San Aurelio, New Althameria

  21:58 hours

  Marisol Foster-Ruíz no longer knew how long she had been running.

  She only knew she couldn’t stop.

  Night air scraped her throat with every uneven breath, yet she kept moving through streets that didn’t seem built for someone fleeing. San Aurelio was awake, luminous—too orderly for a city that, only minutes ago, had tried to break her from the inside.

  Light from towering displays spilled across the damp pavement. Screens suspended above wide avenues repeated different messages with the same practiced optimism, announcing the beginning of a season the country had been anticipating for months.

  Campaigns begin.

  The future is built today.

  New Althameria decides.

  Marisol slipped between two buildings, searching for a shadow that shouldn’t have been there. She pressed herself against a cold wall, her hands shaking without permission, and brought her fingers to her lips on instinct. She bit down hard, as if pain might anchor her to the present.

  Her pulse pounded so loudly she could swear someone else might hear it.

  Don’t look back.

  Don’t look back.

  The silence didn’t feel like safety. It was crowded with distant engines, transit drones humming above the main avenues, a city operating with surgical precision.

  Marisol slid down until she was crouched on the ground, breathing in fragments. She had left with nothing. No bag. No identification. No clear understanding of how she’d ended up on a street that smelled of ozone and salt carried in from the coast.

  She remembered white lights.

  Too many of them.

  She remembered a table.

  Glass.

  A voice saying “stay calm” with a steadiness that didn’t belong in that place.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  No.

  Not now.

  Something shifted in the air in front of her.

  Marisol’s eyes snapped open.

  For a second she thought it was a reflection—an error in the lighting. But the glow didn’t obey any external source. It vibrated, stretched, as if trying to decide what shape it wanted to be.

  —No… —she whispered, more plea than refusal.

  The glow answered.

  It condensed into an elongated, incomplete outline, hovering just inches from her hand. Marisol recoiled instinctively—and the shape mirrored her movement, as though bound to her by something she couldn’t see.

  She wanted to run.

  She wanted to understand.

  She wanted it gone.

  The glow flickered.

  A sharp pain cut through her chest, and the shape fractured in midair, breaking apart into reddish particles that dispersed like warm ash. Marisol clutched her sternum, gasping, her heart hammering with a violence that felt almost audible.

  —What was that…? —she murmured.

  From the main avenue came a surge of sound. Not music this time, but overlapping voices spilling from a massive news display dominating the nearest intersection.

  IN OTHER NEWS

  SERAVENN REPORTS BORDER INCIDENTS

  EISWACHT DENIES DIRECT INVOLVEMENT

  Preliminary reports suggest rapid advancement, though no official confirmation has been issued.

  The images were fragmented. Partial maps. Cut statements. Analysts speaking of “accumulated tension” and “hypothetical scenarios.”

  Nothing definitive.

  Nothing that justified panic.

  A chill ran down Marisol’s spine.

  On another screen, only meters away, a smiling man’s face filled the display—immaculate, perfectly lit from below, as though shadow had never touched him.

  ORION D. HELIOS

  President in office

  A Strong New Althameria Begins Today

  Marisol shrank deeper into the darkness. Not because she had been seen—but because the sensation was different. As if the city itself were watching in every direction at once, confident that nothing important could truly escape it.

  She had escaped.

  And she didn’t know what that meant.

  She rose slowly, her legs still unsteady, and forced herself to walk. Not toward the center. Not toward the lights. She followed streets that narrowed, where the screens grew smaller and the cameras less obvious.

  The campaign had only just begun.

  The world was still pretending everything was normal.

  Marisol clenched her fists, feeling that strange heat gather beneath her skin—restless, impatient.

  —I can’t go back —she whispered.

  She didn’t know where she was going.

  She didn’t know what she was now.

  But even before the war truly began, one thing was already clear:

  If she stayed still, someone would come to claim her.

  And for now, her desire was simple.

  Raw.

  Irrefutable.

  To stay alive.

  The solution came to all of us at almost the same time.

  —Cold shower —Caelia said, as if she were proposing a tactical maneuver instead of basic survival.

  Neyra turned her head slightly toward her.

  —Cold cold? —she asked, suspicious.

  —Cold cold —Caelia confirmed.

  There was a second of silence.

  Then Velka snorted.

  —If I scream, it’s not my fault.

  We got up carefully, like every movement was a small betrayal against our own bodies. The fabric brushing against sunburned skin was enough to draw out undignified sounds.

