Eyes that ‘see’

Linde continued staring out the car window, the faint hum of the engine filling the silence. The underground residential district stretched before her, a delicate balance of sleek, functional architecture and carefully cultivated greenery. Here, amid the city's cold, metallic sprawl, life clung on.

Every home had a garden—not extravagant, but practical. Herbs, vegetables, and vibrant flowers broke up the monotony of steel and concrete, small reminders that something could still grow in a place like this.

The car slowed as they approached a modest dwelling nestled at the end of a curved pathway lined with softly glowing streetlamps. Linde let out a quiet breath, her gaze lingering on the house's clean, minimalist design. Smooth concrete walls, accented with brushed panels, gave it a modern but unassuming look. Climbing vines curled along the edges of a high privacy fence, and warm light from within spilled onto the neatly manicured garden.

It hadn't changed.

Same calm, practical exterior. Same sense of normalcy.

But Linde knew better. Beneath the surface, this wasn't just a home.

It was Eik's home.

And Elk didn't just provide shelter—she orchestrated it. The unseen currents of the city moved through her like clockwork, ticking in time with the pulse of Brewster Heights.

A small smile tugged at Linde's lips as she unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open.

"Wake up, Sera."

Her voice was softer now, the faint scent of fresh herbs wafting from the garden.

"We're here to meet someone."

Seraniti stirred, her grip tightening around the dirty rock still clutched in her hand.

She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her wrist, blinking drowsily. Drool streaked her cheek, and she yawned, her small voice barely above a mumble.

"Mmm… 'Kay..."

She slid out of the seat with Linde's help, her legs unsteady from sleep.

The garden gate creaked as they stepped through, their arrival announced by the quiet groan of metal.

Waiting by the doorway stood a man.

Tall, calm, and imposing.

One of Elk's cleaners—the same man Linde had called earlier.

His fingers were blackened, his presence framed by a halo of Black Rain, just like Linde's. His sharp, angular features remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered toward the girl for the briefest of moments, something in his gaze softening.

Then it was gone. His attention returned to Linde, his voice low and even.

"Took you long enough. Eik's been expecting you."

Linde nodded, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.

"Thanks for covering us. I owe you."

The cleaner smiled faintly.

"You owe Eik. I'm just doing my part."

Sera, still half-asleep, tugged at Linde's sleeve, her voice drowsy.

"Is this where the nice lady lives?"

Her unfocused gaze drifted toward the warm glow spilling from the house, the kind of light that made a place feel like home.

She had only met Elk twice before. But in the years to come, she would come to know her.

Linde crouched, taking of the damp cloth around Sera's head as the little girl's feathers popped up, her fingers careful but firm.

"Yeah, it is. But you need to behave, okay? Eik isn't someone we want to upset."

The Monsta cleaner let out a low chuckle.

"She's not wrong, kid. Eik's nice, but only if you're on her good side."

He jerked his head toward the door.

"Come on. She's waiting inside."

Linde straightened, taking Sera's small hand in her own.

Together, they crossed the garden, their footsteps quiet against the pathway. The hum of overhead lights mingled with the rustling of plants, leaves swaying gently in the underground breeze. The further they walked, the more the air seemed to shift.

The house wasn't just a home. And yet—beneath that, something else lingered. 

Just like the woman who ran it.

They stepped inside, moving down a sleek hallway. The walls bore faint engravings, their intricate designs shimmering subtly under the lighting. The deeper they went, the more the world outside seemed to fade away.

Finally, they entered an open space.

At first glance, it was modest—practical, like everything Eik did. But the centerpiece of the room told another story.

A grand piano sat in the center, its black and white keys gleaming under the soft glow of ambient light.

Resting atop it—

A crimson violin.

Its deep red hue eerily matched the color of Sera's hands.

And leaning carefully against the piano—

An antique guitar.

Its wood darkened with age, yet untouched by time, pristine in its craftsmanship.It was the kind of thing that didn't belong in a city like this.

Little Sera's tired eyes brightened at the sight.

Without hesitation, she scampered toward the instruments, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

The small, cushioned bench scraped softly against the floor as she tugged it from beneath the piano and climbed onto it. Her movements were careful but eager, her gaze flickering between the instruments—lingering for a moment on the crimson violin before settling on the piano.

Her fingers hovered over the smooth keys.

She pressed one lightly as a soft note rang out.

But it wasn't the sound that captivated her.

