Chapter 2 - Their Shared History

“Hello?”

Florentine waved her hand in front of Mr Hugo, snapping him back to reality. She blinked twice. Mr Hugo was staring at her from across the table.

“Where did you get lost?”

“I was thinking.”

“You've been zoning out for the past five minutes.”

“Geniuses tend to do that,” Mr Hugo proclaimed proudly.

“You know, even though you keep calling yourself a genius, it has been ten years and we still haven't made much progress on figuring out why I have two abilities.” Flo narrowed her eyes. “Are you really a genius?”

(Silence. Craw. Craw. Craw.)

Then Hugo placed a hand over his heart, visibly hurt and wiped his non-existent tear.

“Yes. Children really do grow up to become terrifying.”

“Don't change the topic!” Flo retorted.

“Hahaha! I'm scared!” he said, pretending to be terrified.

Flo puffed her cheeks.

For a moment, Hugo continued laughing but then he became gentle.

“But... you're right.”

Mr Hugo leaned back in his chair and looked around the Observatory.

“I've spent ten years studying abilities. I've studied hundreds of ability users, their abilities, their signatures, their strengths and their limitations. And yet, you're still the one case I can't completely explain.”

“Maybe you're less of a genius than me.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a somewhat defeated yet happy look.

Flo couldn't believe her ears. She hadn't expected him to agree.

Hugo smiled and patted her head.

“After all, it was you who helped turn this place into what it is now.”

Florentine looked around. It was true. The Observatory had come a long way since the day she had first arrived.

Back then, it had been little more than a basic laboratory with a few pieces of equipment and several shelves of books. Hugo had been overloaded with all the research he wanted to do and all the problems he encountered yet there had been no one around his level with whom he could discuss the more complicated matters.

Now, the Observatory was filled with research equipment, measuring systems, observation chambers and magical instruments designed to study abilities and another young genius assistant researcher, of course.

“You've worked very hard,” Hugo continued. “And although it pains me deeply to give away my title of genius...”

Flo's eyes began to sparkle.

“...I suppose I will have to pass it on to you.”

This made Flo emotional.

“Mr Hugo...” Her eyes became watery.

Hugo sighed.

“Don't cry.”

“You're so nice,” she wept.

“I haven't finished.”

“Eh?”

Flo froze and Hugo grinned.

“Of course, you're only a genius because I was the one who mentored you all these years. So, technically, this only proves what a magnificent mentor I am! Hahahahahahahaha!”

Flo side-eyed him, slowly narrowing her eyes.

“...I take it back.”

“Too late!” Mr Hugo said mischievously.

She turned away with a dramatic huff.

Then something suddenly occurred to her.

“Wait.”

Flo turned around.

“You never told me how I found your laboratory in the first place.”

“That is because I haven't figured it out either,” Mr Hugo replied.

Flo was confused.

She asked, “When I first came here, I told you that I followed a trail of white light, right?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know.” Mr Hugo shrugged.

“Could it have been my ObserVation?”

“Perhaps.”

Flo perked up with interest and suggested, “Then maybe I saw someone's ability being used and followed the trail without realising it?”

Hugo shook his head at such a possibility.

“That would have been possible if someone had actually used an ability along the way but nobody had.”

“And how can you be sure of that?”

“Because that day, the laboratory had only recently opened. The experiments hadn't even started. No one had entered or left before you arrived. And when I first saw you, I couldn't detect any ability having been used around you. Otherwise, my ObserVation would have picked it up just like yours did. But mine didn't sense anything like that.”

This made Flo try to remember that day. She could only recollect a fragment: white light, a path through the darkness and into the woods and herself, following it. She couldn't remember where it had come from, nor why she had followed it. She just remembered that she had.

For some reason, the thought made her wonder about her parents and her origin too. Even after all these years, there were still gaps in the records surrounding where Florentine had come from.

There had been no clear trail to follow. No explanation for the white light and no answer for why a ten-year-old girl had appeared alone at the Observatory. Flo pushed these thoughts aside as questions for another day.

---

She reminisced about her regular classes where Mr Hugo had taught her personally.

“Now, let's start from the beginning,” said Mr Hugo, wearing glasses and holding a scale in his left hand.

