*fwoooosh!
The wind whispered gently as it flowed through the narrow entranceway, curling around stone walls and slipping past open doors like a curious spirit.
It moaned softly within the structure as Jinn and Zendrell stepped inside, the door shutting quietly behind them with a click that echoed through the still air.
The interior that greeted them was unlike the main house Jinn had been taken to earlier.
There were no gaudy golden trims lining the ceiling, no ancient runes carved into every surface like sacred graffiti, no excessive symbols screaming importance.
Instead, it was…
It was hard to explain...
But Jinn thought of only one word—
calm.
The furnishings were simple yet elegant, each piece carved with precision and purpose.
Wood and stone intermingled seamlessly, adorned only by soft fabrics and muted colors that did not cry for attention.
Despite its modest appearance, the house exuded something else entirely—an invisible force that clung to the space like incense.
A quiet, serene, almost mystical atmosphere filled the air.
It was as if the house itself breathed slowly, its presence unshaken by the passage of time.
Every inch of it felt grounded and deliberate, like every stone and shelf had been placed with deep thought and intention.
Jinn couldn't help but feel that it reflected Merilyn herself—or at least, the version of her he had imagined:
someone who did not need grandeur to command attention, but instead possessed a quiet power rooted deep within.
*tap *tap *tap
Their footsteps broke the silence as they walked side by side, the sound bouncing faintly off the walls and vanishing into the gentle hush of the home.
No words were spoken, but none were needed.
They passed through a small hallway until the path opened into an expansive courtyard that drew Jinn's breath from his lungs.
The air was warmer here, infused with the scent of flowers and damp soil, the sound of flowing water and wind rustling through leaves.
Jinn's eyes slowly lifted to take in the sight before him—and what he saw felt like something out of a dream.
The courtyard was alive.
To the left, thick greenery flourished in carefully arranged tiers.
Bushes and vines twisted around carved stone arches, swaying as if greeting them.
To the right, a field of wildflowers bloomed freely in radiant clusters—daisies, lilies, irises, and strange glowing blossoms Jinn couldn't name.
The colors shifted gently beneath the soft overhead glow, petals gleaming faintly in hues of violet, blue, and silver.
*Fwoosh!
A breeze swept through the garden, rustling leaves and flowers alike, and Jinn watched in awe as towering trees moved with it—ancient trees, their trunks wide and textured with moss, their branches heavy with glowing leaves of gold and jade that pulsed softly like living lanterns.
Compared to the garden we had back in the orphanage...
This... this is...
He stood motionless for a moment, completely overwhelmed.
The cold, lifeless city they had passed through upon first arrival—a place of iron gray and biting winds—
felt like another universe compared to this.
Compare to the small garden behind the orphanage—a modest space where he and the others had once tended to little flowers, patting the soil, sharing laughter over weeds and worms.
That garden had once meant everything to them.
But this?
This place was something else.
Wilder, untamed, yet cultivated with care.
Alive in a way that pulled at something old and tender inside him.
This was warmth.
This was breath.
This was life, untouched.
Jinn's heart stirred as he watched the leaves dance.
Behind him, Merilyn let out a gentle chuckle as she noticed his widened eyes, his stunned expression frozen mid-breath.
She didn't comment—she didn't need to.
With a soft smile playing at her lips, she turned and continued walking, her footsteps light and graceful against the stone path that cut through the garden.
Jinn followed her with quiet reverence, the weight of the atmosphere pressing against his shoulders like a blanket.
But then—
His gaze shifted ahead.
Movement.
Barely visible through the foliage and the shimmering light between the trees—small silhouettes shifting between trunks and branches.
His heart skipped.
His eyes widened.
He recognized those shapes.
It was them.
"Jinn, look!" Kain's voice exploded beside him, poking him urgently in the back as he pointed forward.
"There they are!"
There was no hesitation.
Jinn burst forward, his boots pounding against the stone, Kain just behind him as they sprinted across the courtyard, dodging shrubs and leaping over roots, wind whipping past them as the distance shrank with each powerful stride.
