"So, what—or whose—death did you see?" Lisa asked, her voice low and edged with worry as they trudged across the endless sandy terrain. The grains shifted underfoot like reluctant waves, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows that stretched like fingers toward the horizon. Amir had been silent the whole way, his face twisted.
He glanced at her, forcing a half-smile, and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The warmth of his skin against hers was a small comfort, but it couldn't hide the tension in his grip.
"I just saw death. That's all," he murmured, trying to soothe her with a gentle squeeze. But Lisa saw through it—the way his eyes flicked away, the subtle hitch in his breath. She bit back a sigh, deciding not to push. Deep down, though, her gut twisted with dread. She prayed her intuition was wrong, that the flash of cold fear wasn't a premonition of Aurora's end.
Amir slipped his arm free, and Lisa quickened her pace to Aurora's side, linking their elbows in a quiet show of solidarity. The sisters walked in sync, the faint crunch of sand marking their steps, while Amir lagged a beat before drifting toward Nalia.
She caught his approach from the corner of her eye and tightened her fingers around the handle of her ornate fan, the tiny bells tinkling softly in warning.
"Looking for another spar?" she said, her tone laced with mock challenge.
Amir threw up both hands, palms out, a grin tugging at his lips despite the weariness in his eyes. "Whoa there, tigress—I mean no harm. Definitely not chasing that smoke again."
Nalia's lips curved into a smile, sharp and knowing, laced with that dark edge of triumph that said she'd already won this round. Her nine tails swished lazily behind her, stirring faint blows of dust.
"Glad you know your limits," she replied crisply, lowering the fan with a soft *snap*. "So, what do you want?"
"How did you know? About her death?" Amir pressed, his voice dropping to a urgent whisper.
Nalia arched a brow. "Whose death?"
"You know... hers." He nodded toward Aurora, the words heavy.
Nalia let out a long sigh, her expression softening just a fraction before she stepped past him, her gown whispering against the sand. Amir hurried to keep up, falling into step as she closed the gap to the girls.
"Does anyone here know what a unique skill is?" Nalia asked, her voice cutting through the quiet evening air. The group halted mid-stride, turning to her with shrugs and curious glances before resuming their trek toward the distant hills.
"A unique skill is your one-of-a-kind power," Nalia explained, falling in beside them as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in strokes of orange and deepening purple. "It's personal—tied only to you. When a mortal first crosses into the mystical world, they awaken with one as a starting gift. From there, it's up to you to discover and master it."
"That's cool," Aurora said, her eyes lighting up as a cool breeze tugged at her hair. "Does everyone who uses magic have one?"
Nalia nodded. "Mhm. Every last one."
"I wonder what mine is," Lisa murmured, kicking at a loose stone that skittered ahead like a startled rabbit.
"Is it possible to have more than one?" Amir asked, Lisa and Aurora nodding in quick agreement.
"Yes," Nalia confirmed, her steps measured and graceful. "Multiple unique skills mark higher beings—Cardinal Demons, archangels, gods and goddesses. To reach god-level, you need thirty."
Amir muttered "Cardinal Demons?" under his breath, but the word hung unanswered in the wind.
"And who has the most?" Aurora pressed, leaning in.
Nalia let out a soft giggle, the sound like distant chimes. "The Creator. Four thousand skills—no one's come close since the universe began."
"Maybe that's by design," Amir said with a shrug, earning a sharp thwack from a vine that whipped up from the sand and snapped against his back. Aurora shot him a playful glare, her hand still glowing faintly green.
"How many do you have?" Lisa asked Nalia as they crested a large hill, the path leveling to reveal a quaint village nestled below—rooftops of terracotta tiles glinting in the fading light, smoke curling lazily from chimneys.
"Five," Nalia replied, her eyes scanning the horizon. "You've seen one in action. The rest? I'll save as surprises." But Amir had already pieced one together—something like clairvoyance, the way her gaze seemed to pierce veils others couldn't.
"Everyone, stop," Amir said suddenly, planting his feet at the hill's edge. He stared down at the village, jaw tight, fists clenching at his sides.
Lisa read the shift in his posture instantly, her stomach dropping. "Don't tell me..."
"That it's my hometown?" He nodded, voice rough with old scars. "Yeah. It is."
"Whoa," Aurora breathed, stepping up beside him, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of thatched roofs and winding dirt paths below.
"Why don't we pay them a visit?" Amir said, his words clipped, anger simmering just below the surface ready to flare. The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and distant cooking fires, as if the vile place was calling to him to seek his revenge.