Iris handed the ancient bronze coin to another archaeologist. She carefully accepted the command while slowly running her fingers on her mistress’s palm. The gazes on her back chilled her heart, but she endured them for a little selfishness.

  “I’m glad to be of use, Mistress,” she said. “Even if I am inferior.”

  “Our specialities differ. You’ll be of great help, with even greater reward.”

  “Working with you is already a privilege. I dare not ask for more.”

  “I’ll be waiting for the good news.”

  The archaeologist bowed before retreating from the room, caressing the coin as if it were her wedding ring. Antina opened and closed the door for her, although her glare scared the girl throughout.

  “You’ve been quite restless,” Iris said. “Has your heart given out?”

  “Mistress, you’ve neglected me,” Antina said.

  “Even though you’ve always been in my mind?” Iris tapped her desk and drew back her hand. Her eyes traced her maid’s figure. “Every little part of yours.”

  Antina was in front of her mistress. She leaned forward, leaving her hair flowing along her cheeks. Her sleek dress rustled, but it couldn’t disperse the sound of her soft breathing. Nothing could break this rhythm.

  “Your maid has been working hard, Mistress. Yet she has received no salary nor compensation.”

  “Were those nights your duty?”

  “Were they merely my wage?”

  Iris lifted her head. She flashed a lovely little smile and licked her lips. Her silhouette swayed, melted, and radiated a warmth which dimmed the candlelight and quietened the breathing.

  Antina stepped back. Her flickering eyes shifted away from her mistress. She feinted coughing and adjusted her posture.

  “I’m presumptuous, and I wish for a favour,” she said.

  “Anything for you, my dear.”

  “Please keep your promise.”

  Antina produced a neat ticket adorned with rose petals and scented threads. She penned her name and handed it to her mistress, who signed it with bright red ink. She kissed the ticket and kept it close to her heart.

  “I trust you not to abuse my generosity,” Iris said.

  “Everything is for you, Mistress.”

  “If you openly flirt like this, I might fail to keep to myself.”

  Iris turned to the side. Her acting secretary, Utasia, paused her writing before resuming it without revealing anything. Her cool gaze shifted to her mistress, then to Antina, and to the documents. Although she lowered her head, she could not hide the sparks sneaking in her eyes.

  “Please don’t mind me,” Utasia said. “I’m willing to do everything to imitate perfection.”

  “Observing alone isn’t enough, Dear. You must experience it, immerse in it, soak in it until it becomes a part of you.”

  “I wouldn’t dare interrupt your moment, Mistress.”

  “You’d be a fine addition.”

  Antina stared at her mistress but found no refute. She gave Utasia a stern look, furrowing her brows and curling her lips. Despite knowing her mistress’s antics, she still couldn’t stop her jealousy. A terrible maid she was.

  “Leave her to me, Iris,” another voice echoed. Its divineness, resembling an enduring chant, overcame the flames sustained by the strange atmosphere.

  A figure of incomparable lightness descended through layers of reality. Her jet-black wings furled behind her, their feathers spreading cool air throughout the office. She raised her right hand and pointed, with her painted index finger, at Iris’s body double, Iris’s faithful believer.

  The office quivered, its walls and ceiling arching, bending under an invisible weight. The candles flickered, the lanterns rocked, and the curtains snapped like whips rushing through the air. Sunlight from the outside dimmed; darkness enveloped the space, leaving only chilling mists to cage the room.

  Utasia shivered but forced herself to stay collected. She clasped her hands. Her human disguise melted. Her Water-Elemental body occupied her surroundings, spraying the air with droplets of her spirit. They coalesced into a multitude of shapes, of magical weapons forged through imagination and tales.

  Their imposing pressures clamped on the dark angel. She held forward her right palm and gradually closed it. A deep bloom rang from her fist. Her slithering black hair danced with the shockwave. Her gaze sharpened upon landing on Utasia. The invisible power passed through furniture untouched and mortals unharmed, but they grazed the Elemental axes and halberd, tapping at their structures, pressing on their weak spots.

  The hovering blades shattered. Glittering vapour rained inside the office, covering the desk and candles with a thin film of watery liquid. Antina clicked her tongue. A shadowy umbrella manifested above her mistress and her while unseen blankets enveloped the office’s flooring and documents.

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  “That’s enough,” Iris said. “Don’t bully her.”

  The darkness receded; the mist sunk beneath the flooring. The office relaxed and unwound its twisting shape. Sunlight sneaked past the curtains and relit the tranquillity. Candles brightly illuminated the shadow while lanterns radiated subtle warmth.

  Distortive power around the dark lady dispersed. Black Light admired the confused but cautious Utasia, who remained on guard with her nervously stern countenance. As the boiling silence was near the breaking point, Black Light giggled and lowered her head to apologise to Iris.

  “I was merely testing her potential. For a moment her technique resembled yours.”

  “She’s mine, after all.”

  “An ambition befitting your status.” Black Light ignored Iris’s frown and went to Utasia. “Do you know your mistress’s goal?”

  “I don’t need to know.” Utasia lifted her head to stare into Black Light’s all-consuming eyes. “She entrusted me this mission; I will fulfil her expectation.”

  “She doesn’t lack blind obedience.”

  “I trust her. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Even though she has always lied?”

  “Don’t slander her!”

  “You’re her experiment, a curious test of her lofty goal.” Black Light rested her hand on her chest. “You’re her first step toward Ascension, her most precious believer.”

  Utasia paused. She resisted the urge to look at her mistress. She mustn’t disappoint her. She mustn’t waver. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I, too, am curious. Within you lies a hint of Faith, a power incompatible with your kind. What would happen if a Corrupted One wields the power of this world?”