A younger, fifteen-year-old Florentine sat attentively in Hugo's laboratory. Her notebook was open on the table in front of her, opposite Mr Hugo, who stood in front of a large board covered in diagrams and writing.

“There are six recognised abilities in Cirnia,” he explained.

Florentine immediately raised her hand.

Hugo sighed. “You don't have to raise your hand. It's just us.”

“I like raising my hand.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Why six only? Can there be more?”

It honestly annoyed Mr Hugo a little that he didn't know the answer.

“We will answer that question later. Anyhow...”

He pointed towards the first section.

“Three are passive abilities.”

He wrote down three names: ObserVation, DuskComm and DawnHeal.

He continued, “ObserVation allows the user to perceive magical traces, ability signatures and other information that ordinary people cannot detect.”

Florentine's eyes lit up after hearing about one of her own abilities.

She asked, “Like being able to see where someone used an ability?”

“Exactly.”

“Can ObserVation tell you what they were thinking?”

“No.”

“What they were doing?”

“No.”

“Why they used it?”

“Definitely not.”

“So ObserVation isn't understanding.”

“Correct. It is more about perception.”

Flo scribbled down these notes. Hugo smiled as he watched the little girl genuinely trying to understand everything.

“The other two passive abilities are DuskComm and DawnHeal. DuskComm allows users to transmit and receive thoughts directly with other ability users. DawnHeal allows users to heal and restore the health of both ability users and ordinary people.”

Florentine nodded rapidly and raised her hand again to ask, “Why can't DuskComm users communicate with ordinary people?”

“Because, just like ObserVation, it needs a source of magic to rely on. The main sources of magic are Light and Dark magic. Using those as a medium, they are able to communicate with any ability user.”

“But then why can DawnHeal heal ordinary people too?”

“Because DawnHeal is the only passive ability that doesn't rely on those sources of magic alone. It is also related to the body's natural flow of time. In simple terms, it can restore the body to a state closer to what it was before the harm occurred.”

Flo's eyes widened in realisation.

“So DawnHeal is actually related to time manipulation? Then why isn't it classified as an Active Type?”

“Because the distinction isn't based simply on what the ability affects,” Hugo corrected patiently. “It is based on how the ability itself functions internally.”

Flo immediately buried her nose back into her notebook, recording every word.

“To understand the underlying logic properly, you'll need to study the three Active Type abilities as well.”

He turned to the board and wrote three distinct titles: DayShine, NightGlow and TwiLight.

“DayShine represents Light magic. It produces a highly stabilised form of magical illumination. It can reinforce fragile magical structures, counter corruptive Dark influences and restore environmental stability.”

“So it isn't just generating light?”

“Correct. NightGlow, conversely, is Dark magic. Its primary function centres around manipulation and structural control. NightGlow interacts violently with raw magical traces and unstable mana in the atmosphere.”

Flo scribbled another line of notes before looking back up.

“And Twilight?”

“Twilight is an anomaly,” Hugo said, drawing two large overlapping circles on the board, one labelled white and the other black. He pointed to the empty intersection between them.

“Twilight interferes with both Light and Dark elements. It can nullify, deflect or outright shatter incoming magical effects which is why it is considered the absolute pinnacle of defensive combat abilities.”

“How is it decided who gets which ability?” Flo asked, tilting her head.

“...We don't know yet.”

It pained Hugo's academic pride to admit it and he stared at the board in silence, swallowed by his own thoughts.

Flo noticed his mood shift.

“Does that bother you?”

“Very much,” he admitted.

“It means we still have plenty of things left to research.”

A genuine smile returned to Hugo's face.

“Exactly.”

In the modern era of Cirnia, ability users were not treated like mythical beings or societal pariahs. They were simply everyday citizens. Some went into specialised academic research like Mr Hugo, others found work in medicine, especially those possessing DawnHeal and some utilised their powers in military combat. Many barely used their abilities at all.

For most of the population, having an ability didn't excuse you from real-world problems. People spent their days worrying about paying rent on time, missing the morning commute or arguing over noise with their neighbours. Abilities had simply integrated into the mundane background of modern society.

And that was precisely why Hugo found them so fascinating to study. Using his own ObserVation skill, he could analyse ability signatures down to the finest detail, deconstructing how magic operated under physical laws.

