Morning light spilled over the gardens, casting a pale shimmer across dew-kissed leaves. The air was cool and heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, and a thin mist still clung to the hedges, curling lazily in the breeze. Sinbad stood at the center of the garden, broad shoulders framed against the endless blue above. His eyes lingered on the sky, searching for something far beyond sight.
From an upstairs window, Yamori watched him in silence. The glass in his hand held a pale gold juice that caught the light, but his attention was on his father's expression—calm, but with an undertone of thoughtfulness that was rare in the boisterous man.
After a moment, Yamori stepped away from the window and went down. He crossed the lawn with quiet steps, stopping at his father's side.
"Good morning, Father. I take it Mother and Sister have not yet returned?"
Sinbad glanced down at him, his silence stretching just long enough for a faint smile to creep onto his lips. He stretched, arms rising above his head with a slow exhale.
"Well," he said at last, "it's not exactly easy to make the trip back in a single day—especially without white-crosses stationed around the estate. Now…" His grin grew wider, boyish mischief flashing in his eyes. "How about we head down to town, huh?"
Yamori gave a long, deliberate sigh, the sort that seemed far too practiced for a child his age. Sinbad chuckled at the reaction, then—without waiting for permission—scooped Yamori up onto his shoulder. The boy didn't spill a drop from his glass, holding it steady with one hand as if such treatment was routine.
"Hold on, my boy!" Sinbad bellowed, striding toward the great storage shed at the far end of the estate.
The heavy wooden doors groaned as he pushed them open, revealing a massive airship resting in shadow. Its sleek hull was painted a deep, polished black, the cockpit windows gleaming crimson like the eyes of some great bird. Yamori's usually impassive expression shifted ever so slightly—his silver-grey eyes glimmering in faint surprise.
"An S-20 Eagle aircraft," he murmured. "I read about one in the library. They're… quite rare."
Sinbad beamed with pride, setting Yamori down beside him. "She's a beauty, isn't she? Almost as beautiful as your mother—though if you ever tell her I said that, I'll deny it with my dying breath." His laughter echoed off the metal walls. "One day, my boy, this ship will be yours. Until then…" He patted the sleek hull with a fond hand. "You can just admire her."
Yamori simply exhaled, neither dismissing nor openly accepting the sentiment, though there was a flicker in his eyes that suggested he understood.
Far away, within the capital city of Stella, a woman seated in a sunlit corner of a high-rise café paused mid-sip as she felt an itch at the edge of her senses. Aurora's amethyst hair shimmered with pink undertones when it caught the light, and her ruby eyes glinted with knowing amusement. On her lap sat a little girl with long braided hair the color of spun gold, her wide blue eyes fixed on the distant skyline.
"Oh dear," Aurora murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her daughter's face. "Either I'm catching a cold, or that buffoon is talking about me again." Her lips curved in a wry smile. "Probably the latter."
Across from her sat a man dressed in immaculate noble attire—Carter Marshall Dulcie, Duke of the Dulcie household. His hair was the blue of a cloudless sky, his eyes a sharp, regal gold.
"You never change, Madam Aurora," he said lightly. "I trust your journey here went smoothly? Your daughter seems to be quite taken with the view—this is one of the tallest towers in the capital, after all—"
Aurora raised a single hand, halting his pleasantries mid-flow. The gesture was small, but it carried a weight that pressed the rest of his words into silence. Carter's smile thinned, though he sipped his drink as if nothing had happened. Around them, the restaurant hummed with low chatter, the clinking of cutlery, and the faint strains of a string quartet playing somewhere unseen.
Aurora set her cup down, her voice gentle yet edged with something that commanded attention. "You didn't summon me here for idle talk, child. I did not come for a social game. What is it you wish to discuss?"
Carter exhaled softly, raising his hands in a token gesture of surrender. The last traces of amusement faded from his features.
"You're not going to like this, Sensei," he said quietly. "But you should prepare yourself. Things have taken a turn for the worse in the coming Awakening. It began… seven years ago, during the Surge."
Aurora's fingers stilled on the rim of her cup. Seven years ago… Her gaze dropped to the child in her lap—Kagami—who looked up at her with innocent curiosity. Aurora stroked her daughter's hair, though her eyes never left Carter.
"Tell me everything," she said. Her voice was calm, but beneath it lay the unmistakable steel of someone who had weathered storms far greater than polite conversation.