatherings before. I am Vulas Herrie."
Herrie.
The name clicked instantly. A relative of Councilman Herrie.
Enira nodded slightly, offering no introduction of her own. Vulas didn't seem offended. If anything, his smile deepened, as if he found her silence amusing.
"Come," he said, gesturing with a graceful motion. "Allow me to introduce you to some people."
Enira hesitated. She hadn't come here for socializing. But this was undoubtedly the place the Quiet Testament had instructed her to go.
For now, she went with the flow.
Vulas led her through the hall, weaving past elegantly dressed guests who paused in their conversations to glance her way. He introduced her to a few individuals, wealthy merchants, scholars, a few socialites. They exchanged pleasantries, but Enira spoke little, careful not to reveal more than necessary.
Through it all, Vulas watched her. Not overtly, but she could feel his gaze lingering.
Then, amid the soft hum of conversation and laughter, a servant approached. A young woman in a simple black-and-white uniform, bowing slightly before speaking in a respectful tone.
"Miss Enira, the host has requested your presence inside."
Enira felt Vulas' gaze on her as she turned away, her golden hair catching the dim light as she moved.
The moment she stepped through the doors, the atmosphere shifted. The distant murmur of the gathering faded, replaced by something heavier, an almost suffocating stillness.
Inside, Councilman Herrie stood rigid, his hands clenched at his sides. His face was pale, his breath uneven. His gaze remained fixed on the woman sitting in front of him.
The woman lounged on an ornate sofa, legs crossed, her posture effortlessly inviting. Soft waves of dark hair framed delicate features, her lips curved in an unreadable smile. There was something inherently inviting about her, and her presence, subtle, alluring, an unspoken promise in the way she carried herself.
Her dress was dark, its fabric shimmering like liquid obsidian, cut daringly to reveal smooth, toned legs that shifted as she moved. Her figure was sinuous, sculpted perfection wrapped in allure, curves that defied reason yet held an undeniable elegance.
Enira was the opposite. Where the woman's allure was soft and inviting, Enira's was raw, almost otherworldly and holy, an inescapable presence that commanded attention without effort.
And then there were her eyes.
Deep crimson, glowing faintly in the dim light, their intensity almost hypnotic. Unlike the rest of her, which exuded softness and warmth, her gaze held something deeper, an amusement that invited, a knowing look that lingered, drawing others in without them realizing.
And yet, despite everything, Councilman Herrie could not bear to meet her gaze. His face was pale, his breaths shallow, hands twitching at his sides. It wasn't mere fear, it was something deeper. A reverence tainted with horror.
If Ian were here, he would recognize her instantly, the same woman who had stood by Carion's side in Efsagroth.
She spoke, her voice both sweet and laced with something deeper, something that pulled at the edges of one's mind. "Are you the one who managed to absorb Luminis Sangua?"
Enira met her gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur. Warmth curled around her mind, gentle yet inescapable, like sinking into a dream too deep to wake from.
Then, faint golden light shimmered from her bones, pushing back against the influence. But it wasn't enough. The pull remained, curling around her mind like unseen tendrils.
And then, another presence.
A faint warmth stirred within her, the mark Zephar Petals had planted beginning to surface. Enira felt it rising, ready to break through, too soon, too exposed. If it manifested now, there was no telling what the woman before her would realize.
But before it could fully emerge, something else flared to life.
A gentle warmth spread along her spine, like a breeze stirring through untouched stillness. The Mindbloom symbols awakened, quiet and seamless, weaving through her being like a whisper. They wrapped around the rising mark, smothering it in silence before it could emerge, before it could be seen.
And just like that, the pull faded.
The unseen force shattered.
Enira staggered back, her body trembling, eyes wide with something close to horror.
The woman tilted her head, her amber gaze glinting with amusement. "Interesting."
She rose from the sofa with a slow, deliberate grace, her sheer silks shifting like liquid with every movement. The air between them grew heavier, charged with something unseen. Enira forced herself to stand her ground, but her body tensed as the woman approached.
Then, she was close. Too close.
Enira stiffened as the woman reached out, her touch featherlight as she took Enira's hand, running her fingers along the back of it as if inspecting a rare artifact.
"Such fine bone structure," the woman mused, turning Enira's wrist over, tracing a barely-there touch along her pulse point. "And yet… not quite what I expected."
Enira tried to pull back, but the pressure of the woman's fingers remained, gentle, yet absolute. There was no force, no overt restraint. But it was like resisting the tide.
The woman's other hand trailed up, ghosting over Enira's shoulder, then along the line of her collarbone, a touch too lingering to be casual. Enira clenched her jaw, fighting the instinct to recoil. She understood now, there was no escaping this examination. So she forced herself to endure, waiting, calculating.
A pleased hum left the woman's lips as she finally stepped back, a slow, satisfied smile curving her mouth.
"Yup," she said lightly, as if confirming the ripeness of a fruit. "She did it. How surprising." Her amber eyes flickered with something unreadable before she murmured, almost to herself, "The first successful product of Type 567C…"
The woman's lips then curved into an easy, knowing smile. "You can call me Phyrra," she said, stepping closer, her presence as effortless as a drifting current. "And you will work under me from now on."
Enira kept her expression neutral, but her mind was already spinning.
Phyrra's gaze flickered over her, sharp despite its softness. "Tell me, how did you do it?"
Enira had been prepared for this. She had crafted her answer carefully, going over the details with Ian beforehand. Now, she spoke with measured confidence, weaving the story as if it were second nature.
Phyrra listened, head slightly tilted, an almost lazy amusement in her eyes. And then, without warning, her hand ghosted over Enira's spine.
A slow, delicate touch, as if tracing something unseen. Enira stiffened.
Phyrra's nails barely pressed against the fabric of her robe, a whisper of pressure along her vertebrae, deliberate yet absentminded, as though searching for something hidden beneath flesh and bone.
Phyrra's fingers lingered a moment longer before she withdrew, her expression unreadable. "Hmm, I see." She let out a soft breath "It's remarkable. I would like to study you in depth, to see if we can replicate it." she mused, voice as smooth as honey. "I suppose we'll find out just how unique you really are."
Phyrra then took Enira's hand, her fingers cool and deliberate against her skin. Without a word, she guided her back toward the sofa, her movements fluid, effortless, each step measured, as though she were in complete control of everything around her.
As they reached the plush seating, Phyrra eased down, pulling Enira ever so slightly forward before finally releasing her hand. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her gaze settling fully on Enira.
She turned her head slightly. "You may leave us."
Councilman Herrie didn't hesitate. With barely a glance at Enira, he bowed his head and strode out, shutting the door behind him.
Phyrra leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her gaze settling fully on Enira. "Now we can talk."
Her voice was unhurried, smooth, yet there was a weight behind it, a quiet authority that left no room for defiance. She studied Enira for a long moment before continuing, "Although I've asked you to work directly under me, your objective remains unchanged. You will continue what you were assigned, maintaining contact with that little girl, Myrra."
She paused, as if considering her words. "There's no need to deviate from your approach. Simply stay close, observe, and ensure we remain informed." A slow smile.