Caliope helped me walk back to the center of the courtyard, my legs still trembling slightly.

  The destroyed ground around us was testament to what had just happened.

  Stones transformed into glass, earth turned to crystal, flowers blooming from twisted metal.

  Everything frozen in the exact moment she had locked my mana flow.

  "You did well for a first time," she said, not empty consolation, factual observation, "Most people can't even manifest affinity on their first attempt, you not only manifested but almost demolished the courtyard."

  She smiled, small but genuine.

  "That's progress."

  I didn't feel that way.

  I felt, broken.

  Again.

  As if every time something good started to happen, the universe decided to remind me I didn't deserve it.

  Caliope studied my face, those penetrating turquoise-blue eyes seeing more than I wanted to show.

  "Sekire."

  I looked at her.

  "No matter how long it takes, no matter how many times you fall," her voice was firm, without pity, just certainty, "We'll fix this, together."

  She squeezed my shoulder, once, firmly.

  "Now go rest, I have an important meeting to attend, with the Kyusei and my daughter."

  Pause.

  "Feel free around the castle, explore, meet people, eat something, the chef works wonders if you ask," she began to walk away, "And if you need anything, any servant can help, everyone knows who you are now."

  She stopped at the courtyard door, looked back.

  "Rest, Sekire, tomorrow we try again."

  And left.

  Leaving me alone.

  In the destroyed courtyard.

  Under the rising sun.

  I stood there for a while.

  Looking at the chaos around me.

  Thinking.

  I had hope.

  For seconds, minutes maybe.

  I thought I was finally progressing.

  That I was finally controlling something.

  And then everything crumbled.

  Again.

  I laughed, without humor.

  Because it was funny in a bitter way.

  Life always did this.

  Yuki had had a good day, the best in years.

  And died that night.

  Sekire had had a family, father who loved her, mother who tried.

  And both died.

  And now.

  Now I was in a safe place, with kind people, with opportunities.

  And my own body betrayed me.

  Maybe I'm cursed.

  The thought came dark, heavy.

  Maybe every time I try to be happy, something inside me sabotages.

  Because I don't deserve it.

  Because I'm a monster's daughter.

  Because,

  "Sekire?"

  I turned, too fast, almost lost my balance.

  Hinata was at the courtyard door, tray in hands, expression neutral as always.

  But her eyes were worried.

  "How was training?"

  I looked at her, then at the destroyed ground, then back at her.

  Hinata followed my gaze, assessed the damage.

  "Ah."

  Pause.

  "Went badly then."

  Not a question.

  She walked to me, placed the tray on a stone that was still intact.

  Tea, cookies, fruits.

  "The Queen asked me to bring breakfast for you," she picked up the cup, extended it, "Drink, it'll help."

  I took it, hands still trembling slightly.

  The tea was hot, gentle herbal scent.

  I drank, slowly.

  And it was good.

  Not just the taste, but the warmth going down, calming something inside me.

  Hinata sat on a nearby stone, grabbed a cookie, bit into it.

  Chewed, calmly.

  Didn't say anything, just existed there.

  Waiting.

  And after a while, I spoke:

  "I can't control it."

  My voice came out hollow, tired.

  "The mana comes out, but doesn't stop, just keeps going and going until it destroys everything."

  I drank more tea.

  "And I don't know why."

  Lie, I knew.

  But couldn't say.

  Hinata finished the cookie, grabbed another.

  "You know what I think?"

  I looked at her.

  "I think you're trying to control too much," she bit, chewed, swallowed, "Like when you hold water tightly, it escapes through your fingers, but if you relax your hand, it stays there."

  She looked at me.

  "Maybe you need to stop fighting against yourself."

  The words hit deeper than she probably intended.

  Stop fighting against myself.

  Accept what I am.

  Even being his daughter.

  My chest tightened.

  "It's easier said than done."

  "It always is," Hinata shrugged, "But that doesn't make it less true."

  Comfortable silence settled.

  I finished the tea.

  Then Hinata stood up.

  "Come."

  "Where to?"

  "Kitchen, I'm going to make sweets for the meeting tea, you're going to help me."

  I blinked.

  "I don't know how to cook."

  "Then you'll learn," she grabbed the tray, "Besides, distracting the mind helps, trust me."

  She started walking.

  I hesitated.

  But then followed.

