Infovision:

"The exact causes of the explosions in the Beacon area, the Terraces, and Lower Prim remain unclear. Initial investigations suggest that the attacks were coordinated and targeted key symbols of the city. Rescue teams continue searching for survivors."


Ela, Lower Prim


She woke up with a pounding headache and a body stiff from exhaustion. The glass cuts barely registered, but the thought that Miren might be among the victims twisted her stomach into knots. Forcing herself to get up, she washed her face and headed into the streets, making her way to the nearest infovision.


The crowd around the screen was silent. Rotating lists of names were occasionally interrupted by muffled cries and sobs from those who had found their loved ones. Ela fixed her eyes on the letters, desperately scanning the long columns. Familiar names flickered before her. Jola. A lab technician who had once eagerly helped her with a project. Now her name stood among the dead. Her smile flashed through Ela’s mind before reality crashed down. It would have taken so little for her own name to be up there as well.


Her knees trembled, but she forced herself to keep reading. Miren’s name wasn’t there. Not yet. But it was clear this list was far from final.


Still, she clung to the hope that it meant something and set off toward the nearest infirmary. The answers she found there only brought more disappointment.


"Find her yourself. We don’t have time."


Among the makeshift beds, where the wounded looked more like broken marionettes, she wandered like a lost soul. She asked everyone who was conscious, but all she received were shaken heads, dismissals, shrugs.


Hours passed, and hope drained away. The infovisions continued churning out news of the catastrophe, but Ela no longer listened. Her world had shrunk to the endless, futile search.


"Is it you?"

A stranger’s voice behind her made her turn. An older man in a red-and-black uniform watched her with a mix of fascination and uncertainty.


"Me? You must be mistaken," she replied quietly, but the man shook his head.


"It’s you. Seren!"


Ela drew in a sharp breath. She hadn't heard that name in years.


"My name is Ela," she corrected him hesitantly. "But Seren was my mother."


The man blinked and looked her up and down, as if struggling to believe it. "Incredible! You look just like her."


Ela lowered her gaze, uncomfortable. "That's what my father says, too."


The older man scoffed in disdain. "Let me guess. Drifter Noel."


She nodded and noticed how his fascination shifted to mild distaste—quickly suppressed beneath a polite smile. "What brings you here?"


Without hesitation, Ela explained her predicament. The man nodded and, to her surprise, motioned for her to follow. "I'll help. I'll check the system."


Moments later, she stood by one of the beds, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The face beneath the bandages was unrecognizable. But then she caught a glimpse of dark curls—and knew.


Tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to feel relief, but all she felt was emptiness.


Miren had survived.


But at what cost?


***


She spent the next few days by her friend’s side, watching her shallow, barely perceptible breaths. Miren’s face was waxy pale, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and her eyes moved faintly beneath closed lids. When they finally fluttered open, squinting against the dim light, Ela almost forgot to breathe. She leaned closer, clasping Miren’s cold hand.


“I’m here,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both relief and unease. But there was hope in her eyes.


Miren’s gaze was unfocused. “Ela?” Her lips barely moved, and her weak voice sounded hollow. “What happened? Where am I?”


Ela swallowed, her body tensing. She tried to keep her tone reassuring. “Apparently, Prim was attacked. It was… it is terrible. The whole city is in shock. So many dead, so many wounded. But you’re alive. You made it.”


Miren remained silent for a long time, her eyes fixed on nothing, as if she hadn’t heard. Then, at last, her voice broke the silence—dry, emotionless. “I can’t see.”


Ela knew. They had warned her beforehand. She had prepared herself. And yet, the words still cut like a knife.


“Miren, listen to me,” she exhaled, squeezing her hand tighter. “We’ll get through this. We’ll find a way to fix it. Together.”


“Find a way?” Miren’s voice was almost amused, but the smile that appeared on her lips was bitter. “Ela… I’m not a broken machine.”


Ela shook her head. Her voice was firm now, almost pleading. “Don’t give up, please. We’ll figure something out.”


But Miren only let out a quiet breath and turned her head away. “Sure. Keep hoping. Hope enough for both of us.”


The next day, Miren seemed calmer, more resigned to what had happened. When Ela entered the room, filled with determination, Miren tilted her head slightly toward the sound of her steps.


“You again,” she said softly, but her voice carried a warmth that hadn’t been there yesterday.


“They’ve launched a recovery program for Institute members,” Ela began cautiously, though the hope in her voice was unmistakable. “I put your name on the list.”


Miren sighed, resigned. “That won’t work. Right before the explosion, I got fired. They canceled my damn exam without any option to retake it.”


“It doesn’t matter,” Ela insisted. She took a deep breath and, after a brief hesitation, shrugged. “As far as I know, no one from your department survived. There’s no one left to file a complaint. I’ll get you into that program.”


Miren remained silent. She closed her eyes for a moment, then let out a faint smile—laced with irony. "You seriously want to screw over the Institute? I’ll admit, I’d love to see that."


Ela couldn’t help but smile. "Then trust me. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you do."


"Yeah. I’ll try to believe you," Miren murmured, resigned.


Ela sat by Miren’s bedside a little longer, unable to move. The weight of helplessness pressed down on her. Everything she had tried to say to Miren felt so empty. How could she offer hope when she wasn’t even sure if her plan would work?


