Houses are burning, screams of terror pierce the smoky sky, and lifeless bodies litter the vilge streets. The entire valley is shrouded in choking smoke, and I run as fast as my little legs carry me. I clutch a piece of cloth, torn hastily from a burning corpse, pressing it to my face to block out the searing smoke. My throat sears, my eyes sting, my legs tremble, and eace backward tightens my chest, as if an invisible tether binds me to this inferno, and every step I take away from it tears at my heart.

  A young man runs beside me. His face is familiar, yet I 't tell who he is. His severe face is bed by soot and tightened with frustration. Or maybe he's just trying to tain his grief, like a dam crag uhe weight of a torrent of emotions. He looks like a young man who has grown too old; his body, still full of vitality, seems weighed down by a burden too heavy and too precocious. His presence is a fort, the st link to reality that keeps me grounded amid the chaos.

  ～ Wherever he goes, I'll follow!

  When we're finally beyond the seari, and when the cries have faded to distant echoes swallowed by the stagnant air, the man pces his hands on my shoulders and crouches to meet my gaze. He looks me straight in the eye and speaks with a serious face, but no sound reaches my ears. He then pulls me into a tight embrace, and my vision starts to blur. At st, he loosens his grip, leaning close, and his final words reach me through this time.

  – There are two things you must remember, . First, you must bee stronger — strohan anyone else, he says in a barely audible voice, as if speaking from the other side of an icy wall.

  Eventually, a tear rolls down his cheek, first crack heralding a flood of emotions.

  – And finally...

  His st words, in a voice cracked with sorrow, are swallowed by the hot air, before he turns and runs back toward the flickering shadows of the vilge. Smoke clouds my senses, and I wake up.

  Sunlight streams through the gaps iable’s wooden boards, pierg the dimness like a thousand sharp arrows of light that dazzle me. Suddenly, I feel a wet nudge against my shoulder, pushing insistently until I tumble off the straw mound that served as my bed. Jolted awake, I leap to my feet and instinctively reay on, disoriented by the sudden chaos. There, standing in front of me, the culprit is happily chewing on the hay I had warmed with my sleep, whinnying in delight. I vaguely recall dreaming something important before I woke, but now all that lingers is a throbbing headache. As I blink away the fusion of my rude awakening, the situation bees clearer.

  – Up and at 'em early today, are you?

  I reize the deep, gravelly tone of the stocky tavern-keeper, standing iable doorway with an armful of hay. He looks in bewilderment at the absurd se unfolding before him: a young man half-asleep with straw in his hair, ready to fight with a spotted mare who, pletely ign her oppo, calmly enjoy her breakfast.

  – Who exactly are you fighting against, he asks me, puzzled.

  I finally see the absurdity of the moment and lower my on, feeling slightly embarrassed.

  – Looks like you slept well — judging by the straw in your hair.

  – Not too bad!

  ～ Bad dream or not, I admit straw isn't less fortable than tree moss.

  – Good! So, what's your move?

  – I'm going to keep looking for information. If I don't find anything by tonight, I'll be on my way. I don’t want to impose on you any longer.

  – Why not try speaking to some of the less promi Geikas? They might be more open to helping you.

  – You’re right. I’ll give it a shot. Thanks again for everything.

  – Don't worry about it. You know, kid, as long as you keep searg, you'll always end up finding something, he tells me as I exit the stable.

  As I walk, I refle the tavern keeper's st words, surprisingly wise for someoh the looks of a grizzlion boxer. This raises however an important question.

  ～ Do I really have time?

  I ’t shake this strange sense ency, as though something deep within me is bubbling up, ready to erupt. This voice — the only piey past I’ve mao hold onto — never imposed any deadlines. At least, not that I remember. No, this restless drive es from somewhere deeper. It’s been with me since I was "reborn" ten years ago. Everything before that is just a tangled fog of colors and sounds, as vague as it is maddening.

  ～ I'm tired of not knowing. I’d give anything to remember something else from my past, something more useful, like a pce, a name, or just a face.

  With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I step into the Renkin Keiga’s HQ, brimming with determination. The pce is a chaotic whirlwind of activity. People in white coats rush about, deeply engrossed in what seems to be important work. The energy in the room is palpable, and I feel a little out of pce, hesitant to interrupt anyone. Before I decide on my move, a man in his thirties, unshaven and full of soot, approaches me.

  – What I do for you, my friend? Are you a sthusiast, by any ce, he asks me excitedly.

  – A what? No, no! At least I don't think so.

  – Oh, don't worry about that! Everyohinks sce is irrelevant these days — until they don’t.

