"Svegliati!"

Stella yawned and rubbed her eyelids. She gradually opened her eyes and noticed Celestine standing in the doorway, her hands resting on her hips. Stella then glanced at the window. The sun was already shining brightly, its golden rays forcing her to squint. Did I wake up late? Stella sat upright on her bed and searched for her slippers. One was located near the foot of the bed, whereas the other one had landed next to the wardrobe.

"It's almost eight o'clock. A little late for you," Celestine said in Italian. Stella stood up and put on her footwear.

"Sorry for waking up late," Stella apologized.

"It's okay, just get ready in thirty minutes. Helene and the boys will be here by then."

Stella got ready in half the time. By 8:15 a.m. she had taken a quick shower, dressed in casual clothing, and eaten her breakfast. She helped her aunt with washing the dishes before resting on the living room sofa. She opened her phone and checked the time; it was 8:20 a.m.

Knock, knock. "Who could that be?" Celestine wondered aloud. She walked across the room to answer the door and peeked through the peephole. She then opened the door. Edmond was standing in the doorway.

"Buongiorno."

"Buongiorno. Please, come in," Celestine greeted him. He stepped into her home and glanced at the shoe rack.

"Do I take off my shoes?"

"No, no, you can keep them on," Celestine answered him. "You can just wait in the living room in the meantime."

He nodded his head and looked at Stella. "Good morning," he greeted her.

"Good morning, where are the others?"

"Uh, I don't know."

"You came here alone?" Celestine asked.

"I was supposed to go with José and Jon, but José texted me your address and said that I can go ahead. They should be here in a while," he said, taking a seat next to Stella.

"You came here pretty early," Celestine remarked. "Anyway, I'll ask José and Helene where they are."

Celestine left the living room. She sat at the dining table, opened her cellphone, and began making calls. Meanwhile, Stella turned her head to her right. Edmond was staring back at her. He half-smiled, his lips moving slightly as though he was about to say something, but it took a while before a sound escaped through them.

"By the way, do you mind if we exchange phone numbers?" Edmond asked.

"Oh, sure." Stella retrieved her phone from her pocket. The two of them took turns in reciting their numbers to add to their contacts. After inputting his number, she asked him, "What's your last name?"

"Uh, it's Delacroix," he replied slowly, "spelled D-E-L-A-C-R-O-I-X."

Stella keyed it in. She then showed him her screen. "Like this?"

"Yes," he replied. "And yours?"

"Vincente. V-I-N-C-E-N-T-E."

He promptly entered her surname. After that, he locked his phone and placed it back into his pocket. Edmond and Stella looked at each other. Silence swept between them as they waited for the other person to start the conversation. She fidgeted with her fingers, thinking of whether she should break the silence or wait for him to speak.

He briefly glimpsed the area around him. "So, euh, your aunt's house looks pretty cozy."

"Ehm, thanks," she said, grateful that he spoke first. "I've been staying here for the past week. What about you?"

"I've been staying at a small hotel. It's a bit far from here."

"Oh, I see."

"Yeah."

They did not utter another word to each other. Stella wondered if she was supposed to respond, but she did not know what to say. She did not even know if he wanted her to respond. His silence could mean two things—either he was waiting for her to say something, or he wanted to end their conversation. She gazed into his eyes. He was maintaining eye contact with her, so he definitely was in the mood to listen, but his impassive expression suggested apathy. She found it ironic that the one who could control fire had a rather icy exterior.

Desperate to dispel the awkward silence, she told him, "I like your eyes."

His facial muscles contorted in a way that signaled surprise. "Uh, thanks. Yours are also pretty nice. They're hazel, right?"

"Right; it's a mix of brown and green. It sort of runs in my family. And yours are"—she took a closer look—"blue?"

"They're mostly blue, but there's a little bit of green near the pupils. People say it's blue-green, but I prefer the term 'dark turquoise.' "

"Oh, that's unique."

Knock, knock. Stella rose from her seat to answer the door. A tall, skeletal woman stood in front of the doorway, her close-fitting trousers and short-sleeved shirt exposing her thin limbs. If it weren't for her electric blue eyes, Stella would not have recognized Helene without her cloak on. She opened the door, greeted her, and let her in.

Just as Helene entered the house, Celestine entered the living room. "Oh, you're here!"

"Yes I am," she said. "Good morning. Are the boys here yet?"

"Only one of them." Celestine gestured to Edmond. "You can sit on the sofa while waiting."

The four of them gathered in the living room as they waited for Jon and José. While the women were busy chatting, reminiscing, and giggling about the old times, the teenagers sat in silence. Stella glanced to her left. He did not seem to be in the mood to talk—to be fair, he never was.

