It was a quiet Sunday evening, a few hours after dinner had ended. Since Eddie's family considered Sunday a day of rest, they hardly had any activities. In the morning they went to Mass at the Notre Dame Cathedral before shopping for souvenirs at the nearby stores. They headed home soon after they had lunch at a restaurant, and they had not left the house since. The guests did not complain; it was not like they could not do anything in the house. The last time Eddie checked, José and Celestine were reading in the library, Letizia was taking a dip in the pool, and Jon and Stella were hanging out in the playground. Eddie lounged on his bed as he gazed out the window. He was not somnolent enough to fall asleep, but felt too indolent to do anything.

Ring, ring. Eddie picked up his phone and answered the call.

"Hello?" Eddie said.

"Hi, Eddie," Giorgino greeted him. "Sorry to bother you during the weekend, but, are you fine if we schedule a make-up lesson?"

"I'm fine, sure," Eddie answered. "I was thinking of asking you about that, actually, but since you're busy I didn't want to disturb you. So when are we meeting?"

"How about tomorrow morning—I mean—your tonight?"

"Sounds good, I can make it."

"Great. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Wait, Elder, what about Stella?" Eddie inquired. "She also missed a lesson."

"Oh, that. She doesn't need to have a make-up lesson actually, so only you will come tonight," Giorgino said.

Eddie nodded his head. "Okay. I'll see you in a few hours. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Eddie hung up and placed his phone on his bedside table. He covered his mouth as he yawned. His eyes glimpsed his wall clock. It was past nine o'clock. Eddie set the alarm on his cellphone. He then turned off the lights, decreased the room temperature, and wrapped himself in a duvet.

***

Eddie entered the practice room, closing the door behind him. He bowed. "Good morning, Elder."

"Good morning, Eddie!" his mentor greeted him. "Sorry I got you to come during the weekend; there was no other day where could schedule a make-up lesson."

"It's fine." Eddie leaned his bag against the wall. "I don't mind at all."

"Excellent. Just put your bag, drink your wake shake, and stand in front of me. I'll talk as you warm up."

Eddie walked towards his left side. A glass of thick, frothy beverage rested on top of a small table. As he gulped it down, dark square formed a few meters in front of Giorgino. A magical treadmill. Eddie stepped onto the square. It moved as soon as he set foot on it, starting slow until it sped up to a jogging pace. Eddie jogged as he listened to his mentor.

"So I know we've been working on your telekinesis for the past week," Giorgino began, "but I think we should go back to pyrokinesis for today. Do you remember what the definition of pyrokinesis is?"

"The ability to absorb, generate, and control fire and heat."

"Perfect. Now, so far I've only taught you how to create and control fire. I haven't taught you how to control pure heat. It's crucial to know how to control pure heat—unlike fire, you can shoot beams of heat underwater through convection. Last time you were defenseless underwater when you and your team had to fetch dragon tears, and I don't want you in that situation again.

"For now we'll use a heat-sensitive target and practice firing them through the air. After that, we'll try doing it underwater."

Eddie nodded. The treadmill soon slowed to a halt. He stepped off the square before it vanished into thin air.

A new set of dark squares appeared behind Giorgino's back, floating in midair. They looked exactly like the heat-sensitive target that Eddie used recently. Giorgino walked towards the side so that he would not block any of them.

"So these are heat-sensitive targets," he said, gesturing to them, "and they turn bright red when you apply heat to them. Usually when we fire pure heat, we try to do it with an open palm, fingertips pointing at the target, like this."

Giorgino opened his right palm, closing the gap between his fingers so that they all pointed in the same direction. He prepared his stance, recoiled his arm, and thrust. A bright red mark appeared on one of the targets a second later.

"Now you try."

"To which target, Elder?"

"Any."

Eddie took a deep breath. He opened his palm, retracted his arm, and propelled his hand. The bullseye of the middle target turned a glaring shade of vermillion, brighter than the mark his mentor made.

Giorgino widened his eyes. "This is your first try?"

"Uh, actually, this isn't my first," Eddie revealed.

"Wait, you've done this before?"

"Remember when you canceled our lesson a few days ago? I stayed in here for a while to learn how to control pure heat."

"So all of this, you figured out on your own?"

"Yes."

"Wow, you never cease to amaze me," Giorgino said, his mouth slightly agape. "Well, we can just do some practice exercises then."

