They found shelter from the heavy rain. A small cave, uninhabited, just large enough to hold them all.
They stumbled inside, dripping and shivering.
No one spoke.
Rhea slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. She sat there for a moment, staring at nothing—and then she broke down crying.
The sobs came in waves—violent, heaving, uncontrollable. She pressed both hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, but they escaped anyway. Wails that echoed off the stone and pierced every heart in that cave.
She had lost her dear friend. Her only true friend. Someone she had known for such a short time but loved deeply—with the kind of love that comes once in a lifetime, if at all.
Fifi sat with his back against the wall, his knees drawn tightly to his chest. He stared at nothing.
She saved me, he thought. The words repeated in his mind like a chant, a prayer, an accusation. I kept questioning her. I kept doubting her. And yet, she saved me.
Levain turned away from the others, his shoulders shaking. He faced the cave wall, one hand pressed against the cold stone, his forehead resting against his knuckles. He did not make a sound. Perhaps he could not.
Drobar stood near the entrance, his massive frame blocking what little wind managed to sneak past the cave's mouth. His jaw was tight—clenched so hard the muscles in his neck stood out. His eyes were dry, but his hands, resting on his sword hilt, were trembling.
Osmond sat in silence, as always. But his head was bowed.
Rhea thought between sobs, They had promised Ayumu's spirit—Vesta—to take care of her.
And they had failed.
The last white magis. Gone.
But the one who felt the most guilt—the deepest, sharpest, most unbearable guilt—was Kaiser.
He sat apart from the others, in the darkest corner of the cave. His back was pressed against the wall, the cold stone seeping through his clothes, but he did not feel it. His red eyes stared at the opposite wall, unblinking.
The look on Ayumu's face replayed in his mind.
Over and over.
The moment when the rock crumbled. The moment when her fingers slipped through the air. The moment when she looked at him—those golden eyes, wide with shock—and he had been too far away. Too slow. Too useless to catch her.
And before that. At the boat. When she had reached for him and he had swatted her hand away.
He had never truly apologized for that.
Now she was gone.
And he would never get the chance to make it right.
His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white, nails biting into his palms.
So what, he told himself, the words hard and bitter, if the feelings I feel are influenced by my ancestors?
So what if it is written in blood, in history, in fate?
I should be the one to determine what is real feeling and what is merely a script.
He lifted his head.
But it seemed, again, that he had realized his feelings a little too late.
The rain continued to fall outside.
And inside the small, dark cave, six broken hearts sat in silence, mourning the white magis who had saved them all.
--------------------------------------------------
Somewhere, Ayumu was laying flat on the floor of a flowing cave filled with crystals.
The stone beneath her was cold and slick and above her, the ceiling glittered with thousands of tiny crystal formations catching and refracting light from an unknown source, casting the cave in hues of amber and gold.
When she had fallen into the water, her robes had been caught by the current, dragging her along as the river pulled her into an underground channel. She had followed it.
She had no choice to as her lungs burning for air.
Just when she was about to run out of breath, she felt the water above her grow calm. Still. Open.
She burst through the surface, gasping, choking, dragging air into her starving lungs.
She found herself in this bright cave.
She needed a break.
Her chest heaved. Her arms floated weakly at her sides. She treaded water for what felt like an eternity, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding against her ribs.
After a while, her breathing slowed.
Her eyes remained closed.
She had sensed something—ever since just now. A being. Watching. Not doing anything. Just looking. The presence had been there when she was drowning. When she was struggling. When she had burst through the surface.
It had not helped. But it had not harmed her either.
Ayumu's voice was soft, barely a whisper against the crystal walls. "Did you… help me?"
Silence.
Ayumu opened her eyes and slowly got up, wading toward the shallow edge of the cave pool. Water cascaded from her robes as she rose, dripping onto the smooth stone floor. She turned to look behind her.
And there it was.
An ambiguous dark shadow—formless and shifting, like a glitch in reality. Its edges flickered and blurred, never staying still for more than an instant. It had no discernible features except for its eyes.
White eyes. Glowing.
Ayumu just smiled at it.
"No matter," she said gently. "Thank you so much for helping me."
She did not wait for a response. She turned away and began to squeeze the water from her hair, twisting the long white strands between her fingers, letting the excess drip onto the cave floor.
The shadow then spoke.
Its voice was raspy—like dry leaves scraping against stone, like words spoken through centuries of dust.
"My master... would like to see you."
Ayumu paused. She did not turn around. "Does he intend to harm me?"
