The pale sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the classroom, casting a warm glow across the rows of desks. Castor sat in his usual spot near the back, resting his cheek against his hand while the teacher droned on about bioengineering. His eyes weren't focused on the board; they drifted restlessly across the room, scanning the familiar figures. Misha was scribbling frantically in her notebook while occasionally shooting worried glances his way. Isla sat near the window, her posture straight, her expression unreadable as always.
His thoughts, however, were everywhere but here—locked in last night's memory. The fire. Ethan. The look of agony behind his friend's possessed eyes. Snowflake's worried embrace. His fists clenched at the memory.
When the bell rang for break, Castor stood quickly, brushing off his uniform. As the students flooded out, he moved through the hallway with practiced ease. He didn't have to wait long. Isla was standing by the vending machines, scrolling idly through her phone, pretending not to notice him. They had been good friends by now. It had been 2 weeks since that incident with Ethan.
She had met with Snowflake a few times already as her situation was still pending. She knew everything there was to know about Castor except the incident with Ethan.
And, that would change today as he could use some help.
He stopped beside her.
"You always pretend not to see me, huh?"
Isla's gaze didn't waver from her phone. "Maybe you're just not interesting enough."
Castor smirked. "Funny. For someone who can bend spoons with her mind, you're awfully normal."
That got her attention. Her violet eyes flicked toward him, sharp. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk." He leaned against the wall beside her. "About Ethan."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Let's walk."
They moved through the school's quieter garden courtyard, away from the chatter of students. The spring air carried a faint scent of flowers from Aria's club, and birds chirped in the distance.
Castor exhaled. "Ethan's gone. Not just missing. Something… possessed him. I saw it myself."
Isla didn't respond, but her eyes darkened.
"It wasn't just random destruction. He came for us. Me and Misha. He knew where we lived. It's like he wasn't Ethan anymore. Like something was using his body." He paused, then looked at her. "His eyes weren't his."
Isla stopped walking.
"Have you ever heard of something called Medusa?" he asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "The mythological one?"
"She's real. Or at least... something using her name is. Snowflake helped me piece it together. The thing that took Ethan—it's ancient, and dangerous. It's not just a monster. It's a curse. A mind-eating parasite that thrives on regret and vengeance."
Isla folded her arms, her expression flickering. "That explains the psychic spikes I've been sensing."
"You've felt them?"
"Yes. For a while now, I thought they were part of my own instability. But this... this thing must be interfering with the Spectrum."
Castor nodded. "We're going to try and stop it. Snowflake thinks there's a way. But we'll need help."
"Good," Isla said simply. "You have it."
Castor blinked. "No hesitation? I mean, having someone like you with telekinesis would be a great help..."
Although that was clearly his intention bringing up the incident.
She shrugged. "You're not the only one who wants to make peace with your demons."
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, there was an unspoken understanding. Whatever fractured past they both held, they could share the burden now.
Back in class, Castor informed Misha during a quiet moment between lessons. She lit up with purpose the moment she heard.
"Of course I'll help!" she whispered, slamming her hand down on the desk. "That bastard wrecked my apartment and tried to kill us. We're getting Ethan back and taking Medusa down. I've already packed a portable stun rod, pepper spray, and snacks."
Castor chuckled. "You're way too excited."
"You know it."
After school, Castor skipped out on a scheduled Gardening Club meeting, messaging Aria a quick apology. Rain check. Emergency.
Instead, he met up with Snowflake outside the tech mall near the city center. She was waiting for him on the upper level, leaning against a glass railing, dressed in a sleek black hoodie and ripped jeans. Her red eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
"About time," she said, voice teasing.
Castor approached, his tone soft. "You said you found something?"
Snowflake pulled out her phone and showed him a webpage.
"eBay," she said proudly. "Aegis Shield. $200. Not a replica. Not a toy. Real deal."
Castor blinked. "You're joking."
"Nope. Description matches the composition exactly—obsidian-reinforced core, serpent-carved edge, lined with ancient Greek runes. Seller claims it was found buried under a mountain."
"Who sells legendary artifacts online?"
"Someone desperate for rent, apparently. The good news—it's pick-up only. The bad news—it's in Orlandis."
"That's... next to Griza, right?"
"Exactly. Small country, a few hours flight. I already booked the tickets. Me, you, Isla and Misha. I figured you convinced both of them."
He smiled faintly. "I should've known. You're way too perceptive."
She leaned closer. "I'm not letting some ancient snake witch ruin what we've built. Not without a fight."
He hesitated. "Hey… thank you. For saving us. For everything."
Her expression softened. "Don't thank me yet. Just make it back alive."
Later that night, under the golden hue of streetlights, the four of them gathered at the train station. Isla, dressed plainly in her school coat, carried a sleek black backpack. Misha had a duffel bag strapped across her chest with duct tape spelling DO NOT OPEN. Castor wore a dark hoodie and gloves, trying to look inconspicuous. Snowflake had her laptop case slung over her shoulder.
"This is so sketchy," Misha whispered as they boarded the night train that would take them to the airport. "Are we really gonna fight a legendary Greek curse with a shield from eBay?"
"I mean," Castor muttered, "we've done worse."
On the train, they huddled together in a booth. Snowflake pulled up maps and satellite scans on her laptop while Isla quietly adjusted her gloves. Misha munched on crackers, watching the city lights blur past the windows.
As the countryside started to replace skyscrapers, a strange silence fell among them. It wasn't just nerves—it was anticipation. They were leaving New Griza behind. Whatever lay ahead in Orlandis, it would change them. And deep down, each of them knew they weren't just retrieving an artifact.
