For a mage, their mana core was more important than their name or any powerful artifact that they may possess. It was a huge part of what they were and they would never swear upon it lightly.
Xenagrosh’s eyes met Kigan’s in a silent question: why?
The sadness she found told her everything.
Kigan was a Phoenix and a member of the nest. Being exiled from his family meant not only that part of his bloodline abilities were now useless but also that no matter what he achieved, he would always feel incomplete.
Kigan would have done everything to return to the flock and receive his mother’s forgiveness. Now that Xenagrosh had gotten that very same opportunity, he couldn’t bear to take it away from her.
“If we agree upon these terms, then I must ask you to tone down your powers.” Milea said, drawing their attention. “Kelia’s core is barely past the deep green and she has no experience fending against such a thick killing intent.”
“Damn. Sorry, kid.” Xenagrosh and Kigan were both apex predators, yet the Empress’ simple presence was enough to put them on their toes.
It took them a series of deep breaths to calm down and a cloaking ring to suppress their auras enough for Kelia to stop shaking like a leaf.
“Okay, I’ll leave her in your care.” Milea patted her shoulder. “Remember that even though they have to follow your instructions, a good leader always listens to her elders.”
The Empress Warped away while the members of the newly formed team studied each other.
“Okay, boss.” Kigan said with a chuckle. “What’s the plan.”
‘You always bug me to take control of my body, why have you chosen today to leave me alone?’ Kelia asked via the mind link.
‘Because they hate me and don’t trust me. And for a good reason at that.’ Dusk replied. ‘Also, this is a perfect learning opportunity for you. One day, you will have to lead creatures that are much older than you.
‘In the Awakened community, even seniority is second to power. With my help, knowledge, and your bloodline, even if you choose to never unseal my abilities, only white and black cores will stand above you. Maybe.’
“The plan is really simple.” Kelia swallowed a lump of saliva. “We’re going to party.”
***
Later that same night, the three of them had dressed up for the occasion.
Xenagrosh had kept her human appearance since between her pale skin and sharp features, she looked like someone born in the Empire. Which was actually true except for the detail that back when she was born the Empire had yet to be founded.
Kigan, instead, had just shapeshifted the raven-black of his hair into reddish and the bronze of his skin into the paleness typical of the north. He had the appearance of a man in his early thirties, about 1.9 meters (6’3″) tall with emerald eyes.
He had inherited them from Salaark and every time he looked at himself in the mirror, he could almost swear to see her disappointed gaze.
The Phoenix also had his nose turn a bit smaller, his features less handsome, and his body less muscular. His role was that of a medium level bureaucrat, not of a seasoned warrior.
As for Kelia, much to her dismay, she had shapeshifted into a boy her age. She had really hoped to wear a gala dress for once, but the disguise was intended to hide her real nature and made Dusk more recognizable.
The Red Sun had never taken a female host and they wanted people to keep believing that. She had now flaming red hair, freckles on her nose and cheeks, and the lanky appearance of a teen whose growth spurt didn’t give the meat the time to develop on their bones.
“Pants, always damn pants! Wearing a skirt from time to time surely wouldn’t kill me.” Kelia said, and somewhere in the Kingdom, Phloria shuddered and Jirni’s ears burned.
“Believe me, young lady, if we win this war, the Empire will throw so many parties and you’ll have to wear so many dresses that you’ll be sick of them in no time.” Xenagrosh chuckled.
The Shadow Dragon could almost see her younger self in the girl beside her. So eager to learn, to grow up, and please an ancient fatherly figure whose standards were impossible to meet.
The Black Phoenix, instead, always kept at a couple of steps of distance. He kept seeing his dead niece and had to struggle between the constant fear of hurting her again and the need to beg for her forgiveness.
“Gods, I wish you are right.” Kelia kept clearing her throat, not used to the deep tone of her voice. “You just play your role while I look around the Banquet Hall. When I found who we are looking for, we move in.
“If they are not there, we move on to the next house. If I suddenly change the way I speak or move is because Dusk has taken over. You follow his lead and everything will be fine.”
Had those words come out of the Horseman’s mouth, they would have sounded like an order and the hybrids would have probably kicked his ass. When Kelia said them, instead, they sounded like a kid trying to act all grown-up.
Kigan and Xenagrosh had a hard time repressing their hilarity so they just smiled and nodded.
Their routine was simple.
The hybrids still introduced themselves as scouts from the Imperial academies but this time they had brought with them a non-existent raising star of the White Emperor academy who had the tender age of 12 would enroll straight in the fourth year.
“What wonderful news! Maybe the Empire will finally have its Lith from Lutia.” Many mages said after noticing the similarities between the Supreme Magus’ life and Kelia’s cover story.
It was actually a ruse to make people curious enough to come looking for her instead of forcing Kelia to search every nook and cranny of the enormous households she visited.
It took them four nights and several tries to find someone useful.
They had been invited to the dancing party of Archmage Orovis and Kelia even had the honor of opening the dances.
As she led a young girl’s steps, she had the opportunity to take a good look at the guests assembled in a circle around them, waiting for permission to enter the dancefloor.
The Ball Room was over thirty meters (100 feet) long and 50 meters (166 feet) wide while the ceiling was 10 meters (33 feet) high. The space was arranged on three levels.
On the ground floor, people would dance and different orchestras would take turns playing different kinds of ballads to give their colleagues time to rest. On the first floor, there was a wide balcony overlooking the dance floor with plenty of chairs and refreshments.
The guests would go there to rest their feet, mingle, or enjoy the delicacies offered by their host’s house staff. The third floor, instead, was soundproof and split into many closed VIP rooms where the Lord of the house and his guests could discuss important matters without being bothered.