It was the faint engraving etched into the piano's surface.

The markings weren't elegant—nothing like the graceful swirls and careful engravings lining the hallways outside. They were rough, scratched in by hand, uneven, imperfect. And yet—

Something about them struck Sera deeply.

She leaned closer, tracing the uneven letters with her fingertips, silently mouthing the words to herself. Her lips barely whispered the final word before her fingers left the engraving.

For just a fleeting moment—

Her irises shimmered.

A faint, white circle flickered to life within them—

Incomplete.

Then, just as quickly, it vanished.

"Cough!"

A sharp jolt ran through her chest. Her small body tilted backward, balance slipping away. Her breath hitched, panic rising as she braced for the hard fall that was surely coming. But—

She never hit the ground.

Instead—nothing.

A strange weightlessness. Her wide eyes darted around in confusion. She was floating.

Gently, steadily—suspended mid air, her feet inches from the floor. A voice cut through the silence.

"You know, it surprises me every time I see you."

Both the cleaner and Linde flinched, letting out sharp yelps. Eik was suddenly behind them.

"Ah! You have to stop doing that!"

Linde clutched her chest, exasperation laced in her voice as she tried to steady her breath. "I swear you'll kill me at this rate!"

She let out a sharp exhale, throwing a half-hearted glare at Elk, who simply chuckled as she stepped further into the room, her movements smooth and unhurried. Her presence was always the same—commanding yet quiet, filling the space without forcing it.

"I can't help myself," Elk said, amusement slipping into her tone. "Your reactions are too good."

Her gaze flicked toward Seraniti, who was still suspended midair, her small body weightless as if gravity had momentarily lost its grip on her. With a simple motion of Elk's hand, the bracelet on her wrist let out a soft chime, and Sera slowly drifted back down, her feet meeting the floor without a sound.

The moment she landed, she darted behind Linde, small fingers clutching at the fabric of her pants, peering out cautiously from the safety of her protector. Her sleepy eyes wandered over Elk, taking her in piece by piece.

The first thing she noticed—her hands.

They were red. Like hers.

Her gaze traveled upward, drinking in the long black hair that fell past Elk's shoulders, the way it contrasted so starkly with her own. Then, she met her eyes—tired, distant, as if they had seen too much, carried too much.

Elk crouched to her level, slow and deliberate, a faint smile playing at the edges of her lips. "Haha, sorry about that, little one. Your reactions make me feel better."

Her voice was light, but it didn't stay that way for long. Turning her gaze toward Linde, her expression sobered.

"I'm guessing your time is running out."

The words weren't harsh, but they cut all the same.

Linde's fingers twitched against her arm, absently rubbing at her left forearm, a habit she hadn't shaken. Her expression darkened, but she didn't argue. There was nothing to argue.

Sera's grip on Linde's pants tightened, her voice barely above a mumble. "Hell...o, pretty lady..."

Elk's expression softened, warmth creeping into the edges of her exhaustion. She extended her hands, palms up, offering something quiet but steady.

"Come here, little one. I won't bite, I promise."

She smiled, tilting her hands slightly. "See? We have the same hands."

Sera hesitated, her gaze flickering between Elk and Linde. There was something cautious in her stance, but curiosity outweighed her fear.

Tentatively, she stepped forward.

Her small fingers brushed against Elk's palms, tracing over the ridges and lines.

Her face lit up, eyes wide with something pure, something untouched by the weight the adults around her carried.

"Hehe... just like mine!"

Linde watched silently as Seraniti giggled, running her fingers over Elk's palms like she had found something important, something only she could understand. For the first time in a long while, Elk let herself smile just a little more.

Elk's breath caught.

For a moment, she simply stared at the little girl.

A few tears welled in her eyes before slipping silently down her cheeks, her expression unreadable beneath their weight. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled just slightly.

"Does it hurt? The rock on your wrist?"

Sera tilted her head at the question, then grinned brightly.

"Mmm! When I'm hurting, it shares my pain!"

Elk's eyes fell, her fingers brushing over the small rock bound tightly to Sera's wrist.

The words hit her harder than she cared to admit.

The same eyes. The same smile. The same phrase.

If only fate weren't so cruel.

She swallowed, blinking back the moisture that threatened to spill again, forcing a small smile through the storm of memories clawing at the edges of her mind.

"I see. That's very special, isn't it?"

Her voice was quiet, tinged with something—misery.