  Because she was right.

  Being alone with my thoughts would only make it worse.

  The castle kitchen was huge.

  Not gigantic, but large enough to feed the royal family and all the servants.

  Stone stoves, ovens, polished wood counters, shelves with organized ingredients.

  Smell of baking bread, herbs, something sweet.

  An old man was working, tall, thin, graying hair tied in a cap, impeccable white apron.

  "Chef Bernard," Hinata greeted, respectful.

  "Hinata," he looked up, smiled, small but genuine, "And who might this young lady be?"

  "Sekire, the refugee the royal family took in."

  He studied me, brief but intense.

  Then nodded.

  "Welcome, girl, if you need food, just ask, nobody goes hungry in my kitchen."

  There was weight in those words, promise.

  "Thank you."

  "We're going to make sweets for the meeting tea," Hinata said, "Sekire will help me."

  "Great, use the back counter, ingredients are on the shelves to the left," he returned to work, "And Hinata?"

  "Yes?"

  "Don't burn anything this time."

  Hinata turned red.

  "It was ONE time!"

  "Three times."

  "Two!"

  "Three."

  She huffed, but didn't contest further.

  Pulled me to the back counter.

  "First," Hinata began, placing bowls and utensils on the counter, "butter cookies, simple, hard to mess up."

  She grabbed flour, butter, sugar, eggs.

  "You measure the flour, three cups," extended the measuring cup.

  I took it, started measuring.

  "Do you always cook?" I asked.

  "Sometimes, Fuyumi is better than me, but I like making sweets," she cracked eggs into a bowl, "It's relaxing, and you can eat the mistakes."

  Small smile.

  "Though I've burned some attempts."

  "Chef Bernard doesn't seem to forget."

  "He doesn't forget ANYTHING," she mixed the eggs, "It's irritating and comforting at the same time."

  I finished measuring the flour.

  "And now?"

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  "Mix everything, slowly, until it becomes homogeneous dough."

  I started mixing.

  The dough was sticky, stuck to my fingers, but gradually took shape.

  "How did you end up here?" I asked, low.

  Hinata paused, just for a second.

  "My parents died when I was eight, accident with beasts on the road," neutral voice, factual, "Fuyumi and I became orphans, no money, no home."

  She continued stirring.

  "Queen Caliope was passing through town that day, saw us on the street, begging for food," pause, "She stopped, asked our story, and brought us to the castle."

  "Just that simple?"

  "Just that simple," she smiled, small, "The Queen acts without thinking much when she sees someone in need, it's irritating for people around her, but she doesn't care."

  She looked at me.

  "That's why I know you'll be fine, if the Queen decided to help you, she'll see it through."

  Something warm rose in my chest.

  "And you? How do you feel about all this?"

  Hinata stayed quiet, thoughtful.

  Then spoke, lower:

  "At first I hated it, everything, everyone," her hands continued working, automatic, "Hated having lost my parents, hated being an orphan, hated depending on charity."

  Pause.

  "Hated that my sister accepted everything so easily while I just felt anger."

  She looked at her own hands.

  "Fuyumi was always kind, always saw the good side, always grateful," tone became more tense, "And I just wanted to scream that none of it brought our parents back."

  Silence.

  "But gradually I realized something, the anger wasn't hurting anyone but me," she breathed deeply, "And Fuyumi wasn't weak for accepting kindness, she was strong for choosing to live instead of just surviving."

  She looked at me.

  "So I stopped fighting, and started truly living."

  The words echoed.

  Stop fighting.

  Start living.

  I swallowed hard.

  "And does it work? Accepting?"

  "Sometimes, other times it still hurts," Hinata went back to stirring the dough, "But it hurts less than before, and that's already something."

  We stayed silent for a while.

  Working, mixing, molding.

  And then I realized.

  My mind wasn't on dark thoughts.

  It was here, present, focused.

  Making cookies with someone who understood pain.

  "Thank you," I murmured.

  "For what?"

  "For bringing me here, for talking, for, not pitying me."

  Hinata smiled, genuinely this time.

  "You're welcome, now form the cookies, round, coin-sized."

  Forty minutes later, the cookies were baking.

  Sweet smell filling the kitchen.

  Hinata made tea, not the common kind, but special blend.

  "Cherry blossoms, ginger, honey," she explained while infusing, "The Queen loves it, says it calms the mind during long meetings."

