I woke with the heavy softness of a dream still clinging to me. The memory of Dreams lingered behind my eyes; I expanded my sanctuary, taught people some math, learned about memes in another world, and even shared one of my own… I probably shouldn’t have done that.

  Meh, who cares…

  Nina was curled up beside me in her ridiculous nest of blankets, a whole floor swallowed in quilts and cushions. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, her face buried against a pillow. She breathed slowly, as nothing in the world could reach her.

  I stretched, careful not to disturb her, and padded across the nest until my feet touched the wooden floor. My stomach growled. I wondered how it would feel to eat in the Great Dream; would I wake just as hungry? I guess it’s something to test next time.

  The streets outside Nina’s workshop were already stirring, since she lived one block away from the main market street: Carts rattled over cobblestones, vendors set up stalls, and somewhere close by, someone was roasting corn, the smell clashing with the oily scent of fried scones. I ignored both and followed my nose toward the bakery.

  The place was small, just a stone archway and a wooden counter open to the street. Inside, ovens glowed red. A girl pulled trays from the heat while an older man worked dough. The counter was piled high with bread: flatbread staked high, sweet rolls glazed in honey, and golden loaves with bits of fruit baked into them. To my chagrin, there was no puff pastry. I guess I found something else to teach Louis; croissants and Napoleon cakes would make a killing here.

  I ordered one of the fruit loaves, still steaming. The girl wrapped it in paper for me. The crust was crisp, the inside soft and sweet, the fruit caramelized until it tasted almost like candy. I tore off pieces as I walked back, letting the warmth of the bread cut through the morning chill.

  Despite being here for almost half a year, I notice that the temperature barely changed much in Hano; it always feels like spring, with the blue sun being slightly colder than the yellow one.

  By the time I returned, Nina was awake. She sat cross-legged in her workshop, a notebook already in her lap, dark hair still in chaos, but her eyes were sharp and focused. She blinked at me when I stepped in with the bread.

  “You went out?” she asked, voice scratchy.

  “Bakery down the street,” I said, tossing half of the loaf onto the blanket between us. “Try it before I eat the whole thing.”

  She broke off a piece, chewed thoughtfully, then smiled. “Sweet. That was a good choice.”

  I sat across from her, biting into my share while she flipped pages in her notes. It amazed me how fast she could shift from half-asleep to a hundred thoughts ahead.

  “I spoke with a few of the master glassmakers yesterday,” Nina said suddenly. “They agreed to welcome me into their private dream.”

  “That’s huge,” I said, swallowing quickly. “Are you going to show them the microscopes?”

  “I want to, but I need to check with the Temple first for that.” Nina frowned, then added, “If all healers begin using microscopes, medicine will change within a decade.”

  I leaned forward, excitement sparking, but my thoughts twisted into caution. “Then maybe Sir Gray and Lady Sana should be invited into the Great Dream. Imagine them speaking directly with dreamer-healers and alchemists. I’m sure it’s better than spreading knowledge through messengers…”

  Nina raised an eyebrow. “But?”

  I hesitated. “Be careful. In the same way people use knowledge to create cures, they can create diseases, faster than you’d think. Every breakthrough carries its own dangers.”

  Nina went still, watching me. Then she nodded slowly. “You’re right. I got carried away too easily by the possibility. We’ll need safeguards, for sure.”

  “Exactly,” I said, relieved she didn’t brush it off.

  “Knowledge is a fire. You can cook your dinner with it or burn your house down.” I added in a mock wise voice.

  She smiled faintly. “And you? What are you?”

  “I am flint and steel.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

  “You’re more like lightning in a dry forest,” she laughed.

  I summoned a spark of lightning with a wiggle of my fingers and laughed, too.

  We ate the rest of the loaf in companionable silence, the street sounds filtering in through the shutters. Finally, Nina stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. She had the look of someone already late for a dozen things.

  “I’ll head to the temple first. If Sana or Gray agrees to step into the Dream, we’ll need to prepare using an alchemical solution. I doubt Holy people would be comfortable jumping into my nest.”

  “Their loss. Your nest is comfortable.”

  She smiled. “You’re always welcome to it.”

  “Thank you.”

