Zyna worked with practiced ease in the hall's bustling kitchen, the rhythmic thwack of her knife against the cutting board a steady beat. Each stroke sliced the meat into precise, equal squares. She glanced at Myre, a small woman with a single, prominent horn on her forehead, who was diligently mixing spices in a nearby bowl. A gentle smile touched Zyna's lips.
"Myre," she began, pausing to gauge the other woman's reaction. Myre looked up, her large, yellow eyes filled with curiosity. "Is something wrong?, Miss Zyna?"
Zyna shook her head. "I'm just admiring your talent," she said, her gaze shifting back to the meat. Her voice softened. "No wonder Mister Ash left Hall Number Two in your care."
Myre's cheeks flushed crimson. She instinctively hid her face in her palms, accidentally getting a smear of spice in her eye. "Ahh!" she cried out in surprise, her embarrassment deepening.
Zyna chuckled softly at her clumsiness. "You're too sweet, you know that?" she said, her tone gentle and respectful.
Myre, still blushing, wiped her face and hands, the reddish tinge lingering on her skin. Her voice was small and hesitant. "I know… you're just saying that to give me motivation." She paused, her eyes falling on the bowl of spices. A shadow of sadness crossed her face. "I know I'm not good enough. In Hall Two, I don't think they think much of me either. But Mister Ash gave me this opportunity, and I'm trying to make the best of it."
Zyna's smile faltered, her heart going out to the younger woman. She saw a reflection of her younger self in Myre—the same insecurity, the same clumsiness, the same kind heart. "I know you will," she reassured her. "And I'm here to see that."
Myre's eyes widened. "Y-you think so?"
Zyna grinned and nodded.
Myre looked back at the spice bowl, a small smile finally gracing her lips. She closed the stove with a soft sigh. "Thank you, Big Sis," she whispered.
The unexpected endearment touched Zyna deeply. Her own eyes welled up with unshed tears, a mix of emotions she couldn't quite define swirling within her. She pulled Myre into a comforting embrace. "Don't worry, Myre," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Big Sis will always be there for you." In that moment, Zyna's resolve strengthened. She would survive. For Myre, for her son, and most importantly, for herself. Reason to surive everyone need one and she found hers.
Their affectionate moment was interrupted by a voice. "Zyna… Myre?"
It was Ritso. Both women jumped apart, startled. Myre's face flushed an even deeper shade of red, while Zyna self-consciously smoothed her hair.
Ritso looked at them with curiosity. "Everyone's waiting for the food," she said.
Zyna nodded. "Yeah, it's almost done. Give us a moment."
Ritso remained silent for a moment, her gaze lingering on them suspiciously, before nodding and walking away.
As soon as she was gone, Myre, mortified by the interruption, began to jump up and down, muttering, "No, no, no," to herself.
Zyna, unable to contain herself, burst into laughter. Myre looked at her, and a small smile crept onto her face too.
The long, sleek table in Hall Number One gleamed under the soft light, a testament to modern design capable of seating twenty people comfortably. A mix of children and adult women filled the chairs, a buzz of happy chatter filling the air. Zyna and Myre moved gracefully along the line, distributing steaming plates of food. Each plate was a complete meal, carefully prepared and presented. Smiles and words of thanks followed them as they worked, the recipients of their culinary efforts clearly delighted.
Ritso, seated near the head of the table, took her first bite. Her eyes widened slightly, a soft "wow" escaping her lips. The flavor was exquisite, a perfect blend of savory and subtle sweetness. She glanced at Zyna and Myre, watching as they moved among the diners, their faces glowing with the satisfaction of a job well done. The hall was filled with the sounds of contented eating, a testament to the skill of the two Elders.
Ritso's gaze returned to her plate, but her mind was elsewhere, swirling with memories of a conversation with Ash. He had said that she would see these people grow, something she herself had never experienced. And he was right. Looking around the hall, she saw not just individuals but a community. She saw children laughing, adults sharing stories, and a sense of belonging that she had rarely witnessed, let alone felt.
