Anemone followed the river to where the rubble made a makeshift path. She refused to take the lengthy route. With a slow gaze, she charted a route across. From rock to rock without a stumble, her dexterity proved itself. Her eyes met the workers below. A few therianthropes remained, examining the destruction. And soon they walked away. From where she stood, Anemone could overhear them talking about lunch. From the group, two Arbor Magna knights stayed behind. One scanning the area and the other dismissing the therianthropes.

  “Wow. There's actually two of them…I hope they’re checking the Undine sigils for the plumbing.”

  Thanks to the Therianthropes, Tir-noNog had gained a different means to regulate the flow of water. This benefits agriculture, sewage systems, and public utilities. Even now, they divert clean and wastewater. Repair equipment lined the rubble coast near the river’s mouth. The tools varied from chisels and hammers to chalk and saws. There were also slabs of stone and containers with clay and muddy straw.

  “I almost wish I could do alchemy… some say they’re the closest to voiceless casting.”

  Almost all the workers carried chalk on their sides. Everyone had to be ready to redraw the Undine sigils and alchemic seals. Sometimes it was not enough. Layering and retracing were almost essential. By doing so, the caster enhanced the water flow. It also avoided re-inscribing the spell too often. To keep the district and surrounding areas supplied, the canals’ flow was essential. Were it not for the water system, hundreds would be at risk. This approach provided the sole means for water to reach those remote from its source.

  “Too bad Alchemy is something I’d never learn to do…. I need to focus my attention elsewhere.”

  Anemone pulled the Lost Historia out of her grimoire to look at it again. Inspecting the cover, she noticed there were burn marks on the edge of its pages. When she sniffed it, there was still a hint of charred paper. It mixed the smell of old ink and aged pages. This scent brought a slight smile to her face.

  “Hopefully, Florentina can go over this and my dreams. Telling Hi would’ve just caused more problems.”

  Hibernica was always prim and proper. Without an exchange of words, Anemone could already hear her scoldings. Anemone covered her ears, grimacing at the thought. If Hibernica also knew there was a curse on the Lost Historia? Anemone would not have heard the end. It did not matter if it fell into her hands. That book could arrive from heaven, or by a stranger. It did not matter. Hibernica would have reinforced that truth. The truth that Tirno-Nog forbade that knowledge. And despite her disapproval, Florentina would at least commend. It was something they shared a mutual inkling for. The desire to study the past.

  “I see why they all get along….”

  Anemone shook her head and let out a sigh. It became apparent that the visit was more trouble than it was worth. Titania and Florentina were quite similar. She used to work to avoid her family, and Anemone could not blame her. What bothered Anemone, however, was their consistent correctness. When, where, or how it happened was unimportant. With Baccata quick to yell and Hibernica being a stickler, their family was always at war. Aronia Anemone were the peacekeepers.

  “Nia, I know you asked me to talk to her for you,” thought Anemone. “But I can hardly tell my mom a thing.”

  Anemone put the book back in her grimoire and stopped in her tracks. But it was not like she stopped herself. Or at least she did not understand why she stood still. Was it instinct? The world seemed to summon her. As if almost holding her in place. She turned right, revealing an alley.

  Follow the river to the brick maze, to the vial of venomous ash.

  Those words popped into her mind. Tir-no-Nog held no maze resembling that. Or, perhaps, not entirely. The backstreets, however, exuded an eerie feeling.

  “When I was younger, I used to get lost all the time—but that’s just…”

  She opted for a different path. A path through the back streets. One that avoided the main road. No sound broke the alley’s quiet. An aged aroma filled the chilled air. Burned wood mixed with scorched slabs of rock and ash ran stale. Following that, the shadows in the alley drew her attention.

  “Why are they so tall…?”

  The sound of her voice diminished. The buildings were tall; however. There were a few trees in the Fourth District. However, it was a place as dark and damp as a forest. Because of their dead ends and confusing infrastructure layout, the alleys looked like mock mazes. Because of Spriggan’s drills and tag matches, Anemone knew the surrounding path.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Enter from the side near the bridge and go…. Right, left, right, left, then straight, followed by two lefts? Or could it be right?”

  Tilting her head, Anemone looked on. Once she navigates a few turns, the alley will be behind her. This was her hope. Suddenly, the sight flickered. Her eyesight transitioned from normal to transparent. The continuous flashing forced Anemone to stop. Soon, a sharp pain ran across her mind, and her body heated. While leaning against the wall, she rubbed her temple. She narrowed her eyes, looking at all the surrounding walls. The signage faded and reappeared repeatedly. Moss and decay covered the paint that had once covered the walls. Then they returned legible and normal. Inanimate objects soon appeared as see-through boxes. It became difficult for her to distinguish between everything. Everything except the scurrying small creatures. Regardless of how small, anything alive emitted those colorful flames.

