Altair Isadora-Braveheart wore a thoughtful expression on his visage as they made their descent down the hill. He would be lying if he claimed not to have been waiting for this day. It would be dishonest to assert that he had not thought of sneaking out in the depths of the night, if he, after eight years of living life under the same backdrop, didn't yearn for a change in scenery. However, Mother had repeatedly warned both Altair and Nocturne to not even think about going anywhere near the Dungeon Town. Even now, Altair could distinctly recall the tension in her voice as she delivered the solemn warning to them, yet… from everything he knew and after witnessing the meticulously designed Dungeon Town in person, he hadn’t been able to pick up on the slightest hint of danger.

Nereus Aquillion’s architectural style exuded an unmistakable air of confidence, an implicit assumption that the Dungeon Town was confident in its ability to contain any possible threats from within— it would be sheer madness to draw Water Mana from the Dungeon and build civilization with it serving as the epicenter otherwise.

But Altair trusted Mother.

And the contempt in her voice while she mentioned the Dungeon Town had most definitely not been a figment of his imagination.

It was another one of Mother’s secrets, he supposed.

Altair also loved Mother, much like Nocturne did. But his love, its manifestation was of a different kind, a phenomenon that was realized into a distinct form— for Ryan Kimura had seen too much of the world to know how fickle, how unpredicted and how utterly irrational it could be. There was beauty to be found in that chaos, but Altair was tired of it. Tired of knowing that the whims of fate could take what he held most precious to his heart.

In the previous world, he had found his hands tied. One man could advance medicine, yes. Geniuses or strokes of bizarre luck could lead to inventions and innovations that would advance treatments by decades and centuries, yes. But no man on Earth had been born with the power to end the need for medicine itself.

Altair did not seek to fight death itself. Where there was a beginning, there naturally had to be an end. That was what gave the in-between meaning.

He understood that. But that was all he had asked for to begin with— a world where everyone could live out their lives to its limit and go peacefully devoid of any physical suffering or pain.

Earth had denied him that. And from what Altair knew of Alecdoria, it very well could deny him yet again.

There was only one difference.

The people of Alecdoria, from the sparse knowledge books in mother’s study offered on the subject, generally seemed to view magic as a power to be cultivated, a tool to be controlled, a necessary strength required to protect themselves if they were to venture out into the wide world.

And in Altair’s opinion, they were all wrong.

Magic was the power to defy the whims of fate.

To protect— that was the present Altair’s expression of love.

Both Mother and Nocturne were people that Altair had to protect.

And knowledge was the greatest form of protection any world had to offer.

The knowledge of basic medicine would prevent one from bleeding out in the depths of a forest. A simple understanding of the power dynamics of the Vortera Veilands would prevent one from stepping in strife-laden land and meeting an untimely end. And experiencing the threat posed by the Dungeon Town would help him better prepare for the worst.

Altair found it hard to suppress his desire for knowledge.

Though what held him back was ultimately his love for Nocturne and Mother. The former because Nocturne genuinely seemed to love every day she spent in the small yet elegant sandstone brick manor, its cozy interior made warmer by the smile she carried on her delicate visage each time mother taught them a new subject or she got to play with him.

Nocturne was happy in the confines of the small manor because to her they weren’t confines, no. It was a refuge from the bitter reality of the world, the freedom to live her life the way she pleased. And he would not be the one to disrupt the peace his sister had finally found for herself.

The second reason was the love he held for Mother and consequently, her secrets. Altair had never asked to visit the Dungeon Town because he saw the hesitation on her visage. He had never asked who mother was, or why were supplies delivered to their house weekly, without fail. Lavish, scrumptious supplies at that, delivered without want or ask for remuneration.

He had never asked why they lived in a manor away from the hustle and bustle of the city, also leaving themselves vulnerable to passersby that may hold ill-intent towards Isadora and her children.

Though to that question, he had received an answer.

It had been seven or perhaps eight months after his second birthday, if he remembered correctly. It would have made for a pretty mundane incident, albeit one that came with a little pain. Too lost in his musings, Altair had involuntarily slipped into Ryan Kimura’s gait as he tried to climb up the dining table chair. The phantom limb sensation that had popped up make it to the chair in one stride. Instead, he found himself falling forward, potentially headed for a crash course with the side of the chair.

He had closed his eyes in fear of the pain that was about to ensue, instinctively throwing his hands forward to contain some of the damage.

But the pain he had been awaiting never got the opportunity to strike.

Mother, who had walked past him more than a few moments ago, had somehow pivoted and caught him before he could hit the ground, whisking him into her embrace.

That was the day Altair had realized that his mother was no ordinary individual.

Five and a half years of temptation had stirred, yet Altair did not give in.

He never tried to delve deeper into Mother’s past. Never asked what she did in her study, for two to three hours every day. Who the letters she wrote were addressed to.

