We approached our destination carrying bags filled with pomas and other goods. A few meters ahead stood Oswin's cabin, easily recognizable by the black smoke rising from its chimney.
"Speaking of black…" I thought to myself.
The encounter with Vorhûl had been terrifying, leaving me with the certainty that he wouldn't be the greatest danger in this land. Of that, I was sure.
Unlike me, Lyaris didn't seem shaken. At first glance, anyone would say she was the same as ever—but unlike our first meeting, her eyes no longer carried arrogance or pride.
No…
If I focused closely enough, I could perceive what they truly reflected: confusion mixed with curiosity.
I had no idea how to deal with situations like this.What was she thinking about me now?
I tried to push those thoughts aside when I spotted Oswin, arms crossed, waiting for us at the door.
His posture was relaxed, yet there was something strange I couldn't quite decipher, hidden behind a faint, teasing smile beneath his short beard.
"Good, you made it," he greeted the mismatched pair. "If you'd arrived five minutes later, I would've started eating without you."
With that, he turned around and entered the cabin, concealing his false bravado.
I waited for Lyaris to go first, but to my surprise, when she noticed my hesitation, she frowned.
"Are you coming in or not?" she asked—unusually without hostility.
Then she grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.
"I wouldn't want a frozen corpse lying around here," she added. "It would ruin the little aesthetic this house has."
I couldn't see her face when she said it, but her tone wasn't as sharp as before.
That was definitely new, I thought, genuinely surprised.
After setting up my "temporary room"—a shed with blankets and pillows prepared by Oswin so I could feel more comfortable—I noticed something.
Or rather… I smelled something.
The scent clearly came from the kitchen. It was so rich and appetizing that, without realizing it, my steps carried me there.
"Is that… chicken?" I muttered, leaning against the doorway.
When I looked up, I wasn't surprised to see the cook.
It was Oswin.
For some reason, I couldn't imagine Lyaris cooking.
"Yes, it's my specialty," he replied proudly, giving the dish its final touches. "I call it Limonia."
Then he smiled to the side.
"I think you'll like it. It's Lya's favorite," Oswin added.
I helped him set the table, and soon we sat down to partake in the sacred ritual known as food.
Glancing at Lyaris, I noticed she was enjoying the Limonia with a faint smile—something that, knowing her even a little, felt like a once-in-a-century event.
"Is it really that good…?" I wondered.
I decided to give it a try.
I took a bite.
It wasn't good.
No…
IT WAS DELICIOUS.
"This might be the best thing I've tasted in years!" I screamed internally.
Not even during Christmas did the S.E.C. Institute offer anything like this. At best, they served stale vitel toné with precisely two grams of rancid mayonnaise.
But this… this was luxury.
No extreme diets.No lethal training.And most importantly… no burdens.
"Oswin… this should be illegal," I finally said after my third bite. "If you'd told me happiness was just a lemon and a bird, I would've called you insane."
Oswin let out a raspy laugh, wiping his hands on his stained apron, clearly pleased.
"Well, at least you can admit Limonia has an extraordinary flavor," Lyaris added, allowing herself a small spark of satisfaction.
"Alright, alright…" the old man interjected with a crooked smile. "Changing the subject, Tetsuo…"
"What do you think of wolves now?"
The bitter yet comforting taste of the Limonia suddenly turned heavy in my stomach.
How does he know…?
This old man was far from normal—but this was on another level. I was starting to realize he knew far more than he let on.
I turned to look at Lyaris.
There wasn't a trace of doubt on her face.
She already knew he had been watching us.
"She too…?" I murmured, the taste in my mouth turning to ash.
Oswin took a sip of his drink, his eyes gleaming under the firelight with an intensity no mere cook should possess.
"In this forest, Tetsuo, nothing escapes my notice," he declared. "Especially an encounter with a Devourer of Shadows."
"But… how did you know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"It's a secret," he whispered softly. "A hunter's secret."
A hunter?
I felt someone tug at my sleeve. Lyaris had heard everything. I turned toward her, and she looked at me without hostility.
"Don't make that stupid face, Tetsuo," she said, her voice lacking its usual edge. "It's not like I wanted to hide it from you."
"Oh really?" I replied. "We were fighting a spectral wolf, and you were watching like it was some kind of reality show. A warning would've been nice."
She frowned, crossing her arms and staring at a piece of bread left on her plate. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks.
"I don't know what an 'alty show' is," she muttered. "But…"
"Oswin always does things like this. It's his way of evaluating," she continued, gesturing sharply. "If I'd told you, you would've acted differently. The Devourer wouldn't have reacted to your real fear, and the test would've been meaningless."
She leaned forward slightly, regaining some of her composure while nervously playing with the green ribbon in her hair.
"Besides, you were too busy complaining about the cold and asking about fruits. Consider it a lesson from Eryndor: here, if you don't feel watched, you're already dead."
She shot me a sideways glance—guilt mixed with defiance.
"So stop looking at me like that. It's not like I cared if you got scared. I just didn't want you ruining dinner by getting eaten. That would've been a waste of Limonia."
I was about to reply when a sudden sense of danger struck.
My hand reacted instantly, catching a black axe with curved white edges mid-air. It felt perfectly balanced, wrapped with a small rope around the handle.
