Chapter 2| I Brought Home A Magical Woman

I pulled over in front of a two-story house and the notes of piano swimming in the night air made their way into our ears. It was one of Mom's—and mine even—ways to calm down, indulging ourselves in music. But I could feel the nervousness on the melody with the way Mom had hit a wrong note, stopping for a moment and then continuing in a slower tempo. Then she halted completely.

She must be going down the stairs now that she had heard the purr of my motorbike die down.

Despite that, I knew—I just knew that she at least had a stun gun hidden under her clothes right now. Or a gun. Bringing home a winged stranger claiming to help us wasn't trustworthy and I wouldn't just bring home someone.

Yet, against those, I had brought home this woman who got off my bike like it was a donkey. Morris attempted to take the helmet off and I watched her struggle until she managed to unbuckle it. She passed it to me with a frown on her face. "Thank you for not telling me how to remove this thing," she said.

"You're welcome." I grinned shamelessly and her eyes rolled skyward. I gave back the helmet to her. "Hold this for now."

The house's front door opened and Mom, with a frown, stomped over and opened the gate for us. Her hazel eyes, which looked light brown during the dark, scanned Morris and narrowed at her face.

Morris didn't have any time to dip her head low into a vow, her clenched hand before her heart. "Nice to meet you, Madame Amara. Morris Brayce at your service," she said, the corner of her lips shifting upward as she straightened her back and brought her hand down.

My mother shot me a glance before sighing. "Seems like you also already know me." She gestured a hand towards the house. "Do come in."

Morris obediently followed Mom inside the house as I drove my sportbike to the open garage, parking it beside our black car. I waved a glowing hand and closed down the garage doors with the wind, before taking off my helmet and stepping inside the house through the back door.

I put the helmet and things down on a nearby shelf with space and found Morris staring at the murals on the living room's walls. A forest of glowing plants. "Something wrong?" I asked her.

She turned to me. "Who painted these?" She motioned at the paintings, her eyes seemed to twinkle with the vibrant colors around us.

"I did." I walked over and took the helmet from her.

"These are . . . beautiful," she said, a smile forming on her lips as she studied the walls again. "They seemed so real and alive."

I glanced at Mom who just came out of the kitchen, balancing a jug of orange juice, three glasses filled already with the cold beverage, and some slices of apple pie on a tray.

"Oh, Faenice, you did not have to, Ma'am," Morris claimed and rushed towards my mother to help her put down the tray on the center table.

"I insist," Mom replied and sat down on the couch. I followed suit and so did Morris with a bit of hesitation. "So you're here to help us or something?" She questioned in a low voice, her fingers interlacing.

"Yes." Our guest nodded. "I am here on behalf of my master, Sir Killian's best friend, to help and protect you and your daughter from harm."

"This harm you're talking about, they are your so-called enemies, correct?"

"They are, Ma'am. Although this may sound absurd, the world Sir Killian and I came from has wars brewing. They know the Millennium Glory has a family outside of Luminozenko, that's why I am sent here by his allies to find you."

Mom shifted her hazel eyes to me and back to Morris. "Alright, let's say you're telling the truth. It means that Killian had gone back to your world to take care of your enemies and he went missing because of that. Now, you know where we are, sent by my husband's best friend, does that mean your enemies will find us soon as well?"

Morris gave her another nod. "In short, yes."

Mom squinted her eyes at her in suspicion. "How can we be so sure you're not my husband's enemy?"

I pursed my lips into a thin line to fight back the laughter threatening to come out.

"I will explain. Please listen." Morris started to explain the differences between their sides, using almost the same words she had said to persuade me into trusting her. It had worked, just a little. Otherwise, I wouldn't even let her touch a millimeter of me.

I looked over at Mom. My mother listened to her intently, face serious and collected, hazel eyes pensive, the expression she had always worn whenever she was at her work. She had solved complicated cases, worked in dangerous places, and saw inhumane crimes.

In her brilliant mind, she was most likely putting the pieces together, that we must do something before the enemies catch us.

Dad was a lucky man. A very, very, very lucky man, to be able to find such an amazing and loyal woman.

"They don't exactly know this address, do they?" Mom asked Morris.

