If cruelty could speak, it would echo in the voice Onish overheard. The sudden change in the air around him brought his senses back to full alertness. His once-languid body stiffened, and his ears, sharpened like the fangs of a predator, strained to catch every syllable of the pitiless voice that sliced through the orchard's stillness.
"Lupa, why have you disturbed me? You know well that our kind detests the sun."
"Yes, I know," came the soft, strained reply of a woman, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But it's an emergency. I couldn't risk coming at night. That blasted fire beast has already alerted Oman."
Onish's brow furrowed as a shiver ran down his spine. The female voice was familiar, but the identity of its owner danced just beyond his grasp, like a fleeting shadow. He cursed his incomplete mastery of the spirit diagrams. If only he had unlocked the ability to enhance his hearing...
"It was a foolish decision from the start. I warned Kruma—that arrogant prick—not to trust those imbeciles. But the human thinks he knows these fiery monsters better than I. Now, I'll relish watching him explain this to Jora."
Onish felt his pulse quicken at the mention of Jora. The name sent a cold shudder through his body. Jora was no one to be trifled with.
"What? Jora is coming to Minaak? When?" The woman's voice cracked with disbelief.
"I don't know the exact date," the cruel voice growled, "but it will be before Inna's feast. Ouch!" There was a sudden, muffled cry of pain. "Can't you stay still and block that cursed sunlight?"
Onish froze, heart pounding, his instincts screaming at him to remain silent, motionless. The sun? What manner of creature could despise the light of Surya—the very force that nourished and gave life?
"Sorry," the woman replied, her tone more regretful now, "I think I smelled something foreign in the breeze."
Foreign? Onish stifled a gasp. Had he been discovered? What else could be "foreign" except the faint scent of his herbal bath? His mind raced, but he knew one thing—he had to remain unseen.
"Then you'd better tell me why you called me, or I'll leave." The voice was now tinged with annoyance, as if every moment wasted was a strike against their fragile alliance.
The woman hesitated for a moment. "Okay, okay... I'm not being chicken," she muttered. Then, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "The rumor is true. The boy was not awakened at his designated age."
Onish's heart skipped a beat. "Hara," the cruel voice said, the name heavy with disdain. "He's still dormant? How sure are you?"
"As sure as death itself," the woman replied grimly. "I saw no golden flack in his eyes. The blind heretic... he failed."
A sudden, sharp intake of breath cut through the air as the cruel voice reacted. "Then we still have time. I'll inform the lord immediately. Keep watching him. And don't get caught. I'm leaving now."
But just before the conversation could end, the woman's voice cut in again, almost too quietly to hear. "One more thing. The mountains of Okala... they're cooking something. Cole, the prince of Okala, was here..."
Before she could finish, Onish felt the breeze shift, its direction changing, as if the very wind was being manipulated. Had he been discovered?
In that moment, Onish knew it was time to go. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to retreat. The figure he had been eavesdropping on had already sensed something—a change in the air, an anomaly. He could no longer afford to hide in the shadows.
With an unsettling calm, Onish commanded the spirits of the wind to conceal his scent, blending into the surroundings as if he were part of the very air. He had to wait. He had to know more.
Seconds later, he caught sight of the figure—a hooded shape weaving through the orchard with grace, almost floating above the ground. Her cloak shifted and shimmered, hues changing with every movement, blending seamlessly with the vibrant flowers and lush greenery. It was as if she were one with the garden itself, a spirit among spirits, a shadow in plain sight.
Spirit wielder. The realization struck him with a chilling force. He was foolish to think he could follow such a being. Any attempt to track her would be futile—like trying to catch the wind in his hands. Still, he had to know where the other voice had gone.
His eyes scanned the orchard. The vibrant blooms danced in the wind, their colors alive, but he saw no other figure. No sign of the cruel voice's owner. Only the ripples of the leaves and the trembling flowers.
He could not risk confronting them. Not yet. Not until he was stronger. For now, the only way forward was to bide his time, to learn. Knowledge was his only weapon in the game that had already begun.
Onish turned away from the orchard, his heart pounding as he retraced his steps back to the castle, though his senses remained alert, scanning for the flicker of that chameleon cloak. The strange sensation of being watched lingered, but he knew it was futile. The spirit wielder had seen him—he was sure of it now.
Back in the castle, the evening light was fading. The halls were alive with the bustle of servants and noblemen preparing for the evening's gathering. Yet, for all the normalcy around him, Onish felt a deep unease. He had been thrust into a web he didn't fully understand, surrounded by enemies who moved like shadows.
He was no longer the boy from the earth's icy caves. In Minaak, he was someone—someone the world had begun to take an interest in, whether for better or worse.
Just then, a familiar voice called out from above, cutting through the heavy thoughts in his mind.
"Oh, little Ishi! Where have you been?" Esha's voice floated down from the stairs, followed by the soft coo of her dove perched on her shoulder.
"Why? I was in the library," Onish replied absently, still trying to shake the unease from his bones.
"Never mind," she chirped brightly. "I have good news for you."
Onish glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "What's the news?"
Her smile widened, mischievous. "You won't get it unless you call me big sister first!"
He sighed, realizing that this was going to be a drawn-out exchange. "Alright, big sister," he said with mock reluctance, feeling a strange warmth spread through him at the words.
Esha grinned triumphantly, her dove puffing up beside her. "I have two pieces of news for you. First, Guha has been accepted as an apprentice."
Onish raised a brow, the news unsurprising. "And the second?" he asked, already eager to get to the point.
"You, my dear, can finally learn to ride the spirit birds and ashva!" Esha's eyes sparkled with excitement, her words barely able to contain her enthusiasm.
Onish blinked, feigning excitement despite his lack of knowledge about the spirit creatures. "That's... great," he said, though his mind was elsewhere. But then, he remembered the strange conversation in the orchard and the cloak that changed colors. His curiosity sparked again.
"By the way, Big Sister," Onish asked, "Have you ever seen a cloak that could change its color, like a chameleon?"
Esha looked taken aback. "Why? I mean... no. But I did read about something like that in the Book of Dark Treasures. There's something called the Cloak of Sachi, which supposedly changes color, but Sachi is just a mythical being... created by magsmen for entertainment."
Onish's thoughts began to whirl. Sachi. The cloak, the mysterious figures in the orchard—this was no coincidence. What if Sachi wasn't just a myth?
Before he could voice his thoughts, Esha led him to the small yard surrounded by well-kept hedges, the perfect spot for a tale. She was already eager to tell him everything she knew about Sachi, and Onish listened, his heart full of the sense that the story he was about to hear might be the key to everything.