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, finally: "...No."
Ayumu smiled again—a small, genuine curve of her lips. "Then please show me the way."
The being moved, gliding through the air like smoke, its form shifting as it drifted deeper into the cave. Ayumu followed.
The path was long.
The cave sloped upward, winding through narrow passages and wide chambers. The crystals grew sparser as they climbed, their amber glow fading to occasional flickers, then to nothing. The air grew warmer. Drier.
And then, at the end of the cave, there was light. Not the soft glow of crystals—but something brighter.
Ayumu could see it ahead—a well-lit space, warm and welcoming. That must be where the djinn is, she thought.
She glanced back once toward the way she had come, thinking of her friends somewhere out there in the storm.
After I meet this djinn, she promised herself, I will go and find them.
She stepped through the entrance.
And stopped to see the mountains of gold surrounding her.
Not piles. Not heaps. Mountains. Vast, sprawling, rising toward a ceiling she could barely see. Gold coins cascaded down slopes like frozen waterfalls. Jeweled goblets lay scattered among gemstones the size of her fist. Golden statues—of animals, of warriors, of creatures she did not recognize—stood frozen in eternal silence.
It was not just gold. Precious stones spilled across the floor like scattered stars. Ancient weapons gleamed with an otherworldly sheen. Artifacts from forgotten civilizations rested in careless heaps, their value immeasurable, their histories lost to time.
The lost gold of Paititi.
Ayumu was captivated.
Her golden eyes swept across the vast chamber. She can't believe she had found it. After all the stories, all the legends, all the whispers of a city of gold that was hidden—she was standing in its very heart.
But she did not touch any of the gold.
She did not rejoice. She knew she had to meet the djinn first.
The shadow being drifted ahead of her, weaving between the mountains of treasure, and Ayumu followed—walking past piles of wealth that would make empires weep with envy, her bare feet silent on the golden floor.
Then she heard the voice.
It came from above—deep and growling, slightly unclear, as if the words had to travel through layers of stone and shadow before reaching her ears.
"What brings you here, O pure-hearted one?"
Ayumu looked up.
On top of the highest mountain of gold—a peak that rose toward the unseen ceiling, glittering with coins and gems—a being sat.
It had a human build, but larger. Much larger. Its form was shadow—not flat like the creature that had guided her, but alive, moving, shifting across its surface like oil on water. Its face had features—she could see the shape of a brow, a nose, a jaw—but they were masked by the flowing darkness, never quite settling into permanence.
Its eyes were pure white. And they were looking directly at her.
The djinn.
Ayumu stared up at him, her neck craned, her lips slightly parted.
Then she realized how rude she was being.
She quickly bowed her head, her cheeks flushing. "Oh, I apologize for staring. It is just that I have never seen a being like you, O great djinn."
A sprinkle of flattery. Not dishonest—just… polite.
The djinn did not seem to dislike it.
But his voice rumbled again, patient but insistent. "I asked. What brings you here?"
Ayumu straightened, clasping her hands in front of her. "Oh… I came here, Great Djinn, to look for the lost gold of the legends." She looked around her at the vast chamber, the mountains of treasure, the impossible wealth. "It seems I have found it."
The djinn watched her.
He sat with his legs crossed, one elbow resting on the arm of a throne made entirely of gold and bone, his head propped lazily against his hand. He did not move.
"And now that you have found it," he said slowly, "what will you be doing?"
Ayumu looked around again.
The gold was right there. Everywhere. Glittering. Tempting.
But it had an owner. And the owner was the djinn in front of her.
Different from the gold she had picked up on the forest floor—scattered, abandoned, claimed by no one. This treasure belonged to someone.
She hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted with the wet fabric of her sleeve.
"Ummm…" She looked up at the djinn, her golden eyes uncertain. "Do you mind if I take some, O Great Djinn?"
The djinn stared at her. His white eyes did not blink.
The silence stretched—one second, two, five, ten.
Ayumu's nervousness grew with each passing heartbeat.
And then—the djinn laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a quiet amusement. A bellowing, booming laugh that echoed off the golden mountains and shook the room slightly. It was the laugh of something ancient, something powerful, something that had not been surprised in centuries.
Ayumu flinched. Her shoulders drew up. Her hands clasped tighter.
Why is he laughing? she thought, her heart beginning to race. Did I say something wrong? Is he going to eat me? Oh no, dont eat me please.
The djinn's laughter rolled through the chamber like thunder.