  Utasia looked down at her hands. She couldn’t feel any trace of that Faith, but it existed. Only in that moment of great unity did she sense a resonance between her mistress and her. She had no idea she alone held her mistress’s treasure.

  “I’m Mistress’s. Please ask for her permission.”

  “This is your choice,” Iris said. “I gave you an opportunity. The result is yours.”

  “Will I be of her use?” Utasia asked. “What could you do for me?”

  “I am Black Light, a Fallen Goddess. Though my understanding of the world is no match for your progenitor, my insight into Chaos and Order is unparalleled.”

  “Fallen… Goddess?” Utasia blinked twice. She turned to her mistress and Antina, both of which returned her an amused look. “I don’t understand. A living, breathing divine being?”

  “You may think of me as your mistress’s guardian angel.”

  “Is Lady Iris that impressive?”

  “She’s grander than you think.”

  Iris clicked her tongue. “Nothing worth discussing. Black Light, if you keep asking personal questions, others might misunderstand our relationship.”

  Antina deeply inhaled. Utasia alternated her attention between Iris and Black Light. Her mistress, with a goddess? How… exciting?

  “If it’s what Mistress wants,” Utasia said. “I’ll become her most precious experiment.”

  “Don’t overwork her. I still need her to be my double,” Iris said. She gestured for Antina to follow her.

  They left the office and headed for the first floor. Antina did not ask her mistress anything, nor did she reveal her curiosity. She meticulously guided her mistress down the stairs, out of the salon, and into a carriage. She sat opposite her mistress and closed her eyes, waiting, wondering.

  “Antina, is the past as real as the present?” Iris said.

  “What did you see, Mistress?”

  “I was there, Antina. I was in the past that couldn’t have been recovered.”

  “Was it a conjured memory?”

  “They felt so real. I felt so real.”

  Antina opened her eyes. Iris laid bare her palms. The illusory frame of a tattered, muddled, and aged scroll unfurled before her. It contained a map of the world bygone, the world whose legacy sank under a silent flood.

  Iris pushed lightly. The scroll flew toward Antina. She accepted it and examined the landscape. Although the dried ink had faded, the outline of the ocean currents persisted. A world unfolded in her eyes, a world surrounded by mists and myths, a world Iris had experienced and tainted.

  “Pale Tempest Ocean,” Antina said. “Have you journeyed through a fable?”

  Iris shook her head. “It was a prelude to something. I never got a chance to witness it.”

  “Will you be revisiting its remains?”

  “The ocean will always exist. What I want to know is the past.”

  Iris tapped the illusory scroll with her index finger. Her fingertip pierced the paper and hooked a string whose beginning and end shifted in and out of view. She tucked it back. The string spun a ball of web, which rolled on the back of her hand up her arm and danced in the air until it was in front of her chest.

  She plucked a thread, untangled it from the rest, and weaved it around her index finger. The other threads swarmed the lonely thread, but Iris pressed them still. A blue light orb manifested along the string, flickering like a lighthouse, traced a path toward elsewhere.

  The orb entered the carriage roof, merged through its wooden surface, and escaped skyward. Countless bundled strings stirred, awakened by the orb’s intrusion. They groggily swayed before spreading their appendages outward.

  Tainted by the energy of the foreign past, the carriage lost its vibrant colours. Murmuring noises of an ocean tide rose from the depth and drowned out the surrounding ambient. Damped mosses grew on cracks and extensions of the carriage while siren’s music rang as a lullaby for its two listeners.

  Antina’s shadow bubbled, but she composed herself. Her mistress, with her eyes closed, enjoyed the nostalgic atmosphere. She wouldn’t disturb the moment.

  “Focus, Antina,” Iris said. “Your mother must’ve taught you much, much more than I could ever have known.”

  “Not even Mother has ever visited the past.”

  “This will be a valuable experience for you, too.”

  Iris clutched onto the lonely string and yanked it. Its connection to the sky snapped. It shot backwards to the ball of webs. The blue orb shattered. Its fragments floated to the sky and scattered as a path leading to Iris’s destination.

  The illusion of the ocean’s past quivered. The salty smell of the seawater and the little rocking of the voyage boat subsided. The mosses, rotten woods, and siren tones dissolved to mere noises, sinking into the mundane clicking of the carriage wheels against fine pebbles.

  Iris frowned. She parted the window curtain and stared past the crowd and townhouses and storefronts. Her focus converged on a bustling establishment, a national attraction, a historical site.

  “It seems I cannot escape it,” Iris said. “The journal is in Donhalgen Beast Museum.”

  “Must you really go?”

  “I have to know the truth.” Iris smiled. “But not now. We still have the time; there are things that take priority.”

  …

  “There’s no need for you to go with me,” Iris said. “Sit and enjoy the silence; you have a lot of to think about, haven’t you?”

  Antina let time march for a short while before she nodded. Iris held her maid’s hands and kissed them. She gave a light peck on her maid’s cheek before she alighted her carriage.

  She arrived at Restful Clinic, whose name sign glimmered under the evening light. Only a few people were in the clinics, getting ready to leave. The receptionist hung a sign indicating the closing time. She gleefully swept the floor and wiped away dust from the windowpanes. Her eyes wandered to the last customer and, met with Iris’s cool air, stopped her task to greet the lady.

  “The clinic is closing soon, Miss,” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Tell Rarisa I’m here for her prescription.”

  “Are you her friend?”

  “Her partner in crime.”

  The receptionist tilted her head. “She told me she didn’t want to meet anyone today.”

  “Tell her that her debtor is here.” Iris chuckled. “You can call me Iris, Miss. I’m one of her business partners, someone who knows her intimately well.”

  A warm, blurry breath escaped Iris’s lips. Her expression glowed under the reflection of the lantern light.

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