"So first, we have to get out of here before the estate starts taking actual measures to keep us trapped," the lady said, her fingers flicking outward in a dismissive wave as if brushing off the danger like dust. Her other hand moved in subtle emphasis, slicing through the air with each word, sharp and precise.
She turned back to Mira with a sudden shift in tone—a gentle warmth in her eyes, almost playful. I could feel it radiate as she approached, beaming, and without hesitation, reached out and held Mira's free hand. Mira was still carrying me, so the contact caught her off guard. She blinked, visibly flustered at the sudden closeness.
"Oh! I didn't introduce myself," the woman said brightly. "I'm Lavender. But you can just call me Lav. You can treat me as your sister."
Mira's brow furrowed slightly, unsure of how to respond. "Okaaayyy?" she echoed, still flustered, her voice lifting at the end like a question she wasn't sure she'd asked.
Lavender then turned her gaze down toward me—the small bundle in Mira's cradle-like arms. Her eyes lit up even more.
"Awwwn, you're so cute."
Wha—?!
Okay, listen, I know I'm a baby right now, but you can't just say things like that with that much sugar in your voice! My cheeks would've flushed if they weren't already naturally that way. I swear, I'm not used to this. At all. I'm a dignified soul trapped in a squishy body—I demand some respect!
Then Lav looked back at Mira, eyes sparkling with delight.
"His name is Caelum, right? Awwwwn, what a befitting name for such a cute child!" she said, beaming straight at me.
Mira, still reeling from both the praise and the physical affection, shifted uncomfortably. "Uhhhm, Lavende—I mean, Lav… Aren't we, like, kind of against time right now?"
"Oh!" Lavender blinked as if coming out of a daze. She quickly stepped back and gave a short, awkward cough. "Eh-ehm. Got carried away there. Yeah, right. Back to the issue— what was it again? Oh right, out of here!"
With a polite cough, Lav's fingers lifted casually to her lips, and as she straightened her posture, something… changed. It wasn't a sudden snap or crackle of power—nothing loud or dramatic. No, it was more like the subtle pressure in the air before a lightning strike. Her hair shifted slightly, as though moved by a breeze no one else could feel. Then, a faint violet shimmer began to ripple out from her, starting at her shoulders and diffusing through the air like waves across silk.
She flexed her hand absentmindedly, like she was trying to shake off some tension, but the violet hue clung to her fingertips, blooming outward in soft fractals. Her eyes glinted—not in warning, but with focus.
And then...
Reality wavered.
I felt it. Not just in the air—but in the bones of the room itself.
The furniture around us didn't shake or move. It simply... forgot. The room lost its definition. The walls shimmered, their solidity falling into question. The corners that once grounded the space turned smooth, like someone had started erasing the lines of a drawing mid-sketch.
The ground beneath Mira's feet—beneath us—felt like it loosened, like we were no longer standing on anything, but within something.
Uh? Is it... because of my Kairoptic Vision?
I can see it... the structure of the room. It's unraveling… no—it's being rewritten. Not piece by piece, but as a whole... like a single block of code being copied and pasted elsewhere.
The room didn't explode. It didn't vanish.
It folded.
And then we were... somewhere else.
A soft thump accompanied our arrival—barely audible. But I knew something massive had just happened. Not from sound, but from the absence of everything else.
Mira blinked several times, eyes darting across the space. It was a different room now—cleaner, quieter, a gentle glow illuminating it from sleek fixtures that seemed out of place in contrast to the archaic estate we'd just been in. The walls here were a cool slate color. The air smelled different too—sterile, like machinery and spring water.
She turned to Lav, brows furrowed. "What… did you just do?"
Lav grinned, dusting off her hands in a dramatically casual gesture. "Oh! Well, I teleported this room to a new location." She gave a playful shrug. "Well, not really teleported per se…" Her lower lip jutted into a playful pout.
"Wait… what do you mean?" Mira asked, squinting, clearly trying to make sense of it.
Lav flipped her hair back over one shoulder, striking an unintentional pose, then waved a hand as if to dismiss the entire conversation like it was no big deal. "Ah, don't worry about the specifics. Just think of it as moving the room—not us—somewhere safer. Kind of like... picking up a glass with water in it and placing it on another table. The water doesn't spill, because I moved the whole glass."
My eyes widened—or they would've, if my baby face had the range. That's... a ridiculous analogy. And weirdly accurate.
I could still feel the traces of the shift in the air, like echoes caught between moments. Whatever she'd done, it hadn't been a simple trick. Even without understanding the mechanism, I could see its echo—how every particle in the space had flickered, not just out of sync, but into an entirely new rhythm.
Is this what the world looks like when she touches it? Not bent or broken… but rephrased.
Mira still looked unconvinced. "You're saying you moved this entire room somewhere else?"