"I can't say for sure, Ma'am," Morris answered, uncertainty coating her voice thick. "Either way, they have ways to track you and Cyan down."

"You said that you must bring my daughter to your world, to be able to protect her fully?"

"Yes."

"With the way you say it, means only she can come, yes?"

I frowned and shifted my eyes to Morris. She nodded. "Our worlds have different pressures, no souls from Earth can take it, and no creature from Earth can see or pass through the gates that lead to Luminozenko."

"Hold on," I demanded, raising a hand and shaking my head. "I can't leave Mom here all alone. I have so many things I can't leave here."

“I’m sorry, Cyan, but you have to,” she said in a soft voice. “If you don’t leave, our enemies will surely take them from you instead. Wouldn’t the former be better?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. She’s right, but . . .

"So what magic do you have?” Mom questioned, motioning a hand at Morris. “Cyan can control wind and earth which she inherited from Killian. You’re from the same race, so it must be close to that?”

“I control the earth, ma’am.” Morris flashed her a smile. "Every Feralis can control elements. But there are a few among us powerful enough to control things that don't normally happen in everyday life. When I say powerful, hmm . . . " she trailed off and snapped her finger. “Let's just say they can control natural disasters. Oh, wait, I guess that won't be natural anymore, but on Earth, it would be called that.

"The family of the master I serve is one of those and I'm pretty close to some others." She grinned proudly. I only stared at her, unable to relate to whatever rubbish she was saying. Morris cleared her throat. "Anyways, you won't die. I can assure you that," she said, her voice clear and serious, but not so convincing for me.

"You have a strong blood running through your veins; blessed with strong magic power." She clapped once. "Impiero, even good looks." Then, she took several sips from her glass of juice.

I furrowed my brows. Impi—what?

"Your father, Sir Killian is one of those who can control such things. That fact that you can control elements that well already for someone who didn’t grow up in Luminozenko, means that you can go to Luminozenko unscathed by its pressure." She put down the empty glass on the table. "Albeit, I'm sorry that we can't bring Madame Amara with us."

I looked down at the table. My nails dug into my palm hard, but not enough to draw out blood. I couldn't just leave Mom here. My only family, my only home.

A loud and long sigh escaped Mom's lips, bringing my attention to her. She was looking at me, her hazel eyes soft, and at the same time, they held disappointment and relief. What was she relieved of?

"I’ve tried to come with your father before when you were just an infant, no older than six months old," she said in a low voice. "He said I couldn't, and told me the reasons why. He couldn't also bring you along or it would have been a death wish for both of you." I watched her stand up from the couch. "But now, you're old enough to go and you have a company who can look after you."

My lips parted in disbelief. "Are you serious? You're making me leave? We can just hide," I told her in a loud voice. "We can just move somewhere far away or, or, hide, live silently. I . . . " I pressed my lips together, the words I wanted to say next had died in my throat.

I can live with that.

Hide, it was what I had always done anyway. But I couldn't just abandon the good things I had gotten. Drawing, painting, playing the piano, games, reading novels and webtoons, watching movies, anime, and whatever else. Helping stray animals on the way, camping in the woods, stargazing, volleyball, and archery.

Heck, what about going to college I was already enrolled in next week? And the results of the webcomic contest I joined next month? What about Azraizel?

How do I tell her about this?

Also, my games! All of my freaking games! Even if there’s internet in Lumi-whatever, I doubt my games would still function there.

But . . . I could probably still have a normal life even at Luminozenko, right? There, wings, eyes with slit pupils, and such were certainly normal. Perhaps there, I could finally be seen as normal. No more hiding.

Let us think about the benefits of going there. I could learn to fight even better, mayhaps learn how to use magic more efficiently, since Morris said such amazing blood was running through my veins. This way, if ever those enemies—what were they called again? Ugh, whatever—try to go after Mom, I could somehow protect her. No. I could protect her.

Now, I would be like my father, who left me and his wife to protect us. Like father, like daughter, I guess.

Whatever.

I tried to relax my muscles and gladly, I successfully did. "Fine," I said in a voice barely above a whisper and I focused on Mom. "Fine, I'll go. It's not like I have a choice anyways."