They were chasing redemption.
The plane's wheels touched down with a gentle bump, and Orlandis revealed itself through the cabin window like a painting come to life. From above, the ocean shimmered like glass, its turquoise waves gently kissing the sun-bleached shore. Rows of pastel-colored buildings lined the curved coastline, and further inland, hills rolled lazily under a golden sky.
As the group stepped onto the tarmac, the salty air greeted them like an old friend, warm and breezy with the scent of brine and blooming hibiscus. Castor squinted against the sunlight and tugged at the strap of his backpack.
"Well, here we are," he murmured.
Snowflake shielded her eyes with one hand, her white hair almost glowing in the sunlight. "Not bad. For a city that sells legendary artifacts on eBay, I expected something more… sketchy."
Misha spun on her heel to take in the view, short blonde hair catching the breeze. "This is awesome. I mean, look at that ocean! We're definitely going swimming before we leave."
Isla adjusted the strap of her bag, silent, her purple eyes scanning the distant horizon. "Let's just get the shield and go."
Misha poked her playfully. "C'mon, Isla. Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I left it at the airport," Isla replied, deadpan.
The group made their way through customs and into the heart of Orlandis. The city was alive. Narrow cobblestone streets ran alongside wider boulevards. Street musicians played upbeat island tunes on ukuleles and steel drums. Food stalls lined the boardwalk, offering fried shrimp skewers, shaved ice, and coconut drinks served in the shell.
They rented a small seaside apartment near the marina as a temporary base. The girls rushed in first, arguing over the best room, while Castor hung back near the window, gazing out at the waves. The sea always reminded him of something buried—but he shook the thought off.
Soon enough, the four were out again, walking along the sun-warmed streets. The group dynamic shifted in subtle ways—Misha led the pack with her boundless energy, practically dragging the rest to different stalls. Snowflake stayed close to Castor's side, her hand occasionally brushing his, and Isla… walked a step behind them all.
At a corner, Misha spotted a vendor selling handwoven bracelets and insisted they all get one.
"They're friendship bands!" she declared.
"I don't think we qualify as friends," Isla said flatly, arms crossed.
"Then we'll consider it a hostage bracelet. Humor me."
Castor smirked. "We're buying them or are we being coerced?"
"You love this," Misha grinned. "I can see it in your cold, dead eyes."
Eventually, all four ended up with bracelets. Snowflake stared at hers, twisting the red-and-white pattern between her fingers.
"You don't have to wear it," Isla said quietly, half under her breath.
Snowflake's eyes flicked to her, red and intense. "Oh, I'll wear it. Wouldn't want to seem ungrateful."
The tension crackled for a second, but Castor interrupted with a cough.
"I think I saw a vintage bookstore down that alley," he said quickly. "They might have something on mythical artifacts. Let's check it out."
They ducked into the alley, where an old shop sat beneath ivy-covered walls. Inside, the air was musty and sweet with the scent of ancient paper. Books stacked in precarious towers surrounded them.
As they browsed, Isla finally walked over to Castor while the others were distracted.
"She doesn't like me," she said plainly.
"She doesn't like anyone. Except maybe me," he said, lips twitching.
Isla gave him a side glance. "You're not very likable either."
"I'm honored."
They spent the afternoon bouncing between small tourist shops and oceanfront cafés. At one café, they sat under a large umbrella sipping iced lemon tea while seagulls wheeled overhead. Misha bought an absurd amount of seashell keychains. Isla bought nothing, but somehow always found a seat with the best shade. Snowflake bought a little glass cat figurine that reminded her of Cassie, though she didn't say that aloud.
At one point, Castor noticed the way Isla's hand subtly pushed a drink closer to the table's edge—only to pull it back mentally when it nearly fell.
"You're getting better," he said softly.
"I know," she replied. She looked down at her fingers. "I hate it less now."
Snowflake leaned over, whispering into Castor's ear, "Careful. I might get jealous."
"Jealous of what?" he whispered back, smirking.
"That thing you're doing. Helping people. It's cute."
The moment was interrupted when Misha shrieked excitedly from a few tables away.
"There's a boat market! Let's rent a boat!"
"No," Isla said.
"Yes!" Misha grabbed her hand. "We're doing something fun and you don't get a vote!"
Somehow, they ended up on a small motorboat later that evening, cruising just beyond the shore. Castor took the wheel, grumbling about how this was not in the itinerary. Snowflake sat at the front, hair fluttering like a silver flame, and Misha and Isla argued about which constellation was which.
"I'm just saying," Misha insisted, "that one is totally shaped like a jellyfish."
"That's Orion," Isla said, deadpan. "He's a hunter."
"He could be a jellyfish in disguise. You don't know."
Snowflake snorted. Even Isla smiled faintly.
As the sun dipped lower and the sea reflected its fiery colors, the group fell into a rare, comfortable silence. The tension between Snowflake and Isla didn't vanish, but it softened into a truce. For now.
As they returned to the dock, Castor leaned against the railing, watching the last light fade.
"You think the shield's really here?" Misha asked, coming up beside him.
"It better be," he said. "We're running out of time."
She nodded, quietly. "We'll find it. We have to."
He didn't say anything more, but his eyes flicked to each of them—Misha with her fire, Isla with her control, and Snowflake, who watched the horizon like she could bend fate to her will.
Tomorrow, they would pick it up.
Tonight, they were just four strange souls adrift in a foreign city, surrounded by waves and wind and fleeting peace.