After the seventh loop around Black Duck City, Angela’s mouth tasted bitter, like over-steeped tea.

“Sis, what do they even want?” Her voice fluttered like a small bird in the wind.

Angela clung to Edlyn’s arm like a vine on a tree, and the long flight had smoothed her nerves like glass in the surf.

Edlyn shrugged, easy as a drifting cloud. “Who cares. Treat it as practice with the Wind Cube.”

“Boss, didn’t you say we were being tailed? We’ve looped so many times. Maybe you felt it wrong?” The complaint came like gravel on metal.

“Yeah, man, what if the employer’s been waiting forever?” Another guy glanced back at the two girls passed out from the fumes, like wilted flowers in the backseat.

The driver’s face sank, shadowed like thunder under a lid of clouds. He sighed. “Forget it. Let’s head back.”

Edlyn smiled, a crescent moon cutting through fog. “Finally, no more circles?”

To be safe, she climbed higher, like a hawk riding a thermal.

She let wind elements fold around her, a veil of invisible silk, smothering her aura like mist over a lake. As long as nobody kept staring at the sky, no one would notice them.

Able to walk the sky and vanish into it. That mastery shone like steel polished to a mirror.

“Yeah, the final clash with the Hero someday—if the elements back me, and I still lose to him, I’ll… mm… better not raise a flag.” Her laugh was dry, like leaves rubbing. “Last time that flag got me killed.”

…

Now that he’d joined the New Era Sect, Albert figured it was about time to start nudging Yiyi—light rain, not a storm.

Ahem. Don’t get it twisted. Just preaching doctrine, and clearing up a few things, like lanterns along a path.

Albert called to the girl ahead. “Yiyi, come. Let me show you a treasure.” His voice was gentle, like wool on wood.

Yiyi paused mid-step and glanced back, eyes bright as dew.

Albert scanned the wild mountain grove around them, dark trunks and fern fans, then nodded. From his coat he drew a box wrapped in exaggerated seals, like ropes binding a thunderhead. “This is our New Era Sect’s greatest target.”

Albert’s smile carried pride, warm as sunlight on stone.

Yiyi tilted her head, curiosity peeking out like a fox from brush. “Mm? What is it?”

Albert closed his eyes. With a hush of reverence, he released the box. It didn’t fall; it floated in midair, breathing a faint, terrifying pulse, like a heart under ice.

He tossed a protective spell to Yiyi, a clear dome of light, and began stripping seals from the box, one ribbon at a time.

Then, under Yiyi’s widening gaze, a silver rhombus crystal drifted out, gleaming like a shard of moon.

This was Birand’s Memory Crystal.

Seeing the girl stunned, Albert let a bit of triumph slip, like spice in soup. “Our New Era Sect’s ultimate goal is to bring back the great Hero Birand.”

Yiyi frowned, a crease like a blade. “Why would you do that?”

“Why?” He breathed out, mist in cold air. “Honestly, you might not believe it, Yiyi. But I—and about ninety-five percent of our Sect—are people from another world.” His tone settled, steady as a plumb line.

“A voice told us that the Hero Birand was the first to come here.” Albert sat cross-legged, rooted like a stump in snow.

Yiyi’s brows stayed tight, like knotted twine. “You mean…”

“Right. The great Hero, Mr. Birand Aste, also came from another world.” Longing flickered in Albert’s eyes like candle flame.

“Then why chase Birand? What for? There’s no Demon Race here anymore, right?” Yiyi’s confusion drifted like smoke.

Albert sighed, a wind through reeds. “If you’re torn from home too long, anyone’d feel wrong in their bones.”

“Ah?”

“We just want to go back.” His voice thudded like a distant drum. “Me and a few others built this group so folks could huddle against the cold. Well, some do dream of going home just to show off.” He gave a rueful chuckle, thin as parchment.

“Your world isn’t suited to us, in every sense.” His gaze went far, like a ship to horizon. “The natives’ strength and talent aren’t lower than us crossers. It’s not like those novels.”

“I don’t get it.” Yiyi shook her head, a bell with no clapper.

“Mm?”

“How does this… ahem… how does the great Hero Birand tie back to me?”

Albert blinked, then nodded, like remembering a key under the mat. “Right, I forgot to explain.”

He stood, lifted his hands, and pinched off a piece of cloud from the sky like cotton. In his palm the cloud rippled through shapes—doors, chains, storms.

“Back then, the Hero Birand stood at the peak of peaks.” His words rang like iron on stone. “We don’t know how someone that strong could be killed, but that’s not my point. Listen carefully.”

“You talk. I’m listening.” Yiyi drew a slow breath, steadying like a bowstring. So many answers hung like ripe fruit.

“When Birand reached that level, he opened doors to many worlds.” His voice thinned like frost. “At first, those doors barely pulled at anyone. Maybe your mages noticed too late. Later, the doors gaped wide and sucked people like us into your world.”