Miren’s weary voice echoed in her mind: I’d love to see that.


She clenched her fists. She didn’t want to disappoint her. Whatever it took, she had to make something happen.


As she finally stood up to leave, the quiet hum of voices drifted through the infirmary hallway. She stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of a familiar figure in red-and-black. Her heart skipped a beat.


He stood in the corridor, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Walking beside him was a young man dressed in a pristine white tunic, carrying a small case under his arm.

Now she understood what the colors of his uniform meant. She had looked it up right after their first meeting.


This man was a Mediator—a diplomat, a representative of the Beacon, a true bridge between werrens and humans.


Her stomach did a somersault. A personal meeting with a Mediator was rare, even for influential figures like Prim’s councilors. But to encounter him twice in a matter of days, here in a hospital corridor? That was near miraculous.



"I'm glad we meet again," the man spoke, his voice smooth and composed, accompanied by a slight bow. His tone was deep, carrying an undeniable authority. The surrounding chatter died down as all eyes turned to them. "In the chaos of the past few days, I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Nylen Lazzal."


"Ela," she answered, her voice quieter than she intended. "But I suppose you already knew that."


Nylen smiled. "I do. That’s why I’m here. I’d like to discuss something with you. Would you care for a walk?"


Ela nodded, though she wasn’t sure her legs would obey. They moved slowly, Nylen’s steps measured and deliberate. Behind them, his assistant in white followed at a respectful distance, yet his presence unnerved her.


"I can’t seem to get you out of my head," Nylen admitted, studying her once more. "Your resemblance to your mother… it’s unsettling."


Ela lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say.


"But today, I’m not here to talk about her. I’m here to talk about you," Nylen continued with determination. "As you well know, the current situation is difficult for all of us. The Beacon is no exception. The losses we’ve suffered are immense. Each of us has lost someone. Even we…" His voice softened briefly, as if he truly felt the weight of grief. "Yesterday, we lost a respected Mediator, Wiltmar Tonot, who had served the Beacon for over twenty years."


"I’m sorry," Ela murmured.


Nylen nodded. "We all are. But his death reminded us that sometimes, we must take a step forward, even when the circumstances are far from ideal." He turned to face her, his gaze now serious. "And that is precisely why we have decided to reach out to you."


Ela froze, her heart pounding. "Me? Why?"


"I looked into your background," Nylen continued calmly. "And your results are exceptional. You may still be at the beginning, but the potential you show is rare. I have already discussed this possibility with the Circle and received their approval."


"Approval… for what?" she asked, bewildered.


Nylen paused deliberately, drawing out the tension.


"The Beacon has taken an interest in you, Ela."


She gasped. "The Beacon? But I’ve only been here for three years. That’s impossible. It goes against all the rules."


Nylen smiled and nodded. "It does. But these are difficult times, and Wiltmar’s unexpected passing has left us no choice but to explore new paths."


He stroked his beard, visibly enjoying Ela’s growing unease and the hint of panic she couldn’t quite hide. Then, he reached out and firmly grasped her shoulder, as if to ground her in the present moment.


"Fate willed that we meet. And neither we nor the Beacon take fate lightly. But don’t get too excited just yet. Nothing is certain. You would have to pass a series of tests and undergo several trials before earning the official title of Mediator. But if you’ve inherited your mother’s talent, I wouldn’t be too concerned about failure."


Ela felt her knees weaken beneath her.


"What kind of tests?" she finally managed to ask.


"To start with, we need to determine if you are a suitable candidate. It’s not just about your abilities—it’s also about your genetic predisposition."


Nylen nodded to his companion, who stepped forward and opened the case.


"We only need a small blood sample. If you agree, we can proceed immediately."


Ela took a deep breath, ran a hand across her forehead, and finally nodded. "Alright. Do it."


The man in the pristine white tunic prepared a portable diagnostic device and pricked her finger for a single drop of blood. The device hummed softly, and Ela held her breath as data began to appear on the screen—figures and symbols she didn’t understand.


A quiet beep signaled the completion of the analysis. Nylen leaned in to read the results, his eyebrows lifting slightly. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled—broadly.


"Congratulations. Just as I suspected. Your results match the parameters we’re looking for. The Circle will be pleased."


Ela’s heart pounded. "So… I’m in?"


Nylen nodded. "You’re close. I know this is sudden, and we would understand if you needed time to consider."


Ela shook her head, her eyes shining. "No. I don’t need to think about it. I accept."


"Excellent," Nylen said approvingly. "Fate has surely smiled upon you, Ela."


She hesitated, debating whether to continue. But then she gathered her courage. "Could I ask for one more favor?"


The Mediator watched her closely.


"Miren," she began carefully. "The friend I was searching for. She’s badly injured, and… the Institute has launched a recovery program for its members. I put her on the list, but… there may be doubts about whether she qualifies."


"You truly care about her," Nylen noted with understanding.


Ela nodded, lowering her gaze. "I thought maybe you could… I don’t know, do something? Give her a chance?"


Nylen considered her request for a moment before offering that same composed yet authoritative smile. "I’ll look into it and do what I can."


Ela met his gaze with gratitude. She had no idea what she was stepping into—or if she even wanted this. But if it could help Miren, then it was worth it.