She glanced at Linde, who watched her silently. Then Eik ruffled Sera's hair, gentle despite the heaviness pressing down on the room.

The soft chime of her bracelet echoed. Sera's head wobbled slightly, her tiny body swaying—

Then, she went completely slack.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing slow and steady as she slumped into Elk's arms, fast asleep. Linde exhaled, lowering herself into a nearby chair, her arms crossing loosely over her chest.

"I never get used to it."

Her voice was quiet, contemplative.

"Even my ancestors didn't have something like that."

Her gaze flickered toward the bracelet still fastened around Eik's wrist. It shimmered faintly in the low light.

Elk shifted Sera against her, cradling the child with a practiced ease, her thumb brushing a stray lock of white hair from the little girl's face.

"The people of this era—The Common Era—have so many things my parents could never imagine."

Her voice softened, her fingers tracing absent patterns against Sera's sleeve.

"My race, the Andskotarnir, spent generations trying to find a home. A place where we could exist without being hunted, feared, or scattered to the winds."

Her gaze dropped to the bracelet.

"This bracelet, the ΜΙСΛ… it's older than me. And I've lived over 200 years."

Her voice faded into the space between them, her fingers tightening just slightly around the child resting in her arms. The weight of history pressed against the room, unspoken but suffocating all the same.

Linde arched a brow, skepticism clear in her sharp gaze.

"Even that young? Your kind's technology must have been something else."

Elk let out a bitter chuckle, low and humorless.

"Don't be too impressed. I'm not special—not like some of my ancestors were. I'll likely die before I can do anything meaningful for my people."

Leo, who had been leaning against the wall, let out a slow exhale. His blackened fingers flexed absently, his rain halo tilting ever so slightly.

"You sell yourself short, Eik. If you hadn't done anything, neither of us would be here right now."

Elk's lips curved into a faint, weary smile. "Flattery won't get you far, Leo."

Her gaze flicked toward Linde, unreadable yet steady.

"But you know this feeling, don't you? You and Leo both. Your race—the Monsta—isn't so different from mine."

Linde's expression tightened, arms crossing over her chest. Leo, on the other hand, furrowed his brow, his tail flicking in faint irritation. Eik's words carried weight, and they all knew it.

But that didn't mean they liked hearing them.

"Some of you managed to become more than just mindless beasts," Eik continued, her voice soft but unwavering. "You clawed your way out of the dark, built families, created lives. But how many of your kind can say the same? How many are still trapped in the madness, without a sense of self?"

Linde's jaw tightened, but she didn't speak.

She didn't need to.

Eik wasn't wrong, and they all knew it.

Generations of their families had worked tirelessly to shape their own identities, to break free from the primal, mindless hunger that defined their kind.

But they were the exception.

Not the rule.

Most Monsta remained lost, creatures of instinct and chaos, unable to break free from the curse woven into their very nature. And that truth hung between them, heavy and unspoken.

"The Seirens are no different."

Eik's voice was distant now, as if she were staring through the walls, through time itself, into something long buried but never forgotten.

"Another race like yours, but created to destroy. They wiped out most of the Ægir civilizations, and even now, they remain a hivemind-like threat. The Ægir have been fighting them for centuries, trying to survive against an enemy that isn't even truly alive."

Leo's tail flicked, irritation simmering beneath his quiet stare.

"That's different," he muttered. "The Seirens aren't like us. They don't even try to be more."

Elk's eyes shifted to him, unreadable.

"Aren't they?"

"Or do they just not know how to?"

The room fell silent.

The weight of her words pressed down on all of them, settling into the spaces between their thoughts.

Linde stared at her hands, her blackened fingers curling slightly. She thought of her family, of how hard they had fought to break free from the Monsta's cursed beginnings.

It wasn't easy. It was never easy.

Eik let out a slow breath, her gaze falling back to the child in her arms, small and fragile in sleep.

"You both have something the others don't," she murmured. "Time. You can teach your kind. Show them there's more to life than instinct and destruction. The Andskotarnir don't have that luxury. We've been running for so long—even more so for the Illgjarndýrr, the ones Yemei and Usegal still fight. I don't think we even know what home is anymore."

Linde lifted her gaze, her expression softening.

"You've done more for your people than you realize, Eik. You're keeping them alive. Sometimes, that's all anyone can do."

Eik smiled faintly, though the sadness in her eyes never faded.

