Miradjinn

In our world, eye colour reveals more than mere genetics. It unveils each individual's hidden potential, their capacity to manipulate ruh.

The majority, the Soulsilent, are born with familiar hues - brown, blue, black, hazel... They live without the innate gift of ruh manipulation, yet are not devoid of possibilities.

Then come the Soulshaper, recognisable by their green eyes. From birth, they can mould ruh to their will, each developing a unique power. However, an invisible barrier at level 60 prevents them from attaining Master rank without an awakening.

Rarer still are those with golden eyes, bearers of hereditary powers. These gifts, passed down through generations in certain Kiyo families, are as potent as they are mysterious.

Nature's complexity doesn't end there. When lineages mix, new possibilities emerge. A child born to a green-eyed parent and one with ordinary eyes has an equal chance of inheriting ruh manipulation. More fascinating still, the union of a Soulshaper and a hereditary power bearer can produce a child with mixed eyes, possessing both a personal power and a diluted version of the family gift.

Yet, despite these seemingly immutable rules, exceptions exist. Individuals with unusual eye colours sometimes appear, defying classification. Such is Aleria, whose purple eyes harbour a power beyond our current understanding. I have doubts about her; she reminds me of someone else with a different iris shade. Perhaps I'll learn more by observing her.

A dull thud against the window jolts me awake. Instantly alert, my senses heighten. My body tenses, ready to react to any threat. Motionless, I scan the room, seeking the noise's source.

Another impact resonates, then another. I rise slowly, cautiously approaching the window. What I discover leaves me astonished.

The landscape I'd observed yesterday has transformed completely. A thick blanket of snow covers everything, turning the village into a winter tableau. Trees, roofs, streets, all wrapped in an immaculate white mantle.

But what truly captures my attention are the children. A group of youngsters, bundled in thick coats, amuse themselves by throwing snowballs at house windows. Their laughter and shouts echo in the cold morning air.

However, their game quickly takes a darker turn. Their words, carried by the icy wind, reach me clearly:

"Filthy witch!" one shouts, aiming at the neighbouring window.

"Baba Yaga!" another chimes in, his voice tinged with contempt.

"Monster!" yells a third, hurling his snowball with surprising force.

I realise with a pang that their insults are directed at Aleria.

I move silently, carefully avoiding being seen through the window. Cautiously, I crack open my bedroom door, discreetly observing the scene unfolding in the house.

The silence inside starkly contrasts with the outside clamour. Jasper seems absent, the house oddly calm despite the commotion outside. My gaze sweeps the room and settles on a huddled form behind the sofa.

It's Pavel. The young boy is curled up, eyes tightly shut, hands clamped over his ears. His entire body trembles, testifying to a deep terror in the face of this persecution.

Suddenly, a movement catches my eye. Aleria emerges from an adjacent room, her face bearing a sombre expression. Her purple eyes, usually so gentle, shine with an intense, almost dangerous, gleam.

But in an instant, her expression changes. The hardness in her gaze softens when she spots Pavel. She approaches him with muffled steps, kneeling by his side. With infinite tenderness, she envelops her little brother in her arms.

"Hush, it's alright, my little Vel," she whispers soothingly. "Your beloved big sister is here. I'll chase away all these nasty ones, don't worry."

Suddenly, Pavel looks up, noticing my presence. Aleria follows his gaze and startles slightly, her cheeks colouring a rosy hue.

"Oh, Sahar," she says softly, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "I'm sorry these children woke you with their racket."

I step into the room, my footsteps muffled on the floorboards. My gaze meets Pavel's, and I see in him the reflection of my own past, vulnerable and frightened. Then, I turn to Aleria, aware of the pain she must feel in the face of this harassment.

"Good morning," I murmur, a gentle smile forming on my lips. My eyes, though hidden behind my mask, soften as I look at them.

Aleria blushes further, seeming surprised by the kindness in my tone. She can't see my face, but something in my demeanour seems to touch her.

"It's nothing," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. "How are you this morning? Pavel, are you feeling better?"

Pavel nods shyly, cuddling closer to his sister. Aleria, meanwhile, seems momentarily lost in thought, her purple eyes shining with an emotion I can't decipher.

"We're... fine," she finally responds, her voice betraying a certain surprise at my concern.

I crouch to their level, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and trust. "If you need anything," I say softly, "don't hesitate to tell me. I'm here to help."

Sahara, perceiving Pavel's distress, leaves my shoulder to snuggle against him. The boy flinches before relaxing, gently stroking the fennec.

I turn to Aleria. "When do we leave to see your cousin?"