  We both laughed once again. Then we gathered our things and stepped out into the street together, the morning sun catching the tops of the roofs. At the crossroads, we paused.

  “Good luck,” I said.

  “And you,” Nina replied. Her eyes gleamed with determination. Then she turned toward the Temple, dress brushing against her knees, wings folded on her back.

  I watched Nina go for a moment before turning toward the portal hub, then cutting across toward the freelancer guild.

  I didn’t have any particular reason to head there; it was just the place where most of my friends gathered. Maybe I’d look at the mission board. Perhaps I’d even consider taking something light, just to stay busy.

  That thought made me hesitate mid-step. A sharp ripple of memory slipped through my mind uninvited: steel, blood, and the acrid burn of lightning. My spear thrust into the cultist’s chest, my hand buzzing as I forced a current through him, his body jerking under me. My first kill.

  I exhaled hard, almost hissing, and kept walking.

  No, I shouldn’t be freelancing. Not for a while at least. And not because I regretted killing him. That was the dangerous part; I didn’t regret it. He had deserved worse than what I gave him. I didn’t lose sleep over it. If anything, I was worried about how easy it had been, how natural it felt to throw myself into the fight.

  “I basically executed a man…” I sighed.

  That was the real danger. Being a freelancer was too easy.

  No, easy isn’t the right word. It was more like if I didn’t watch myself, I might lean into it, hunting cults, waging little wars, and deciding what kind of “evil” deserved my lightning. And that’s not me. At least, not the me I want to be.

  I am, first and foremost, a scholar, a researcher, an observer of worlds… Not a warrior.

  I pushed through the tall double doors of the freelancer guild’s main hall. The familiar mix of steel, leather, and cheap ale hit me all at once. The place was louder than usual, voices overlapping in a storm that made my head ring.

  A cluster of teens and young adults was bunched together in the middle of the hall. Their faces were sharp with argument, their voices jagged, as if each word had been filed to a point.

  It took me a moment to recognize them. Yon’s misfits.

  The ragged bunch of kids and near-kids who followed Yon like ducklings. A chaotic family, half-serious, half-play-acting at what it meant to be freelancers. They looked lost without him, as the ground under their feet had suddenly shifted.

  And there was Calr.

  He stood just off to the side, arms folded, blood-red hair almost covering one eye. His expression was calm in that way that seemed surface-level. He was the only one not yelling, which already put him in another category. His eyes moved slowly across the group in a measuring way.

  I stepped closer to him. “What’s happening?”

  Calr glanced at me without turning his head, his eyes flicking sideways like I’d interrupted a thought he’d been halfway through. “The group is trying to figure out what to do now that Yon has officially disbanded the Misfits.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I blinked. That landed like a stone in my chest. Yon disbanded them? Yon, who lived for his ragged little crew? Who tries his best to teach each one of them how to be a freelancer? It was difficult to imagine him without them, and harder still to imagine them without him.

  Before I could ask more, one of the younger misfits shouted, a pretty dark skinned girl, I think her name was Lera, her voice cracking under frustration.

  “Damn it, Vals! Even in death, you fuck things up for us!”

  The hall went quiet for a heartbeat, the words hanging heavy. Then the silence was shattered into sharper voices, each one trying to drown out the others.

  Right. Vals. I’d nearly forgotten. He’d gone dragon hunting and gotten himself killed. A stupid death, but brave, I suppose. My interactions with him had mostly been negative; he was loud and reckless… and he also stalked me and led a gang of thieves to ambush me. But still. I didn’t wish death on him. He wasn’t a bad guy, just an idiot.

  I guessed Yon had taken his death worse than the rest of them. Bad enough to break apart the group.

  “So,” I asked quietly, angling my body so I didn’t block the hall traffic, “what are you going to do now that the Misfits are disbanded?”

  Calr let out a breath through his nose. “I was hoping someone would swoop in and hijack the group.” His gaze slid to me, his voice softening but his eyes sharp. “Maybe you do it. You’re a smart woman. I’m sure we could thrive under your care.”

  I almost choked on air. “No way. I’m not taking responsibility for twenty people. Thank you very much.”

  His mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. “It was worth the attempt.”

