The boy stood up, pacing back and forth in slow, deliberate steps, his hand resting on his chin. After a moment of consideration, he spoke.
"If I go now, will you come with me?"
Eira looked up at him. His face was calm, and his crimson eyes held something close to empathy. But she kept her gaze firm and answered without hesitation.
"No."
He squinted slightly, exhaling a heavy sigh before swinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Fine, then. I must leave now."
"Wait!" Eira called out.
He halted, turning back to her.
"You can't just leave," she said. "Not after making all this mess. And there's still a knocked-out man in my shack."
The boy smirked. "And what if I simply run away?"
"Do you expect me to just stand still while you escape?"
"Oh? Then let's give it a try."
Before she could react, he leapt—one effortless movement, and he was standing atop the wall. Eira stood frozen, resentment curling in her chest. The boy looked down at her, that same playful smile tugging at his lips.
"Seems like I can escape," he said, mockingly thoughtful.
Then, just as suddenly, he jumped back down, landing lightly beside her. His bag clinked as the items inside shifted.
"Only 'cause you fed me," he said with a grin.
Eira watched as he strode toward the shack.
"Now then," he called over his shoulder. "Will you come?"
Eira hesitated, then followed.
The shack was still a complete mess. The overturned chairs, scattered clothes, and broken bowls still lay where the soldier had left them. The unconscious man on the floor was breathing steadily now, but she doubted he'd wake anytime soon.
Both of them got to work—fixing the furniture, folding clothes, reracking the drawers. As they cleaned, Eira asked, "How did you even manage to knock him out?"
"Oh, that was easy," the boy said, barely looking up. "First, I got behind the door. The moment he stepped in, I pounced—grabbed his neck, covered his mouth. Then I applied pressure and hit his jugular notch. Boom. Out cold."
Eira raised a brow. "You seem to know a lot about jumping and hopping."
"Over time, it comes naturally," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.
The boy still had his bag slung over his shoulder, knocking against furniture as he moved. After a while, Eira huffed. "Why don't you put that thing down?"
"Too much stuff to take off and put back on," he replied, tossing a few utensils into a trunk. "If the guards come back, I need to be ready."
"Stuff that gets you in trouble," she muttered.
"Indeed," he said with a smirk.
Eira folded a tunic and shot him a glance. "And what exactly do you carry in there, anyway? That thing is huge."
"Didn't I just tell you? The kind that gets me in trouble."
"No." She narrowed her eyes. "I want to know what's actually inside."
The boy paused, as if considering. "All sorts," he said finally. "Bandages, medicines, explosives, hand tools, a few kairns... other things."
Eira scoffed. "That's quite the collection."
He just grinned and nodded.
After a while, Eira broke the silence again, "Do you have something that can remove paint stains?"
The boy looked at her with a grin forming over his face." What for ? " he asked.
"Didn't I tell you already. Even though I have washed the floor, carpet, and clothes, the stain got dim, yet it persists. Do you have something that can remove the stain?"
"I think I do," he said playfully.
He set the bag aside and opened up the latch. He then pulled out a small jar. Holding the jar in front of the glowing lamp. The jar contained a golden oily liquid, with bubbles. Eira stood in awe, knowing this was not any ordinary liquid.
"It looks as if it's glowing on its own. I have never seen something such as this." Eira spoke, looking at the jar with wide eyes.
The boy smirked, "It's an enchanted oil. Though it's used for something else, it can also be said to remove stains."
"It looks so expensive. Where do you even get this? What do you mean by it's used for something else?"
"Well then, let me tell you it all. This right here, is the second rank Ignis Bloom from the pyro series of eldritch infusions. When in contact with fire, it burns voraciously, multiplying the magnitude of a mere ember to conflagration. And for where I got this..." he paused. He then continued, "Have you heard of Halsa's fire show?"
Eira nodded quickly, "Yes".
"Well, it's used in his fire show."
Eira gasped, her burrows reaching high, "So if it's here then, what are they going to use in the fire show?"
"Who cares? It will be a funny sight though."
Eira felt a sudden rage engulfing her, "But how could you, he is the lord of this city."
"A lord whose atrocities know no bounds. I have seen men, poor men, getting whipped under the scorching Assal, just for the sake of his scrap. Men being burned to ashes, just for their slightest offence. A man such as this deserves to be burnt alive. he spoke in a low, seething tone.
He held out the ignis bloom in front of his face, " And this is what will burn him."
He looked back at Eira, " The world outside is vast—relentless, cold, and unforgiving. There is no shelter, no comfort, no certainty. You are left to fend for yourself, with nothing but your own will to carry you forward. But that is what makes it worth it. Because where there is risk, there is adventure. Where there is struggle, there is hope. And where there is danger, there are dreams waiting to be seized. And so I am asking you again, will you come ?"