Florentine, however, remained his ultimate unsolved puzzle, made even more complex by the fact that she possessed two distinct abilities: one Passive and one Active. It was a phenomenon that went against every established rule of magical theory.

“Mr Hugo!”

A sharp, loud voice yanked him straight back to the present.

The fifteen-year-old Florentine was standing in the doorway of his office, hands resting on her hips.

“It's time!”

Hugo glanced up at the wall clock and let out a heavy stretch.

“Oh. Time to wrap up today's lecture and get to work.”

Flo immediately swept her open notebooks off the desk.

“What are we testing today?”

“Output levels in NightGlow users.”

Her face brightened instantly.

“Really?”

“Really. Let's go.”

They headed down the central spiral staircase to the lower testing floors. The Observatory's main laboratory was a hive of activity. Researchers were darting between workstations carrying stacks of diagnostic files and delicate instruments. In one corner, a technician was aggressively arguing with a malfunctioning reader while, across the room, another researcher was recording ambient mana readings from a glowing containment jar.

Nobody paid much attention to Florentine and Hugo as they walked by. It was just another busy afternoon at the office.

“Today,” Hugo explained over the noise, “we're measuring the minute variance in structural control between different NightGlow subjects.”

A group of hired test subjects was already waiting outside the main testing bay. One by one, they were called inside a massive, cube-shaped chamber constructed from reinforced impact glass. Suspended in the air at the centre of the room were several heavy metal spheres.

“Commence manipulation,” Hugo instructed into the intercom. “Move the targets through the field as quickly as you can.”

Inside the chamber, the first subject raised his hand. Hazy, dark energy coalesced around the metal spheres, causing them to whirl through the air in erratic orbits.

Faster.

Faster.

The glass walls flashed bright white as the chamber's built-in sensors registered the energy output, flooding the monitoring screens outside with live data streams.

Flo pressed her face close to the glass screen, examining the readout. The equipment was designed to measure the precise density of magical energy being generated and transferred through the air. It was a complex diagnostic system that had taken months to construct and the initial theoretical concept behind it had actually come from Flo herself three years ago.

At the time, Hugo had hit a brick wall in his research. While his ObserVation ability could spot broad differences between power levels, it couldn't reliably measure microscopic efficiency gaps between two users of nearly identical strength.

Flo had solved the problem simply because she was bored. Whenever Hugo was too busy to entertain her, she used to sneak into his private library and read whatever books she could pull off the lower shelves. She started with basic magic history, moved on to advanced technical manuals and eventually ended up tackling theoretical treatises thick enough to crush a foot.

One afternoon, Hugo had walked into his office to find a ten-year-old Flo sitting cross-legged on the floor, buried behind a book twice the size of her torso.

“Florentine,” he had asked cautiously, “do you actually understand what you're reading?”

“Most of it,” she had replied without looking up. “I don't really get this section on ambient particle decay. But I was thinking... if magic leaves a physical trace when an ability is activated, couldn't we just measure the intensity and heat of the trace itself instead of relying on subjective ObserVation?”

Hugo had stared at her in dead silence.

“...Was that a stupid question?” she had asked, tilting her head.

“No,” Hugo had replied slowly. “I've just realised I accidentally raised a monster researcher.”

That was how her path as a scientist had truly begun, not with a single grand revelation but with an endless streak of stubborn curiosity. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about abilities. Perhaps, buried deep beneath that intellectual hunger, she was also desperately trying to understand herself. If she could figure out how magic worked at its absolute root, maybe she could finally understand why she was born with two powers instead of one.

Over the years, Hugo and Flo had built prototype devices, refined diagnostic algorithms and tested countless theoretical models together. Some proved successful, many ended in absolute failure.

During one particularly devastating setback, a major experiment had imploded, destroying weeks of collected data. Flo had sat on the laboratory floor and cried for nearly an hour. But once the tears stopped, she simply wiped her face, grabbed her notebook and began writing out a new testing phase from scratch.

“Flo,” Hugo had told her gently as he swept up the broken glass that evening, “a failed hypothesis doesn't make you a failed researcher. It just means we've successfully proven one more thing that doesn't work.”