Mom looked at me intently, but she dropped out of the contest a couple of seconds later. I knew I could be rude. I knew I had such an attitude. But where did you think I got that from?

"Pack some clothes and what you think may help us for now. If they can track us, they'll have to deal with us from our home," she demanded, schooling her expression the best she could. "I'll just get some things." She climbed up the stairs to her room.

Her retractable self-defense baton and gun, most likely. And probably her beloved taser.

But hell, I just argued with Mom. No, no, no. My opinion mattered as well. Right. My opinion mattered as well. I shouldn't regret it. No take backs. No take backs.

I snapped out of my reverie the moment I heard someone sipping loudly. I looked at Morris, finishing up her refill of orange juice. "Not gonna lie, this juice is good," she said and stifled a burp. "Excuse me."

My stomach groaned. "Damn this," I grunted and grabbed the slice of apple pie from the table. I chomped on it, chewing fast and aggressively, and repeated it until I finished the whole thing. I downed my glass of orange juice and beckoned a hand at Morris while wiping my mouth with my other. "That bracelet, can you only pull things out of it or can you store things as well?"

"It's a bag of a very large capacity."

"What's the maximum size of the object you can put in there?"

"About fifteen feet in height, length, and width, and weight about ten tons." She paused and curiously gazed at me. "Are you going to bring some kind of gigantic weapon or something?" I shook my head with slightly furrowed brows. She shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter. Just bring me to the object."

And here I thought I’d be able to unearth this house with her help and bring it to Luminozenko. Wait, then Mom would be left homeless if that happens. How stupid of me.

Then, I watched her mumble something in a language alien to me, her right hand glowing as well as her eyes. In a blink, a bird materialized in her hand, molded from the earth, and it opened its eyes, the same color as its maker. With several beats of its wings looking like real feathers, soft to caress, it flew out of the open window.

“Woah, that’s just . . . cool,” I mumbled, staring at her in amazement. “I’ve made things from earth too before, but I’ve never made them move. Much less made them fly. Oh wait, I’ve made them move, but with the wind.”

"Well, if it’s made of your magic, it’ll be easy to control them. It’s just that you’ve never gotten proper training which is why you never knew it. Just supply it with your magic, move that magic like . . . like how you control the wind.” She waved her hands around and clasped them. “Maybe we can try it once we’re not busy anymore. Anyways, it'll scout the area and notify us if danger is coming."

Dang.

I grabbed the helmets and gave them to her, which she quickly put inside her magical inventory. I yanked my bag, bow, and quiver, and slung them over my shoulder, leading her to the garage. "Those two." I motioned at my motorbike. "I need to make sure this one is safe and sound."

“What about this?” She pointed at the black car.

I shook my head. "We'll use that for transportation."

"Alright." She removed her bracelet, making it glow, and she tapped it on the motorbike. Like puzzle pieces getting sucked into a black hole, it dematerialized. She put it back to the moment the garage had nothing but some of our things. "Anything else?" She asked, waving the bracelet.

"Yeah."

We walked out of the garage and went upstairs. Mom was still in her room. I caught a glance of her trying to reach something under her bed through the crack of the door, but bothered not to see what she was trying to get. From what I remember, guns were the things under.

We halted in front of the room next to mine. I pushed it open and switched the lights on.

A grand piano greeted us and paintings of landscapes and portraits fashioned the room. On the wall not adorned with paintings, another mural had been made.

A world of mountains, that could make you feel as though you belonged in the woods, the song of nature calling you, beckoning you. You play with the wind, dance with the trees, and be bright and wild as the flowers blooming there.

With this, I could make someone feel the privileges bestowed upon me. Until they let themselves wander deeper into those woods, take the true colors in, and realize how dark and foggy it was. A great hiding place.

But one must not venture deeper. No one wanted a monster out of where it dwelled.

I peered at Morris and found her gazing at the piece I made once again. From the windows of her soul, I could see I caught her. I tugged her strings and that feeling would carve into her dimensions.

"Please, hide the piano," I requested, pulling her back to reality.

It took her a good few seconds before she could respond. "Wow . . . I, er, how do I say this? Uhm, how do you make this?"

"With brushes and paints and—"

"Not that."

"You pour everything on it."