Jon and José arrived just as the clock struck nine o'clock. The six of them then descended to the basement, passed through the magical door, and entered their respective chambers. Celestine initially ran her hand up the wall before realizing that she would not need a tablet to conjure equipment.

"Anyway," Celestine began, "before we start this lesson, can you remember all the types of shields you have learned so far?"

"Yes," Stella replied.

"Then tell me."

"Um, sphere shields, front shields, side, and rear."

"Correct. You see, force fields can be categorized into types, by position or shape. The sphere shield is based on shape, whereas the others are based on position. Since you already know the three main position shields, I'll tell you about the remaining two. Whiteboard."

A broad whiteboard appeared out of thin air. Celestine picked up a marker from the pen tray, divided the space into three panels, and drew a few quick sketches. In the first panel, she drew a figure whose face gazed upwards, its arms hanging naturally at its sides. In the next panel, the figure then raised its hands to shoulder level, its palms facing the sky while its elbows pointed towards the ground. In the last sketch, the figure was seen thrusting its hands above its head. Celestine sketched a flat force field above the third figure before returning the marker to the tray.

"This is called a roof shield"—Celestine gestured towards the board—"or a 'top shield' as some people call it. It covers your head like a roof so that you'll be protected from attacks from above. I want you to summon a roof shield before we can move on to the next one."

Stella nodded her head and lifted her gaze. She bent her elbows, her hands raised to her shoulders, and her palms facing the ceiling. She then propelled her hands above her head. Smack. She felt her palms and the inner area of her fingers slamming against a flat surface. A force field was conjured a short distance above her head, its area as large as that of an umbrella.

"Ben fatto," Celestine said, "you can stop now. Let's move on."

Stella relaxed her arms, the roof shield dissipating in an instant. Celestine reached for the eraser and cleaned the whiteboard before drawing another set of sketches. In the first panel, she drew a falling figure whose limbs were spread out. In the next panel, the figure bent its knees and brought its arms inward, its palms facing the ground. In the last panel, the figure stretched its arms to the ground. A slightly curved force field was drawn beneath it.

"This is a floor shield, or a bottom shield, whatever you want to call it," she went on. "It protects you from attacks from below. You can also use it when you're falling and you need something to catch you. Stairs."

A short staircase appeared right next to Stella. It rose to only five steps before halting.

"I'm not going to ask you to jump; that's too risky. Just go to the top of those stairs and try summoning from there."

"Okay."

Stella climbed the steps. She glanced at the floor. It was only a meter below her, yet to her, it felt further down than that. She shuffled her feet so that they were at a comfortable distance from each other. She rose her hands to her chest level, her elbows pointing downward, and thrust them towards the ground. Fwssh. A force field materialized inches above the floor. Unlike the shield in Celestine's sketch, which was concave, Stella's shield was flat.

"Try again, but make it curved," Celestine said, moving her hands as though she were cupping the bottom of a bowl. "Curve your fingers to curve the shield. Flat fingers for a flat shield."

"Okay," Stella said, nodding her head. She first relaxed her arms. The flat force field disappeared in an instant. She tried conjuring a curved shield, curling her fingers this time. It sort of worked—the curvature was so slight that you could hardly perceive it from afar.

"Not bad," Celestine said. "You just need more practice. Now that you know you know the main position-based shields, let's move on to the shape-based ones."

Stella climbed down the stairwell as Celestine picked up the eraser and cleared the whiteboard. She drew another set of sketches. In the first panel, a figure was shown with the same starting pose as when it was about to summon a roof force field. It then pointed its arms downwards and to the sides in the next panel, its fingers slightly curled. It then swung them upwards, its hands eventually meeting above its head. A force field shaped like half an egg was drawn around it in the third panel.

"This is called a dome shield," Celestine spoke. "It's like a sphere shield, except it doesn't cover the floor. It's useful because it covers you from most attacks and you still have space to stand and walk around, whereas for the sphere shield you might fall since the floor is not flat. Try summoning it."

Stella relaxed her arms. She took another look at the whiteboard. She spread her arms, both pointing to the floor and to the sides, and then swung them upward. Her fingers intertwined but her palms remained apart as her hands met above her head. Fshh. A dome shield enveloped her.

"Brava! Now on to the last one."

Celestine drew the final set of sketches. This time, instead of dividing the whiteboard into three sections, she split it into halves. On the left, the figure's arms were raised, its elbows pointing to the floor, with both fists hanging next to its head. On the right, it swung both arms inward. Its forearms met in front of its chest, hanging next to each other to form a vertical equal sign. A cylindrical shield was then sketched around it.

