Part 2 - Once again, Night

My knuckles knocked against the door, and after a brief pause, it creaked open just enough to reveal Professor Harland's familiar silhouette. His lanky frame seemed to sag with exhaustion as his perpetually droopy eyes landed on me, barely lifting with recognition.

"You're here, do come in. Lyra told me that you will get a special uniform made to fight and handle tough situations." Professor Harland said as he sunk back into his work place.

The room was the usual, clothes everywhere on the tables... but was now well lit

...

"All right, I got your measurements. I will make sure you'll get your clothes by next week." Professor Harland said as he turned to his worktable. 

He jotted down the numbers on a book and then tapped his pen on the table.

"I heard you're heading to Zephyr," he said, his raspy voice lowering further, drawing my attention. "That place... it's not like Scorchern. Zephyr's earned the title 'Land of the Bounty' for good reason."

I frowned. "What does that mean exactly?"

He sighed deeply, a tired sound that seemed to resonate through the room. "There's a group. Not many know of them—they keep to the shadows. But their influence... it's felt everywhere in Zephyr's underbelly. They call themselves the Golden Rulers. A small group, only four of them left now. No one knows who they really are, but the bodies they leave behind... they tell enough of a story. The kind of story that never sees daylight."

I swallowed hard, his words sinking into me like cold lead. "Are they... dangerous?"

"Very," he said flatly, fiddling with the sleeve of his loose brown yukata. "But unless you go digging in the wrong places, you shouldn't have to cross paths with them." He paused, as if debating whether to continue. His lips twitched slightly, but then he forced a smile—a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I doubt you'll need to worry about them, though. Just keep your head down and stick with what you're supposed to do."

I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and stood to leave, trying to shake off the uneasiness in my heart. "Thanks for the heads-up, Professor Harland. And for the uniform too. I'll be looking forward to it," I said, offering a smile that I hoped wasn't as forced as his had been.

"Take care, Kiara," he replied quietly, raising a hand in a lazy wave as he turned back to his work, the air around him growing dense with the weight of unsaid words.

As I walked out, the door closing softly behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that Zephyr was going to be far more dangerous than I'd ever imagined.

...

I rarely spoke to Konota or Luna during the three months of training. Our paths seemed to diverge, each of us lost in our own worlds, preparing for the tournament in our own way. Yet, one question kept replaying in my mind—something Lyra had asked me during one of our sessions. It felt like it had happened just yesterday. 

I was catching my breath after an intense drill, slurping water when Lyra's voice cut through the silence.

'Kiara,' she started, her tone curious, 'what do you hope for in this tournament? What do you want from it?'

I looked at her, confused, mid-drink. 'Hmm?' was all I managed in response.

She smiled slightly, but her gaze was serious. 'Most people who join have their own reasons, something that drives them. A goal, a desire. And that reason? It's usually why they win. They've got this fire—determination that pushes them through. So... what's yours?'

I didn't answer right away.

Her question hung in the air as I sat there, trying to dig deep for an answer. But nothing came. Why did I want to win? Was it because Luna and Konota would be there too? Was it just to keep up with them? To not fall behind?

The silence stretched out between us, my mind swirling with possibilities, but none of them felt right. None of them felt like me.

Lyra didn't push for a response. She simply gave a knowing nod and let me be, as if she understood that the answer would come in time—or maybe that it wouldn't. But the question stayed with me, long after that training session ended.

Why did I want to win...?

... 

I sat at my desk in the dorm, sketching out new ideas for how I could push my magic to the next level. My notebook was filled with half-formed thoughts, sketches of impossible feats, things that seemed incredible in theory but were likely impractical in a real fight. I tapped the pen against my chin, hoping inspiration would strike, something that could give me an edge against anyone—whether they were human or a Masked One.

Should I perhaps make a weapon... like Konota? Maybe a fire whip... or... since I want to protect others, I should make a fire shield that'll engulf any incoming dangers. Or maybe inferno chains that will bind anything, like a Masked One. 

Then... the sound of the door swinging open broke my focus. I turned to see Konota stumble into the room, her hair a tangled mess, her clothes torn and covered in dirt. She looked completely drained, as if she had been through a battlefield.

"Konota—?" I blurted out, jumping up from my seat. "What happened to you?"

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath, her eyes half-closed, before she trudged over to the bed. With a heavy flop, she collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off her shoes or clean up. In seconds, she was out cold.

I stood there, blinking in surprise. She'd been training alone for the past three months, pouring everything she had into it. Today must have been the final day of her solo training... and she'd clearly pushed herself to the limit.

I sighed quietly, watching her sleep. She always gave everything, no matter the cost. That was the kind of determination Lyra talked about—the kind that wins battles, and maybe even the tournament.

But... I wonder what is her motivation that's driving her to go this far...

An idea then sparked in my mind, sudden and clear, like a flare in the dark. Without hesitation, I grabbed my pen and scribbled it down in my notebook, the lines and shapes flowing effortlessly onto the page. It wasn't fully formed yet, but the potential was there—something worth testing, something that could give me an edge. My heart hastened with the possibility that this idea might just be the breakthrough I'd been searching for.

"I'll... I'll call it...," I tapped the pen against the notebook, creating tiny ink marks while thinking of a name. 

"Hmm... Engulfing Ember."