Days later, the bar was once again filled with voices, laughter, and glasses clinking together. Zein and Kiomi were working as servers, moving between the tables with trays in hand. Kiomi, in particular, had become surprisingly popular. For many of the customers, seeing an elf serving tables was unusual, almost a novelty, and there was no shortage of curious stares that lingered longer than they should.
More than once, when Zein approached a table, someone would impatiently raise a hand just to tell him he'd better bring "the elf" instead. Zein would let out an awkward laugh and obey, while Kiomi carried out her work without many words, always maintaining a certain distance from him. They were the only servers since the previous one had quit, so there wasn't much room to complain.
During one of his breaks, Zein leaned against the bar and sat next to Naoko, who was resting there after a recent fight. Her arms were crossed over the wood, and her gaze was lost on some point in front of her.
—Don't you have to work? —Naoko asked when she noticed Zein settling in beside her.
—I'm on break —he responded, shrugging—. Besides, people prefer Kiomi. Every time I serve them something, they push me aside and tell me to bring them the elf.
He asked the bartender for a glass of water, which was slid over to him without a word.
—Gross… —Naoko murmured, observing some customers who weren't hiding their stares.
Zein was about to respond when something caught his attention. He looked up and frowned slightly. High up on the back bar, a glowing rectangle projected moving images, changing colors and scenes.
—What is that? —he asked, pointing to it.
—What? —Naoko followed his finger—. That?
—Yeah, that —Zein said, without taking his eyes off it.
Naoko looked at him as if he had just said something bizarre.
—Don't tell me you seriously don't know what that is…
—No —he admitted naturally—. We didn't have those in Ilmenor, and to be honest, I'd never noticed they had one here.
There was genuine curiosity in his expression, almost childlike. Naoko blinked a few times and then looked away.
—Well… —she said, thinking about it—. It's magic. It's passed through a crystal so that it flows inside and ends up projecting images.
Zein was watching her intently, without interrupting, as if every word were important. Naoko shifted a bit in her seat.
—Uh… I mean, it's more complex than that —she continued—, but… there are different channels you can tune in to see different things and…
By that point, her face was completely red. Zein kept looking at her, interested, without realizing how much it was making her nervous.
—And what else? —he asked, leaning forward just a bit.
Naoko pressed her lips together, trying to organize her thoughts.
—Well… um… —Naoko couldn't go on. She lowered her head and let her hair cover her face, as if she could hide the heat burning her cheeks. Even so, Zein remained there, waiting for her, genuinely interested.
Before he could say anything else, the bartender threw a crumpled ball of paper that hit him right in the head.
—Get back to work; your break is over —he said, continuing to dry a glass with total calm.
—Sorry, Judas, I'm going —Zein responded, standing up—. Let's talk some other time, Naoko, okay?
—Y-yes… —she answered, barely audible.
Naoko remained with her head down, her face as red as a tomato.
—Thank you… —she murmured toward Judas.
—Don't mention it —he responded without looking at her, continuing his routine.
A while later, the sound of grass whipping through the air filled the courtyard of the house. Zein was training with a wooden sword, repeating over and over the same movements Lucian had taught him. He didn't change anything, he didn't improvise; every step, every turn, followed the exact same order as always. The only difference was the silent absence by his side.
Nearby, Lyra was playing, hanging from a tree branch and swinging with a carefree smile.
—How was your day at the bakery? —Zein asked, without stopping his sword swings.
—Good. The lady at the bakery is very kind and patient with me —Lyra responded, letting herself sway back and forth.
—Yeah? I'm glad —he said, adjusting his grip so as not to lose focus.
—Big brother.
—Yes?
—What is your dream? —Lyra asked suddenly.
Zein stopped his movement and frowned slightly.
—My dream?
—Yes. Your dream. What is your greatest wish?
Zein remained silent for a few seconds. Then he set the sword aside and sat in the shade of the tree, leaning his back against the trunk.
—My greatest dream… —he finally said— is whatever dream you have.