  She placed everything on a tray, along with cups and small plates.

  "Let's take it, the meeting should be starting."

  We left the kitchen.

  In the corridor, we found Fuyumi.

  She was carrying another tray, with small cakes and fruits.

  "Hinata! Sekire!" She smiled, animated, "Are you also taking things to the meeting?"

  "Yes, cookies and special tea."

  "Perfect, I brought the cakes the Queen asked for yesterday," she looked at me, "How are you? I heard training was, intense."

  "I'm better."

  Not a complete lie.

  I was less worse.

  "Great!" She started walking, "Let's go together then."

  We followed through more corridors.

  And then we found another woman.

  Older, maybe twenty years, brown hair tied in perfect bun, impeccable uniform.

  She was carrying a tray with organized documents.

  "Miss Elaine," Fuyumi greeted, respectful.

  "Fuyumi, Hinata," Elaine nodded, then looked at me, "You must be Sekire."

  Not a question.

  "Yes."

  "I've heard about you, the Queen speaks highly," small smile, "Welcome to Axoland."

  "Thank you."

  "Also going to the meeting?" Hinata asked.

  "Yes, bringing documents the King requested about Kitsumi," she adjusted the tray, "Apparently the situation is grave."

  The three exchanged glances.

  "Let's go together then," Fuyumi said.

  The meeting room was different from the throne hall.

  Smaller, more intimate, but still impressive.

  Long dark wood table, upholstered chairs, walls with maps and flags.

  Large windows letting natural light in.

  And the people.

  Harven was at the head, erect posture, hands interlaced on the table, serious but kind expression.

  Caliope beside him, equally serious tone.

  Mabel sitting further ahead, already with documents spread in front of her, concentrated.

  Feitan leaning against the wall, arms crossed, bored but attentive expression.

  And three people I didn't know.

  A man.

  Impossible not to notice him first.

  Tall, very tall, maybe six foot five.

  Broad shoulders, muscular, not exaggerated, but clearly powerful.

  Short black hair, naturally disheveled.

  And the scar.

  Three parallel lines, like claws, crossing his right eye.

  Started at the forehead, cut through the eyelid, ended at the cheekbone.

  But the eye was perfect, bright golden, seeing clearly.

  He was smiling, wide, contagious.

  Radiated warmth, positivity, strength that seemed to burn like midday sun.

  Beside him, a woman.

  Older, thirty-six years maybe.

  Light green hair, almost blonde, long and tied in elaborate braid that fell over her shoulder, some silver strands beginning to appear at the temples.

  Dark eyes, calm, deep as bottomless well.

  Serene posture, hands crossed in lap, small gentle smile on lips.

  But there was something dangerous hidden beneath the calm, like sharp blade inside silk sheath.

  She studied everything with eyes that never completely blinked, observing every detail with tranquil but absolute attention.

  And a boy.

  Eleven years old, small for his age.

  Messy black hair, dark blue eyes.

  Sitting quietly, observing everything.

  We entered in silence.

  Elaine went first, placed the documents in front of Harven.

  "The documents you requested, Your Majesty."

  "Thank you, Elaine."

  Fuyumi placed the cakes, Hinata the tea.

  And I stood there, holding the tray with cookies.

  The black-haired man noticed.

  "Ah! More food!" He stood up with explosive energy, "How WONDERFUL!"

  Deep voice, enthusiastic, filling the entire room.

  He walked to me with wide strides.

  "Thank you, little one! You are VERY kind!" He took the tray carefully, large but delicate hands, "These cookies look DELICIOUS!"

  He placed it on the table, grabbed two, bit into one.

  Golden eyes sparkled.

  "PERFECT! Absolutely PERFECT!"

  "Mark, contain yourself," the light green-haired woman said, calm but firm tone, smile still present but eyes following his every movement.

  He laughed, sonorous and genuine.

  "Sorry! But how can I contain myself before something so well made?" He looked at me with warm smile, "I'm Mark O'Malley, leader of the Kyusei!"

  He gestured to the woman enthusiastically.

  "And that's Boine Sakechi, vice-leader and the strongest person I know!"

  Boine nodded to me, small polite smile, eyes studying every detail with disturbing calm.

  "A pleasure, Sekire," soft voice, almost whisper, but carrying weight.