  —Don’t touch me —Neyra warned immediately—. Seriously, Lyss, don’t even think about it.

  —I wasn’t—

  —Don’t even think about it —she repeated, pointing at me—. I’m sensitive.

  Velka walked past her and, very deliberately, brushed against her arm.

  —AH! —Neyra yelped—. Velka!

  —Accident —Velka replied, far too quickly to be believable.

  —We’re never getting used to it —I said, looking at her—. Never.

  —Ever —Caelia added, perfectly serious.

  —Confirmed —Neyra finished—. Every time, it still catches me off guard.

  Velka stared at the three of us, incredulous.

  —Seriously? —she asked—. By now it should be routine.

  —No —we answered almost in unison.

  Neyra smiled despite the sting.

  —It’s part of the charm —she said—. Still hurts.

  —A lot —I agreed.

  The water was freezing. Literally. The shock was so sharp that for a moment no one spoke. Just uneven breathing, stiff backs, hands gripping the edge.

  —This is awful —Neyra muttered.

  —This is necessary —Caelia corrected, closing her eyes.

  I lowered my shoulders a little more and felt the burning ease, just barely, like embers starting to give in. It still hurt—but in a different way. A manageable one.

  Velka eyed us suspiciously once we were settled under the cold spray.

  —I don’t like that look —she said—. What are you plotting?

  —Nothing —I answered way too fast.

  Neyra looked at me, then at Caelia… and grinned.

  —Nothing —she echoed, already laughing.

  —Alright —Caelia said, with a seriousness I didn’t believe for a second—. We just need to verify something.

  She cleared her throat.

  —“Ah cannae even move, ken?” —she said, dragging the words horribly, completely wrong on purpose.

  Neyra burst out laughing.

  —No, no! —she cut in—. It’s more like “Och, this is a right mess, aye?”

  —That’s not how I sound —Velka protested immediately—. Not even close.

  —It absolutely is —I said, joining in—. You’re missing the dramatic sigh. That part’s essential.

  The three of us looked at her.

  —I do not sigh dramatically.

  Neyra tilted her head.

  —You sigh dramatically.

  Caelia nodded.

  —It’s an integral part of the phenomenon.

  Velka pointed at us, dead serious.

  —I’m warning you —she said—. If any of you touch my burned skin while doing that, I will retaliate.

  —Noted —I said—. No promises, though.

  —I promise —Neyra added—. I promise I’ll do it again.

  Velka closed her eyes and rested her head against the tile.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  —One day —she muttered— I’m going to get my revenge.

  —How? —Neyra asked.

  —When you least expect it —Velka replied—. And it’s going to hurt.

  We stayed quiet for a second… and then laughed all at once, careful not to move too much.

  The water kept running. Cold. Cruel. Effective.

  For a few minutes, there was no war, no Mothers, no truths.

  Just four magical girls crammed into a bathroom that was far too small, complaining, laughing, and trying not to touch each other more than strictly necessary.

  We came out of the bathroom wrapped in towels, hair still dripping, skin sensitive but a little calmer. The room smelled of dampness and cheap soap. Like home, somehow.

  Caelia was the first to reach for the creams. She always was. She opened the drawer as if she knew exactly where everything was and began handing out jars and tubes.

  —Don’t hold back —she said—. If it stings, use more.

  Neyra was already sitting cross-legged, the jar open on her thigh. She applied the cream with almost ritual care, going over each area twice, as if following an invisible map.

  —It doesn’t sting that much —she commented—. If you do it properly.

  —“Properly”? —I asked.

  —Yes —she replied without looking at me—. In layers. And without rushing.

  Velka let out a long, tired sigh.

  —I can’t reach my shoulders —she said—. Could someone help me, please?

  —That rules all of us out —I said.

  —Lyss —Neyra replied—. Be useful.

  I moved closer to Velka with the jar in my hand. Her skin was hot to the touch, red and sensitive. I put some cream on my palms and began spreading it carefully.

  —Tell me if it hurts —I said.

  —If it hurts, I’ll scream —she replied—. Warning you is optional.

  Neyra barely lifted her gaze, assessing us.

  —Slower —she instructed—. And go over that spot again. That area always burns later.

  —Since when are you an expert? —Velka asked.

  —Since always —Neyra replied—. Order matters.

  Caelia came over with another jar and watched for a moment.