"Maybe. But keeping them alive doesn't feel like enough."

It wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Not until those who had twisted her people into the Illgjarndýrr were wiped from existence.

The mere thought of them—Observers, demons of the north and south—made Eik's fingers tremble ever so slightly as she cradled the sleeping child.

These monstrous beings, the things that lurked beyond existence, carried a taint that spread like rot.

The Observers twisted whatever they came across, corrupted it, shattered it, then left the ruins behind without a second thought.

The Andskotarnir had once stood tall.

Now, the Illgjarndýrr were their cursed shadows, hunted by the countries that bordered the icefields and the desert—reminders of a fall that could never be undone.

Elk closed her eyes, letting the weight of those memories settle like stones in her chest. She had fought for her people, had tried to pull them back from the brink—but no matter how hard she fought, no matter how many times she tried, she had failed.

Again and again, the world proved unrelenting, a cruel expanse too vast for her to fight alone.

The Andskotarnir had scattered to the winds, hiding in places so remote that even the most pristine countries of Terra II couldn't find them. They lived in fear—not of the world, but of themselves. 

Her gaze drifted to Seraniti's small, peaceful face.

Lashes rested against her cheeks, her breaths slow, steady.

She'll see it too, Eik thought, the ache in her chest pressing deeper. The same way I see it now. The same way my ancestors saw it.

The vision that haunted her wasn't one of hope or salvation—it was one of inevitability.

Seraniti would walk this path, whether she wanted to or not.

The gift—if it could even be called that—would awaken in her, just as it had in Eik. She would see the world for what it truly was: fractured, cruel, laced with threads of beauty that never seemed strong enough to hold it together.

Linde's voice cut through the silence, edged with frustration.

"You're doing it again," she muttered, her sharp eyes locked onto Eik. "Getting lost in your head. You said it yourself—you can't save everyone. None of us can."

Elk let out a dry laugh, one devoid of humor.

"No, I can't save everyone. I can't even save my own people."

Her fingers tensed slightly around Seraniti's small frame.

"They're hiding, Linde. Hiding so far from the world that they've forgotten what it's like to live in it. And who can blame them? They're hunted, feared, pushed away. And every day, I think… maybe they're right. Maybe it's safer to stay hidden."

Leo shifted against the wall, the metallic rasp of his nails scraping lightly against the surface.

"Safer, sure," he said gruffly. "But is it living? If all you're doing is running, hiding… what's the point?"

Eik looked at him, her expression heavy, as if she carried something neither of them could see.

"Maybe there isn't one. Not for us."

Her voice was quiet but unshakable.

"Not until the ones who made the Illgjarndýrr—the ones who turned my people into them—are wiped from existence."

Both Linde and Leo fell silent.

The weight of those words lingered between them, unspoken yet suffocating.

Linde leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"And who's going to do that, Eik? You? Me? Leo?"

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"We can barely keep ourselves alive. You can't expect to take down the ones who made the Illgjarndýrr without—"

Her words trailed off. Her gaze had shifted, landing on Seraniti.

Eik followed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"I won't. I don't have that kind of time."

Her grip around Seraniti tightened, protective, firm.

"But maybe she does."

Leo let out a scoff, though there was no malice in it.

"You're putting a lot on a kid who doesn't even know what's happening to her yet."

Eik's fingers brushed against the ΜΙСΛ bracelet on her wrist.

"I'm not putting anything on her. But if this world doesn't break her first, she'll have the power to make a choice—the same one I made. The same one you both made. Fight or hide."

Linde straightened, eyes narrowing slightly.

"And what if she doesn't want to fight?"

Eik smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Then I'll make sure she doesn't have to."

Her voice dropped to something softer, something resolute.

"But if she chooses to… I'll make sure she's ready."

Silence settled over them again.

The underground city hummed in the distance, the ever-present reminder of the world that loomed just beyond these walls. Eik let her head fall back slightly, fingers absently brushing against the ΜΙСΛ bracelet.

It felt heavier now. Perhaps it wasn't about saving everyone, Eik thought.

Perhaps it was just about saving the ones who could be saved. Even if it was only for one more day.

Even if it was only her.

Because she has my eyes that see.

Eik exhaled, the tension easing just slightly as she glanced down. Her fingers reached out, poking the little girl's chubby cheeks.

"So, little Sera… wake up."

A small, sleepy murmur.

Seraniti's lashes fluttered—