  I don't know what I should worry about, but it's impossible not to agree with his childlike smile, theatrical gestures, and sing-song intonation apanied by a slight lisp. Adding to his etric aura, a small fme daop a lock of his salt-and-pepper hair that seems to defy gravity, like a mateone fot to blow out. His fogged-up gsses ’t hide the spark in his eyes, and with hands on his hips, he radiates fidence.

  – I’m just curious about what kind of activities you do here.

  – Ah, perfect timing, my friend! Right now, we’re experimenting with extrag Mystra from bluish ptirotactites in order to build a choroxybolite propelnt.

  ～ It's very far from the answer I was expeg, but at least he didn’t brush me off, which I sider a huge success. Nobody else seems to be avaible anyway.

  – And, uh, what’s the point of that, exactly?

  – What's the point, he repeats, raising his voi e at the question, as the answer seems so obvious.

  He looks genuinely ed at my question, as though the answer should be self-evident.

  – Not only will it allow loaded vehicles to move effortlessly, but above all, it would be an unparalleled stific breakthrough! For turies, eika has been chasing the dream of perpetual motion, and after tless setbacks, we're finally on the cusp of success! Just imagihe infinite possibilities! Previously unexplored horizons are about to open before us! And that, my friend, is the word of a stist!

  ～ I don’t uand a single word of his fiery speech, but admitting it would mean giving up on his iious good mood.

  – It all sounds... fabulous!

  His wide grin lifts my spirits, almost making me fet the reason of my visit. But the aura of happiness radiating from this funny man is abruptly shattered by a loud explosion from the adjat room. A young woman in a b coat bursts through the door, her face etched with panic.

  – WARNING! CODE RED! CODE RED! EVACUATE THE BUILDING IMMEDIATELY!

  Thick bck smoke billows out behind her, undersg the urgency of her warning. The room erupts into chaos, people rushing toward the exit. Meanwhile, I stand there, staring at my etric host, who seems unfazed by the situation. His goofy grin remains pstered on his face, eyes still twinkling as though the world wasn’t about to end.

  – Uh… this smoke… is it dangerous?

  – Oh, don't worry about that! We experience failures all the time, but if passion is the horse that pulls the cart of knowledge, failure is the reins that guide it!

  Not in the least bit armed by the situation, he even starts ughing, amused by his analogy that went pletely over my head. Then, a sed explosion echoes, and a man emerges from the same room as his colleague before him. He staggers and coughs up his lungs, holding a cloth to his face to avoid inhaling the now yellowish smoke chasing him. The cas fills the room at the speed of an avahough it doesn't rise more than a meter above the ground. Once again, I ask my host, still as stoic as ever, for his opinion on this sulfur-sted cloud.

  – And… what about that smoke?

  As if to answer my question, the dying man warns us between coughs.

  – It's… dangerous! Get… out… now, warns the newer between two coughs, as if to answer my question.

  The man staggers aually colpses into the thiket of smoke, as if swallowed by a dense fog. Keeping my posure, I use his brave sacrifice as a point to support my suspis.

  – See?! Your colleague says it's dangerous.

  The match man, as I've decided to call him, pohe situation for a few seds before finally nodding his head.

  – Hmm… yes, it does seem rather dangerous this time…

  Once everyone has evacuated to the street, amid the sdalized stares of passers-by, the acrid smoke billows out from the Renkin Keiga’s building. As it reaches the open air, it denses into a multitude of ghostly wisps that dissipate in the m breeze, leaving behind only a trickle of golden liquid, slowly dripping onto the cobblestones before seeping into the adjat drains. I turn to one of the retively stists and ask the question that has been burning in my mind.

  – Out of curiosity, what would’ve happened if we’d breathed that in?

  – Oh, it varies. Once, someone lost an arm! Unfortunately, I wasn’t around to witness it that day, he says in a nont tohat makes me doubt the existence of a survival instin these people. But don’t worry, we stopped doing those kinds of experiments. I mean… I think we did, his hesitation unfortunately failing to reassure me.

  ～ To be ho, I ot picture any of the match man colleagues being cautious in the face of aing discovery.

  ～ Speaking of him, where has he gone? Surely, he hasn’t stayed inside. Has he? I lost sight of him in my haste.

  Just then, I hear an old man's voice break through the tumult.

  – Again?! I wonder how they're still alive in there.

  After some thought, I decide it's best to get away from here. After all, I 't afford to die now.

  ～ No, I ot die yet!

  Those words echoe inside me with an ued iy, far greater than I anticipated.