  Harven gestured.

  "You may withdraw, thank you."

  Fuyumi, Hinata and Elaine bowed.

  But Harven raised his hand.

  "Sekire, stay, please."

  I blinked.

  "Your Majesty?"

  "You lived in Kitsumi, your perspective will be valuable," gentle but firm tone, "Sit."

  I sat, at the end of the table.

  Fuyumi, Hinata and Elaine left.

  The door closed.

  "Thank you for coming," Harven began, looking around, "This meeting is about Kitsumi, the refugee situation, and what we can do."

  He looked at Mabel.

  "Mabel convened this meeting, and has a proposal, daughter?"

  Mabel stood up, confident.

  "Thank you, daddy," she looked around, "Everyone knows Kitsumi is in crisis, mass immigration, refugees arriving daily, many dying on the journey."

  She grabbed a document.

  "Feitan investigated, personally, visited about twenty villages."

  Everyone looked at Feitan.

  He pushed off the wall.

  "Nineteen villages were miserable, extreme hunger, diseases, complete neglect," neutral voice, factual, "People prefer to die trying to escape than stay."

  He walked to the table, pointed at the map.

  "The twentieth village, Ash Courtyard, was an exception, had food, regular rain," pause, "Because it was controlled by a demon."

  Absolute silence.

  Mark stopped chewing, expression becoming serious for the first time.

  "Demon?"

  "Yes, horns, yellow eyes, water and wind magic," Feitan crossed his arms, "Intermediate knight level, not Kyusei, but strong."

  "And you killed him," Boine said, not a question, voice soft as always, but attentive eyes.

  "Yes, he was executing a child for not having detectable elemental affinity in their primitive test."

  Feitan looked at me, briefly.

  My stomach churned.

  Mark became serious, the heat in the room seeming to increase.

  "So demons are real."

  I swallowed hard, hands gripping the fabric of my clothes.

  "Apparently," Harven grabbed the document, "But it seems to be an atypical case, Feitan didn't find others in twenty villages."

  "Correct," Feitan confirmed, "Only one, isolated, remote, easy to hide."

  I breathed deeply, then spoke, voice coming out firmer than expected:

  "I, I saw him."

  Everyone looked at me.

  "The demon?" Mabel asked.

  I nodded.

  "At Ash Courtyard, he, he was the leader, ruled everything," my hands trembled slightly, "People feared him, but also, gratitude, because he provided food and water when other villages were dying of hunger."

  Mark leaned forward, intense but kind golden eyes.

  "Continue, please."

  "He tested children, using that ancient stone," I continued, "If the stone didn't light up with elemental color, he, he killed the child in front of everyone, said they were useless, defective."

  My voice broke a little.

  "My stone didn't light up, turned into common colored feather, he was going to execute me, but," I looked at Feitan, "you arrived."

  Heavy silence.

  Caliope touched my hand, gentle.

  "You don't need to continue if you don't want to."

  But I wanted to.

  I needed to.

  "I, I saw someone trying to escape," I spoke, swallowing hard, voice getting lower, "one night, I woke up at dawn, couldn't sleep, and saw a man, I think he was about thirty, leaving the village hidden."

  I closed my eyes, remembering.

  "He was carrying a small backpack, walking slowly, trying not to make noise, going north, there was moon that night so you could see, I knew he was escaping, everyone knew nobody could leave without permission."

  My voice became tremulous.

  "And then, and then the demon, he detected it, I don't know how, but he left his house, fast, very fast, and went after the man."

  Tears began to form in my eyes.

  "He caught the man in seconds, and, and killed him, right there, in front of everyone who had woken up with the noise, as a warning, said nobody leaves without his permission, that it was absolute rule."

  A tear rolled down.

  "The man just wanted to be free."

  Mark stayed quiet, eyes still intense but now loaded with deep sadness.

  "He died trying."

  I nodded, more tears flowing now.

  Boine studied me with those calm but penetrating eyes, there was something different in them now, something that seemed, respect.

  "You are very observant and brave to share this, even being difficult."

  "I had to tell," I murmured, wiping the tears, "he, that man, he deserves someone to know he tried."

  Mark suddenly stood up, walked to me with firm strides, and placed his large warm hand on my shoulder.