That was Florentine in a nutshell. She might cry over a ruined dataset, complain bitterly about the workload or dramatically declare that the universe was conspiring against her and but when morning came, she would always be the first one back at her desk.

By late evening, the bustling energy of the Observatory had finally wound down. All of the junior staff had gone home for the night, leaving the main research bay quiet and dimly lit.

Hugo and Flo were still glued to their central desk which was completely buried under handwritten notes, diagnostic charts and glowing monitoring screens.

Flo cross-referenced today's output figures against their historic archives.

“Subject three's overall power output was 3.8% higher than average,” she noted, tracing a line down her graph.

Hugo glanced over her shoulder.

“That's a solid baseline.”

“...But their precise spatial control was noticeably worse.”

“By how much?”

“Approximately six percent.”

Hugo chuckled softly.

“Good catch.”

“Of course I caught it,” Flo grumbled, adjusting her notes. “Raw output means nothing if efficiency tanks. If we're evaluating ability optimisation, spatial control has to be weighted equally.”

“Exactly right.”

The two buried themselves back into the data, working in synchronised silence until their stomachs suddenly let out a loud, combined growl.

Hugo slowly looked back at Flo and dramatically clutched his stomach and collapsed back into his office chair like a dying man.

“Aaaah! I am so hungry and so tired... My ancient bones are far too brittle to move an inch. Oh, how I wish some kind soul would feed this poor, fragile old man...”

Flo let out a long, long sigh.

“Fiiineee. I'll go make dinner.”

Hugo instantly sat up straight, completely miraculously cured.

“Yay! Make sure to pack it with chilli peppers! I love spicy food!”

Flo stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“Where did all that energy suddenly come from?! If you had that much strength left, why didn't you offer to cook yourself?”

“Well, what would be the point of having a brilliant assistant then?”

“Ugh!”

Flo huffed, marching off into the staff kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, a thick, acrid cloud of black smoke began drifting down the hallway.

Hugo appeared at the kitchen doorway, coughing lightly as he fanned the smoke away.

Inside, Flo stood frozen over the stove, her face and white lab coat covered in patches of dark soot and stray flour. In the frying pan sat an unidentifiable black mass that looked less like food and more like a hazardous chemical byproduct.

Hugo looked at the pan, looked at Flo's tear-streaked face and then looked back at the pan.

“Move,” he sighed gently.

“Mr Hugooo! I followed the manual step-by-step! I did everything it said!” Flo wailed, her eyes brimming with frustrated tears. “Why did it turn out like this?!”

“Because cooking requires heart and experience, Flo, not just a rigid instruction manual.”

Hugo took her place at the stove, deftly tossing the ruined mess into the waste bin and pulling fresh ingredients from the icebox.

Flo stood beside him in silence, watching as he easily salvaged the meal.

“...You know,” she muttered quietly, “you're actually really good at this.”

“Obviously.”

“Then why don't you cook more often?”

“Because if I do everything,” Hugo said, stirring the pan, “my star assistant will never learn basic survival skills.”

Flo puffed her cheeks but couldn't completely suppress the sheepish smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

By the time they finished dinner and cleaned up the workspace, the clock on the wall struck 2:00 AM. The Observatory had fallen into total silence, illuminated only by the faint, amber glow of the secondary monitors.

Flo let out a massive yawn, rubbing her tired eyes.

Hugo walked back over to the main testing console, placing a heavy, unlabeled research folder onto the desk with a quiet clack.

“Well,” he said softly.

Flo looked up, her posture straightening instantly as the lingering fatigue melted away.

“...Time?”

“Time.”

It was time for their nightly ritual, the off-the-record experiment they had been secretly running together for years. It was the one test that had never yielded the results they sought yet neither of them had ever entertained the thought of quitting.

Flo took her position at the diagnostic controls as Hugo began calibrating the specialised sensor array. Neither of them had any reason to believe tonight's run would be any different from the hundreds that had come before it. They didn't know that miles away, the unseen gears of fate had already begun to turn, driving an unexpected truth directly towards their doorstep.

For now, there was only the quiet whir and the cold light of the monitors and the same unanswerable question that had eluded them together for ten long years:

Why did Florentine possess two abilities?