The young girl's cheeks tinge pink, her gaze avoiding mine. "S-soon," she whispers. "I'll entrust you with Belyy for the journey."

"Belyy?" I enquire, curious.

Pavel suddenly animates. "Belyy has an amazing power! He makes people invisible!"

Aleria's eyes light up, a mixture of excitement and apprehension dancing in her unique irises. "I'll show you," she says, her voice betraying contained enthusiasm.

She takes Belyy in her arms, her fingers twitching slightly, revealing her impatience to demonstrate her companion's power. In an instant, both vanish from my sight. I blink, surprised, scanning the room. Even without using my MirEye, I should be able to perceive their presence. Yet, it's as if they've evaporated.

"Aleria?" I call softly.

A slight rustle to my left betrays her position, but I still see nothing. I can almost imagine her mischievous smile, proud to have surprised me.

Suddenly, Aleria and Belyy reappear to my right. Her eyes sparkle with joy, her lips stretching into a satisfied smile she tries to contain.

"That's how it works," she explains, her voice oscillating between pride and slight nervousness. "When we don't move, we're invisible. But as soon as we make more than one movement..."

She takes a small step, illustrating her point. Her eyes seek my approval, eager to see my reaction.

"It's truly impressive," I respond, genuinely fascinated.

Aleria's face lights up at my compliment, her cheeks tinting a light pink. She hugs Belyy a bit tighter, silently sharing her joy with him.

"That's how you'll be able to follow me without being seen," she adds, her gaze alternating between me and Belyy, as if already anticipating our collaboration. "As long as you remain still with Belyy, no one will be able to spot you."

I nod, reflecting on the implications of this unique power. Aleria observes me attentively, her face betraying her curiosity about my thoughts, while absentmindedly stroking Belyy, as if thanking him for his performance.

Don't worry, I know how to follow you while taking advantage of his invisibility without moving.

She slips away for a moment, returning with a coat she awkwardly hands me. "I-it's cold outside," she explains, her fingers fidgeting nervously on the fabric.

"I won't need it," I politely decline. "The cold doesn't bother me." A fleeting image of my training in the icy mountains crosses my mind, reminding me of days spent surviving in much harsher conditions.

"Oh," she breathes, her irises widening in surprise. She bites her lip, visibly searching for words.

A quarter of an hour later, Aleria dons her own coat, her movements clumsy under my gaze. She gathers her belongings, a rather worn notebook, ink, and a quill.

Leaning towards Pavel, she affectionately tousles his hair. "Be good," she whispers. "We won't be long." The boy nods, still clutching Sahara to him.

I retrieve Belyy, carrying him in my arms. Aleria gestures towards the exit.

"Sahara, watch over the little one during my absence," I ask Sahara telepathically.

"Alright, Dad, but come back soon!" she requests, sad to be separated from me.

Outside, Aleria freezes for a moment. Her aura changes abruptly, as if a switch had been flipped. The shy young girl disappears, giving way to a terrifying entity.

Her eyes, usually so gentle, metamorphose into two purple abysses, devoid of all compassion. A supernatural glow dances in them, promising unspeakable punishments. She advances towards the children with a predatory gait, the air around her seeming to distort.

Her voice, now a chilling whisper that nonetheless carries to the depths of the soul, rises:

"Miserable vermin," she hisses, each syllable oozing malevolence. "Dare to disturb my peace once more, and I swear hell will seem a refuge compared to what I'll make you endure. Your most terrifying nightmares will be but a sweet lullaby compared to the torments I'll inflict upon you. I'll transform your bones into broken glass, your blood into acid, and your screams into a symphony for my ears."

She raises a hand, swirls of purple mist coiling around her fingers. "One more word, one wrong thought, and I'll rip out your souls to make them my playthings. Now, vanish from my sight before I decide to give you a taste of eternity in the abyss."

The children, paralysed by primal terror, remain frozen for an instant before fleeing screaming, some stumbling in their haste to distance themselves from this manifestation of pure threat.

I remain in the background, stunned by this metamorphosis. Aleria's gentleness has vanished, revealing a creature capable of inspiring visceral fear even in the bravest.

The children gone, Aleria turns to me. For the space of a heartbeat, her mask falls. Her eyes, usually so lively, briefly darken, betraying a deep weariness. Her shoulders imperceptibly sag, as if releasing a long-held breath.

But this moment of vulnerability vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Aleria lifts her chin, her face regaining a neutral expression. Only a slight trembling of her hand, which she quickly masters, testifies to her inner turmoil.

"We should go," she says simply, her voice calm and measured.

I nod silently, respecting her discretion.