No one spoke. Silence took reign in the office. Clara could imagine their eyes boring over the necklace snuggled to her chest, studying it, captivated by its beauty and putting the pieces together.

“Damn,” Rai said. “Is that what I think it is?”

Eryx shot up from his chair. “Impossible.”

Clara looked at them. Rai had the most ridiculous expression. His mouth kept opening and closing like that of a fish out of water and his fists were trembling as if it took him every ounce of restraint to prevent himself from grabbing her necklace. Eryx’s face was lined with scepticism. Tamer was calm, watching her with those golden eyes.

Amberforte’s thin lips twitched into a faint smile. “Give it to me.”

Clara shook her head and clutched the locket. It was an impulsive reaction. She had to protect what was hers, what was her mother’s. “No. It’s mine!”

The Great Scribe watched her with the air of an impatient man. He brought his right hand forward, palm facing up. “I know it is yours. Let me see it.”

Tamer nodded at her, a signal that she should do as told. She didn’t want to part with the necklace but she knew refusing the sage’s request would raise suspicion. Taking it off from her neck, Clara gave it to him. The old Zamari took it and examined the locket. His fingers stroked the marking on the back.

“Arcane sigils from the old civilizations.” he said.

It has to be a coincidence, Clara thought. The idea of Vanguard Naaji’s necklace being in her possession was preposterous but even as she thought so, the evidence was uncanny. It can’t be. It’s not possible.

“It has returned to us,” the Great Scribe confirmed. He loosened his grip on the chain so that the locket swung back and forth. Ruby petals caught the shafts of light from the nearest lamp and splashed their reflection on the table in varying tones of red. “Where did you get this from, young one?”

“It was my mother’s necklace. It now belongs to me.”

“Was?” Rai asked.

She pursed her lips. “My mother passed away many years ago.”

Tension stiffened the air when everyone became quiet, contemplating on the connection between Naaji’s necklace and Clara.

“Who are you?” Rai asked, folding his hands across his massive chest.

Clara’s jaw clenched. “What do you mean? Do you doubt me?”

 “Why is it that you have Naaji’s necklace?”

“Rai…” Tamer said.

“I think it was long established by Lady Alora and I that Clara is of no threat,” Eryx interjected.

“I’m not saying she is. I only want to kn-”

Amberforte smacked his cane against the ground, silencing them. He returned the necklace to Clara and she took it in haste, wanting to keep it away from the others. She held out her breath and then gave a sharp exhale of air.

“This is not Naaji’s necklace,” she said. “You’re all mistaken.”

“But it is,” Amberforte replied.  “If that necklace has been passed on from generation to generation then I think it’s quite logical to assume you are his descendant.”

“That's not true. You don’t understand. I’m not from aro-”

He ignored her. “There was blood in the markings. Was that your blood?”

 “It was an accident. I didn’t realize I was touching the locket with my bloodied hand.”

Eryx’s voice pitched up as he said, “You gave your blood to the necklace! Blood is a very special ingredient in magic rituals. ”

The Great Scribe agreed. “Blood rituals create irreversible contracts between the parties or between the giver and an object of mystical power.” He frowned, the wrinkles on his face contorting into grotesque folds. “Ah, you gave your blood to the holy being.”

 “Without intending it, you formed a blood contract, Clara,” Eryx said.

“Wh-what?” she stammered.

“Don’t you see it? This being chose you as Naaji’s successor,” Amberforte said.

Clara felt a heavy weight filling her heart. Naaji, the warrior who defeated the abominable Afreet was her ancestor, a great grandfather of hers and she was meant to take his place. Was that the reason why she was brought to Findora? That she was to serve a purpose far beyond her wish?

The wall behind them rippled, tearing into little pieces then it flashed out of existence to reveal the hidden door. A man in a black coat trailed along the librarian, entering the office. The librarian’s brow was soaked in sweat and her eyes were wide with fear as she took careful steps towards them. The woman staggered then fell headfirst on the ground. There was a dark red stain on the back of her shirt, surrounding a hole drenched in blood.

Eryx dropped to the floor to tend to the woman. He gently dragged her behind the desk, away from the intruder. Clara saw blue threads pulsing out the mage’s hand, attaching on to the gash, healing the damage done to tissues and muscles.

The intruder tilted his upper body in a fake bow, an unruly mop of long hair throwing a shadow over his eyes. “It seems I have interrupted an important session. My apologies, Great Scribe.”

Clara took a step back, sensing danger as the man slipped his hand into the insides of his coat. He had attacked the librarian and she didn’t want to think of what he might have done to the poor scholars in the main hall.

“Here.” The man flicked his hand in a nonchalant motion, throwing something dark in the air. “A gift from my lord.”

Her mind screamed at her to move but her feet remained footed to the ground. Time slowed down before her eyes and in that moment, she saw a furry ball darting in the direction of the old Zamari, like a target set on its course.

Tamer had risen up from his seat, his hand moving to his back where his arched swords lay. He drew out his blades faster than Clara’s eye could follow. Air whistled and flesh squished as Tamer’s scimitars sliced into the ball, tearing it into three pieces. It plummeted on the floor, leaving a spray of thick goo on the carpet. It twitched and then went still.

