Kael turned sideways, brushing shoulders as he squeezed past two Luminaires moving in the opposite direction.
'Should be around here somewhere…'
He slowed and glanced around.
A day had passed since his meeting with Cain, and now Kael moved through the market within the Luminaire district, the crowd thick with voices and color. His gaze drifted over stall after stall before stopping on a familiar silhouette.
He stepped closer.
It was a small stall, cramped but overflowing. Dried refinement materials hung from thin lines overhead, while fresher ones were laid out across the front. At the top, several glass jars rested on a shelf, each containing something crawling, twitching, or pulsing faintly within.
'It's still here.'
Kael picked up one of the jars and examined the small note tied around its neck.
"Golden Horned mote. 250 mindstones or trade of equal value."
His eyes flickered beneath the blindfold.
It had been months since he first noticed this mote. Somehow, it still had not been sold.
'Strength pathway.'
He turned the jar slowly in his hand.
The Golden Horned mote was unlike most others. Though only rank two, its effect was unusual. It was not a mote meant to be traded, refined, or reused. It was single-use and permanent. Once consumed, it increased the user's physical strength to that of five wolves.
Kael did not hesitate.
He reached into his inner pocket and withdrew the small pouch of mindstones.
"I'll take it."
The shopkeeper blinked, momentarily confused, then his face lit up.
"The Golden Horned mote? Yeah. Sure."
He accepted the pouch with a bright smile.
Kael gave a small nod and left the market, the jar secured in his grip.
The moment he returned to his apartment, he set it down on the kitchen counter and looked at the golden beetle-like creature inside. Its horns glimmered faintly, catching the light.
'Finally.'
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Despite how powerful it was, many Luminaires avoided this mote. Not because it was flawed, but because it was expensive. A single mindstone was worth a thousand gold coins, and this mote cost two hundred and fifty of them. Worse, it only truly suited lower-ranked Luminaires. As one climbed higher, better alternatives became available.
Kael understood that.
He was only rank three, but many at his rank had no intention of advancing further. They chose comfort. Stability. A steady life funded by mindstones rather than gambling everything on growth.
And there was another reason.
Advancing beyond rank three was considered nearly impossible.
They called it the Burden of Dreams for a reason.
But this mote fit Kael perfectly.
He opened the jar and let the golden beetle crawl onto his hand. Its shell gleamed faintly as it shifted, warm against his skin.
Once used, the mote could never be retrieved or traded again. It would vanish completely, leaving only its effect behind. That was precisely why it suited him.
The strength it granted did not come from Will or Thoughts. It did not burden the inner realm or demand upkeep. It rewrote the body itself. Muscles grew denser without swelling. Tendons hardened like coiled steel.
And that was what Kael needed.
His soul was damaged. His Thought generation was crippled. Holding a fourth mote would send him into decline, and he knew it. Any further reliance on motes that fed on Will or Thoughts would only tighten the noose around his neck.
This mote bypassed all of that.
It gave him offense without occupying his inner realm. Power without cost. Strength without strain. Where his soul faltered, his body would endure.
Kael closed his fingers around the beetle.
While other Luminaires considered it expensive, Kael would have been willing to pay twice the price without as much as a second thought.
Red Will seeped from Kael's fingertips, draping over the beetle like a gentle blanket.
He watched it for a moment, allowing his Will to settle and tighten around the small creature. Then, he closed his hand in a sharp, explosive motion. A brief squeak escaped, cut short as golden sparks burst outward, dissolving into the crimson Will that enveloped them, before going back into his body.
Kael turned his hand over, curling it into a fist, then opening it again. He repeated the motion a few times.
"Looks the same," he whispered.
He set the empty jar aside and walked toward the window. Halfway there, his steps slowed as he passed the couch.
"Hmm…"
Kael stopped.
He turned, studied it for a moment, then slid his hand beneath the frame and lifted.
The sofa rose effortlessly.
