The moment my eyes open, there is only one thought: the garden. Four o’clock. What I am waiting for takes up too much space in my head. I sit up and look around. The room is empty. I must have slept deeply. I do not mind.

  We also received a few things for the week: money, and a mophone. A slim notebook that fits in your pocket. You write someone’s name inside it, then a message. The recipient receives it immediately. For us, Word bearers, it even works through Word energy.

  I take a few steps without direction. Nothing holds my attention. Time stretches without purpose. Sitting here and waiting feels pointless.

  So I sit down, close my eyes, and focus on my breathing. My body is still sluggish, but stable enough. I let the energy circulate gently. It is not really meditation. More like a simple way to move through time without feeling it drag.

  I did not expect it to be that effective. When I lift my head, it is already 4:12 p.m. Time does not flow the same way when I am inside my Soul Definition. It feels like I kept my eyes closed for a second too long.

  I stand immediately and head toward the garden almost at a run.

  In front of the small table, I stop. The flower is there, intact. The door is closed. Rose is probably already inside. I remain there for a few seconds, unsure how to open it.

  I know I have to water the plant.

  The problem is simple: I do not have a watering can. Using my Word directly would be possible, but unpredictable. I could make anything appear. An empty watering can. Water without a container. Or something completely useless.

  I exhale and sit down against the table.

  Thinking has never helped.

  I look at the flower. Then I close my eyes. I think about Rose. About her calm, precise gestures, without hesitation. The way she pours water without forcing it, without expecting an immediate result. I do not try to create anything. I limit. I let it happen.

  A faint sound comes from behind me. The door opens.

  When I open my eyes again, a watering can rests in my hand. It is full. The water flows gently, exactly right, moistening the soil without drowning it. The flower responds immediately.

  A diffuse warmth settles around me, stable and contained. It lingers for a few seconds, then fades without leaving a trace.

  I stay still, the watering can still in my hand. This time, it was different.

  Rose does not seem to notice that I was late. Or she does not care. Time passes without me realizing it, and we have already been taking care of the garden side by side for a while.

  I am the one who finally breaks the silence.

  “Tomorrow, we could take care of the garden earlier.”

  She stops and looks at me.

  “Why?”

  I answer before I can filter it.

  “Because after… we’ll go for a walk in the city.”

  For a second, I think maybe I said too much. Then I see it. Her cheeks color slightly. She looks away as if nothing happened.

  I step a little closer, making sure I am not imagining it.

  She answers by watering me without warning.

  “Back up.”

  I step back, surprised, my clothes soaked. The water is cold. My heart beats faster than it should. She lowers the watering can, hesitates for a moment, then says simply:

  “Okay.”

  That single word is enough.

  I remain still for a second. My breathing steadies on its own. The tension fades without a clear starting point. The garden has not changed. Rose has not changed either. I stand there, wet, slightly ridiculous. And lighter than before.

  I just planned something that is not about survival.

  The next day, as agreed, we take care of the garden earlier. Now I am waiting. It has already been a while. Rose went to change. I do not understand how changing can take that long.

  Someone walks down the path.

  The first thing I notice is the colors. Red. Green. A sharp contrast that catches my eye without effort. Her hair, deep red at the top, is threaded with long green strands running down her back. Nothing about it is perfectly smooth.

  I frown slightly.

  Then I register the silhouette. The shapes are natural, without provocation. A simple white dress, embroidered with discreet red roses, almost lost in the fabric.

  I recognize her face too late.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The same calm features. The same closed expression. Light makeup outlines her green eyes instead of transforming them. And when she turns her head slightly, I see it at the base of her neck, on the side: a thin dark mark, like a small thorn beneath the skin.

  Rose.

  My outfit feels wrong all at once. There is nothing different about it. The same simple gray clothes as usual. And yet something is off. My heart beats faster. My hands tremble slightly. My body feels like it does not fully belong to me.

  She looks at me. Her gaze is harder to hold than usual.

  “Where are we going?”

  Her voice pulls me back into myself. I answer directly.

  “Into the city.”

  Her gaze sharpens slightly.

  “You didn’t plan anything?”

  I hesitate briefly.

  “I did… let’s go to the aquarium.”

  I silently thank the advertisement I saw the day before. Rose does not react. No comment. No sign of approval.

  We leave HQ.

  I turn my head just enough to look at the entrance. It is not a door, but a wide, deliberate opening framed by massive pillars with no visible symbol. No apparent mechanism. No guards on display. And yet, nothing crosses that threshold.

  The roads lead toward it without urgency. The ground absorbs footsteps and muffles vibrations. Military vehicles move through. Soldiers are already in place. Plain uniforms. Measured gestures. Calm eyes.