The targets started flying around the room. Eddie ducked as he dodged one of them before it could hit him in the face.

"Since you already know how fire pure heat, your next task is to strike the bullseye of all these targets. You can run around, but you can't use your powers to fly. You'll have to strike them while standing on the ground," his mentor instructed him. "Now fire."

Eddie scanned the room. There were three targets he had to strike: one slow target that hovered near the ceiling, a fast target that flew close to the floor, and an erratic target that would accelerate and decelerate without warning. He formulated a plan: fast target first, slow one next, and the unpredictable one last. He opened both palms as he made his move.

A black square whizzed past him. Eddie kept his feet grounded as he aimed, tracking the target's path. It was encircling him. He then fired from both arms.

Fwssh. It vanished as soon as he struck its heart. The slow one next. He lifted his chin and tracked the slow target. Its face rotated as it flew. Eddie kept his hands ready, waiting for it to show its vulnerable side. He fired as soon as it opened.

Fwssh. It disappeared in a split second. There was only one target left. He glimpsed his left. It was soaring straight towards him.

Eddie stepped sideways just before it could hit his face. His fingers sliced through the air. Fwssh. It crumbled into dust as it zoomed away from him.

His mentor looked at him, awestruck. "That was way quicker than I expected," he remarked. "Well, let's see how well you do underwater."

A swimming pool appeared out of the blue while a pair of swimming trunks were produced out of thin air. Eddie summoned a curtain to cover himself as he changed into his swimwear. He came out, dressed in a thin shirt and swimming shorts.

"You swim with your shirt on?"

"Usually. I only take it off around family."

"Lies!" Louis said, its voice muffled as it passed through leather. "You were shirtless in front of Michelle!"

Eddie's face flushed with embarrassment as soon as he heard it. He glared at his bag. You mischievous bundle of paper. Eddie looked at his mentor's face. Giorgino struggled to contain his laughter, a chuckle escaping his mouth.

"Anyway," Giorgino said, grinning, "same thing as last time. You'll just fire at targets underwater. You may start."

Eddie took a deep breath before he dove into the pool. His eyes caught sight of a stationary target as he sank. His right arm shot towards it, sending an invisible beam of heat, while his remaining limbs sought to stabilize his body. The target soon fizzed out of existence.

A second target appeared on the floor below him. He kicked off the ground, his body parallel to the floor, and propelled his left hand. It disappeared a split second later.

The next half hour played out similarly. A target would appear, he would aim and fire, and then it would vanish. Sometimes they moved, other times they remained still. He would surface every few seconds to breathe before he would dive and fire another target. After a while, he felt a force dragging him upward. Eddie swam towards the surface.

"I think that's enough for today," his mentor told him. "Dry yourself."

Eddie obliged. He climbed out of the pool and conjured a curtain around himself. After drying and dressing himself, he made the curtain and swimwear vanish into thin air. He looked towards his left. The pool had disappeared.

"Alright, that's it," Giorgino said. "Goodbye, and I'll see you when I tell you."

"Uh, pardon, what do you mean by that?" Eddie asked.

"We've gathered all the ingredients for the panacea," his mentor informed him. "The Gatekeepers are going to be very busy brewing it, myself included, so that means I won't be able to mentor you or your friends until we're done with the mission."

"Oh, that's great! Is there any way I can help?"

"Even if you wanted to, you can't. That's why I don't expect to see you anytime soon."

"I can help with mixing things in beakers."

Giorgino chuckled. "Thanks for the offer, but there's really nothing you can do at this point. Potion-brewing isn't something humans can help with. Anyway, you now have more time for school."

"Euh, actually, I'm on holiday."

"You're on holiday? Well, enjoy it then!" Giorgino made a short wave. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Elder."

Eddie bowed before he left, picking up his bag on his way to the door. As soon as he exited the room, he reached inside his bag and grasped Louis. His nails dug into its velvet jacket as he gripped it.

"Oi, you're hurting me!" Louis said.

His glare only intensified. "What were you thinking when you said that? Shirtless in front of Michelle?"

"Wait, you guys heard it?"

"We did. I can't believe you, you embarrassed me in front of my mentor!" he growled, using his telekinesis to map his path while his eyes remained focused on his book. "There are some things I'm not comfortable sharing with certain people. As soon as we get home, I'm going to roast you."