She stared at me, a cringe forming on her face. "Guizde elasaz, you're similar to them." She tapped the bracelet on the cover of the piano and again, it broke into pieces before getting eaten.

I raised a brow. "To who?" We stepped out of the room and into my bedroom.

"To some of my friends," she said, taking in the sight of the room. “Smartass people who enjoy thinking and manipulating things too much. I wish they could be more laid back and just relax sometimes.”

Shelves packed with books took up all the spaces on the walls, except for the wall where the window was and the one next to the bed, which had another mural painted.

This time, a vast meadow. With grasses of the color yellow, orange, and green, covered the horizon, dusted with the gold of the setting sun. Further than that, trees that had become small due to the distance and perspective of the viewer aligned. Up above, birds flew, joyful and free, unraveling the sky that was slowly veiled by the shadows of the night.

"You have a lot of books," She commented with a smile, "You'd definitely get along with my friends . . ." She trailed off, noticing the pillows on my bed. "What’s that?"

Oh, shit. Not my Jumin Han body pillow.

"That’s for research purposes," I said, my voice cool and my face even more stoic than a statue.

She looked at me with a bit of a frown on her visage. "I see." She averted her eyes from my pillow. "Anyways, some of my friends are bookworms as well."

"Oh, are they?" I raised my brow. "What genre do they read?"

"Hmm, mystery, thriller, romance, uh . . ." She glanced up at the ceiling and noticed that there was a net hammock above my bed, then more shelves that were yet to be filled beside it. "That's creative, but how do you get up—oh." She looked around and found a makeshift staircase with bricks of wood on the wall. "That's how."

"But seriously," she breathed out, "you are gods damned talented," she finally blurted out and received my clothes and boots, which she immediately put in her bracelet, then slipped it back on her left wrist.

"Thanks." I couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "Anyways, are there a lot of tall people in, uh, your world?"

"Our world, Luminozenko," she corrected me and nodded. "There are many of them, yes, and all of my friends are tall. The smallest among the men is a hundred and seventy-six centimeters tall, and the smallest among us women is a hundred and sixty-seven, I think."

I cringed. The smallest in her circle is two centimeters taller than me, huh? I looked over my rack of heeled boots. "Do you guys wear heeled boots?"

"Sure, we do."

I immediately grabbed a couple of pairs and handed them to her. "It's decided."

"Okay . . ." She looked down at my boots, but made no further comments and stashed them inside her bracelet. "By the way, do you know how to fight? Or know self-defense, at least?" She asked, looking down at me. “You know, without your bow and arrows.”

"I do know self-defense and how to handle a knife in a fight," I responded and walked out of the room. We found Mom at the stairs, a sling bag over her shoulder.

"I'll just go get something," Mom told me, continuing to head down and skip to the kitchen.

"And Mom is good with guns," I mumbled to Morris.

"That's great!" Morris beamed. She tapped on her bracelet and a couple of straps of knives—beautiful, sharp, dangerous knives—appeared in her grasp. She handed them to me, which made my mouth drop. "Wear them on your thighs. If ever we are attacked, lose your weapons, and I can't take them all, you can protect yourself at least.”

I looked down at the knives and back to her. "I can't just wear—"

"Come on—shit." She glared at the door. "They're three kilometers from here. I didn't know they'd move this fast." She jumped down the stairs and headed to the kitchen. "Ma'am Amara, forgive me but—where's she?"

Just then, we heard the garage doors creaking open, then the gates. We headed to the garage and found Mom unlocking her car since it was the only vehicle there and started the engine quickly.

"Get in, Morris," Mom said.

I opened the car door for Morris and pushed her in, earning a grunt from her. "Go. I'll lock the doors and gate," I said, rushing back inside the house without waiting for an answer.

I heard Morris's retort and the car running out to the road and waited as I slammed all doors locked, turned the light off, and jogged to the garage to yank down its doors. I rushed to the gates, pushed them to shut, and hopped in the car before we sped down the road.

"They're coming close. They sent something and several soldiers," Morris reported and grabbed the holsters of knives from me. "As I said, wear them." She yanked my leg and began strapping them around my thighs, and repeated the same actions on my other.

It made me feel like the baddest of badasses.

I would need to know how to do that on my own soon.