Eira felt a sudden chill run down her spine. Words failed her. The uncertainty in her heart, the weight of her own hesitation—it all pressed down on her. She had always dreamt of soaring above Ivenia, of seeing the world in its vastness. But she never dared. The unknown loomed too large, its shadow sinking deep into her heart, keeping her grounded.
The boy handed her the jar with a quiet sigh, "Pour a bit over the stains and rub gently. When the surface begins to warm and the vapors rise, wipe it clean with a cloth. The stain will be gone. And don't pour it all, a drop will do."
Eira stood still. He had said too much—more than anyone ever had. Could she go with him? Her heart offered no answer.
She took the jar.
"Go and wipe those stains off," he said, turning away. "Till I figure out how to deal with the dead weight in your shack."
Eira took the jar and stepped into Mosil's room. Unsealing the lid, she carefully poured a small amount of the oil onto the stains. Almost instantly, wisps of vapor curled into the air, carrying a faint, sweet scent. To her surprise, the stains faded effortlessly. A wave of relief and exhilaration washed over her. In her haste, she closed the lid, and rushed back to the shack.
Excited as she was, she found the boy dragging the guard outside the shack by his feet, and placing him beside the stove.
She said joyfully," They came off, all of them."
"Why wouldn't they?" the boy said with a hint of pride in his voice.
Eira held the jar, in front of her eyes. "Would it work on cloth as well?"
"It will," the boy said, but then his eyes squinted looking at the amount of oil left in the jar. I told you a drop will do, but it seems you poured a puddle ."
Eira made a confused look, sure she used no more than a drop.
"So am I to just again pour it and rub it, for the clothes."
"Sure you do, but this time, see that it's just a drop."
Eira nodded and made her way toward the clothes hanging on the wire. The stains on them came off too, melting away like they were never there. A soft smile crept onto her lips. It was all done now — all the paint stains gone. And as for the inheritance, there was nothing such. Life would go on as before. All she had to do was return to being a servant.
Her steps felt light as a feather when she walked back to the boy, handing him the jar."It's all thanks to you," she said, smiling. "All those stains—gone. It's a great relief."
The boy could see the joy lighting up her face, but his own expression stayed firm, almost stern."I guess we're even now."
He took the jar from her hand, and as he glanced at it, his brows arched in surprise, quickly giving way to a look of irritation."It's half-empty!" he snapped.
"I used it just as you told me. You saw the clothes yourself — I only applied a little dot on each," Eira defended, confused.
"Then where has it all gone?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.
Just then, a low growl rumbled behind them. The boy's eyes darted toward the sound. Eira turned sharply — and there he was. The guard. Awake. Gathering himself up, fists pressing into the ground as he sat upright, his face pale but his eyes burning with rage.
"You bastards..." the guard spat, his voice coarse. "You dare trick me?" His glare shifted between them, seething. "We thought it was just you two bucks. But you even have a doe alongside you."
His eyes darted around, until they locked on a half-burned log in the stove. Embers still clung to one end, glowing faintly. With a grunt, he grabbed it, rising to his feet, towering over them both. The burning end of the log smoldered in his grip like a threat.
Eira's pulse quickened. Her eyes widened with a terror she'd never known — a fear deeper than anything even Bateli could give. The fear of death.
A hand slid over her shoulder, firm and steady. The boy stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body."When I say," he whispered quietly, "jump toward the shack."
The guard sneered, a wicked grin spreading across his face."Oh? Standing up for your little doe?"
Then, with a roar like a beast, he lunged at them, the burning log swinging through the air.
"Jump!" the boy barked.
Eira sprang toward the shack, heart pounding. And in that instant, she saw it — the jar flying through the air, aimed straight at the guard.
The boy leapt toward the wall as the jar shattered on the guard's chest, its contents splashing across him. The pungent oil soaked him in seconds.
Then — whoosh — in an instant, the man was engulfed in flames. A roaring inferno swallowed him whole.
Eira stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat as the man's body twisted and writhed, his shrieks splitting the air. His burning figure staggered backward, tumbling against the stove, thrashing in agony as the cloth wires caught fire around him. His screams were vile, desperate — a sound that tore into Eira's very soul.
She wanted to run. Her mind screamed to flee. But her legs wouldn't move. She stared, wide-eyed, watching the man burn — watching as the life drained from him, swallowed by the flames.
Finally, the cries ceased. His body, now a charred husk, collapsed to the ground with a lifeless thud.
Just as the body touched the ground, a quick trail of fire emerged and ran towards the house. Both of them watched the trail go off, and with a huge impact, a fire broke out in the house. Assumably in Mosil's room. And now the boy and Eira realized. Where did the oil go, she spilled it.
The small fire broke into a larger one. And soon enough, the whole house was engulfed by the flames.
Eira stood frozen, her eyes wide, reflecting the raging flames that now devoured the house she had served in for as long as she could remember. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, a mix of shock and disbelief gripping her throat.
The house — her house — though it never truly belonged to her, was still the only place she had known, the only walls that had given her shelter from the cruel world outside. The place where she had scrubbed floors, folded clothes, cooked meals, and endured years of silent servitude.