  —She’s right —she said—. Better that way.

  Velka huffed.

  —Great. Now there’s consensus.

  We went on like that for a while. Passing the cream around. Reaching impossible spots. Complaining when it stung. Laughing when someone exaggerated.

  Neyra didn’t stop until she was satisfied. She checked, corrected, offered the jar without being asked.

  —Lower back —she said at one point—. You missed that spot.

  —I did it already —I replied.

  —Do it again.

  I did.

  There was no rush. No orders. Nothing to prove.

  Just four girls taking care of each other the best they could, touching carefully, sharing comfortable silences.

  And in the middle of it all, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Peace.

  The rest of the morning passed without urgency.

  Time stretching between ointments, clean clothes, a bit of warm food, and comfortable silences. The sting faded. The exhaustion settled. At last, the body stopped protesting every movement.

  When we left the room, the sun was already high.

  The academy corridor was quiet. Too quiet. We walked together without haste, as if by doing so we could pretend everything was still in order.

  That was when we saw them.

  Lumina Umbrae was waiting for us at the end of the hallway.

  There was no tension. No stiffness. Just presence. And something else—harder to name.

  Reia was the first to step closer.

  —This happened while you were in Al-Rahad —she said softly—. We didn’t want to tell you from afar.

  Nysha stood beside her, quieter than usual. Caelin looked even more tired than she normally did. Virelle kept her arms crossed, still and contained.

  —The Queen —Reia continued— is no longer just a figure on the throne.

  The silence closed in.

  —She awakened —she added—. As a magical girl.

  She didn’t say it like an announcement. She said it like a warning.

  —We saw her —Nysha murmured, not quite meeting our eyes—. We stood face to face with her.

  —And we felt it —Caelin added—. It wasn’t hostile. But… it wasn’t normal either.

  Virelle tightened her jaw before speaking.

  —She didn’t attack —she said—. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t do anything obvious. And still—

  She made a brief gesture with her hand, as if words weren’t enough.

  —It was like something was pulling at us —she went on—. Right here.

  She touched her chest.

  A strange cold ran through me.

  —Absorption —I said, unsure where the word came from.

  Reia nodded slowly.

  —Emotional —she confirmed—. Constant. Silent.

  —We don’t understand how —Caelin added—. Or why now.

  —Or why so late —Nysha finished.

  —If she’s one of us… —Neyra began, then stopped.

  —That’s what no one can explain —Reia said—. And that’s why this isn’t public.

  —Only the Veils know —Caelin added—. And a very few others.

  —This isn’t an announcement —Virelle said—. It’s a secret.

  I looked at Lumina Umbrae standing before us. Hope. Fear. Sadness. Wrath.

  The most visible squad in Seravenn… speaking in whispers.

  —She’s strong —Reia said—. Far stronger than someone who just awakened should be.

  —And we don’t know what price she’s paying —Nysha added.

  No one spoke for a moment.

  —Is this a good thing? —Velka asked at last.

  Reia took a second before answering.

  —It’s change —she said—. And change, when it comes like this… is never innocent.

  The corridor suddenly felt too narrow.

  I understood then that the world had already moved without us.

  And that what was coming… would not ask for permission.

  Lumina Umbrae left without ceremony.

  No promises. No long goodbyes. Just their footsteps fading down the corridor, and that strange weight things leave behind when they are not meant to be known.

  We stayed there a few seconds longer than necessary.

  —I don’t like this —Neyra said at last.

  She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t dramatize it. She simply said it, flat.

  Velka ran a hand over her face.

  —Neither do I.

  —A Queen doesn’t awaken like this —Neyra continued—. Not this late. Not after everything.

  Caelia didn’t answer right away. She took a few steps, leaned her back against the wall, and crossed her arms.

  —Yareen —she said finally.

  The name landed heavy.

  No explanation was needed.

  —She tried to take a place that wasn’t hers —Caelia went on—. To force an emotion until it broke. Until it deformed her.

  A knot tightened in my stomach.

  —And now we have someone on the throne —I said— who can absorb emotions… without touching you.

  Velka looked up at me.

  —That’s not a coincidence.

  —No —Caelia replied—. It’s a pattern.

  Neyra clicked her tongue, irritated.

  —And patterns always collect a price.

  The silence that followed was different. Tighter. More alert.

  —We don’t know if she’s an enemy —Velka said—. But we don’t know if she’s an ally either.