Lyra looked down at him, tilting her head.
—How boring —she said without malice, swinging again amidst laughter.
—What do you want me to say? And yours? What is it? That way I can know what my dream is too —Zein said with a quiet smile.
—My dream is an incredible one! —Lyra responded, puffing out her chest with pride—. I want to live in a big log cabin in front of a giant lake, in the middle of nature, far from everything! It should have a mountain nearby so we can climb it to see the landscape whenever we want. I want you and me to live there. Also Kiomi and Kio. And if Naoko, Alexander, or Mei want to move there, I wouldn't have a problem with that either!
Zein listened to her without interrupting. When she finished, he got up from the ground and gave her a gentle tap on the forehead.
—Get down from there or you're going to get hurt —he said calmly.
Lyra rubbed her forehead and gave him an exaggerated pout, though her lips were trembling as she held back a laugh.
A while later, Lyra was sleeping soundly under the shade of the tree, hugging her knees. Zein, a few steps away, had begun training with magic.
In front of him floated the spell Lucian had left him. He observed it intently, almost with respect. The layers of enchantments overlapped one another—precise, ancient lines, so perfectly ordered they seemed the result of countless years of study and testing. All of that, now contained in the palm of his hand.
He reviewed it over and over, following every stroke, every connection.
"It's missing something… it's missing…" he thought, without finishing the idea.
—Power.
The voice appeared without warning—harsh, like metal scraping against frozen glass.
Zein's body tensed instantly. He looked up and took a step back, searching for the source of the sound. The air around him seemed to have grown heavier. He didn't need to see it to know what it was… but even so, his stomach tightened as the silhouette took shape in front of him.
It was the same shadow. The same presence from that night, before the fire in Ilmenor. A figure shrouded in black flames that illuminated nothing—flames that seemed to devour light instead of emitting it. Its very existence made the surroundings feel misplaced, as if it didn't belong there.
Zein grit his teeth.
—How did you get out? —he asked without looking away—. Didn't you say you needed my permission or something like that?
—Not anymore —the shadow responded with an unsettling calmness—. But don't worry… I won't do anything crazy like last time.
Zein watched it in silence. His shoulders were rigid, his breath held, as if at the slightest slip-up that thing could drag him back to a place he didn't want to remember.
—You look less… arrogant.
—What do you mean I look less arrogant? What stupidity are you talking about? —the figure spat, with a tone that vibrated like something about to break.
Zein did not respond. He remained silent, his muscles tense, without letting his guard down for a single moment.
—But yes… I have changed —the shadow continued after a brief pause—. I have understood something. We need fame, power, and money. That is all we need. Don't you think so?
It extended a hand toward him, open, patient.
—Of course not.
Zein's response was sharp, immediate.
—I knew you wouldn't understand me —the figure said, not bothering to hide its disdain—. But I know that one day you will.
Silence fell between them again. The wind barely moved the leaves of the tree, and the spell in front of Zein trembled slightly.
—Come on, Zein —the shadow insisted, leaning in slowly—. Help me. Help me fulfill this… and with that, I am sure you can fulfill that stupid dream Lyra has.
The figure turned its face slightly toward the sleeping girl, as if evaluating her.
—Zein!
Kiomi's voice cut through the air.
In a blink, the shadow vanished. It left no trace, no sound… only an uncomfortable sensation, as if something had been forcibly ripped from the place.
From the doorway, Kiomi caught a glimpse of a remnant of that fire on the grass. A dark, twisted flicker. The same one that had covered Ilmenor that night.
Her fingers closed tightly over the fabric of her clothes. Her breathing grew shorter.
—Come on… Alexander is calling us inside —she finally said, without moving from the doorframe.
—Sure, I'm coming —Zein responded, far too quickly, feigning a normalcy he didn't feel.
He leaned down to wake Lyra gently. She murmured something incomprehensible and clung to his sleeve. Zein carried her softly, and together they returned to the interior of the bar, leaving behind the courtyard… and the unsettling feeling that something had not ended there.