"Yes... and you would be?" My voice came out cracked.
I instinctively brought an arm in front of Emma, a silent gesture to tell her to stay back, that I'd handle this.
The man's long fingers tapered down his graying goatee, while the corners of his lips lifted even higher in that mocking grin.
To his left, half-hidden by the shadow cast by the large apple tree, stood a thin and petite girl, barely taller than us. The air around her was colder, as if she carried with her an invisible gust of winter wind.
She had hair that fell on her shoulders, a deep blue like the sky before a storm, and eyes of ice that seemed to pierce right through me.
A subtle scent came with that impossible breeze: lavender mixed with something more pungent, almost medicinal. Her blue lips brought back memories of the cold of the well during last year's accident, but that color was too vivid, too perfect.
It had to be lipstick. An ice statue ready to shatter or freeze everything it touched.
"My name is Magnus Loredan." He moved his free hand from the staff to the white metal shoulder of the armored man to his right. "This is my friend, Sergeant Roderick Vale..."
This man looked to be about Sister Cora's age. Blond hair cut short and an athletic predator's physique; he was clearly a military man. He wore armor that recalled the city's colors, but the crest was different: not the rampant unicorn of the city guard, only the decapitated horned head of the elite guard.
At his side, the hilt of a large sword drew the eye. A ruby as large as a walnut was set in the pommel. The ruby glowed with its own light, not reflecting the sun. His eyes were motionless. Icy.
Does he ever blink?
"...and this is Isabella." The girl's precious dress, the same magnetic blue as her lipstick, answered to its mistress's name: the wide skirt rustled slightly, moved by a wind that wasn't blowing in that garden.
"What are you doing in our home?" I asked, trying to sound authoritative.
I took the opportunity to push Emma closer to my brother.
I don't like this at all. We need a source. Fire. Heat I can control if they decide to attack.
I lowered my gaze to the center of the garden. The brazier was unlit and empty, a useless iron carcass. But then I noticed the burlap sack right by Sipar's feet: it was full of coal. My brother must have come out to load it just before those three appeared out of nowhere.
The man didn't answer my question; instead he simply raised his index finger to the sky, and addressed the girl with a chilling calm. "Well, Isabella. Capture them all, would you? And no Light, please."
"What? What do you mean?" Sipar protested, but his hands were visibly trembling.
Now!
I arched my back and grabbed the coal sack with a grunt. My vertebrae creaked as I lifted it, throwing it with a single fluid movement into the brazier.
But the coal didn't touch the cold bottom: while still spinning in mid-air, it caught fire. The suffocating heat of the summer day was more than enough; I seized it instantly with my Breath of the Gods, channeling it inside the sack with iron will.
It crashed against the metal plate of the brazier crackling in red and yellow flames. Sparks and burning shards fell through the air dancing slowly in the summer breeze.
"Good, now on with it!" I spun around sharply, ready to strike, but remained frozen.
They're all still standing there.
Magnus was nodding, evidently amused by my demonstration. Isabella stared at me and the frost of her gaze seemed to become real matter.
She took a step forward and, and in that instant, Magnus's staff crashed down on the paved ground with such force that it resonated like a hammer blow on an anvil. The Gold Sphere and the Silver One glowed in unison, nearly blinding us.
Enormous quartz fences erupted violently from the walls around the garden, towering above the top of the house and enclosing us in a cage of white mineral that cast long and sinister shadows.
The bars started from the orphanage roof and shot to the perimeter walls, crossing above us in a pale lattice.
He is strong. No escaping now.
Then he snapped his long fingers and from the top of the staff flew brilliant shields, pale and semi-transparent, that went to position themselves above our heads and above Isabella.
Around me fell silent sparks, remnants of a power I couldn't fully comprehend. I closed one eye, gritting my teeth: my sternum burned with unprecedented ferocity.
"Arek, that thing above you just exploded!" Sipar's voice had regained some steadiness, but I couldn't look away. The ice child had me pinned.
"Maybe some Eteria magic..." I murmured.