A spider! she thought, noticing the eight legs projecting out of the thing and the oily eyes frozen in death.

The monstrous spider had been the size of a big watermelon. A shiver travelled along her spine. For the first time, the intruder’s eyes fell on her face, studying her features before moving lower until they rested on the gleaming necklace around her neck.

 “Oh my, what do we have here?” the man said, black lips widening into a wild sneer.

His hand went back to his coat but Rai took out his steelguns and aimed them at the intruder. He fired, a bullet whizzing straight into the man’s shoulder. Clara blanched as the man snarled at them, undeterred by the wound.

“There is another way out of the office,” Ambeforte said.

 Rai fired a second shot at the intruder’s foot and said, “I’ll handle him. Get the others to safety. Go!”

The Great Scribe slammed his cane against the wall behind the desk, activating another entrance as the wall split into crumbling pieces. The librarian appeared to be healed though she looked haggard as she followed them. Eryx slung his arm over Amberforte’s shouder and helped him walk faster. They passed through the hole and before the wall shifted back to its place, Clara looked over her shoulder.

“Will Rai be okay?” she asked Tamer.

“Do not worry. He’ll be fine,” he replied.

They hurried past a row of staircases speckled with dust and mountains of books strewn on the floor. At the end of the room was the back door and as they rushed through it, Clara put the necklace into her shirt.

“The enemy has found us. You must get the seals before the enemy does. As long as they remain unbroken, the army of Ghilan will never be freed. Five remain. Protect them,” the Great Scribe warned.

The librarian pushed past Eryx and ran into the courtyard, fleeing from the vicinity. Clara hoped nothing awful would happen to Rai. She had seen his skills with his guns but his opponent reeked of danger and death. There were no scholars sitting on the benches and no tourists loitering in the garden.

“Where do we find the seals?” Tamer asked. “Tell me the locations.”

The old Zamari shook his head. “I do not know. I knew of the seal in Seira Temple from my old master. Even so, we thought it was only a rumor, handed on from master to apprentice. I suspect you might find clues in Ibisa Mountains, where Vanguard Naaji met the holy entity. Follow the Wrayth River that passes through the mountains until you reach its waterfall. There you will find a passage hidden from view by the cascading waters.”

“What if there’s no seal in the mountains?” Clara asked.

“Then heaven help us.” The old Zamari grabbed her hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I am sorry. That is all I know. The rest is up to you. Naaji’s entity chose you as our saviour. Within you, a great power exists, waiting to be unleashed. A time will come when you may need that power to save us all…”

Tamer snaked a hand over hers, pulling her close to him. “We need to go.”

“I’ll accompany the Great Scribe to a safe place. Go on without me. Rai and I will catch up with you at the mountains,” Eryx said.

Tamer palmed Eryx’s shoulder. “Stay safe, ahki. See you soon.”

She hastened her pace as Tamer guided her into the streets of Kirisal just as Eryx and Amberforte entered an alley. From the parting of the crowd, she saw a vendor pulling a cart full of fruits, a trio of boys skirting through the pedestrians and a group of women gossiping outside a restaurant.

“That man recognized your necklace. If he manages to elude Rai, he will come after you,” Tamer said as they walked into an underground pavement. “We need to leave Kirisal now.”

He was right. Clara’s shoulders sagged as another warning was tossed at her. In less than a week, her life had taken a drastic turn. Naaji’s successor. How was she supposed to protect a world she knew nothing of?  Unlike Vanguard Naaji, she was weak and powerless. She was afraid of failing. Afraid of losing a battle she could not handle.   

The pavement opened into a bazaar where farmers sold vegetables from their stalls and buyers haggled for prices, where blacksmiths forged weapons and tailors sew garments and where potters shaped clay urns and cobblers repaired shoes. An aroma of exotic spices and smoked fish saturated the air.

Tamer stopped walking and surveyed the market. He pointed at a kiosk where a merchant sold scarves with lovely patterns. “Do you see him? I need you to ask for a scarf.” He handed her a few coins. “Keep him busy for as long as you can.”

“What for?” she asked.

He took a few steps forward and said, “You’ll know soon.”

As he slipped into the passageway between two stalls, Clara marched to the merchant and cleared her throat. She greeted the seller and patted the shawls, scrutinizing the colourful designs on the materials. Picking a red scarf embroidered with gold flowers, she asked for its price and frowned when the merchant responded.

“That’s too much! I’ve bought blankets at half the price,” she said, pouting her lips in disapproval.

She saw Tamer flitting into view, emerging from behind the merchant’s booth. He leant down to untie a rope that tethered a black horse. Swallowing back a choke, Clara looked away from him, fumbling with words. The seller was complaining about the increasing cost of cotton but she hardly paid any attention to him. He agreed to reduce the price but only by a small margin and so she continued to bargain until an agreement was reached.

When she spared a glance at Tamer, he had freed the horse and was stroking its neck. He gestured at her. She paid the trader in a hurry, grabbed the scarf and covered her head with it and then she pretended to walk to a stall behind the merchant’s.

