The water has a silky texture, as if milk had been poured into the hot spring. I rub it on my arms and shoulders, hoping to make my skin softer, while to my left, Nevenka lets out a loud sigh. Her arms rest on the edge of the pool, head tilted back. Her loose hair forms a violet halo, floating on the white-turquoise surface. Her expression is paradoxically both one of exhaustion and absolute bliss. A strange mix.

Since Atsadi struck the ground with his sword, the water has been bubbling up from the depths without stopping. That was all the encouragement I needed to divert a few streams and set up pools so everyone could enjoy them. Even if, in the end, I received more scoldings than thanks—something about it being a wasteful use of the Mana we had gathered. Wasteful? What nonsense. An onsen is more than fitting for our current conditions, no matter what the self-righteous say. It’s warm, pleasant, the complete opposite of frostbite and endless shivering.

Nevenka sighs again.

‘I don’t get why people say baths are pointless’, she mutters, keeping her eyes closed.

‘No one says that, Nev’, remarks the third member of our little excursion.

To my right, Fen is almost entirely submerged in the water, her long black hair styled into an elaborate bun. She has a damp towel on her head, which she occasionally uses to wipe her flushed cheeks and forehead.

‘I’ve heard people say it before, that’s all!’

‘At a bar in Arkaster?’

Nevenka pouts.

‘And what if I did, huh? Who are you to challenge the wisdom of the people?’

‘I’m not contradicting ‘the people’, I’m contradicting you. Big difference.’

Suddenly, Nevenka stands up abruptly, splashing us in the process. Now standing in the cold and completely bare, she points a finger at both of us, nearly shouting.

‘I know what I know!’

‘Yeah, yeah’, Fen sighs, rolling her eyes.

Nevenka fumes, to the point where I feel compelled to step in.

‘What our favorite songstress means to say is that wisdom is overrated. And I’m not sure you really want to be wise, my dear.’

The Alterer thinks for a few moments before grumbling in agreement.

‘Being wise is pointless anyway.’

Fen smirks. ‘Like baths, you mean?’

‘That’s it! I’ve had it with your snide remarks! I’ll take a bath if I want to, and more importantly, I’ll be wise if I want to! I just don’t want to, okay?’

Fen and I nod automatically.

‘We never doubted you, little sugar puff’, I say almost instinctively.

‘Try me. I dare you to’, Fen teases, clearly not ready to let things settle.

Normally so composed and almost regal in her demeanor, Fen is completely different around Nevenka. Even after all these months, I still can’t tell if this is a persona she adopts to counterbalance this bundle of nervous energy, or if, on the contrary, being around her wild friend allows her to be more herself. Either way, I love both sides of her—princess on one hand, little troublemaker on the other.

Turning to Nevenka, I see her mind racing. Should she prove that she can be a model young lady, having both won and lost the argument? Or should she throw it all away in a fit of anger, proving herself both wrong and right? A thousand expressions flicker across her face—defiance, frustration, dejection, hysteria. It’s almost comical. I start to giggle.

As if on cue, Nevenka pouts. She’s chosen to sulk this time. She sinks back into the water, blowing bubbles as she drifts away. Using Alteration, she conjures a small yellow shape that begins to float. Intrigued, I realize it resembles a grotesque duck, its beak bright orange like a tangerine.

Still pouting, she isolates herself on the other side of the pool, summoning duck after duck after duck, as if repeating herself over and over. Is this a message?

Beside me, Fen smiles. Even though she enjoys teasing her, I know she adores Nevenka. Maybe because the outcast of the Ossonoya Clan is too inconsistent to hold a grudge…

‘It’s strange, being here, enjoying hot springs, while others are struggling in the cold. Don’t you feel a little guilty?’

‘Not in the slightest. Do you?’

She seems to think deeply, making ripples with her fingers.

‘A little. I tend to feel guilty too easily. Ever since I was a child, actually.’

‘In my experience, it’s better to have remorse than regrets. And right now, I have absolutely no regrets about soaking in this while it’s twenty below outside.’

She looks at her pruned fingers, lost in thought.

‘You don’t worry people might resent us? For not contributing to the war effort?’

‘Ha! Listen to yourself, young lady. We’re not here for war. We’re here to rediscover. And right now, what we’re doing is precisely part of our mission’s objectives: rediscovering the pleasures of these baths.’

‘Oh, please’, she jokes, nudging me lightly with her elbow.

‘What an outrageous display of violence! Such unwarranted cruelty!’ I pretend to be offended. ‘What did I ever say to deserve such treatment?’