Her thoughts drifted to Ash. How was his training going? Was he alright? The questions swirled in her mind, a constant undercurrent of worry. When would he come back? She knew he was strong, capable, but the thought of him facing whatever dangers lay ahead filled her with a sense of unease. She took another bite of her food, the delicious flavors now tinged with a hint of worry. She hoped he was safe. She hoped he knew how much she missed him. She hoped he would return soon.
.
Ash stood in the heart of the expansive garden, his eyes closed, his nose pointed perpendicular to the ground. Every muscle in his body was relaxed, even the scale behind him. His attire was markedly different from his usual garb. He wore a white velvet vest, emblazoned with a roaring red dragon whose tail snaked around his back, glowing faintly crimson in response to the turmoil within him. Underneath, a crimson shirt peeked out, paired with dark red trousers designed with a discreet opening at the back to accommodate his tail. Matching boots and white gloves completed the ensemble.
With his eyes still closed, Ash flicked a finger. In the flower-filled garden before him, a single bloom began to change. Its petals shifted and darkened, morphing into a vibrant purple before the entire flower seemed to dissolve into nothingness, leaving the surrounding blossoms untouched. Only then did Ash open his eyes, his gaze immediately drawn to the spot where the flower had vanished.
He walked quickly to the patch of flowers, his movements precise. Carefully, he parted the untouched blooms, his eyes fixed on the soil beneath. A purplish, jelly-like substance was clearly visible, slowly dissolving into the earth. Though his facial expression remained largely unchanged, a subtle hint of satisfaction played around his lips.
He heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him but didn't bother to turn. "You saw that, Master?" he asked.
"Yes, I did," Kael replied, his voice even and calm.
"What do you think?" Ash pressed. "Did I improve or not?"
Kael folded his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg. He looked up at the sky, observing the slow drift of the clouds, before finally answering. "Yes."
Ash's face softened slightly at the confirmation, but his expression quickly returned to its usual expressionlessness. "You have so much strength," Kael continued, his gaze returning to Ash, "but you don't know how to control it. It's almost as if this body doesn't belong to you."
Ash remained impassive, showing no reaction to Kael's words.
"As if you're trying to adjust to an already decided mold," Kael elaborated, "or, to put it simply, it's like you're living someone else's fate."
Still, Ash remained unperturbed, his face an unreadable mask.
Kael studied Ash with his seemingly innocent yet sharp silver eyes, trying to decipher the unreadable expression. Finding nothing to entertain him, he turned his attention to the patch of flowers, settling down beside them. He inhaled deeply, savoring their delicate fragrance, a gentle smile spreading across his almost feminine face. He then looked back at Ash, who remained motionless, his gaze fixed on him.
"Mhmm," Kael hummed, his smile widening. "You understand me quite well, don't you?"
Ash offered no reaction, his face an impassive mask. He knew how easily Kael could read his emotions, and he was carefully guarding his thoughts, determined not to reveal anything he didn't want Kael to know.
Kael let out a laugh, his smile broadening. "You're a great man," he chuckled. "Not giving this middle-aged man anything to play with."
Ash smirked slightly. "I know how manipulative you are, Master," he replied.
Kael feigned annoyance, his smile still present. "Manipulative? That's a strong word, my dear disciple. I'm just…playful. By nature."
Ash rolled his eyes, his grin widening. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered.
Just then, Anzhelina entered the garden. Her pale beauty, accentuated by her usual attire, radiated an undeniable aura of authority. Her mere presence commanded attention.
Kael spotted her and waved enthusiastically, his tail wagging like an eager puppy. "Heeelllloowwwww, Madam Anz—"
Before he could finish her name, Anzhelina was behind him. So swiftly that even Ash, with his heightened drake senses, couldn't follow the movement, she slapped the back of his head, driving his face into the ground. Ash's jaw dropped in awe. Was it teleportation? Or simply an incredible display of speed? He couldn't tell.
Kael slowly recovered from the blow, cracking his neck back into place. "That wasn't necessary, Madam Lionheart," he said, his voice remarkably calm, "for a mistake as minor as that."