"Hold on, you think you can do that?"

"You do know that I have the power to burn your pages to ashes?"

"And you do know that I have the power to teleport you to a black hole, let you die a brutal outer space death, and nobody will know what happened to you because they will never be able to find your body?"

Eddie stared at it in disbelief. "Did you just threaten me?"

"Sort of." It wiggled out of his grasp. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd hear it; I thought the leather would absorb my voice."

Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just don't do that ever again."

"I won't."

"Get in. We're heading home."

Eddie opened his messenger bag and let Louis swoop inside. The two of them continued the journey home, not uttering a word to each other.

***

Eddie leaned against the pillows as he sat upright, the anti-sleeping serum still in effect. He knew he was in the mood to do something, but he had no activity in mind. He glanced at the shelf. He was not in the mood to read. He then glanced at his private piano. He was in the mood to practice. Eddie got off his bed and strode towards the bedroom door, for he was planning to play a different piano.

Eddie rode the elevator from the third floor to the second floor. As soon as he exited the elevator, he heard sounds emanating from the music room.

Piano.

Eddie furrowed his brows. As far as he was concerned, he was the only pianist in the house. His mother was not musically inclined, he remembered José mentioning that he played the guitar, Letizia much preferred singing—though he would not call her a singer—and the rest were violinists for all he knew. Then why could he hear notes being played as the hammers struck the strings? He took a closer look. Someone had turned on the lights inside the music room. He crept towards the door and sneaked a peek of the mystery musician.

It was Stella. She was seated at the grand piano, a thin booklet set in front of her as she struggled to sight-read a piece. Eddie grimaced upon noticing her. Everything about her technique was wrong: her shoulders and back were hunched as she leaned forward to read the sheet music; her fingers were as straight and stiff as a wooden board; even the way she sat on the stool irked him—she was not seated exactly in the middle, resting on one side while leaving plenty of space on the other. The worst crime of all? She was playing with such horrid technique on his beloved Bösendorfer. Such a fine instrument deserved no less than a refined musician. Eddie himself waited till he was of a certain caliber before he dared to touch its ivory keys.

Eddie leaned against the doorway and listened more closely. At once, he knew why she played so poorly. She was a beginner. He recognized the piece she was playing as one he first learned when he was five years old. At that time, he was not even taught to use a sustain pedal yet. He exhaled lightly. He should not be harsh on her; she was still learning the basics.

Although, he wished that she chose to use the upright Yamaha instead of his Bösendorfer. He could not shoo her away; that would be incredibly rude of him. And besides, it was not like she was eating in front of it. The fact that she was playing alone at night showed that she was dedicated.

Stella paused playing. She looked up from the keyboard and turned her head to face the doorway. Upon noticing Eddie, she gasped as if she had just seen a ghost. It took her a second to realize that it was her friend instead.

"Eddie!" She clutched her heart. "You startled me. How long have you been there?"

"Just a minute," Eddie said. "I just got here."

"Oh."

Her face went bright red with embarrassment. She turned her body as if she were about to stand up.

"No, you can keep practicing," he said. "You can keep playing if you want."

"But I'm not good."

That's true, he thought, but he knew better than to tell her that. "I can help you with your technique if you want. Just sit there."

"Oh, okay."

Eddie took a seat next to her, on her left side. Though his fingers were longing for the keyboard, he restrained himself.

"So, when did you start learning the piano?" he asked.

"Ehm, my parents got me an electronic piano, it's about this size." She widened the space between her hands until it spanned a few octaves.

"Oh, a keyboard," Eddie said, making sure to emphasize the third word. It bothered him when people did not know the difference between a digital piano and an electronic keyboard. "So they hired a tutor?"

"No. I tried learning by myself."

"You learned by yourself?"

"Well, not really learned. They just bought the toy keyboard and I just played with it, and I thought maybe I can try reading my violin sheet music and play it there," she clarified.

"Oh. That's impressive, actually," he said. "So first off, do you know how to read bass clef?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Alright." He rubbed his palms together. "We'll bother with that later. We can work on your fingers first. They should be curled, like this," he said, curling his fingers. "Pretend you're holding a ball and you're lightly holding it. Don't grasp it; hold it."

She mimicked him.

"Yes, exactly. And sit straight as well."

She straightened her posture. The top of her back grew tense.