Dust spiraled into the air from beneath it, drifting lazily in the light. Kael's eyes widened, just a fraction. He lowered the couch again, carefully this time, as if afraid of what further testing might reveal.
He walked the rest of the way to the window and looked out over Velthoria, his gaze deep and distant, the faintest tension settling into his shoulders.
'A mote from the soul pathway…'
He sighed under his breath 'Why does it always come back to this?'
The memory of the very first mote recipe he had ever obtained flickered at the edge of his mind.
It was not revulsion, nor any sense of moral restraint, that made Kael wary of soul-pathway motes. He had long since abandoned the luxury of moral hesitation. It was the cost. The limits they imposed, and the dangers tied to them. These motes could not be used openly. They could not even be refined in safety. Possessing such a recipe alone was enough to warrant execution.
"I'll have to request more mindstones for Soul-pathway motes in the future."
He murmured to himself.
Kael slumped down onto the sofa, idly rolling a gold coin between his fingers.
It had not been many days since he first began wearing the blindfold, yet he had already adapted to it, and somewhat to the eye beneath. Even though his vision was still reduced to faint silhouettes and blurred forms, he had grown accustomed to reading the world through the Weeping Eye. By now, he could move almost as naturally as before, and in the dark, he saw even better than he ever had.
The gold coin slipped from his fingers, rolling across the floor until it struck the wall with a dull clink. It tipped onto its edge, wobbled a few times, then fell still.
Kael rose from the sofa and picked it up.
Just as he was about to sit back down, a knock sounded at the door.
Kael lifted an eyebrow and walked over, opening it without hurry.
A young woman with golden hair stood outside, a cup of coffee in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other.
"Hi Kael, it's my famil—"
The words died on her lips.
"Am I… interrupting something?"
Mael asked, horrified.
Kael touched the blindfold lightly, as if only now remembering it was there.
"No. I'm just trying a new look."
Mael gave him a long, doubtful stare before slipping past him into the apartment anyway.
"I've tried to—"
She stopped again.
"Wh… where's the desk?" Her gaze darted to the kitchen. "And the island?"
She walked closer to the bare wall, fingers tracing the thin, precise cuts etched into the surface.
"Did someone break in?" she asked. "Did you fight someone?"
Kael closed the door behind her and took a seat at the kitchen table.
"No," he said calmly.
"An accident happened."
Mael sighed and massaged her temples before settling into the chair opposite Kael.
"I see…" She yawned, then waved a hand. "Don't worry about the furniture. I'll have someone come fix it."
Kael gave her a doubtful look.
Was she always this generous?
'Maybe I just don't understand that kind of money.'
He walked into the kitchen and lifted the kettle.
"Tea?"
"I'm good." Mael lifted her coffee with a small grin. "Already prepared."
"Alright."
Day slipped quietly into night, Velthoria dimming beyond the windows. Their conversation slowed with the hours, words thinning as exhaustion crept in. After a while, Kael broke the silence.
"How's the recipe coming along?"
Mael rested her chin in her palm.
"Awful," she said, yawning again. "Truly awful."
"I figured." Kael traced a finger along the rim of his teacup.
Creating a new mote was a nightmare even for veterans. For someone like Mael, gifted but still inexperienced, it bordered on impossible. Kael knew, objectively, that he likely had a better chance of succeeding himself. There was just one problem.
Time.
Mael raised an eyebrow, clearly aware of his attention despite the blindfold.
"God, it's like talking to a statue."
She suddenly leaned forward, reaching for his blindfold.
Kael leaned back lazily, just out of reach.
"Hey."
She tried again. Missed.
'Why did she even agree to this?' Kael wondered as he shifted aside once more.
Was it Darian? Pity? Boredom?
Mael clicked her tongue, stretching farther across the table, fingers snapping at empty air.
"Hold still."
He tilted his head, dodging again.
She narrowed her eyes, tongue poking out slightly as she focused, launching one last dramatic attempt. It missed by a mile.
Kael watched her for a moment.
A faint smile touched his lips.
She moved the same way Casandra used to.