As the doors open, a welcoming warmth greets her, almost stifling after the biting cold outside. She removes her heavy, ice-encrusted coat, opens a portal—just a small window—and tosses it through, along with her hat, straight into her quarters. Then she closes the opening and brushes off the snow—already beginning to melt—that still clings to the rest of her clothes.

A few of Taru’s tentacles emerge from her vest, but he remains nestled against her chest, snug and warm. After spending days in the cold, all he longs for is a little heat, and that’s perfectly understandable.

Inside the greenhouse, towering trees stretch up to the glass ceiling. Beyond, the wind howls, carrying swirling snowflakes in its grasp. Without the garden’s near-tropical temperatures, the glass panels would be coated in frost, but instead, long rivulets of water bead on the translucent walls, barely visible through the persistent fog. It’s as if they’re inside a snow globe—except the snow is on the outside…

But Akesha spares little thought for the world beyond; she’ll be back out soon enough. Instead, she admires the gnarled trunks of the trees—baobabs, fig trees, magnolias, ginkgos, and neem trees. As she wanders through the nursery’s paths, she observes ponds where multicolored fish swim alongside salamanders, dart frogs, and turtles. She marvels at the vividly colored birds flitting from branch to branch or nesting in the canopy above.

She greets a Muna druidess she passes on a wooden pontoon, winks at a jaguar lounging on a high branch, its tail swaying lazily from side to side. Looking up, she catches sight of a capuchin monkey leaping overhead, pursued by two rather irate macaws. A little further on, a Daughter of Yggdrasil moves gracefully among the trunks of her silent brethren, carrying in her foliage a tamarin and an iguana, both eagerly begging for fruity treats.

Finally warm, Taru stretches and slips free from his snug hideaway, floating beside her, his appendages fluttering as he takes interest in a plant being levitated nearby by the Yzmir mage. It’s a delicate white flower, its stem covered in a fine fuzz. Its petals are nearly transparent, edged with a faint blue rim, and its pistil gleams with a subtle golden hue. She had carefully plucked it during her expedition, ensuring it remained unharmed by tucking it into a corner of her bottomless bag.

‘This isn’t for you, Taru’, she tells her Chimera.

She glances at Aja’s workshop, where numerous bundles of dried herbs and flowers hang from the rafters. The Eidolon, however, is nowhere to be seen. A shame—no one else knows as much about plants, regardless of their origin. Who else could she consult in Aja’s absence? Cernunnos? Karya?

At a fork in the path, she hesitates. The greenhouse can turn into a verdant labyrinth if one doesn’t pay attention. Fortunately, she’s spent enough time here not to get lost. To the left lies the section dedicated to temperate ecosystems, and to the right, the realm of arctic flora and fauna. And she is certain her plant will be much more comfortable with a few degrees less.

Walking along a misted-over glass wall, she heads toward the small annex where the boreal plants are kept. With a slight exertion of Mana, she summons a cloak to her shoulders, fastening it securely. She pulls on a fresh pair of gloves, lined with soft fur.

Taru, however, is far less enthusiastic about facing the cold again and quickly wriggles into her sleeve. She feels his suckers latching onto her forearm, climbing up toward his makeshift shelter.

Just a quick trip, little clingy one.

Taru merely grumbles in her mind.

Kesh pushes aside the rubbery curtains separating the two biomes, letting them fall heavily behind her. After passing through the second airlock, she can’t help but shiver. Wisps of vapor rise with her breath, and Taru huddles closer against her, shrinking as much as he can while the temperature drops by dozens of degrees. Brrr. A thousand times brrr.

Not everyone finds it so unbearable. Further ahead, Jack Frost is engaged in a snowball fight with the Yeti—rapid volleys of projectiles from one side, oversized boulders from the other. She smirks as she watches a snowball the size of a globe slam into the boy, nearly burying him entirely.

Here, dragon trees and palms have given way to pines, rowans, larches, and aspens. The greenhouse’s vaulted ceiling has even been opened, allowing snowflakes to drift down. After all, within the Storhvit, there’s no need for kelonic climate regulators—so why not take advantage of nature’s own touch?

Aside from a snowy owl gliding silently nearby, there seems to be no sign of life. But she knows better. Rabbits, foxes, and penguins are surely lurking, perfectly camouflaged in the pristine whiteness.

Against her chest, Taru tightens his grip.

Yes, yes, we’ll be quick.

Following the stone-paved path, Akesha ventures deeper into the snowy landscape. She crosses a stream, its water still flowing between delicate icicles and patches of ice, then follows the trail to a small clearing encircled by towering spruces. In the center of the open space, a cozy cottage releases thick, comforting white smoke from its chimney.

She knocks on the door and waits patiently for a response. A small voice answers from inside, and she steps in, making sure to stomp the snow off her boots at the threshold.

‘I have a small delivery’, she announces shyly.

‘You can leave it on the table’, comes a warm, pleasant voice from within.

After dusting off her cloak, Kesh sets the pot down as instructed.

‘It’s a new specimen, I believe. I’ve already labeled it.’

‘Perfect’, simply replies the Muna naturalist.

‘Mind if I warm up a little?’

‘Not at all’, the botanist answers casually. ‘There’s hot water in the kettle and some herbs on the table. Feel free to make yourself some tea. Make yourself at home. There are even cinnamon biscuits if you’d like.’

