I watched the street from the balcony, catching the moonlight, and I was glad.
It's been a day since the big fight and the first win of the Prophet of Entropy.
The girls were in high spirits, reliving their victory over and over again.
Medea, Regan, and Morgan were sprawled across the living room, reenacting moments of their first triumph.
"Master, master! Did you see how I bounced off Regan's shoulder?" Medea asked, spinning a finger through the air as if tracing the exact arc of her leap. Lightning sparks flickered faintly at the tips, harmless now.
"Yes, Medea," I replied, lounging against the railing, voice calm and precise. "I saw. You bounced spectacularly."
Regan rolled her eyes. "Spectacular, huh? Well, did you see me fight, master? I had that pawn on her toes the whole time."
"I did see that. You did well, but next time, keep the destruction to a minimum. Same goes for you, Medea," I said sternly.
"Not fair!" Regan protested. "My enemy kept ripping out chunks from the buildings to throw at me. It only made sense that I did the same."
I let Medea and Regan relive yesterday for a while longer.
Then I looked at Morgan.
She wasn't gloating, not at all. I guess such emotional outbursts weren't a thing dark elves did.
Seriously, I had to research about their races in the future. Was Morgan usually so silent and reserved because she was a dark elf, or was she just a kuudere girl?
Anyway, even though there wasn't a smile on her face, her eyes were brighter than usual.
"Master." Her voice was soft, but not timid. Almost cold. "What were you doing during the fight?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I glanced up once," she said, turning her head slightly, silver hair falling over one eye. "Only for a second. I saw you. And him. The Prophet of Light. I've trained under a master for months. But the magic you used up there - I didn't recognize it."
At that, Medea perked up, tail flicking with sharp interest. Regan also stopped, arms folding.
Three pairs of eyes on me.
I pushed off the balcony railing with practiced calm, arms folding behind me as I stepped into the moonlit room.
"So," I said lightly, "you want to know what your master was doing while you three were busy demolishing half the city?"
They leaned in.
"Watch."
I held out my hand.
A pulse went through the air.
The girls leaned in, eyes narrowed, trying to catch sight of whatever was in my hand.
"What… are we supposed to be looking at?" Medea asked, glancing at my seemingly empty palm.
"Entropy," I said simply. "In its rawest form."
Regan squinted. "Master, you're holding nothing."
Huh. They couldn't see it.
Fine. Let's turn the opacity up.
I fed more into the center of my palm, slowly and carefully, because chaos was not to be toyed with when so close to the eyes. The orb formed into a small ball instead of a flicker.
This time, I was sure all three could see it.
"Oh," Medea breathed. "There it is."
I almost laughed. Because the first time Lightbane showed me chaos, it nearly blew me off my feet.
Just like the first time Gregorio showed him.
But my girls?
They stood their ground. Their hair swayed, sure, but their feet were well planted.
"Entropy isn't like other magic," I explained, letting the orb pulse once before snapping it shut with a thought. "It's dangerous, but it has potential far beyond what you can imagine."
"Master, how do I learn that?" Morgan asked.
"Teach us," Regan added.
Medea nodded vigorously. "If it will help us break the shackles placed on us, then we need it!"
"Unfortunately for you three," I said, adopting a tone of regret I absolutely did not feel, "this magic cannot be learned from nothing."
They froze.
"It must be given."
I tapped my chest lightly. "Someone who already holds it must pass a spark to someone else. A seed. Something to cultivate."
Gregorio had given it to Lightbane. Lightbane had given it to me.
Where Gregorio got it from, he didn't say - yet.
The girls waited, breath held, expecting me to offer them the same.
I shook my head.
"You are far from ready," I said, letting my voice drop into that low, commanding register that made them straighten instinctively. "The clash between myself and the Prophet of Light yesterday? That was a fragment. Child's play."
The room settled after that - silent. The three girls were staring at the spot in my palm where the orb had vanished.
"Enough for today," I said, turning away. "Rest. Dream of victory. But don't assume you've earned power you cannot yet wield."
They nodded, almost in unison.
I didn't look back. The perfect exit.
I stepped onto the balcony again, vaulted lightly over the railing, and dropped two stories to the street below.
Woodborn Manor came into view soon after, perched on its little hill of privilege like it was allergic to common folk. The lanterns along the path flickered in warm golds, an insane and useless luxury in this world, with hedges trimmed to ridiculous precision.
My home.
A few minutes later, I passed through the wrought-iron gate and walked up the curved path in shadows.
The front door was open.
Of course it was.
Why would you need to close anything in a neighborhood like this? Doors, windows, anything.
But I didn't take the front door. I jumped up to a windowsill on the second floor and entered from there.
There were gargoyles by the windows.
Ella Woodborn, my new mother - or the closest thing the identity "Edward Shadowboon" had managed to acquire - had chosen them. She chose all the decorations and styles of furniture in the manor.
Her actual name was Varisella.
If I had to describe her, she was like a female Gomez Addams.
Which made sense, because Woodborn himself kind of reminded me of Morticia.
Her smile was broad and toothy, and you found her more often than not wearing it.
Her style of clothing was light and thin, unlike many of the dames in Astar or Asolar I had seen, which also made sense, as she was from the far west of the country. I guess she never left behind her culture when she married Woodborn.
It wasn't scandalous in how she dressed, but with her body type and curves, it automatically made it so.
She had many, many hobbies, but strangely, none too expensive. As the wife of a rich noble, she had a lot of time on her hands, and not much of it was just for social calls to other households.
She hugged like she fought too - full force, no hesitation, no room to breathe. Her preferred weapons were a rapier or a saber, which wasn't too atypical, but she carried one or the other always.
I didn't run into Ella tonight. That was probably for the best. She had a way of making entrances feel like theatrical productions, even when nobody was watching. Maybe especially then. She was the kind of woman who could fill a hallway just by existing in it.
She really loved Woodborn, and even if he was a colder person, it was clear that he loved her too.
A strange pair, the two of them.
They were probably asleep right now.
I had nothing to hide from Woodborn, but I wanted to let her rest.
I had only made it to the middle of the room when I heard movements.
They were light footsteps, cautious ones.
Someone small, too.
I scanned the room. I moved quickly - not running, but decisively - slipping onto the piano bench just as the footsteps reached the door. I placed a hand on the polished wood like I had been sitting there for a while now.
The door creaked open.
Mira-Anna Woodborn - Mira - peeked in. Nine years old, about the same age as Maren was, suspicious as a cat, with sharp but thin eyes, also like a cat.
...She was cat-like in general, but a bit gloomy. Even her steps were quiet, but I've made a habit of trying to recognize the footsteps of everyone around me.
She blinked at me, clearly registering that something was off.
"…Ed, what are you doing?" she asked. More like a tiny detective gathering evidence.
I cleared my throat lightly. "Couldn't sleep," I said, adopting the calm tone of someone who absolutely belonged at a piano, at night, alone. "Thought I'd… practice."
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "I didn't know you played piano."
Called out. As expected. She was
I kept my expression steady. "I don't play often."
Mira walked closer, bare feet silent on the carpet. She peered at me like she expected to find a bloodstain or a bomb hidden under the keys.
"Play something."
My stomach dropped.
But saying no would only increase her suspicions. And Mira was a child who didn't forget things she found odd. Ever.
I placed my hands on the keys. My fingers twitched, hovering over the cold ivory keys.