"Everyone ready?" The mage seemed like an excited child in front of a circus show, eyes gleaming with sick curiosity. Roderick, on the contrary, remained motionless. He didn't even seem to breathe under his armor. Except for his pupils that followed Isabella's every slightest movement, ready to intervene if something went wrong.
"Begin."
Isabella wasted no time. With a fluid gesture she lifted the wide blue skirt and, from a hidden sheath fastened to her thigh, drew out a thin wand, white as old bone, that spiraled into itself in a perfect twist. Beyond the pure white, I noticed iridescent reflections running along that long screw, a rainbow of wrong colors, pulsing with its own life.
My concentration was broken by the abrupt movement: she moved the wand from top to bottom with sudden violence.
Instead of the silence I expected, a sharp, close crack tore through the air, similar to the snap of a whip hitting an invisible target. In that exact instant, a furious wind exploded from nowhere, shaking Isabella's dress with such force that the girl lifted off the ground.
She rose quickly, surpassing the top of the apple tree, and remained there, floating in mid-air. Her ice eyes were fixed on mine, and the tip of the wand pointed straight at my chest.
"Where the hell does she get all that wind to be able to fly?" I thought aloud, clenching my fists.
The raw energy of the bonfire pulsed to my left. The flames answered my call, ready for the worst.
"What... what do they want from us?" Sipar voiced everyone's thoughts, his voice trembling despite trying to maintain composure.
"Now's not the time. Focus Sipar!" I replied sharply.
Emma's gaze was full of wild challenge; she had no doubts. That flying witch, whose wind made her hair flutter back like blue raven wings, was a danger to be eradicated.
Isabella saw it and responded by raising the wand in her direction.
Sparks formed on the tip of the white bone. The flames of the bonfire rose, a thin tongue of fire that gathered at that point.
A small but dense fireball coalesced on the tip of the wand. The child smiled, an almost bored expression, and hurled it at Emma with a lazy flick of her wrist.
I was ready.
The attack had been too slow, almost an insult.
With a movement of my arm, a bubble of fire burst from the bonfire.
It shot into the air and intercepted the projectile.
The impact was sharp: the two spells canceled each other out, vanishing in a harmless little cloud of white smoke that Isabella's wind dispersed instantly.
Emma hadn't even blinked, nor had she moved a step.
Magnus, from below, chuckled. "Oh, Isabella... I think the boy's underestimating you. Or maybe you're playing too much with your food?"
The blue-haired girl's face changed. The boredom disappeared, replaced by a grimace of cold irritation.
My victory lasted an instant.
Isabella moved the wand toward Sipar.
Bam!
A jet of water hit him full on.
"Sipar!"
Too fast. I hadn't made it in time.
My brother was on the ground, soaked. The symbol above his head pulsed.
But from where...? There isn't enough water in the garden for a jet like that. The fountain is too far. That jet came from nothing.
Then she moved the wand in my direction and another booming crack tore through the air, the earth splitting open under my feet.
"If she flies..." I brought my hands behind me, eyes closed.
I need to focus.
The particles that made up the air were almost motionless around me. "Almost" was the key word. I gathered the energy of every single particle and pushed it with a mental command beneath me.
"I can at least straighten up!" I yelled, managing not to fall backward into the fissure that kept splitting the garden.
As I straightened up, the pain of a hundred cuts, like sharp book pages, burned in every fold of my body. Drops of blood dripped from every hollow of my skin, staining my light tunic.
Despite the torment, the pain had brought clarity. If the element isn't there or is weak, if I force it, I have to pay the consequences: wind cuts, like now, or water in the lungs, like that damned time with Vrogat. Is this the price of the Breath of the Gods when you overdo it?
But then why didn't that blue devil suffer these consequences? She floated up there, light and intact, while I was bleeding out just to stay on my feet.
I had no choice. If Isabella used magic without paying the price, I had to find another way to stop her. A way that wouldn't tear me apart from the inside.
My gaze moved looking for something, anything. Sipar, huddled on the ground and soaked. Emma, coiled and ready to spring. The brazier, a safe source of energy, but not the only one.
And then I looked at the apple tree.
Lirka. Where the hell are you?