  Sneaking out of the crowd, I finally spot the match man whose lited wick has finally go, leaving a small amount of bck smoke and the smell of burnt cy. Croug beside a manhole cover where the golden liquid is dripping, he observes it utterly fasated. He finally dips a finger in the liquid, brings it to his lips, then leaps to his feet and runs off to join his colleagues, looking more exhirated than ever.

  After wandering for several mihrough the maze of the city, I sit down on the edge of a fountain, trying to steady my rag thoughts.

  ～ This really isn’t going acc to pn...

  I let the despair simmer inside me for a few moments, then think back to the warm, reassuring voice of the corpulent tavern-keeper, the wistful smile of the sour old dy, and the girl whose feline eyes and fiery hair now haunt my thoughts, as if they’ve taken up perma residen my memory. I sp my cheeks, f focus, and spring to my feet.

  ～ There's still hope.

  I s my surroundings, gauging which dire to take. That’s when I realize the ued beauty of the square I find myself in: the space is wide, encircled by quaint stone houses of varying hues, their architecture noticeably older thaher buildings of the district. A few wooden benches, scattered in the shade of leafy trees of various species, are harmoniously arranged around the square, and bushes carefully pruned into four distinct ses encircle the fountain on which I was sitting. The fountain itself is impressive, ed by a striking white marble statue of a majestiged wolf, its wings spreading proudly in the tre of the square.

  ～ Do wolves have wings? Not the ones I know, at least.

  Upon closer iion, I notitricate symbols carved into the feathers of the wolf’s immense wings. I've seen these patterns many times, ever since I arrived iy. They are embedded in the capital’s architecture, though I’d never given them much thought, thinking of them as mere decorative motifs. Strangely enough, I feel like I’ve seen them even before I reached Aragane, but the memory remains elusive. Judging by the surprising plumage of the marble animal, there are seven different symbols. As for what they represent, I haven’t the fai clue.

  My attention shifts to the tallest and most modern building of the square. Although it isn’t particurly high, it stands out for its width, its ret architecture in smoothed white stone, and its wide-open wooden doors, creating a grarance several meters across. The interior seems to be bustling with activity, and my curiosity quickly guides me up the short flight of stairs.

  Stepping through the vast opening, I find myself in pears to be an infirmary. The room is very spacious and minimalistic, stripped of any unnecessary furnishings or decor. Apart from the numerous beds where patients are being teo, the room is pletely empty. The stark whiteness of the walls is broken only by a rge inscription painted boldly across the far side:

  ? Kusur Geika ?

  Nurses hurry about, their footsteps and urgent voices eg off the walls. Every bed is occupied with men and women wearing the same biform. Some patients, only slightly injured, are getting an arm bandaged, while others, clearly in more severe dition, writhe in pain, their torsos ed in bloodied bandages.

  Apart from me and another young man chatting in the middle of the room with an older nurse, everyone else is either a carer or someone being cared for, so that I begin to feel out of pce, awkward and unsure of where to stand. As I pte the agitation and distress filling the room — yet totally absent outside of its walls — a young nurse calls out to me, snappi of my daze.

  – How I help you?

  It takes me a moment to realize she's speaking to me.

  – Uh... Yes! You do belong to a Geika, right?

  The young man who eaking to the older nurse, now goo the anthill of white aprons, turns his ear in our dire, seemingly ied in our discussion.

  – Yes, you're in the main building of the Kusur Geika. Are you injured or ill, she asks in a cold and impatient tone, fearing that I might waste her precious time.

  – No, no, I'm fihank you. I was just looking for some informat—

  – If you don't require our services, please step out so we focus on those who do.

  – Chloe! I need your help to prepare the painkillers!

  The woman vanishes as swiftly as she had appeared, joining the older nurse who now holds a handful of midnight-blue flowers, while the young man slips a few silver s into his pocket. Realizing I’m in the wrong pce, I quietly retreat, head bowed.

  Oside, the world feels entirely different — calm and serene. Few people pass through this rge square, despite its obvious charm, and the only dominant sounds are those of the fountain and birdsong. A few steps away from the chaos ihis peaceful pce seem almost unreal.

  – I wonder what happeo all those people...

  – They're buards from Historia's army.

  Not realizing that my thoughts have escaped, I'm initially surprised that a voiswers them.

  – Judging by their wounds, they must have had a skirmish with Tea's men.

  I turn to face my interlocutor, who is her than the young man I saw in the room. As soon as our eyes meet, he greets me with a bow.

  – Natsuki, at your service!