"This is a first," he rumbled, his voice carrying both amusement and wonder. "A human asking me for permission. Hahaha! I have never seen anything like you."
He rose from his throne—a slow, deliberate unfolding of shadow and power. And then, suddenly, he was no longer atop the mountain of gold.
He appeared on the floor. Just how Ayumu usually moved, but on a scale that made her own light-speed travel seem like a child's first steps.
Ayumu's breath caught in her throat.
The djinn stood before her now—not towering from above, but close. So close. His shadow-form shifted and churned, his white eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.
"What," he asked, his voice dropping to something almost curious, "would a white magis do with such gold?"
Ayumu flinched at the question.
Her hands tightened at her sides. The weight of his gaze pressed down on her—ancient, knowing, inescapable.
But she remained honest. It was her nature. Her curse. Her gift.
"It is for my brother," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "For the empire, to be exact. We need money for the betterment of the people."
The djinn tilted his head.
The shadows of his face shifted, rearranging themselves into something that might have been skepticism—or disappointment.
"Betterment?"
His voice was deeper now. A growl that vibrated through the floor and up through her bones.
"Humans do not know the limit to greed. Once tasted, they will ask for more without end." He took a step closer. The gold beneath his feet crunched and clinked. "They do not care for others—only themselves."
He paused.
"Your brother is a normal human, yes? An adopted brother?"
Ayumu was not surprised that the djinn would know. It was a powerful being—ancient beyond measure, existing beyond the rules that bound mortal creatures. Of course he would know.
"Yes, O Great Djinn."
The djinn huffed—a sound like distant thunder, like rocks grinding together deep beneath the earth.
"Then he will be no different from the king who laid waste to this very same kingdom, Paititi."
Something stirred in Ayumu's chest. Something warm. Something defiant.
"He—he would be different!" The words burst from her before she could stop them. Her voice was louder than she intended, echoing off the golden walls.
The djinn's growl deepened. "How can you be so sure… Ayumu Velmiar?"
Ayumu lifted her chin.
Her golden eyes met his white ones—unblinking, unwavering.
"Because my brother has me."
She did not look away. Did not flinch. Did not tremble—not anymore.
The djinn stared back at her.
The chamber fell silent. Even the other shadow being seemed to hold its breath.
And then—the Djinn laughed again.
Louder this time. Longer. A booming, rolling wave of sound that shook the mountains of gold and sent small coins skittering down their slopes. The walls vibrated. The air itself seemed to ripple with the force of his amusement.
Ayumu stood her ground, trying to keep a straight face though it was difficult.
When his laughter finally subsided, the djinn's voice was softer—not gentle, but interested.
"It has been long since I have enjoyed a conversation with a human. Most cower at the sight of me. Some approach me with all the greed in the world in their eyes, their hands already reaching for my gold before their mouths have finished begging."
He tilted his head.
"But you…"
Suddenly—he appeared next to her.
Ayumu's breath hitched. She had not seen him move. Had not felt him cross the distance. One moment he was several paces away; the next, he was beside her, his shadow-form looming at her shoulder, his white eyes gazing down at her from inches away.
She could feel the power radiating from him. The weight of something that had existed for millennia.
"You do not seem all that afraid of me," he observed.
Ayumu swallowed. But she did not step back.
"That is because your follower told me you do not intend to harm me, O Great Djinn." Her voice was softer now, but still steady. "So I have no reason to be afraid of you. Instead… I respect you."
The djinn's eyes widened.
It was a small movement—barely noticeable on a face made of shifting shadow—but Ayumu saw it.
And then he burst into laughter once more.
This time, the room shook.
Gold coins bounced and skittered across the floor. Gems rolled from their piles. The mountains of treasure shifted, settling into new shapes as the djinn's power rippled through the chamber. The walls groaned. The ceiling above sent down a fine dust of ancient stone.
Ayumu wobbled slightly but did not fall.
When the laughter finally subsided, the djinn's voice was different. Warmer. Almost… fond.
"I enjoy conversing with you, human," he said. "Ayumu."
Ayumu stayed silent. She did not know what to say. She simply waited.
The djinn straightened—his shadow-form expanding, filling more space than should have been possible.
"Wed with me, O white one."
Ayumu's eyes flew wide. Her mouth fell open.
Pardon me?
The word echoed in her mind, refusing to make sense. Wed? With him? A djinn?
"No!" The word came out sharp and immediate—without thought, without hesitation. "I refuse!"
Her voice rang through the golden chamber, clear and absolute.