“You stole it,” Clara hissed when she was standing in front of Tamer, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. She mounted the horse and waited for him. “The poor thing.”

He sat behind her and pulled the reins with his right hand. The creature moved into a graceful trot. The merchant shouted from behind them and Tamer squeezed the horse’s sides with his heels. Clara jerked sideways as the horse sped up but Tamer wrapped his left arm around her waist, steadying her. They rode out of the market area and into the boulevard, far from the merchant’s curses.

His voice was hoarse as he leant down to speak over her ear, his breath tickling her neck. “Does it surprise you that a beggar would steal to make ends meet?”

Heat flooded her cheeks and her back stiffened.He was too close to her. She could smell his scent—a mixture of mint, cologne and sweat—and she could feel warmth from his hand around her waist. Clara closed her eyes and tried to relax each of her muscles.

When the horse stopped, she looked up. They were at the city gates. The Homunculi guards let them pass. Their mount cantered along the bridge, crossing to the mainland and together, they left the city of Kirisal.

“Lean on to me,” Tamer said. “We must go faster if we are to reach the mountains of Ibisa in three days.”

Tamer tapped the creature's sides with his heels and it galloped faster. When she rested her back against him, she hoped he didn’t notice her blush. His proximity made her nervous and left her feeling confused and frustrated. She should be upset because of the incident in the library and she should be terrified of the man who had come after the Great Scribe for reasons only known to the enemy but here she was, letting new emotions she had never experienced before cloud her reasoning. Her heart pressed against her chest.

Focus, Clara. Focus.

She compelled her mind to concentrate on the path ahead of them and willed her body to feel the motions of their mount.

On close examination, their horse had four small horns sticking out out of its face, from its forehead to the area close to its muzzle. A black mask covered its face, leaving the muzzle exposed. Black platings lined its crest all the way to its croup. She touched one of the platings on its crest. It was as hard as a hoof and it fit into the creature’s fur like a part of its body.

“This isn’t a horse,” she said. “It has horns and these platings aren’t armour.”

Tamer hummed in agreement. “Firis. Stronger, faster and better than a horse.”

Clara tasted the foreign word with her tongue as she repeated the creature’s name.

“Is there no such a creature in your world?”

“No. We do have horses and camels and donkeys though.”

Tamer replied with another hum. Hours passed and the road dipped into a smooth terrain. Short trees with thick trunks spread out around them. A bird scudded above and wandered into the branches. The firis slowed down when they came upon a stream and Tamer commanded it to stop.

Once on ground, she looked at the sky. The sun had retired for the day and the last of its rays fought a losing battle against the darkening clouds. A gust of wind blew her hair into her face. She tucked the dark red curls behind her ears.

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Tamer said while he took off his backpack and unzipped it. “It’s much safer to travel by day than at night.”

She removed a pallet from her bag and arranged it on the ground. The creature was lapping at water from the stream. Her stomach groaned in hunger and she was eager to sate it. While she munched on a slice of bread, her thoughts drifted back to the events in Kirisal. She longed to know what Eryx and Rai were doing and hoped that they would catch up with them soon.

Tamer had gathered firewood and dried leaves in their makeshift camp. He freed one of his scimitars from its sheath and pressed the hilt in a tight grip. Black flames engulfed the blade, licking its curved edge and hissing in fury. He poked at the pieces of wood and desiccated leaves and watched as they caught fire.

“How do you use magic?” Clara asked, enchanted by his sword.

“You’d have to ask Eryx for an answer. I’m merely using the aether infused into the blade. I cannot bend magic to my will,” he replied.

“Are you not a magic user?”

“Not everyone is blessed with magic. Some have the affinity to control it, others don’t.” He gave the sword a second squeeze and extinguished the black flames. Tamer flipped the scimitar so that its pommel would be facing Clara. “Hold it.”

She took the scimitar into her hand and felt its weight. The blade was engraved with runes from one end to another, glinting in the light. One touch on the sharp edge would be fatal enough to cause a cut and when the fire would burn, the flames would scorch the wound.

A deadly weapon.  

“The flames change color depending on your aura,” he said.

Clara tensed her grasp on the hilt. The blade hissed and the runes flashed a pale color before brilliant white flames consumed it. Even with the fire, she did not feel any discomfort from the heat.

Tamer’s eyes lit up with interest. “White. Just as I thought.”

She doused the flames and gave him his scimitar. Tamer sat on the other side of the fire, took off his belt and the leather straps on his back and then rested them beside his pallet. Clara lay down on the ground and stared at the moonless indigo sky. The image of black flames floated in her vision.

His aura, she thought.

Black was often associated with malice but she didn’t know if there was any correlation between aura color and its owner’s soul. She glanced at Tamer. He was resting on his back, meditating in silence. She couldn’t bring herself to doubt him. He had proven his trust from the moment she had met him.

But why black?

Hers had been white. She patted the locket and sighed. The Great Scribe had called her a saviour of Aurion. Deep in her heart, she hoped that the only reason she was in Findora was because a fluke had occurred in the flow of time and space and that if she could close her eyes long enough and make a wish,  she would be back on Earth, safe with her father and Josephine and Timothy.