She laughs heartily, while Nevenka glares at us, probably feeling left out.

‘So, do you have regrets?’

I don’t ask out of pure curiosity—it feels more like something she needs to get off her chest. She grimaces and sighs.

‘I regret not speaking up more when the Clan was banished. Not finding the right words.’

‘I doubt the adults would have listened to you, no matter what.’

Her expression turns sorrowful.

‘Maybe. But I haven’t lost hope of making amends…’

‘You have a plan?’

She looks at me, both determined and slightly embarrassed.

‘You’re going to think it’s silly, but I believe that if I could find the Song of One and sing it to the Matriarchs, then everyone would remember that we are one family…’

Staring at her, I suddenly see her youth and innocence.

‘And how do you plan to do that? The words of the Song of One have been forgotten, and its melody lost. And even if you found it, what makes you think it would fix everything?’

‘I know, it’s stupid’, she admits.

‘That’s not what I said, sweetheart.’

I let her gather her thoughts, wrapped in deep silence. Well, as silent as it can be with Nevenka, who is growing visibly impatient with being ‘well-behaved’.

‘The Song of One symbolizes the unity of all Lyra. Nine Clans, but one great family. If I could bring the Matriarchs together, as Chiara Cacares once did, then maybe they would understand.’

I press my lips together.

‘The goddess Mnemosyne holds all the world’s memories. She knows the words of the Song. And if the Matriarchs refuse, I will call upon her Eidolon to convince their patrons, the Muses, to sway them. Mnemosyne is their mother. They will have to listen.’

I run a hand through my hair.

‘You’ve put a lot of thought into this.’

‘I know it’s unrealistic. But like you said, better to live with remorse than regrets, right?’

‘Haha, fair point. I can’t contradict myself.’

No matter what I say, there’s something touching about her honesty. Her desire to do good as well. I watch her closely, saddened that I can’t reveal the truth to her. I can’t doubt her sincerity, however naive it may be. But something was definitely going on within the Kasirga Clan. The mention of Mnemosyne was no coincidence, nor was the exile. Someone was pulling the strings in the shadows, planting this idea in the young girl’s mind. Was it a natural and organic inception, or had it been forced upon her without her realizing it?

‘I’m going to do it, Auraq. I will find the Song of the One. I don’t care if people say it’s impossible or pointless. I will make things right. I know it’s the right thing to do, and the Wind agrees with me.’

I simply smile. Her determination is endearing—and contagious.

‘On a completely different note, what do you use to make your skin so soft?’

She blinks and looks at me, her cheeks flushing slightly. Did my voice come out too sultry and teasing? I can’t stop now.

‘I’ve tried every cream imaginable, and the result is always the same. Without makeup, this is what I get—rough skin, no matter what…’

‘Well… uh…’

I relish seeing her so flustered and embarrassed, but I don’t get the chance to enjoy it for long.

‘Aaaaaaah, I’ve had enough!’

From the other side of the pool, Nevenka flails her arms, splashing water everywhere. A swarm of lemon-yellow ducks floats in the mist—maybe a hundred of them—created in just the few minutes since she started making them.

Fen starts laughing, but her expression suddenly freezes. I notice it immediately.

‘You okay?’

She doesn’t answer, as if she’s suddenly turned to stone.

‘Fen?’

I press a little, even going so far as to place a hand on her shoulder. She jolts, stammering a few words.

‘The Wind… I hear voices carried by the Wind.’

I feel a light breeze brush against my skin as it sweeps across the plains, but nothing more. I hear nothing besides the gurgling of the water and the wind rustling through the blue grasses.

‘What do you hear?’

I observe the sprawling coral formations standing tall in the tundra, as large as hills. A few oddly shaped birds drift through the sky…

‘I can’t make it out clearly…’

I turn to Nevenka, who is still making a racket.

‘Nev, silence!’

She stops abruptly, caught off guard by my tone. I know how to make myself heard. Years of theater have made it easy for me to control my voice.

‘If I want to!’, she still dares to add.

I press a finger to my lips, and she falls silent.

‘Fen?’

‘He’s trapped. He wants to be freed. His voice drifts on the Wind, across the valley. He growls. He roars. He strikes against his cage.’

‘A threat?’

I straighten up as the water slides down my torso and along my legs.

‘He is lightning, rain, and ice. He is the chill of winter…’

I scan the surroundings, searching for danger. Like everyone else, I’ve heard about the attacks targeting the Expeditionary Corps. Fen suddenly turns toward me, her eyes wide.

‘It’s an Oneiros’, she says. ‘And it needs our help!’