Lav gave her a finger-gun gesture. "Bingo. Just a little spatial tuning. It's actually safer this way than trying to teleport individuals. People get all weird when you mess with their bodies mid-jump.
I gulped. Internally. Noted.
Mira tilted her head. "So where are we now?"
"Off-grid," Lav replied with a grin. "Still technically within the estate's reach, but wrapped in a blind spot."
Mira looked around again, clearly overwhelmed. "That sounds... complicated."
Lav chuckled. "That's because it is."
She winked.
"Oh, you finally brought them."
The voice rang softly but clearly, like a gentle bell, coming from the direction of the door just before it opened. The steps that accompanied it were light—almost hesitant—but there was a strange confidence in the voice's unwavering tone.
I turned my head just slightly.
And there she was.
She looked... like a teenager, honestly. Soft white hair framed her delicate face like winter silk, her skin nearly as pale. There was something untouched about her presence, almost too pristine for the room she'd just walked into. Her long, flowing garments—pure white and almost translucent—clung like they were made from liquid light. A walking snowdrop. Beautiful, and just... unnervingly serene.
"Oh, Eirlys, sorry for not giving a thumbs up," Lav said, scratching her cheek with a lazy grin. "Should've let you get ready."
Eirlys immediately shook her hands as she fumbled to respond. "Ah, n-no, please—don't even worry. I'm not, um, awkward or anything like that. Not... too much, I hope." Her voice fluttered like a leaf caught in a breeze. She adjusted the sleeve of her robe, then her collar, then smoothed her skirt twice even though it hadn't wrinkled at all. "I-I was just dusting... for no reason... and then I saw your signal, but I didn't want to intrude, so I—" she stopped herself and bowed her head politely. "I apologize if I've come across as unready."
She smiled.
Lav snorted softly, "Come on, you little tea-bag of politeness. Don't play all ceremonial on me now."
Eirlys flushed and made a faint, embarrassed noise in her throat as she touched her cheek with the back of her hand. "Y-you shouldn't say things like that..."
Lav grinned wider, clearly enjoying the flustered reaction.
I couldn't tell if Eirlys was genuinely used to it or just bracing for emotional whiplash every few minutes.
Eirlys... she was something else. That politeness wasn't just surface-deep—it was interwoven into her like breath in a body. Every movement of hers was considerate, every word weighed. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling she saw more than she let on.
Eirlys's attention suddenly shifted—her eyes turned, her posture stiffened slightly. She had noticed something.
Then she sighed softly.
Her gaze landed on the child chained in the corner—Jet. Even bound, there was a certain wildness to him, like he was constantly vibrating at a frequency just outside the norm.
"What... did Jet do this time?" she asked, already frowning as she approached with that same reserved care one might use to approach a wounded dog or a ticking box.
Lav waved a hand like it wasn't worth even blinking at. "Oh dear, please don't pay attention to that stupid monkey."
Jet made a muffled growl through the chain gag—barely audible, but the intent behind it? Oh, that was loud. His eyes narrowed like slits of fire.
One second she's a teasing sibling figure, the next she's got a death glare reserved for one kid in the room. I definitely don't want to end on her bad side.
Lav didn't even spare Jet a second glance before her face lit up again as she turned back to Eirlys. "Oh, and I need your help on some healing."
Eirlys immediately stood straighter, her hands coming together in front of her chest as if she were physically readying herself for the task. "Oh, of course! I'd be honored to—truly! Who needs healing?"
Lav turned and gestured casually—like she was showing off old furniture—towards the heap of limbs behind her. "Them."
Lucien and Charlotte lay together in a crumpled pile, like discarded dolls. The blood had stopped flowing, but their bodies still looked like they belonged to another moment—one filled with violence and sound.
Eirlys gasped, both hands rising to her lips as she hurried over. "Oh —d-did Jet do this?!"
Lav nodded silently.
Eirlys glanced at Jet again, something cold—disappointment maybe. It was subtle, but I caught it. She turned her back to him almost immediately, kneeling beside the bodies.
She gently separated them, carefully arranging their bodies like she was handling glass statues. Each touch was exact, reverent even.
There's something sacred about the way she moves. She doesn't just heal—she treats suffering like it's a holy thing, a thing not to be ignored but understood and answered. I don't think she's just polite. I think she's terrified of doing harm in any form.
"Can you really heal them?" Mira's voice cut through the quiet, hesitant and unsure. Her hands were clutching her sleeve tightly, lips barely moving.
Eirlys looked up, expression calm. "I'll do my very best." She bowed her head slightly, then added with a whisper, "I promise."
Mira didn't answer, but she nodded slowly.
Eirlys exhaled softly, then placed her hands gently over Lucien's chest. A warm light—barely more than a soft glow—began to pulse from her palms.
And for the first time in what felt like hours, the room quieted.
Not because nothing was happening.
But because something finally was.