"This is called a surround shield. It covers all your sides except the top and bottom. It's easier to create, but it gives less protection than the sphere and dome shields. Now you try."

Stella nodded her head. She relaxed her arms before she made her attempt. She raised both fists, positioning them next to her shoulders. She then swung them inward, her arms parallel to each other and the back of her fists facing frontward. Fshh. A cylindrical barrier encircled her.

"Eccellente!" Celestine praised her. "Now that you know all the main types of shields, we're just going to practice summoning them. You can rest for a bit now."

Stella lowered her arms, the surround shield vanishing at once. She exited the practice room to drink some water before returning to the chamber. She spent the rest of the lesson conjuring different types of shields and using them to block objects from striking her.

***

Light cream and tangerine painted the sky—it was morning in Otrâlmondé. Gobhastan crept across the land as he neared Mondéum, keeping close to the rivers that snaked through the city. The sound of rushing water should be able to mask his footsteps, though it would not matter since he was an expert at treading noiselessly. He peered at the city. A three-meter-tall wall guarded Mondéum and sectioned it off from the rest of the realm. The only ways in were through the gate, which was heavily guarded; the sewers, which were rather nasty; or the aqueducts, which led straight into the city. It seemed like a no-brainer for him to go for the third option, but there was only one problem: the aqueducts were tubes or tunnels, not open waterways where he could surface once in a while to breathe. There was no point in going through them if he did not possess gills. He turned his head towards the river. He could sense some form—no, forms—of life swimming near him. Perhaps, if he were always near a living creature, he could siphon its life force to substitute for air. There was only one way to find out.

Gobhastan approached the flowing river. He put one leg in, then the other, and then slowly submerged himself. He could see the fishes swimming around him. He caught one by the fin. Now all he had to do was wait till he ran out of breath before feeding off his victim.

Tension in his chest tightened as seconds passed. He stared at the aquatic creature. He felt tempted to drain it then and there, but he held himself back. He could hold his breath for minutes—he would have to wait a little longer. Time went on as he felt his lungs grow desperate for oxygen. It was time. A black cloud diffused through the water and swirled around the creature's squirming body. He could feel it. Its life, its energy, seeping into his being and permeating every fiber of him. The tension left his chest. His lungs felt like they no longer needed air. He grinned in satisfaction. Who knew dark magic gave the power to breathe underwater?

He released his grip, watching the fish's corpse float away from him. He began swimming. The further he swam, the harder it became to find living things to feed off. What if he was not able to find any soon? He removed his cloak, spread it, and transformed it into a net. He waved it around and caught several fishes with it, trapping them inside. Once he was confident that he had enough to last the journey, he resumed swimming.

It was only then that he realized how long Mondéum's aqueducts were. Though his mind told him that he had only been there for an hour or less, he felt like he had been swimming for a whole day. He saw not a single speck of light. The only other thing he came across besides aquatic beings were intersections that joined several aqueducts. He glanced at his net. There were only a few fish left. He wondered if he would be able to make it out alive. He continued his journey, catching and keeping every life form he caught sight of.

A faint glimmer of light pierced through the water. Did he make it? Had he infiltrated Mondéum? Gobhastan flailed his limbs as he reached for the surface. The light grew brighter as he swam further up. At last, his head surfaced above the water. He gasped for air.

He had done it. He found himself in one of Mondéum's many canals. Cement walls, painted to look metallic, lined the banks of the waterway he was floating in. Gobhastan dove for a few seconds and emptied his net of creatures and corpses, then transformed it into a coat. He wore it over his body, climbed out of the canal, and clambered over the cement fence.

He glanced down at his still-drenched body. He uttered a short incantation, a dark mist emerging and surrounding his physique. It soon dissipated, leaving him as dry as a desert. His pure black eyes scanned every inch of his surroundings. Not a single person was in his vicinity, which he sort of expected—Mondénes were nocturnal, and it was still daytime when he slipped into the city. All he needed to do next was to search for the portal, cross over to Earth, and execute his vengeance.

Gobhastan slinked down the stone streets as he searched for the portal. He knew it would still take time for him to reach it. The gate was located in the city center, and he had just entered the outer portion of it. Not to mention that he would have to go into hiding soon, for nighttime would arrive in a few hours. He did not mind. By entering Mondéum, he was already one step closer to completing his revenge.

✧ ✧ ✧

Fun Fact: I have been working on this story for roughly six years. Within that time frame, I have rewritten this book at least twice and made many—minor and major—edits.

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