Albert sighed again, a low tide sliding.

“But those doors weren’t two-way.” A shadow crossed his face, like cloud over moon.

“Ah?”

“In short, we could be pulled into your world, but you couldn’t come to ours.” He let the sentence fall, heavy as a stone.

“That—”

“You want to say that’s impossible.” Albert raised the cloud, and it swelled like a stormhead. “But I came in the earliest wave. I’ve witnessed his overwhelming power.”

“When Birand saw the doors open, saw offworlders step through, he acted.” His eyes glazed, memory rough as bark. “I saw countless chains—sky-filling, numberless—shoot from his body and wrap the whole heavens, clamping the otherworld gates shut.”

The fear still lived in his face, like thunder echoing after the flash.

“Ever since, only the weak—far weaker than you—could be summoned into this world.” His tone went flat, winter on stone. “And none of us could pass back through those endless chains to the original world.”

“Myriad Spirit Lock…” Yiyi murmured, eyes unfocused, like mist on water.

“Then, for reasons unknown, he sealed all of us offworlders into the Eternal Snow Mountain to sleep.” Albert rolled his shoulders, a wolf shrugging off frost. “About thirty years ago, we were unsealed, and found we held power like superhumans.”

He lifted a hand, then let it drop. “But even so, we couldn’t shake that godlike force.”

“So you plan to resurrect Birand?” Yiyi exhaled a rough breath, like steam in winter. Words were suddenly scarce, like water in sand.

“Yeah. And there are two keys.”

“Oh?”

“One is this crystal. We call this kind of Memory Crystal a Legacy Crystal.” His smile edged bright, like sunlight off ice. “Birand’s soul is sealed inside. If we carry it, we feel floods of power rushing in.”

“And then?”

“And then… a person.”

“…A person?” Yiyi’s eyes narrowed, a cat watching a stir. She knew who he meant.

“His name is Eli—Eli Aestor.”

“Why him?”

“Our intel net’s rich as roots.” He spoke lightly, like tossing pebbles. “Years ago, somewhere, we saw him dying and watched him fuse a Memory Crystal shard we meant to retrieve.”

“Oh?”

“We dug through every channel.” His gaze sharpened, like a knife honed. “Eli was carried back from the place where the Hero’s energy vanished, by the grand prophet Yuris, after Birand’s power left the world. So we conclude—”

“…”

“He is Birand Aste’s reincarnation.”

“Uh…”

“Too bad he doesn’t seem to like us.” Albert gave a helpless shrug, like a sail in a lull. “We sent a fringe member to deliver a Memory Crystal. He came back badly wounded. He did run into the Bloodkin, but the worst wound was from Holy Light magic.”

“So we’ll gather all the Memory Crystal fragments.” His tone turned firm, granite under moss. “And we’ll shove them straight into him.”

“You guys… are impressive.” Yiyi let out a breath of admiration, a bamboo flute note. In that brief slack, the floating half-crystal seemed to sense something and drifted toward her like a moth to flame.

Albert watched, curiosity pricking like needles. “Huh. What’s going on?”

Yiyi’s eyes widened, a lake catching the moon. “It… recognized me?”

Her mind tangled like vines. Emotion first: a quick, cold fear. If she accepted this memory now, what would Albert do?

From their plan, she felt important, a lantern at a crossroads. But—

If Albert noticed too much now, the future would turn thorny.

She pulled a face, bitter as grapefruit, and silently begged the crystal to leave.

The crystal seemed to heed her prayer. A flash lanced out and struck Albert, hurling him far, like a leaf in a gust. Another flash cracked against Yiyi—loud but oddly soft—flinging her back like a kite cut loose.

Albert scrambled up, breath ragged. “Yiyi!”

The crystal flicked once, then shot into the high sky and vanished, a star swallowed by daylight.

Magic circles flared in Albert’s pupils, rings like ripples on a pond. A figure identical to him stepped out of his shadow, cold as ink. Albert sprang upward, chasing the crystal like a hawk.

The shadow-double strode to Yiyi. “Yiyi, you alright?”

Yiyi pouted, but relief washed through her like warm tea. “I’m fine, fine. Uncle, what ability is that? Will you teach me?”

Albert’s double smiled, mild as spring rain. “It’s a fragmentary power parsed from a Memory Crystal. If you want to learn, I can teach.”

Inside, Yiyi curled her lip. Figures. It’s my own skill.

“Rest up. The main body’s already chasing the crystal.”

“Uncle Albert, quick question—how many of those do you have?” Yiyi’s thought flicked like a fish.

“Hmm. In the organization, we’ve got two, for now.” He held up two fingers, pale against shadow. “One’s with me. The other’s with a nasty piece of work named Ascaraun.”

“You’re not afraid someone will steal them?”

“Heh.” His laugh was a dry scrape. “Right now? There’s probably no one who can beat him.”