Who Altair’s father was.

Whether they had more family out there.

Altair loved mother.

And sometimes, choosing not to pull on the suspiciously tantalizing threads dangled before him was its own form of protection.

---

Isadora Elsie-Willowdale had been thinking.

It was thinking that finally led her children up the gentle slope of the hill, to a clear view of the Dungeon Town she was appointed overseer of.

She had known that children were inherently curious creatures. Or atleast, that was what the midwife for Altair and Nocturne’s birth and her good friend had told her.

Words she had put her faith in.

To Isadora, her daughter Nocturne was the most beautiful creature that existed in this world. When she had brought children into the world, Isadora had wondered if they would help mend her broken heart, if only a little.

Oh, how arrogant she had been.

Isadora’s twins had not mended her broken heart.

They had filled it instead.

Never had she imagined that a child could have such a jovial personality. Eyes that sparkled with love. A rosy smile that Isadora would torch the world to protect. And an infectious laughter that caused a smile to blossom on her face each time she heard it. Nocturne was the opposite of a curious child.

Contented.

A child that asked for nothing more than her love and attention.

How truly odd it was.

And how wonderful.

On the other hand, Altair was… different. His smile was rarely offered, but always genuine when given. On some days, his gaze would shine with happiness as he looked upon Isadora and Nocturne, while on others his visage carried a distant gaze, seemingly penetrating the limitations of the four walls ensconcing them and gazing at the beyond.

He was also a genius.

Nocturne could compete with him in her early years, making Isadora believe that she had given birth to two geniuses.

But the gap had rapidly opened up between the children after the initial years of infancy and Isadora wasn’t at all disappointed by the outcome.

A sharper intellect wasn’t always a good thing—especially one deluded themselves into believing that they were somehow superior to others.

Isadora had feared that the difference in comprehension would drive a rift between the siblings, that Altair would develop a superiority complex while Nocturne dealt with subjects at the pace of a little above average student.

Isadora wondered if she had made a mistake by isolating her children from the outside world.

But her fears had been for naught.

Never had she believed that it was capable of a duo of siblings, that too twins, to be so attached to one another.

Siblings that never fought.

If Altair was given a treat, he would hand it over to Nocturne.

If Nocturne was offered a drink, she would insist that her brother accept it.

How bizarre.

 

How adorable.

In the end, Isadora Elsie-Willowdale decided to wait.

A mother’s intuition could be transcendentally sharp.

Isadora knew that Altair yearned to see the outside world. She couldn’t exactly explain how or why, but she knew as sure as the mana that flowed within her body.

And where Altair would go, Nocturne would follow.

So she waited.

Waited for Altair to make the request.

He never did. Not once did he express a desire to leave his mother.

Waited for Nocturne to slip into inevitable boredom and yearn for the wider world.

She never did. Never once did the jovial expression she gazed upon her with quiver in intensity.

It was then, Isadora Elsie-Willowdale discovered a new dimension to love.

Children should grow up in the company of other children, regaled with tales of adventure and glory. Not in the company of one as bitter-hearted as her, one who desired to shutter herself away from the unrelenting currents of this world and forget both the wrongs rendered onto her and the price she had paid for her failure.

She had not lied when she had warned her children away from the Dungeon Town.

It was a dangerous place, yes. Many dangerous Tier 1 and Tier 2 Mages and Aura Masters frequented the town, in search of wealth, glory and fame.

But it was also a Neutral Zone designated by the Five Elder Clans of the Voltera Veilands and anyone who committed an offense within the territory of the town would be considered a joint enemy of the Five and hunted down to the ends of the Veilands.

The Dungeon itself was dangerous too but… they were located in the borderlands, nearing the boundary of the Great Shroud. The Mana in the air was enough to facilitate Tier 2 mages, but no higher. And from what Isadora knew of the Five Elder Clans, a representative at least three tiers higher than the threat posed by the Dungeon would be stationed within Nereus Aquillion, ready and willing to counteract the threat of a Dungeon Break.

That, ironically enough, made Nereus Aquillion one of the safest places in the entire Vortera Veillands.

She hated— She loathed— And a part of her was still afraid of Nereus Aquillion, but she knew that there was no reasonable threat posed to her children within the confines of the Dungeon Town.

Isadora wanted nothing more to raise her children in the safety of her home until they were considered adults. She wanted to control every aspect of their environment, so no harm could ever befall her children.

But…

Isadora Elsie-Willowdale realized that she couldn’t do that because she loved her children so much.

To love, was also to learn to let go.

It was with that realization in her heart that she told Altair and Isadora her decision when they reached the house.

The fact that they would be going to school.

The only school a Dungeon Town like Nereus Aquillion had to offer.

A school for future Mages and Aura Masters.