Chapter 2 – A Simple Dream

That night, Kazuo couldn't sleep.

The girl's face lingered in his mind. Those sharp, observant eyes. The way she hadn't just looked at him, but seemed to recognize him.

That wasn't chance. And she was royalty. The emblem on that carriage had been unmistakable — the mark of the Crown.

He lay on his back atop their rooftop, staring at the fractured stars above.
The cat curled beside his arm stirred but didn't open its eye. It was used to his restlessness.

The wind only offered its quiet hush.

He remembered something Gramps had said not long ago, after Kazuo asked what he'd be if he weren't… this.

"You'd still be Kazuo. That's all you need to be. The rest is noise and fear."

But the world didn't treat him like "just Kazuo."
They saw his eyes and flinched.
They looked at him like he wasn't real — or worse, like he shouldn't be.

He didn't want to be a warrior or someone important. Just something painfully simple —A quiet life.

A real one.

A place he could belong.

But beneath Yurelda's foundations — far below the streets where peace was just a dream — something ancient stirred.

Past rusted gates and tunnels long swallowed by stone and time, hidden beneath the slave routes and forgotten libraries, lay a ruin known to none but a few.

The chamber was ruinous — shattered floor, collapsed ceiling, half-consumed by the earth.

But at the chamber's heart stood a pedestal of blackened stone, and carved into it:
A lotus.

But not any lotus.
It was upside down — its petals cracked, the center split open like a wound.

For years, it had been dormant.

Now, it pulsed.
Once. Faintly.
Then again — this time glowing.

Footsteps echoed in the darkness.
A cloaked figure approached the lotus.
They said no words.
But their eyes — strange, glinting — held a knowing light.

They touched the symbol gently.

And the cave beneath Yurelda opened.

Kazuo sat on the rooftop, arms draped over his knees, watching the sky shift from gray to gold.
The cat curled beside him stirred once, then settled back down, tail twitching.

He should've still been asleep.
But something had woken him.

A feeling.

Peace.

That word again.
It kept echoing in his chest — dull and sore, like a bruise that never healed.

He stood, dusted himself off, and slipped away before Rei woke.

The alley behind the bakery was already busy.
Workers hauled sacks of flour, and steam hissed from half-sunken ovens.
A boy with dust-colored hair looked up, blinked at Kazuo, and disappeared inside without a word.

He kept walking.

He descended the iron staircase that snaked below the Crescent — into the belly of the city.
Here, walls wept moisture and even rats knew better than to linger.
Few people came down unless they had secrets or scars.

He knocked once, twice, pause — then a third time.

The wooden door creaked open.
"Come in, boy," said the familiar voice.

Inside smelled like ink, rust, and rain.
Scrolls were stacked in chaotic towers.
One perched dangerously on the back of a worn kettle.
A book lay open across an old cat statue, half-covered in candle wax.

Gramps sat at his desk, his brown coat draped over one shoulder, goggles propped above his sharp violet-flecked eyes.
His beard was neater than Kazuo remembered. Everything else was exactly the same.

He didn't look up.
"Still stirring puddles, are we?"

Kazuo stepped inside. "I am trying to stay out of trouble..."
He dropped into the chair across from him.

Gramps finally looked over the page. "How's your control?"

"Getting better," Kazuo said. "Still... twitchy."

"That's because you're still scared of it. Water's not your enemy. It's your reflection. If you flinch, so does it."

"I'm not scared."

Gramps leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "You've done well. You've trained. You're stronger than you were."

Kazuo met his eyes. "Strong enough?"

"There is no such thing," Gramps said with a smile. "I taught you magic only so you could protect yourself."

They sat in silence as the kettle clicked off in the corner.

Then softly, Gramps added,"You've grown, Kazuo. Taller than me now. But when I look at you, I still see the boy who used to sneak cat treats under the table."

Kazuo's mouth twitched into a faint smile. "…You always noticed."

"Of course I noticed." Gramps chuckled, shaking his head. "I raised you, didn't I? You think I wouldn't know every trick you pulled?"

He paused, eyes glinting with mischief. "But one thing I'll never understand — why were you always running around bare naked?"

Kazuo chuckled. "Because the cat didn't have clothes either. It wasn't fair."

Gramps burst out laughing, the sound filling the small room, and for a moment the weight in Kazuo's chest eased.

But elsewhere, far from the warmth of cracked wood and candlelight, marble halls caught the morning sun. Behind silk curtains and gilded banners, a girl with silver hair whispered, "Those eyes…"

The name she didn't yet know — Kazuo — clung to her thoughts like ash on silk.