Biscuits? Now that’s an offer she won’t refuse. Kesh warms her backside by the fireplace, nibbling on a shortbread cookie. The fire crackles in the hearth, radiating its much-needed heat along with a pleasant scent. She feels her numb fingers come back to life, enough to peel off her gloves. She takes a cup, sets it on the wooden table, and pours hot water into the teapot along with a pinch of crumbled leaves and flowers before serving herself a steaming portion.

As she blows on the drink, a fresh, floral aroma fills her senses. Taru, too, seems to relax against her. Frost patterns lace the windowpanes in delicate designs, and in the hush of winter’s embrace, the crackling embers seem louder than usual.

Akesha sips her tea, still too hot, while observing the Muna researcher. She realizes now that the woman isn’t a botanist, as she had initially assumed. In front of her, branches are carefully arranged on the worktable, meticulously positioned. Suspended from their twigs hang elongated, slightly rounded, and ringed forms, glowing faintly with a bluish sheen—though their natural radiance is somewhat muted by the warm, amber glow of the cabin.

The mage approaches, as curious as she is intimidated.

‘What are you working on?’, she finally asks.

‘Hmm? Oh, I’m assisting a mage called Moyo. He is in charge of exobiological research. We're studying an endemic species from the region. They're nymphs.’

Indeed, dozens of chrysalises are attached like tiny bells on a reed stem, like they do during the Ryukkôsai.

‘Butterflies?’

‘Moths, yes.’

A zoologist, then, she thinks to herself.

After setting down her pencil, the Muna turns and fixes her with the most captivating amethyst gaze. Her eyes are an otherworldly shade of violet, contrasting with her fair skin and hair so platinum it seems white.

‘You're just in time—look.’

The naturalist gestures toward a glass dome, where a single cocoon glows in isolation. Kesh narrows her eyes, scrutinizing the nymph with curiosity.

‘It's hatching’, she suddenly marvels.

‘Yes, and as it does, the moth will begin to emit Mana on a continuous basis.’

She removes the glasses that had been perched on the bridge of her nose.

‘Until its short lifespan reaches its end…’

The chrysalis slowly opens as the moth begins to emerge. Through her Irises, Akesha can see the small creature pulsing with Mana. Energy radiates from the crack and diffuses into the air, latching onto the twig the cocoon was attached to, causing it to sprout budding flowers.

‘Unlike other butterflies, it exits from the side.’

‘I see that. And the residue at the bottom?’, she finally asks.

‘Those are the fluids from its self-digestion.’

The Muna smiles at the Initiate's slightly disgusted expression.

‘That's how the caterpillar transforms into a moth.’

The moth unfurls its diaphanous wings. Akesha looks at it more closely.

‘But... it's not fully incarnate?’

The Muna shakes her head.

‘That's what’s so fascinating about this species. It’s a creature of pure idea. And as time passes, the Mana that partially sustains it begins to dissipate.’

‘So there's never enough to make it fully tangible?’

‘Exactly. Its cycle is divided into three distinct phases: first, the larva; then the nymph’ —she pointed at the chrysalis— ‘then the Mana Moth. But the most spectacular moment is when two individuals meet.’

Akesha watches her intently, fascinated.

‘Then’, the Muna continues, ‘an explosion annihilates them both. But this collision scatters countless tiny specks, which can only truly be seen under a microscope.’

‘Like pollen?’

‘Except they're larvae. They settle onto the snow and survive despite the cold. More than that, actually. The snow’s whiteness helps them camouflage.’

‘That's how they reproduce?’

The naturalist nods.

‘That's what I’m studying, actually—whether these spores evolve into distinct individuals or remain identical copies. Ah, and by the way, my name is Saskia.’

‘Akesha, nice to meet you.’

‘I know who you are—the mage interested in time. Exalts rarely visit me here. You might even be the first…’

Kesh continues to observe the researcher’s workstation—scattered notebooks filled with scribbled entries, sketches, and observations; jars containing insect specimens, their smell less than pleasant. The Initiate takes another sip of her tea.

‘And you specialize in insects?’

Saskia shakes her head.

‘Not just insects. Anything related to species interactions, whether it’s symbiosis—the collaboration between two organisms—or say parasitism.’

‘Like worms?’

‘Among others, but also orchids, lichens, crustaceans, fungi, slime molds... and, of course, insects. All living beings exist within a vast web of mutualism, commensalism, or, conversely, competition and predation. I even believe Mana Moths play a central role in the Storhvit ecosystem…’

‘I don’t know much about that’, the young mage admits.

‘There’s something symbiotic about the relationship between an Alterer and their Alter Ego’, Saskia remarks.

Akesha places a hand on her chest, where Taru is nestled.

‘Well, we all have our own areas of expertise’’, the Muna continues. ‘I'm sure you could teach me a lot about the nature of time…’

Kesh shakes her head.

‘I'm not an expert yet either. I still have so many questions—some of them far too existential. For example, if a person could exist simultaneously in the past, present, and future, would they still be able to perceive events deterministically? If everything coexisted, would they even understand what a story is?’

Saskia scratches her head, clearly puzzled.

‘I think you already lost me.’

Akesha suddenly looks horrified.

‘Sorry, I tend to get carried away sometimes’, she admits sheepishly.

‘Don't fret about it. It’s fun to see people get all excited about what they love.’

Kesh smiles then, blushing slightly. Under the glass dome, the moth begins to flutter, repeatedly bumping against the barrier.

‘Is it normal for it to stay trapped like that? It should be able to pass through, shouldn't it?’

Saskia turns her gaze to the imprisoned moth.

‘Some prisons aren’t tangible. Most aren’t, actually. Don’t you think?’

Akesha simply nods.