"Relax your shoulders," he advised. He adjusted his sitting position. "Like me."

She followed him.

"Yeah, that's okay. Make sure your hands are relaxed too, or else they'll be injured. Do you know where middle C is?"

"Here?" She pressed a key.

"Correct. Uh, would you like to play a duet?"

"A duet?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just a simple one."

"Ehm, sure," she hesitated. The lack of confidence was evident in her voice.

Eddie beckoned his right hand and a booklet swooped from its shelf to his palm. He opened it, flicked a few pages, and set it in front of him. "You can play this," he said, pointing at the simpler part, "it's very simple. I can play the harder part."

"Sure."

"Great. I'll start when you're ready."

Stella took a deep breath. She looked at the score, squinting, and then at her fingers. She pressed a few notes. Eddie followed. He observed her. Her eyes bounced between the booklet and the keyboard as she played, and she pressed the keys like how a child would type on a computer keyboard—mechanical, hesitant, and sometimes too strong or too weak. She did not play an incorrect note, though, and that mattered more to him.

They finished playing the piece. "That was not bad," he said. "No wrong notes."

The corners of her lips rose a little. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Would you like to play a few more duets?"

"Sure," she said, more enthusiastically this time.

Eddie smiled at her growing confidence. He turned a few pages before they resumed playing.

So they played a few more piano duets. She would provide the melody, and he would support her with chords and harmonies. He glanced at her fingers. Though they were still tense, they were not as rigid as before. He did not bother too much. She was just starting out, and it would be unfair if he held her to his standards.

After two more duets, Stella lifted her hands off the keyboard and rested them on the piano bench. "That was fun," she said, smiling faintly.

"It was," he agreed. "You're not bad at all for a beginner."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

A hush fell over the room. Eddie outstretched his hand and turned a few pages, but when he glimpsed her eyes, he did not detect any interest. Was she tired of playing already?

"Ehm, Eddie, do you still want to play?"

"Euh, yeah," he replied. "Why?"

"I was thinking if I can listen to you play instead," she said. "I'm done practicing."

"Oh, sure. You can sit on one of the chairs over there."

She stood up from the bench, ambled towards one of the chairs, and took a seat. Eddie scooted to one side of the stool and adjusted his seating position. He then played a few jazz songs, starting with a rendition of Joseph Kosma's "Autumn Leaves." It did not take long for him to forget he was not alone in the room. Not a sliver of shyness was present in his playing as his hands graced the keyboard, confident strokes creating pleasing harmonies. He stopped after a few songs, ending with a performance of Billy Strayhorn's "Take the 'A' Train."

Stella looked at him with admiration. "You're very good," she praised him.

"Thank you," he said, smiling. His eyes gazed at his Bösendorfer once more. "This piano in particular is very special to me. My dad wouldn't let me play it till I was nine."

"Oh, why?"

"Well, it's a very old and precious instrument, passed down from generation to generation. My dad only let me play on it until I was 'good enough,' so for years I only practiced on the other pianos."

"Oh. I'm not even good, yet I played on it." The corners of her lips lowered.

Now look what you've done, Eddie's inner voice scolded him. You've just made her sad.

What? She's terrible anyway, his other voice said in his head. Such a treasure shouldn't be tainted by a poor performer. She should know her place.

Know her place? You were once in her position. Remember how you felt when Papa wouldn't let you play on it?

Eddie took a deep breath as he gazed into her eyes, his heart sinking to his stomach as he witnessed guilt rising in her irises. What had he done? She merely wanted to learn; nothing more. All this because he was overly protective of a set of strings and hammers in a wooden case.

"You can practice on this piano if you want."

"But won't your dad get mad if he finds out?"

"He won't, because I won't tell," he said, winking. "Play here while he's not around."

She giggled. "Thanks, Eddie."

"You're welcome. By the way, I didn't expect to see you staying up late."

"Yeah, I've been having trouble sleeping."

"Is it because of jet lag?"

"No. It's because... do you remember what happened at Old Port Warehouse?"

The last three words hit him like a freight train. Old Port Warehouse. The words echoed in Eddie's head. Slowly, he felt himself being pulled away from the comfort of his home and into the darkness that he knew as the basement of Old Port Warehouse. Eddie remembered everything. He could smell the soot that filled the choking air. He could feel the ground quaking as concrete crumbled into rubble. Worst of all, he could see the silhouette standing just meters away from him, his tattered clothes hanging off a thing called a person.