  —Or if she can stop being either —I added.

  That was when the communicator vibrated.

  The sound was brief. Sharp. Official.

  Caelia was the first to pull it out.

  —Attention to all squads —she read aloud—. Immediate summons to the strategy hall. Repeat: immediate summons. High priority.

  We looked at each other.

  —We’re not the only ones —Neyra murmured.

  —We never are —Velka replied.

  I stayed silent, but something shifted uncomfortably inside my chest.

  If Seravenn was calling every squad at once…

  it wasn’t to share good news.

  And Yareen, even dead, was still casting her shadow.

  We entered the strategy hall last.

  The air was already heavy.

  Lumina Umbrae occupied one side of the central table. Reia looked up when we came in, without a smile this time. Blood of the Throne stood at the opposite end. Irhena was the first to notice me. She said nothing, but I felt her attention sink into me with the familiarity of an old wound.

  And at the front…

  the Queen.

  Seraphina stood beside Commander Elore Stryvann. The Fourth Veil wasted no time.

  —Anomalous movements have been detected along the mountain range —she said—. No confirmed incursions, but the pattern is irregular. Too organized to be natural, ti follows old Eiwatch tactics but in a greater scale.

  The map unfolded before us.

  —As a preventive measure, each squad will be deployed to strategic points. We are not seeking direct confrontation yet. Surveillance. Containment. Immediate response capability.

  Her voice was firm. Clear. Military.

  —Lumina Umbrae will cover the eastern flank. Blood of the Throne will handle the south. Shadows of the Crown will hold the central line.

  We nodded.

  Everything seemed correct. Ordered.

  Too ordered.

  I couldn’t stop looking at Seraphina. Not because she did anything, but because she didn’t. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She didn’t impose herself through posture or gesture.

  And still, something pulled at me.

  It wasn’t anger.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It was a broad, constant pressure, as if her presence occupied more space than it should have.

  —Any questions? —Elore asked.

  Silence.

  Then Seraphina spoke for the first time.

  —Commander —she said—. Leave us alone.

  She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t adopt a formal tone. She said it as if the rest of the world had already stepped outside the room.

  Elore didn’t hesitate.

  —As you command, Your Majesty.

  The Commander left. The doors closed behind her.

  And then Seraphina stopped holding back.

  There was no prior gesture. No warning. No preparation.

  It was as if something that had always been held taut within her simply gave way.

  The rigidity of her attire broke first at the center. The fabric lost its form, opened, stopped enforcing structure. Where there had once been straight, closed lines, her body appeared—exposed without haste, without any attempt to cover itself.

  Her chest became partially visible, not framed, not symmetrical, as if the clothing had simply chosen to step aside there. Her sternum lay bare, her breathing clearly marked. Lower still, her abdomen was completely uncovered, crossed by a slow pulse that didn’t glow, but could be felt—like a contained tide beneath the skin.

  The remaining fabrics hung open, following the movement of her body without hiding it, leaving legs and hips free, unburdened, unarmored.

  She didn’t grow larger.

  She didn’t become more imposing.

  She became more real.

  The air changed.

  It didn’t brighten. It thickened. As if the room had lost space and everything had drawn a little closer to her.

  I felt the pull in my chest immediately. Then in my abdomen. A soft but constant drag, as if something inside me wanted to lean toward that new center that had just formed.

  I had never seen a transformation like this.

  —Do not be afraid —Seraphina said.

  Her voice was still hers, but there was less distance in it. Less throne.

  —I will join the operation.

  No one spoke.

  Not Reia.

  Not Irhena.

  Not Neyra.

  Confusion came first. Fear followed—slower, deeper.

  —Your Majesty… —someone began. I didn’t know who.

  Seraphina looked at us one by one.

  When her eyes passed over me, the pull became almost unbearable. It wasn’t a threat. It was recognition. As if she saw me with a clarity I didn’t yet possess.

  —Not as Queen —she clarified—. As one of you.

  The silence that followed was not empty.

  It was expectant.

  It was dangerous.

  And then I understood, with a certainty that burned through me:

  This was no longer prevention.

  This was the beginning.

  And the world had just crossed a line it could not step back from.

  Then it happened...

  An alarm cut through the air.

  It wasn’t long or dramatic. It was sharp. Urgent. The kind that doesn’t ask questions—it announces that something is already in motion.

  The lights in the room shifted. The tactical system activated on its own.