  Another sigh. Longer this time. He let his eyes drift back toward the bickering Misfits, as if watching children scuffle over toys.

  We were interrupted by Ja’a, who jumped in behind me,

  “Alice, your soul is stronger. What happened to you? Did you go through an Evolution?”

  I blinked, “What?”

  “Ja’a!” said Raik. “How many times do I have to tell you it's rude to ask people about their soul powers? That’s a private subject!”

  “Come on, don’t be like him, Alice. We are friends, right? You can tell me why you got stronger overnight.”

  “Oh, I expanded my dream sanctuary,” I admitted.

  “I didn’t know you were a dreamer,” said Ja’a

  Calr, his eyes fogged over for a second. “She is ? Dreamer, remember we went to the arena after she experienced a Dreamer crash.”

  “Ah, right.” Ja’a laughed, snapping her fingers. “I completely forgot. Well, that explains it. No wonder your soul looks so… layered. You almost seem like a perfect mutt.”

  Raik smacked the back of her head. “Ja’a! That’s extremely rude.”

  I blinked. “A mutt?”

  “Sorry, sorry… I didn’t mean it like that,” Ja’a said quickly, waving her hands. “It’s just… your soul is strange. Not in a bad way. More… complex. It looks like it has ancestry from all seven realms. Layers stacked on layers, sometimes tangled together but still distinctly separate. That’s very rare. Almost unheard of.”

  “Unlike Raik,” she added, jerking her chin at him, “whose soul is perfectly homogenized.”

  I tilted my head. “Could you explain that a bit more, please?”

  Ja’a puffed out her cheeks before answering. “Well, my soul-sight isn’t as detailed as a Soul Map, but it’s enough to see patterns. Yours is like a tree stump, layered with threads from every realm woven into something new. Raik, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. His soul is smooth, uniform, and purely Elemental. That only happens in bloodlines that have been kept pure for centuries.”

  Then she leaned over to me and said in a mocking whisper. “Inbred to perfection. Did you know both of his parents are from the Agame clan?”

  Raik groaned. “You’re making it sound worse than it is. My parents are only sixth cousins, basically strangers. It could be worse, like poor Takur, whose parents were first cousins.”

  I couldn’t help wincing. Sixth cousins should be fine, as long as new blood has been introduced… but first cousins? My stomach flipped.

  “You know it’s dangerous to inbreed, right?” I asked Raik, a grimace still on my face.

  He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We know that. We’re not complete idiots. Only people who’ve gone through an Evolution are matched with their strongest relatives. Once you evolve, your body changes, and it resets the risks.”

  I blinked at him. “Does your DNA change after an Evolution?”

  Raik tilted his head. “DNA?”

  “Never mind,” I muttered. “But… How do you even know that?”

  “It’s information developed in the Court of Blood,” Raik said flatly.

  “The… Court of Blood?” I asked, instantly suspicious of a place with such a cheerful name.

  “It’s one of the strongest territories in the Bloodline Realm,” he explained. “They specialize in breeding powers and tracking affinities. They keep records of which combination produces the strongest results. They’ve tested everything about Elemental Bloodline powers more than anyone else.”

  My brows knit. “Aren’t all noble families in the bloodline realm trying to breed for power? What’s special about this blood court?”

  Raik’s mouth twisted, like he was half-impressed and half-annoyed. “That’s the thing! It’s the only Elemental Bloodline nation that wasn’t founded by a human-Dravac hybrid. They started from scratch; they don’t have a noble bloodline that they are trying to preserve. And yet some of their fire mages are just as strong as us, the Agame clan.”

  “Ah. The Court of Blood,” Calr sighed, “Paradise of the seven realms, I heard strong males keep harems of ten women.”

  “Don’t let that mislead you,” Ja’a cut in with a laugh. “It’s a matriarchal society through and through. The men might get paraded around as ‘studs,’ but the women make the choices. Always.”

  Her grin widened, teeth flashing. “Honestly, it’s the only place where men with fancy bloodlines don’t strut around acting like kings.”

  I made a mental note: anthropological field trip, preferably not alone, and definitely not advertised as research.

  Raik’s posture shifted suddenly.

  “I need to go. See you later.” Then he bolted across the hall.

  I followed his line of movement and caught sight of Kan standing near the exit.

