Lucimia chose to turn away, letting questions drift like mist over a river, refusing to stare into that storm of problems.
She kept moving forward, eyes on the present like lanterns in snow, intent on passing the trial of the [Space-Time] Authority Power, claiming it whole, then finding Yuna and Desty.
Anxious thoughts fluttered like dry leaves. Once I finish the Nirael business, I’ll track down space-time adepts. And Yuna said the village where she was kidnapped was called… Kalan Village? Olivya’s followers snatched her near Kalan too. Do I check there? Do I try to find her birth parents?
With that resolve glowing faint as winter sun, she felt her body’s functions slowly returning. She gripped a tree trunk like a tired sapling and rose.
We need to hurry, or the rats will catch up… uh!
She’d barely straightened when a hard wave of vertigo rammed her skull. Stars burst behind her eyes; her head turned lead, feet turned cloud. She wobbled and went down onto the snow.
What’s happening? The question beat like a trapped bird in her chest.
She tried to speak, but the old fatigue surged back like a high tide, heavier than before.
So tired…
She reached for the ground to push herself up, yet her arms hung like wet rope, refusing to obey.
So sleepy…
Her eyelids felt like iron shutters; they tried to slide closed no matter her will.
Right—she hadn’t truly rested in a long time, a winter without dawn.
But… I can’t sleep…
Her will slipped like frost from a branch. She couldn’t control it.
What do I do?
Ah—Devouring.
Her intent stirred like a spark in ash. She reached for the Devouring Authority, wanting to devour the exhaustion gnawing her bones.
But she was too drained; even thought crawled like syrup. It wasn’t just her body—her spirit sagged, threadbare and cold.
Maybe she had dragged her worn mind into a brief yet tangled parley with another self, mirrors facing mirrors on a rain-washed board.
Spent past bearing, she couldn’t even condense a Fuzzy Orb. Her eyes sealed like nightfall, and her consciousness sank into dark water.
In a forest white as blank paper, a girl in dark tones lay asleep upon the snow, quiet as a fallen feather.
Her right hand rested on her belly; her head tilted a touch, surrendered to sleep.
Snow sifted down from a iron-grey sky, layering over her like silk. Soon she’d vanish under the drift, a hush in a world of white where no spoor remained.
Night fell, and the snowfall thickened, dressing the forest in silver and frost, a palace of moonlight and bone.
Usually, winter nights in the woods are hollow-still, a silence like iced glass.
But tonight broke the pattern: orange-red flames pricked the dark, and a troop in pitch-black heavy armor rode hard, swords gleaming, chasing a small figure like wolves on a ridge.
“Light cavalry on both wings, encircle! Heavy cavalry, straight charge with me! All units, release lightning magic—don’t let her slip!”
The leader’s voice cut like a blade through cloth as he hurled orders.
He rode a different magic steed, its tack dark as obsidian; etched patterns curled across his black heavy armor like frost vines.
From his calm, rapid deployment, he was no weak reed—his presence felt like a spear planted firm.
And the girl they hunted?
Her hair fell in a ragged, light-green gradient, leaves tangled like forest breath; it draped her shoulders with a lazy, wild grace.
Her eyes were deep emerald, slit-pupiled like a cat in moonlight.
Her features were crisp and delicate, sculpted like snow on a cornice.
She wore a cloak, denim shorts, gray tights, and short boots.
Her tights blended into snug layers, showing long lines like willow branches, though smeared with leaves, mud, and snow.
She ran through the white like a deer startled at dawn, breath sharp, a ribbon of fear flickering in her gaze.
She looked back and saw the heavy-armored riders pressing in, merciless as winter wind, lightning magic coalescing in their hands like storm seeds.
A bolt cracked free. Her eyes flared. She dove into the drift, belly to snow, as the lightning smashed a trunk and left it charred like burnt bread.
Cold sweat beaded on her skin, dew turned to ice.
“Keep at it! Alive or dead, bring her back!” the leader barked, iron in his tone.
The words stabbed her spine; she jolted and ran again.
Then lightning flew from both flanks, a storm net cast wide.
“Waaah!” she yelped, springing and ducking, threading between trunks like a swallow under eaves, dodging spell after spell.
A wide mesh of crackling arcs lunged. Her footwork flashed—a drop, a side twist, a deep bend; she moved like a dancer in a white grove, letting every strike kiss air.
Clearing the web, she shouted over her shoulder, anger bright as a torch: “Enough already! I only stole a loaf of bread! Worth chasing me three days and nights? You drove me out of the city into the wilderness and still won’t quit?!”
She shoved a hand into her pocket, yanked out copper and silver, and flung the coins behind her like scattered stars.
“Here—take it, all of it! I’ll pay you—just stop chasing me!”
The soldiers didn’t glance down. Hooves crushed the coins with dull clicks, left them in the snow, and the riders kept coming, relentless as sleet.
“Seriously? Even paying won’t do?!” she cried as she ran.
The captain snorted, a cold snap, and snapped his fingers. A Magic Array flickered before his visor—a sound-amplification weave, glowing like a ringed moon.
His voice rolled out, thick and resonant: “Rexi Iweni Eloise, you’re suspected in a major criminal case. As the Erwei City Enforcement Squad Captain, I declare you under arrest.
“I advise you to surrender. You might still see leniency.”
Rexi—Rexi Iweni Eloise—felt wronged, a thorn under the nail. She didn’t even know she’d killed anyone; being hunted like this gnawed her heart raw.
“I told you, I don’t know about killing anyone! You’ve got the wrong person!”
“If that’s true, cooperate with our investigation. If you’re innocent, we’ll clear your name.”
“Yeah, right! No way! Who’d trust you? I didn’t kill anyone. Why should I go with you?” She snapped it out, springing aside as another spell sliced past like a hawk.
“Then we have no choice.”
The captain sighed once, a frost-white breath, then conjured a long spear from empty air.
Not a greatsword—a jet-black spear, its tip humming with lightning like a caged wasp.
He kicked his lightning magic steed. The beast screamed, hooves wrapped in blue sparks, and it surged like a thunderbolt at Rexi, carving a streak of azure across the night. Blue and orange arcs flared, bright as twin comets in the dark.
Hoofbeats rolled up behind her—crisp, heavy, rhythmic, a drum over ice.
“So fast?!” The shock hit her gut like cold water.
She knew her legs alone would never outrun that storm-bred steed.
Before, she’d used terrain to shake off regular horses. This one didn’t care—its lightning ripped through obstacles, and it arrowed straight at her, a bolt drawn to ground.