  On the building’s interior, more imps foraged. As she watched them phase behind the walls, Anemone wiped her eyes. The world had spun. For support, she continued to hug the wall and followed them to walk straight. Upon turning to the left corner, Anemone bumped into someone. She retraced her steps and then apologized.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Without responding, they pushed her aside. Their hands did not have a fleshy feel but a jagged and coarse feeling. The moment they gripped her shoulder; it was akin to a stony vice grip. Just from that quick second, that touch almost crushed her shoulder. Her body flinched as she gritted her teeth and pierced her fingertips into her palms. It took everything she did not have to yelp. The intensity made the sight disappear. Anemone glared daggers into their face.

  “At least I apologized!”

  However, when their eyes met, she noticed them pulling their hoods down. The stranger had dirty brown hair that matched the dark leather bag across his right shoulder. Anemone could see the purple Albionian epaulet on his bare shoulder. Its luster resembled his eyes, like L’wah’s. Their first encounter showed L’wah’s eyes held cold, stark emptiness. But something else caught her attention. It was beneath the cadet’s purple eyes. A star tattoo marked the left side. Along his right side were thick, almost earthy cracks running down his neck. The cadet with the star pushed her aside and hustled by.

  Pass the one marked with a star. Speak no words.

  Anemone swiftly turned towards him but said nothing. The cadet didn’t even look back. And from the sound of his steps, he was in a major rush. Looking in the direction they were heading, Anemone noticed someone else at the end of the alley.

  “I’ve seen that before… haven’t I?”

  Strangers from her dreams seemed to materialize, clad in voluminous white overcoats. From the side, the mask nearly resembled the beak of a black tengu. It even had thickened, large, oval lenses that resembled their eyes.

  Blank.

  That’s what happened to her mind. Then a familiar scene played before her very eyes.

  As she lay down, bright white lights flashed by. Her body hopped about as incoherent voices called out to her. White walls rushed alongside her as something slid her around. Just like that, everyone near her wore white coats. As one of them looked at her face, she saw a similar mask. The face exhibited a cylindrical shape, flanked by two smaller cylinders near each cheek. Their breathing was as raspy as hers was. The weight on her chest was pressing on her as pain ground in her chest. No, not just grinding. Stabbing as well. Every breath grew shorter and shorter. Then one massive flush of air filled her lungs.

  Darkness covered her vision, and light flashed back into her eyes. She was back in the alley. On the other end, that white overcoat stood next to the cadet. That white overcoat contrasted with that long-faced black mask, which contrasted with all white clothing. Turning away, they tipped their white and black hats. Their arms flashed with the tails of their coats raised.

  Like a curtain call, their jacket stretched under their arms, covering the cadet with the star. When their arms dropped back to their sides, that cadet vanished. Then the tengu masked stranger turned around. As they snapped their fingers, a faint gust flew by. Her hand jumped up to block the dust that followed it.

  Slam!

  Her head throbbed. Her body becoming light came overcame her, and she stumbled back, almost floating. Before she fell flat on the floor, she noticed a black fog-shaped blot flashing in the air. Its speed prevented her from obtaining a clear view. A hushed scream and profanity flew from her lips as she fell over. The thud of her head covered the sound of glass cracking. Anemone rubbed her head, staring into the bleak gray sky.

  What just happened? What was that black fog…it looked familiar? Also, ow!

  As she sprang up, her hand hit a cracked glass bottle that rolled away. A huff of air left her lips, and she rolled her eyes. Pain throbbed in her head, and a tingling sensation ran through her body, keeping her still. Although she tried to move her hand, the shock made her unable to move her hands again. She shut her eyes, and another wave of pain flushed across her head. This time, it stopped at her neck. Anemone reached for her neck, and her fingertips felt a faint line across it. They flinched at the line as if there were a cut. As Anemone looked at her hand, nothing was there. There was no blood at all.

  “That fall must have shaken me up. My body feels heavy.” She clenched her fists.

  At first, it was difficult to feel her fingers pressing. It didn’t matter how much she pressed into her palm. It took minutes before the sensation in them turned normal again. Once she sat up, her eyes darted down near her foot. A cracked vial lay at her feet. She closed her eyes and huffed, rising off the ground.

  “I nearly broke my foot and cracked my skull thanks to this thing.” Anemone groaned.

  The bottle disappeared while she viewed the ground. She bent back down to check for the glass. Anemone’s fingers slowed across the floor. Mysteriously, her hands found nothing there. She looked down at her fingertips, then shifted her sight to the ground. The bottle was no longer there. There was neither cracked glass nor any remains of it. Fog swirled on the floor below. She raised her brows and looked at the walls that surrounded her. The air itself had a different hue to it. The scene, once chilly and dismal, shifted. It was more muted.

  “Why is everything… grayer and gloomy?”