  —Incoming impacts —an automated voice said—. Multiple trajectories detected.

  The map flooded with red lines.

  Dozens.

  Not spells.

  Not magical signatures.

  Missiles.

  My body tensed before I could think. Trained reactions. Pure instinct. Around me, the others were already moving.

  —Eiswacht…? —I managed to murmur.

  Seraphina spoke before anyone answered.

  —I’ll handle it.

  She said it with a calm that didn’t belong to the moment.

  —Come with me —she added—. Just in case.

  She didn’t ask. She didn’t command. She simply assumed it would be so.

  She moved to Caelia first.

  When her hand rested on Caelia’s shoulder, Caelia stiffened instantly. She didn’t pull away, but her breathing changed. As if something inside her had been activated… or drained.

  Then Seraphina touched Reia.

  Reia took an involuntary step back, barely noticeable. Her expression wasn’t pain—it was surprise. Sudden exhaustion.

  Nothing more.

  Seraphina said nothing. She simply turned and began to walk.

  We followed.

  Outside, the sky was no longer just sky. In the distance, points of fire descended along clean, precise trajectories. Too many to count quickly.

  Seraphina took a few more steps… and rose.

  Not in a jump.

  Not propelled.

  She simply left the ground.

  Her ascent was identical to Reia’s when she flies. The same clean vertical line. The same absolute control. Only… without visible effort.

  We all froze.

  From below, we watched her raise one hand.

  The shield appeared without thunder.

  It didn’t explode with light.

  It didn’t unfold in layers.

  It simply was.

  An immense dome covered the entire capital. Curved. Perfect. Stable. A canopy that encompassed buildings, towers, streets… everything.

  The first missiles struck seconds later.

  They didn’t pierce it.

  They didn’t crack it.

  They slammed against the barrier and detonated outward, as if the sky itself rejected them.

  One after another.

  Dozens.

  The shield didn’t tremble.

  It didn’t waver.

  It didn’t respond.

  It simply remained.

  I felt my stomach drop.

  Beside me, Reia was struggling to breathe, as if the air had grown heavier around her. She could still fly—I knew it, I felt it—but something was missing. Something that wasn’t where it should be.

  Caelia clenched her fists. Her power was still there, but it felt different. Thinner. As if her Distrust had been brushed against, measured… taken.

  —Do you feel that…? —someone murmured.

  No one answered.

  The last missiles exploded far from the dome. The sky slowly darkened again, filled with smoke that had never touched the city.

  Seraphina descended with the same calm with which she had risen.

  When her feet touched the ground, the dome vanished without a trace.

  No one applauded.

  No one spoke.

  We were all… frozen.

  I looked at Reia. I looked at Caelia. They were still themselves. They could still conjure. They could still fight.

  But something had changed.

  And then I understood.

  That hadn’t been a shield.

  It had been a minimal demonstration.

  Seraphina was not just a magical girl.

  She was something dangerously close to a Mother.

  And the world…

  the world had just survived because she chose to let it.

  No one moved.

  Twelve magical girls stood beneath a sky still veiled in smoke, and not a single one of us seemed capable of speaking. Lumina Umbrae remained frozen, Reia still breathing as if the air refused to fully obey her. Blood of the Throne stood tense, fists clenched, jaws tight—like animals unsure whether to strike or retreat.

  The Shadows…

  we were simply shaking on the inside.

  Not with ordinary fear.

  With understanding.

  We had seen too much.

  Some clenched their fists until their knuckles whitened. Others held their arms rigid, as if letting go would mean accepting what had just happened. No one celebrated. No one shouted.

  The silence was heavy. Dense. Unreal.

  Seraphina was the only one who seemed calm.

  She turned toward us, the sky still reflected in her form.

  —This only confirms what we already knew —she said—. Eiswacht is making its move.

  Her voice wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t furious. It was steady. Decisive.

  —And if they already dare to test our defenses… —she continued— then it’s time to return the favor.

  No one argued.

  No one questioned her.

  —I need you ready —she added—. All of you. We’re moving out as soon as possible.

  ASAP.

  The word landed like a seal.

  I felt my pulse thunder in my ears. Around me, the others nodded, one by one, bodies still tense, the image of the dome burned behind their eyes.

  It wasn’t an order.

  It was certainty.

  And as we finally began to move, I understood something with chilling clarity:

  The war wasn’t anymore in the border.

  It had come to us.

  And Seravenn…

  had just answered.