Laughter echoed behind them.
"I heard Jinn was the so-called 'leader' of his little orphan crew," Merilyn commented with quiet curiosity, watching the boys disappear into the distance.
HAHAHA!
Zendrell let out a deep, booming laugh that shook the branches above.
"He even decked a noble trader clean in the mouth just for one of them!" he said, grinning wildly.
"What do you think?"
Before his laughter could rise even higher, Merilyn reached out and flicked him hard on the forehead.
*Flick!
"Must you be so loud, brother?" she sighed, shaking her head in exasperation.
Zendrell rubbed his brow with an exaggerated pout. "I am who I am, sister."
With a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he added smugly, "Did I mention that boy blocked three of my strikes? Not one—three."
Merilyn's brow rose sharply, her eyes narrowing.
"You actually drew your blade on him?"
Zendrell shrugged casually.
"Just a light test of reflexes. Nothing serious."
"You brute," she muttered, shaking her head once more.
"There are more refined ways to assess someone's potential, you know—ones that don't involve nearly crushing their skull with a mountain of steel."
Zendrell stretched his arms with a yawn. "Hey, it worked. He's alive, isn't he?"
"You're impossible," Merilyn muttered, scowling. "And yet somehow, I'm still the one who let you teach him."
Zendrell chuckled again. "And that, dear sister, is your fault."
"Jinn!" Ophelia's voice rang out like a bell of hope.
She ran to him, arms wide, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy.
The rest of the children—Hector, Vox, Orin, and the others—followed close behind, smiles blooming on their faces like flowers in sunlight.
Hector reached out first, placing a firm hand on Jinn's shoulder.
"Glad you're alright now," he said, his voice calm but filled with relief.
Jinn offered a slight smile, tension fading from his chest as he looked at their familiar faces.
The weight of the last few days, though not lifted, felt lighter.
"What've you all been doing while I was out?" he asked.
"We were taught the basics of Eidra," Vox chimed in, his new glasses glinting under the light as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose.
"How to feel it, how to summon it, what it actually is."
"Merilyn taught us," he added, nodding toward her. "But apparently, we're all getting new mentors soon."
Tch.
Orin crossed her arms, scoffing under her breath.
"Which is weird. Why would they even bother training a bunch of orphans—no, slaves like us?"
"Because," Merilyn said, stepping forward with graceful poise, her voice firm yet nurturing, "you are the reason Jinn continues to rise."
Her gaze swept across them, warm but unwavering.
"And with him… you must all grow too."
A silence followed her words.
Then she added, "Each of you will be paired with a mentor chosen specifically to fit your talents and temperament. I've watched you closely during our first lessons—and you've all shown enough promise to deserve someone who can bring out the best in you."
She turned, guiding them toward a long, wooden table beneath a tree canopy where soft light spilled across an elaborate banquet.
Roasted meats glistened in their juices, bowls of spiced stew steamed with savory scent, baskets overflowed with fruits of every color, and delicate pastries shimmered like treasure under the lanterns.
"Come," she said warmly, her voice carrying the comfort of home.
"Let us eat. Now that Jinn is here, we can begin the true lessons of Eidra."
Zendrell muttered behind her as he sat down heavily.
"What is this—a damn picnic?"
*Thud!
His chair creaked under him as he dropped into it with zero grace, earning side glances from the children.
But their attention didn't linger.
Their eyes were glued to the feast, their mouths parted in disbelief.
Most of them had grown up scraping together meals of oats, dry bread, and whatever vegetables they could grow or steal back at the orphanage.
But this?
This was like a royal banquet.
Golden sweet rolls, colorful fruits, and meats cooked to perfection—each plate overflowing with warmth and scent.
"I-Is this really for us?" Ophelia whispered, her eyes wide, afraid that it might vanish at any second.
Merilyn smiled kindly.
"Yes. Every bit of it."
She paused and added with a playful smirk, "Now sit, my children—ahem—my guests. You cannot absorb the truths of Eidra on an empty stomach."