  I realize then that I have no idea where the aquarium actually is. For now, we are simply walking straight ahead. In front of us, a black tower rises and pierces the sky.

  “What is that tower?”

  Rose answers without slowing.

  “The Binding.”

  “What is it for?”

  “To move from one city to another. We’re in Turus, level -2. The aquarium is in Corpius, level -1.”

  “Interesting.”

  She shoots me a sideways look.

  “You have no idea where the aquarium is, do you?”

  “No.”

  She does not comment.

  “I know the way.”

  The citadel of Turus spreads wide and low, pressed against the rock. Up close, the stone is dark and thick, sometimes smooth. The streets extend straight ahead, with no signs or visible directions. The ground shifts slightly underfoot, rougher at the edges, smoother in the center, as if the path defines itself.

  There is little to look at. Few distinct buildings. Repeated shapes. Uniform light with no sharp shadows and no darker zones. Nothing really draws the eye.

  Then the tower fills our view. The road leads directly to its base.

  The Binding stands open, with no visible door. When we enter, the ground becomes smoother. The space rises vertically, crossed by circular platforms arranged around a central core. No booth. No staff. Only dark stone and lines of light embedded into the walls.

  A faint hum activates. A lens slides above us, then another engages at the side. Light passes over our faces, travels down our bodies, lingers for a moment, then vanishes.

  A neutral voice echoes, without identifiable origin.

  “Authorization confirmed. Two individuals recognized.”

  A platform rises from the ground in front of us. Its edges glow softly. Rose steps onto it without hesitation. I join her. The structure partially closes around us, leaving space to breathe. Around us, other platforms move in silence, each following its path without crossing another.

  The ascent begins immediately. Smooth and steady. The walls slide past, levels carved directly into the stone.

  I glance at Rose. She remains still, eyes fixed forward.

  We exit the Binding.

  In front of me, the buildings are tall and massive. The lower floors are thick stone with few openings, like old foundations built to endure.

  When I lift my gaze, the architecture shifts. The stone gradually gives way to smoother fa?ades. The upper floors narrow. Light reflects faintly. Below, thick arches connect them. Higher up, thin walkways stretch between structures.

  We move between the buildings.

  “Tell me, Rose… have you ever been to the aquarium?”

  She answers without looking at me.

  “No.”

  “Are we still far?”

  She stops and looks at me without a word. The message is clear. I look away and continue walking behind her. The corridor remains quiet.

  We take an elevator. The doors open onto a pedestrian street. Here, the buildings appear newer. The fa?ades are made of smooth alloy. Everything looks recently built.

  Rose enters one of the buildings. We stop at a counter.

  “Hello, welcome to the Corpius Aquarium.”

  I straighten slightly.

  “Hello. Two tickets, please.”

  “Thirty syllaba.”

  I pull a bill from my pocket. She gives me change and lets us pass.

  “Thank you, Heyo,” Rose says.

  I give her a brief smile.

  “I’m the one who planned the outing.”

  I say it without emphasis. Just to state it.

  The corridor darkens gradually. Around us, the walls turn transparent. Water surrounds us. We are inside the aquarium.

  A female voice echoes through the corridor.

  “You are entering the ocean. Many species live here. Smaller ones…”

  Fish appear around us. They swim slowly, in scattered groups, their movements simple and steady.

  “…and larger ones.”

  The fish regroup. Their numbers increase. The school tightens until it becomes a compact mass undulating around us. Then a shadow crosses the water.

  A massive creature bursts in and swallows them in a single motion.

  “This is the blue whale. The largest living species of its era.”

  The whale glides through the water. Its size is overwhelming, yet its movements remain slow, almost peaceful. Nothing seems able to disturb it here.

  “But even this whale, which dominates its environment…”

  The light shifts. The water grows darker and denser.

  “…has a predator.”

  Black and white shapes appear. Smaller. Faster. They attack as a group, circle the whale, strike without pause. Gradually, it slows, then disappears.

  “The orca. It has no natural predator. It dominates its environment.”

  The orcas swim together, confident, taking space without resistance.

  …

  We finish the visit. I turn to Rose.

  “Those animals don’t exist anymore. What we saw was only a representation.”

  I pause slightly.

  “What do you think is in the water now?”

  She considers for a moment.

  “Not really animals anymore. More like monsters.”

  I let that sit.

  “Do you want to go eat something?”

  She nods once.

  “Let’s go.”

  We walk away from the aquarium. I am no longer thinking about the ocean. I walk a little closer to her than before. A slight vibration against my thigh pulls me from my thoughts. My mophone. A message from Fortuna.

  “Tomorrow, we meet up. Don’t be late.”