Aleric threw away the pan slowly.
"It's… okay," he said, unsure why his voice came out gentle. "You can come out."
The boy flinched anyway.
But hunger won.
He crawled out from beneath the counter, movements awkward and cautious, like someone unused to being allowed space. His black rags were threadbare, dust clinging to the fabric. His purple eyes flicked to the food on the counter—and lingered.
Aleric hesitated only a second before turning back to the stove.
"Sit," he said. "I'll get you something proper."
The boy obeyed instantly.
Aleric placed a bowl in front of him—warm bread, vegetables, a portion of stew meant for the household. The boy stared at it like it might disappear.
Then he ate.
Fast. Messy. Desperate.
He shoveled food into his mouth like someone afraid it would be taken away mid-bite, chewing poorly, swallowing too quickly. Crumbs fell. Soup dripped down his chin.
Aleric watched, torn between sympathy and disbelief.
He looks like a good guy, he thought.
But if he eats like that, I'll have to cook again…
"Th–thank you," the boy said between mouthfuls, voice muffled. "I haven't had a meal this good in ages. Really. Thank you, friend."
"Slow down," Aleric said weakly. "No one's taking it."
The boy laughed—a small, broken sound—and ate faster anyway.
That was when the air shifted.
Heat spiked.
Aleric barely had time to turn before flame rushed in through the doorway.
Maze.
She landed lightly, eyes already burning, flames coiling around her arms as her gaze locked onto the unfamiliar presence.
Her smile vanished.
"Step away from him," she said coldly.
The boy froze mid-bite.
Maze moved.
Too fast.
Aleric reacted on instinct.
"WAIT!"
He threw himself between them, arms outstretched.
Maze skidded to a halt inches from him, fire flaring violently. "Aleric, move. He doesn't belong here."
The boy shrank back, panic flooding his face.
In a blur, he scrambled off the stool, hands raised defensively.
"God—what's wrong?!" he cried. "What did I do? Why does everyone attack me?!"
His voice cracked.
"I was just hungry," he said, shaking. "I didn't steal—I mean, I did, but only food. I swear I wasn't going to hurt anyone."
Aleric turned, startled by the raw fear in his voice.
"He's not hostile," Aleric said quickly. "I didn't feel anything. He's just… scared."
Maze's flames wavered.
She hesitated—but did not lower her guard.
Upstairs, far above them, Blaze sat before her mirror.
The surface of it shimmered, reflecting the kitchen scene perfectly—every movement, every breath, every flicker of flame.
She had heard everything.
Seen everything.
Her fingers paused mid-motion as her gaze settled on the boy's face.
Those eyes.
Purple.
Her expression did not change.
But something ancient stirred.
"…That face," she murmured softly to the empty room.
Familiar.
Not important enough to rise.
Not yet.
The mirror showed the boy trembling, Aleric standing stubbornly in front of him, Maze torn between instinct and restraint.
Blaze leaned back slightly.
Watching.
Testing.
Let's see, she thought coolly, what you've wandered back into.
Blaze descended the staircase.
Not hurried.
Not announced.
Her footsteps did not echo, yet the space bent around her presence. Flame-threaded walls dimmed instinctively, like they knew better than to compete.
The veil never shifted. Not even when she moved.
The moment the purple-eyed boy saw her—
He broke.
"Master—!"
He rushed forward, tears spilling freely, arms outstretched, voice cracking with relief and devotion twisted together. "Master, I finally found you—I— I missed you—"
Blaze turned.
Not toward him.
Away.
The movement was precise. Dismissive. Absolute.
Lain's momentum carried him forward with nothing to catch him.
He hit the marble floor face-first.
The sound was sharp.
Embarrassing.
Silence followed.
He lay there for a heartbeat—then pushed himself up, eyes red, smile trembling but desperate.
"Master," he said again, kneeling immediately. "It's me. Lain. Your disciple."
Maze stared.
Her flames flickered wildly. "…Disciple?"
Aleric blinked, completely lost. "Wait—what?"
Blaze stopped at the foot of the stairs.
She did not turn around.
"I never took a disciple," she said calmly.
The words landed like a blade laid flat against the throat.
Lain stiffened—but nodded quickly, violently, like agreement itself could save him.
"Yes—yes, of course," he said. "I know. I know you never said it. But you let me stay. You watched me train. You didn't send me away."
He looked up at her back, eyes shining with painful hope.
You didn't stop me.
Blaze finally glanced over her shoulder.
Just enough.
Three years ago, she remembered.
A boy who saw something he was never meant to see.
A shadow that followed too closely.
Effort without invitation. Potential without permission.
Mildly entertaining, she recalled.
When he vanished, she hadn't wondered where he went.
She hadn't wondered at all.
"You mistake tolerance for approval," Blaze said coldly.
Lain's smile faltered—but only for a moment.
"I don't care," he said softly. "I just wanted to see you again. To stand where you can see me."
Maze took a half-step back, unease creeping into her posture.
This wasn't devotion.
It was need.