"Good. Now I'm certain you can handle training—and your tendency for dramatics," Oswin said calmly, as if he hadn't just thrown an axe at my head.
"It's one of my favorite axes. It's good, but I think another wea—"
"CAN YOU TELL ME WHY THE HELL YOU THREW AN AXE AT MY HEAD?" I shouted. "And what do you mean by training and 'dramatics'?!"
"Oh, right. Starting tomorrow, I'll train you," he replied casually. "And the last part was a joke about you two… though maybe not entirely a joke."
"Train me?" I echoed.
"Yes. And you'll need your other 'soulmate.' Come, to the garden."
He stepped outside, leaving me alone with Lyaris.
"Are you okay with this?" I asked, gesturing with the axe. "I almost died."
She sighed and stood up, heading toward her room. Before leaving, she stopped and turned back.
"I wouldn't have let him kill you," she snapped. "After all, you now have the honor of helping me with the shopping."
She slammed the door shut, but with my trained vision, I caught a fleeting, oddly gentle smile crossing her face.
That sent a shiver through me—far colder than the forest wind.
"Tetsuo! Move it, or you'll freeze before you even begin!" Oswin shouted from outside.
I stumbled into the snow. Oswin stood by the weapon rack, his face serious for once. Resting on a black silk cloth was the sword I had seen before.
The katana.
He handed it to me carefully. It was light, and through the sheath I felt a faint warmth—one only I seemed able to notice.
"According to ancient writings of Eryndor's royal family, in the right hands, this blade can amplify its damage tenfold," Oswin explained.
I slightly unsheathed it. The polished steel reflected my gaze perfectly—so sharp it looked capable of cutting through magic itself.
As I reached for the hilt, an icy current brushed my body.
I tried to grip it.
That was my mistake.
The garden vanished.
I was back in the S.E.C. Institute.
Before darkness claimed me, a single thought echoed:
Is it happening again?
.
.
.
The cold of the garden did not fade; it was torn from me by an invisible violence. In the blink of an eye, the safety of Oswin's lemon grove and Lyaris's smile were replaced by a white void so vast and sterile that my eyes ached. There was no horizon, only a clinical brightness that smelled of purified death: antiseptic, burned metal, and the electric trace of electrodes that had once pierced my skull.
A shiver ran down my spine, right where my implants ended. I felt naked—not of clothes, but of soul. As if I were once again nothing more than a serial number on a metal gurney.
"Well then… it seems that 'Subject 03' has finally found a place to play house."
The voice struck me like a whip. I spun around sharply, my heart hammering against my ribs. There, seated on a metal chair that emitted an unbearable screech, was a young man. His neatness was insulting; every fold of his uniform was a declaration of superiority. He polished a small mirror with almost religious devotion.
At the sight of him, a suffocating anguish crushed my chest. I didn't know who he was, but my body did. My fingers trembled, searching for a connection my memory denied me.
"Who are you? Why do I feel like… like I should know you?" I asked, my voice breaking, like that of a lost child.
The young man with the mirror didn't even look at me. His contempt was an impenetrable barrier.
"What a pathetic question," he whispered, every word a shard of glass. "Look at yourself. You're covered in snow and sentimentalism. You're starting to believe you have the right to be happy, Tetsuo. It's aesthetically… disgusting. I warned you that tools that try to be people end up in the scrap bin. Or worse still… they end up like us."
I wanted to scream at him to shut up, to tell him I was no longer a tool, but a knot of guilt sealed my throat. Then I heard a sound that stopped my pulse: the rhythmic clatter of candies inside a plastic bag. A sound so ordinary, and yet so unbearably heavy with melancholy.
"Leave him alone, Julian. He was always the slowest of us to understand the jokes of fate."
I froze. It wasn't a voice of hatred. It was a voice laden with such deep pity that it made me want to cry without knowing why. I turned and saw the second boy. He was reclining in the void, floating with elegant laziness. Black sunglasses, dark as night, covered his eyes, yet I felt his "gaze" brushing against my deepest fears.
He floated closer, stopping mere millimeters from my face. I could smell the sugar on his breath and the cold of a thousand winters I had never lived.
"Hi, Tetsu."
That name. Tetsu. He spoke it with a tenderness that tore me apart inside. It was a name that didn't exist in the Institute's records—a name only a friend… or a brother would give me. The frustration of not being able to remember it made me fall to my knees.
"Please…" I begged, tears burning in my eyes. "Tell me who you are. Why are you in my head?"
The boy with the sunglasses stretched out a hand, almost brushing my cheek, but his fingers dissolved into smoke before touching me.
"Don't look for names in a place where they only gave us numbers, Tetsu," he said, his voice vibrating with terrifying urgency. "Listen to the warning's heartbeat. The world of Eryndor is a glass cage, and the flash you saw in the tower… it isn't light. It's an eye. They've already seen you—and your little friend. He knows you don't belong there."
The boy with the mirror sighed, putting away his precious object with a final gesture.
"What a waste of potential. Try not to die in such a messy way, Tetsuo. It would be an offense to my memory."
The one with the glasses gave me one last sad smile as he faded into the blinding white.
"Wake up, Tetsu. And remember: don't trust a light that casts no shadow. Winter is already inside you."
The white space shattered into a thousand shards of glass, and the last sound I heard before waking was my own silent scream, calling out to someone I could not name.