  “Oh! He’s playing with fire,” Calr said with a dry little smirk.

  “I know, right?” Ja’a laughed.

  “Where’s Katar?” I asked quickly, changing the subject. The last thing I wanted was for them to focus on Raik’s relationship with Kan, especially since I was fairly certain it had already developed into something more than friendship.

  “I don’t know,” Ja’a sighed, throwing her arms wide in mock despair. “He disappeared this morning. Maybe the arena? He looked interested in joining.”

  “Does that mean you’re alone for now?” I asked her with an evil grin.

  “Sure…” she started, then caught my expression. Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

  “To study your soul-seer ability, of course.” My grin spread until it was practically villainous.

  “What the hell. Fine, I’ll allow it.” She exhaled, shoulders sagging. “To be frank, I inherited this ability from a distant ancestor. No one else in my family has it. The way I use it is purely instinctual.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Calr edging away like a cat trying not to be noticed. I snatched him by the scruff before he could escape.

  “Not so fast. You’re helping too.”

  “Why me? I’m no use when it comes to scholarly work.”

  I leveled a look at him. He had to know I knew his little secret. Why is he still trying to bullshit me?

  “Fine, fine,” he muttered, raising his hands in defeat. “But I want to be paid for my work.”

  “How about I pay you in knowledge?” I smiled.

  He blinked twice, eyes glazing for a moment as if some internal switch flipped. Then they sharpened, narrowing at me.

  “We need to talk later. In private.”

  “Sure thing. But for now…” I turned back to Ja’a, pulling out the prototype spyglass Nina had made.

  “If this device is an artifact of technological mediation, then your soul-seer powers are an ability of mystical mediation. To study it properly, we need to define its use and its limits.” I waved the spyglass theatrically for emphasis.

  Ja’a nodded, trying to look serious, but Calr snatched the spyglass and pressed it to his eye. He gasped in surprise.

  “How would we even go about it?” Ja’a asked.

  “First and foremost,” I said, “tell us what you see.”

  “I see the soul… no…” Ja’a hesitated, brow furrowed. “I see the aura of people. Which is pretty much the same thing.”

  Calr shook his head firmly. “Not the same. The soul is the origin of all things, the building block of reality itself. The aura is the impact of the soul on the observable universe.”

  Ja’a stared at him, really stared, as if for the first time noticing the red-haired boy in threadbare clothes and cheap sandals wasn’t just background noise. Her brows rose.

  I, on the other hand, just smirked.

  “What?” Calr said defensively. “I was only quoting Vi’a the Twice-Reborn, the legendary Soul Shaper.”

  Ja’a’s eyes narrowed. “All his writings are considered apocryphal in the Soul Realm. How do you even know about him?”

  “Temple library,” Calr said with a shrug. “Holy people care not about Soulit law.”

  He spread his hands as if that explained everything. “And besides, this is Hano, not Treegate or Skydaisy.”

  I clapped my hands together. “Back to the topic. We need to start with baseline observations. Something weak.”

  “Like, babes,” Calr suggested flatly.

  “Where would I find babes lying around?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “The temple orphanages.”

  “I’ve been in the temple orphanage,” I said slowly. “All the kids were older than ten.”

  “That’s not the only orphanage in Hano.” He shook his head. “The one where you met Vena and Louis is the temple ward program. That’s where kids go if they reject adoption or want to become part of the church. The temple also sponsors a nursery. Most of those children find families quickly, but while they’re waiting…”

  Ja’a’s eyes lit up, catching on. “That would be the perfect testing ground.”

  “Would we be allowed to visit?” I asked.

  “I don’t see why not.” Calr shrugged. “It’s up to Lady Sharon. I heard you’re popular with the clerics.”

  “I guess there’s no harm in asking for permission.”

  I clasped my hands together, satisfied. “So. Let’s go establish baseline observations.”

  They both followed me; neither of them looked convinced. But that was fine. The first step of science wasn’t belief. It was showing up and doing the work.

  It’s tricky to write about powers Alice doesn’t understand while staying inside her perspective. Fortunately, the clues she picked up from the saint’s journal along with the existence of the telepathic twins give her enough reason to suspect that something unusual is going on.