Now, all of it was burning before her eyes. The roof groaned and cracked as the fire climbed higher, thick smoke billowing out in great waves.
She clutched her chest, a strange emptiness hollowing out her insides. What have I done?
Her knees felt weak, but she stood, unmoving, watching as the flames swallowed the walls, the windows, the memories — everything.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but they didn't fall. A strange mixture of grief and liberation churned in her heart. The house had been her cage — and now, the cage was gone.
But with that realization came fear. What now?
The security, however cruel, was gone. The roof over her head, gone. The life she knew, gone.
The fire crackled and roared as if mocking her silence.
Behind her, the boy watched too, quietly, as if understanding what this fire meant to her. But he said nothing.
Eira's hands trembled slightly. A part of her wanted to rush into the flames to save something, anything. But there was nothing left for her inside those walls.
Just when the house was crumbling into ashes, she saw something in the flames. Something standing firm, against the flames. She saw a glimpse of it, a pillar.
In the heart of the burning wreck, where walls fell and roofs collapsed, something stood firm. A shape. A silhouette. A pillar — tall, unyielding — rising defiantly against the fire. The flames licked its sides but could not swallow it whole.
Eira blinked, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no — there it was, as clear as day, standing alone amidst the ruin.
A strange feeling washed over her, one she could not name. As though that pillar — untouched and unmoved — was calling to her. As though it had always been there, waiting.
Her throat tightened. And the words came into her mind, "The fourth pillar" as if Baieliya herself said them.
The fourth pillar was none other than the main support column of the house — standing firm directly above the shrine.
Eira stood up, her legs trembling but her gaze fixed. She began walking toward the flames, as if they no longer scared her.
The boy shouted after her, "Just where do you think you're going?"
Unstopped, she answered, pointing straight at the burning column,"That's the pillar my Ma told me about — the inheritance she left me. It's real. It's there."
The boy frowned, eyes darting to the roaring flames. "And how do you expect to get it through all that fire?"
Her steps halted. She turned to him, a tear glimmering in her eyes."I have to. If I don't... the guards, the neighbors — the whole world will be here soon. And my last chance to escape this cage will be gone."Her voice cracked, then rose into a scream, trembling with grief and resolve.
A sly smile tugged at the corner of the boy's lips. "So if I help you now... will you come with me?"
Eira looked at him, her breath shaking but her eyes steady."I will."
The very next moment, the boy ran — and leaped into the fire.
Eira's breath caught in her throat as she watched the flames consume him — or try to. But instead of burning, the fire seemed to bow, swirling around him like living ribbons of light.
From within the blaze, he shouted, "Where is it?"
"Beneath the pillar!" Eira cried.
She watched as he bent down, searching. And then — with a terrifying crash — the roof collapsed.
Eira's heart stopped.
For a long moment, there was nothing. No boy. No pillar. Just fire and falling beams, and the sound of people rushing into the streets.
"There's a fire!""It's Bateli's house!"
The voices swelled in the night air, but Eira barely heard them. All she could feel was the emptiness — the loss. It's all gone again...
"What are you waiting for?"
A voice — behind her.
Eira spun around. The boy stood there, soot on his skin, clothes burned to tatters, but alive — and smiling.
Her eyes dropped to what he held — a small black box, etched with golden, glimmering engravings.
"Hey, don't look too low — my clothes got burned too," he said with a sheepish laugh.
Holding the box out to her, he added, "Here. This is all I found."
Eira took the box. "How come you are not burned."
"Flames don't mine me." He said laughing.
Then, in a sudden, sharp voice, "If you're coming with me, put this in my bag inside the shack — and hurry. Grab anything else you need. Guards will be here any second, and some people are already watching us. Thanks to Halsa, most are away celebrating, but that won't last. Now move!"
Eira stood frozen for only a breath. Then she nodded.
That fire wasn't just burning a house — it was burning the cage she had lived in. And from those ashes, the bird inside her could finally fly.
She rushed to the shack, pulling open drawers, gathering what little she owned: a few clothes, some coins, and a small safe her Ma had left her — the last piece of her past.
Meanwhile, the boy threw on a spare pair of pants and slung the bag over his shoulder.
"You ready to leave?" he asked when she stepped out.
Eira nodded firmly.
"Let's go then."
He turned and leapt over the wall.
Eira hesitated for only a heartbeat, casting one last look at the burning house — her home, her prison — and then, with a deep breath, she leapt over the wall after him.
"This way," the boy called, stretching a hand back for her.
Eira held his hand, and began to run. The back-alley was all empty, except for a few lingering gazes from the balconies and windows, and soon enough they too disappeared in the dark. The voices fading as they dived deeper into the dark alleys.
Eira asked while running, "What is your name?"
"Vardant. And yours?"
"Eira" she said smiling.
And under the vast sky filled with stars, the moon filling its radiance, a bird flapped its wings for the first time.