Aleric shifted awkwardly, whispering, "Sister… is he… okay?"
Blaze ignored him.
Her gaze remained on Lain, assessing.
Quiet.
Timid.
Burning far too brightly inside.
Clings emotionally, she thought.
Craves acknowledgment.
Would shatter without it.
"You followed me without permission," Blaze said.
"You named yourself something you were not."
"And you returned without being summoned."
Lain lowered his head fully to the floor.
"I know," he said. "Punish me if you want. Kill me if you want. Just—don't pretend you don't remember me."
Maze inhaled sharply.
Aleric felt something tighten in his chest.
Blaze was silent.
Then—
"Get up," she said.
Lain obeyed instantly.
"Do not touch me again," Blaze continued. "Do not call yourself my disciple. And do not delude yourself into thinking you were missed."
Each word stripped something from him.
Still—he smiled.
"Yes," he said. "That's fine."
That was when Blaze knew.
This one will never leave on his own.
She turned away again, robes whispering like judgment.
"Stay," she said, not to Lain specifically—but to the room.
"I will decide what you are worth."
Lain exhaled, relief flooding his face like he'd been granted mercy.
Maze watched him carefully now.
Aleric swallowed.
And Blaze, already walking away, thought—
Three variables, now.
Two cling because they fear losing me.
One clings because he thinks he already has.
Her lips curved faintly.
This could be… entertaining.
Maze waited until Blaze's footsteps had passed before speaking.
She kept her voice low, careful, as if even the walls might carry it.
"Master," she said, walking a half-step behind her, "what will you do about Lain?"
Blaze did not slow.
Her robes whispered across the floor, black flame-thread catching the light as she moved. The veil hid her expression completely, but the air around her cooled by a fraction.
"Nothing," Blaze said. "He mistook my tolerance for permission."
That was all.
Maze fell silent at once.
I don't care enough to explain, Blaze thought. If he stays, it will be because he is useful. If not, he will disappear again.
They reached the dining hall.
Blaze seated herself alone, as always, a thin curtain of flame sliding down at the snap of her fingers. It separated her from the others—not to hide her face, but to remind them where they stood.
Aleric approached carefully, shoulders stiff, hands steady despite the tension running through him. He placed each dish down with precision, eyes fixed on the floor. When he was finished, he retreated at once, heart pounding until the curtain closed fully.
Behind it, Blaze lifted her fork.
She tasted.
Once.
Then again.
Her posture did not change. Her movements remained measured, exact.
Acceptable, she decided.
She ate every bite.
Not out of pleasure.
Not out of praise.
I despise waste, she thought coolly. Especially waste that cost me money.
When the plates were empty, she rose without a word and left the table behind.
The kitchen felt warmer once she was gone.
Not safe—but lighter.
Aleric exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as he wiped his hands on his apron. Maze leaned against the counter, flames dimmed, watching the quiet tension settle between the two boys.
Lain broke it first.
"How old are you?" he asked, eyes flicking over Aleric with open scrutiny.
"Fourteen," Aleric replied.
Lain stared. "Really? You look ten. Maybe twelve."
Aleric flushed, scratching the back of his head. "I was malnourished before I met sister."
The word lingered.
Sister.
Lain's jaw tightened.
How dare he, Lain thought. That sounds far too close.
Keeping his voice even, Aleric tilted his head. "What about you?"
"Nineteen."
Aleric smiled faintly. "You look older."
Maze laughed before she could stop herself.
Both boys turned to her at once.
She lifted a hand casually. "Seven hundred."
Silence.
Aleric's mouth fell open.
Lain's followed, a heartbeat later.
"…That's," Aleric said slowly, "older than my bloodline."
Maze giggled, flames fluttering with amusement.
Footsteps echoed.
The air tightened.
Blaze emerged from the corridor, already dressed to leave. Her presence pressed down on the space, quieting everything without effort. She did not look at them.
Aleric straightened at once.
"H–how was the food today?" he asked, voice tight. "I was extra careful."
Blaze paused for half a breath.
"It was… okay."
That was all.
She passed them.
At the threshold, she stopped.
Someone—she did not bother to identify who—asked softly,
"Why do you never remove the veil?"
Blaze did not turn.
"Because no one here has earned it."
The words ended the question.
She stepped outside.
The mansion's flames shifted, not flaring—listening. The vast estate seemed to lean toward her, waiting for instruction.
I'm bored, Blaze thought.
Nothing here threatened her.
Nothing here challenged her.
Nothing here demanded her attention.
She glanced back once—only once.
Aleric, standing too straight, trying too hard to matter.
Maze, warm where the world would punish softness.
Lain, clutching devotion like a lifeline that was never offered.
Variables, she decided.
"Come," Blaze said. "We're leaving."
The gates of the mansion parted without sound.
Beyond them, the road stretched wide and uncertain—cities, ruins, wars, and secrets waiting to be stumbled into or erased entirely.
Not danger.
Opportunity.
Blaze stepped forward.
And the world, unknowingly,
prepared to be disturbed again.