  "You have an INCREDIBLE heart, little one," his voice was firm, full of controlled but intense emotion, "Keep it up, and you can become a Rokusei like us, I'll make sure to accept you in my squad!"

  I looked at him, surprised, eyes still wet.

  "Rokusei?"

  "It's what we call high-level Kyusei," Boine explained, soft voice, "Mark leads the main squad, and he doesn't offer this to just anyone."

  She smiled at me, small but genuine.

  "He sees potential in you, strength of character, courage."

  Something warm filled my chest, mixed with the pain of memory.

  Mabel continued, voice softer now:

  "The real problem isn't just the demon, it's systematic neglect," she looked serious, "entire villages dying of hunger while Queen Lazuli Kyokitsune and the nobility ignore it."

  She placed a drawing on the table.

  Ruins, bones, destruction.

  "This village near the capital, two thousand dead, revolt against hunger, militia massacred everyone."

  The temperature dropped.

  Mark wasn't smiling anymore, returned to his place, intense golden eyes.

  "Two thousand," his voice came out low, controlled, but vibrating with contained emotion.

  Boine touched his arm, gentle, fingers light as feather, and he breathed deeply.

  Harven breathed deeply.

  "Kitsumi is a sovereign kingdom, we can't intervene militarily."

  "Exactly," Mabel agreed, "That's why my proposal has two parts."

  She looked at the Kyusei.

  "First: Mark, Boine, Feitan, intensify border patrols, help refugees, document stories, provide basic support, food, temporary shelter, medical care."

  The three nodded.

  "How many refugees arrive per day?" I asked, voice still a bit weak.

  Feitan responded:

  "Between twenty and fifty, depends on the season, but the numbers are increasing."

  "And how many die on the journey?"

  Heavy silence.

  "We don't know for sure," Harven said, gentle, "but we estimate that for each refugee who arrives, three die trying."

  My stomach churned.

  Mark hit the table, not with anger, but with burning determination.

  "Then we need to do MORE! We need to go further on patrols, find people BEFORE it's too late!"

  "Mark," Boine said, calm but firm, "we need to be strategic, we can't save everyone, but we can maximize impact, focus on areas where we know refugees pass through."

  Mabel continued:

  "Second:" she looked at her parents, "Diplomacy, we need to pressure Kitsumi politically, but carefully."

  Caliope leaned forward.

  "And how do you suggest doing this?"

  "Clemearl Netherheart."

  The room went quiet.

  "The best diplomat in the kingdom," Mabel explained, "possibly the continent, has contacts in all kingdoms, including Kitsumi."

  Pause.

  "If anyone can navigate this diplomatically, it's her."

  Harven considered.

  "Clemearl is proud, and selective about what she accepts."

  "I know," Mabel smiled, mysterious, "that's why I'm personally going to Netherheart Manor, with Ferme, to convince her."

  The quiet boy - Ferme - nodded, once.

  Caliope studied her daughter.

  "And what exactly will you ask?"

  "That she use her contacts, her resources, her influence," Mabel looked serious, "to pressure Queen Lazuli Kyokitsune, subtly, diplomatically, making her realize that neglecting the people has international consequences."

  "Clever," Boine commented, approving tone, light smile.

  "And also," Mabel looked at me, mysterious smile appearing, "I'm going to ask Clemearl to accept Sekire as a ward of House Netherheart."

  I blinked, surprised.

  "What?"

  "You're a refugee, foreigner, without family," Mabel explained, gentle, "if Clemearl accepts you as her ward, even nominally, you gain status, protection, legitimacy."

  Harven nodded.

  "That would solve future problems, nobody would question a child under Netherheart protection."

  "But," I hesitated, "why would she accept?"

  Mabel smiled, wider now, eyes shining with secret knowledge.

  "Because you have something she wants."

  Everyone looked at her.

  "Mabel," Caliope said, careful tone, "you used the foresight."

  Not a question.

  "I did," Mabel admitted, without shame, "and I saw, Clemearl will accept Sekire, not out of charity, but because Sekire has something she needs, something that will reveal itself in the future."

  "And what is it?" I asked.

  "I don't know the details," Mabel shrugged, "the foresight doesn't show everything, just, fragments, but I saw Clemearl looking at you with genuine interest, not pity, real interest."

  Pause.

  "Trust me, she'll accept."

  Boine studied me with renewed interest, dark penetrating but not threatening eyes.