Instinct took over him. He remembered extending his two fingers and recoiling his arm. He was going to shoot him. Electrocute him. End the fight in a second.

And then he heard shouting. A female voice shouting at him, telling him to stop. Stop? Eddie was ready to obey, but his arm was committed to its own will. He remembered thrusting his arm forward, unable to stop once it went into motion. Inertia. A bolt of electricity sprang from his fingertips. It streaked across the basement and towards the shadow. It was going to strike him squarely in the chest. He was sure of it.

And then in a split second, the shadow cocked his head and locked his eyes on the incoming bolt. Lifted his hand and flicked his wrist. Struck the lightning bolt as though he were swatting away a fly.

In a split second, electricity morphed into sound.

Boom!

Eddie felt himself being tossed into the air and his back slamming against the stairs. His head crashed against the edge of the step. The last thing he saw was a screen of pitch black. The last thing he felt was his skull cracking on impact. The last thing he heard was the tail end of a sonic boom that knocked him senseless. He could not feel anything. He thought he was dead. Had it not been for his friend's healing touch, he would have been dead.

Thankfully, the next thing he saw was not the gates of Hell, Heaven, or Purgatory, but a human face as he was healed of his injury. Only then did he notice that blood was seeping from a crack at the back of his skull.

"...Eddie? Eddie?"

Eddie snapped back into reality. Stella had tilted her head, waving her hand to trigger a response.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You weren't saying anything."

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "What was the question again?"

"Do you remember what happened at Old Port Warehouse?"

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

"It's been keeping me up at night," she said. The smile that stretched across her lips faded off her face. "Almost every night, I see his body, and then I see you dying, and..." Stella trailed off. She sighed, turning her head to one side while a hand touched her face.

Eddie frowned. He could not imagine what it was like for her. Stella was merely thirteen at the time, a literal child. Yet, she did the heavy lifting that day. She was bound to be scarred in one way or another.

"Anyway, I hope you're feeling better now. You can always talk to me if you want."

She smiled faintly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"What about you?" she asked. "Why are you awake at night?"

"Oh, that's because I'm used to waking up in the middle of the night. I just wake up, tire myself out, then go back to sleep."

Stella yawned. "I think I'll go to sleep now," she told him. "Good night."

"Good night."

She stood up and turned her back. As she strolled towards the door, her hair brushing just past her shoulders, Eddie could not help but be reminded of something. It was the incident a couple of nights before—when a woman caught him practicing in the middle of the night.

"Stella?"

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Did you pass by this room in the middle of the night a few days ago?" he asked her.

"Ehm, yes," she replied. "Why?"

"Because I remember when I was practicing here a couple of nights ago, at past midnight or around that, when I caught someone watching me," he said. "I was wondering if it was you."

"Oh, that," she said, her face flushing, "that was me."

"Oh okay."

"Sorry."

"No, you don't need to apologize," he told her. "I was just curious. Anyway, euh, good night."

"Good night."

She then left. Eddie returned his gaze to the piano. How long had it been since he left the room? A long time, probably. The effects of the serum would wear off soon. He covered the keyboard in a layer of felt before he closed the piano lid and pushed the stool inside. He then turned off the lights and made his way to his room.

He stumbled on the way to the elevator. He checked the ground. There was no obstacle. He felt his knees weaken as lassitude consumed his remaining vigor.

"Louis!"

His eyelids grew heavier. Eddie fought to keep himself awake, but his efforts were futile. It was a side-effect of the serum. There was no way to avoid it. The world around him blurred. His upper body bent forward. His feet were frozen in their spot. At last, languor engulfed him. His body tipped toward the ground.

Poof.

Louis teleported him to the bed just before he fell face-first onto hard marble. Eddie laid still on the bed as he slept. Louis sighed. It teleported the blanket so that it would lay above him instead of beneath him. It then flew back to the shelf, tucked itself between two novels, and dozed off.

✧ ✧ ✧

Fun Fact: Eddie was supposed to be a jerk in this chapter who'd shoo Stella away from his prized piano. Instead, he became a tutor 😆 would you like to learn piano from him? I know I would 🙋‍♀️

I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! If you did, please don't forget to vote by pressing the star on this chapter 🥰