  "Interesting, very interesting."

  "But," Caliope looked at me, "for now you stay here, training with me, until you stabilize your mana control."

  Pause.

  "When you're ready, then we can formalize with Clemearl."

  Mabel agreed.

  "Makes sense."

  Feitan spoke:

  "And about the demon? Do we mention it?"

  "No," Harven decided, "not yet, revealing this could complicate things diplomatically."

  "Besides," Caliope added, "it was an atypical case, one demon, not an epidemic, we don't need to cause unnecessary panic."

  "But," I spoke, everyone looked, "what if it's not an atypical case?"

  Silence.

  "What do you mean?" Harven asked.

  "The demon at Ash Courtyard, he, he didn't seem hidden," I explained, "he ruled openly, people knew what he was, and even so, nobody from the capital did anything."

  Pause.

  "That doesn't seem like common neglect, it seems, permission."

  The room went cold.

  Mark frowned, smile completely disappeared.

  "You think Queen Lazuli KNEW?"

  "I don't know," I admitted, "but, it seems strange that a demon can openly rule a village for so long without anyone doing anything."

  Boine studied me with eyes that seemed to see through me.

  "You're right, this deserves much deeper investigation."

  Feitan nodded.

  "I can investigate this, discreetly."

  Harven considered.

  "Do that, but with extreme care, we don't want to alert Kitsumi that we're investigating."

  Mark grabbed another cookie, but his energy was different now, more focused, more serious.

  "When does Mabel leave?"

  "Tomorrow morning," Harven responded.

  Then looked around.

  "Any objections to the proposal?"

  Silence.

  Everyone nodded.

  "Then it's decided," Harven hit the table, once, "Mark, Boine, Feitan - organize patrols, Mabel and Ferme - prepare for the journey, Caliope and I will handle the formal diplomatic aspects."

  He looked at me.

  "And Sekire will continue her training here, your contribution today was valuable, very valuable, thank you."

  Something warm and strange filled my chest.

  Recognition.

  Importance.

  Everyone stood up.

  The meeting ended.

  Mark approached me again, smile returning, but softer now.

  "You did VERY well, little one, your information, your courage, this will make a difference, will save LIVES!"

  His large hand rested on my shoulder again, gentle but firm.

  "And I haven't forgotten my promise, keep it up, grow strong, and when the time comes, you'll have a place in my squad!"

  Boine approached too, small but genuine smile.

  "You have valuable perspective," she said, soft voice, "and rare strength of character, I'll enjoy working with you in the future."

  Not a question, calm declaration.

  Feitan waved from afar.

  "Good work."

  And left.

  Mabel approached me.

  "See? I told you your perspective would be valuable," smiled, "don't worry, Clemearl will accept, I'm absolutely certain."

  "And if she doesn't accept?"

  "Then I'll convince her," smiled, confident, "I'm VERY good at convincing."

  Ferme appeared beside her.

  "Let's go, we need to prepare."

  "Already prepared, right?"

  "Always."

  "Boring."

  "Yes."

  Mabel laughed, grabbed his hand.

  "Let's go!"

  He followed, reluctant but without complaining.

  As they left, I saw.

  He looked at her.

  For a second.

  Expression softening.

  Before returning to neutrality.

  I smiled, small.

  Caliope approached.

  "Sekire."

  I looked at her.

  "You did very well today," her smile was proud, genuine, "contributed significantly, showed courage, that's no small feat."

  Pause.

  "Tomorrow we continue training, we'll fix that control," firm tone, gentle, "together."

  I nodded.

  "Thank you, Your Majesty."

  "You're welcome," she touched my shoulder, "now go rest, it was a long and emotionally heavy day."

  I left the room.

  In the corridor, I looked out the window.

  The sun was high, midday.

  Tomorrow Mabel would leave.

  And I would stay.

  Training.

  Fighting against myself.

  Trying to accept what I am.

  But today.

  Today I had helped.

  Had contributed.

  Had made a difference.

  And that man.

  That man who died trying to be free.

  At least now someone knew.

  Someone remembered.

  Stop fighting.

  Start living.

  Hinata's words echoed.

  And for the first time.

  I felt that maybe.

  Just maybe.

  I could do it.

  I breathed deeply.

  And returned to my room.

  Waiting.

  For tomorrow.