The sound of the metal cart creaking down the hallway was the first sign. Then, light knocks on the door. It opened before I could answer, revealing the youngest nurse on the team, the one with the thin-rimmed glasses and a permanent smile, but today his expression was serious, professional.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Phoenicis," he said, entering with a clipboard in hand. "Good news. The last tests came back, and the medical board has cleared you for discharge."

  "You'll be able to return to classes, with the exception of physical heavy exercises," he concluded, adjusting his slipping glasses. "You should be completely fine by the end of next week. Remember the prescribed care for the wound and drink plenty of water."

  He skimmed the papers on the clipboard, ticking a box. "Do you have any questions?"

  "No," I shook my head. No questions, at least none he could answer.

  "Remember to take your things when you leave," the nurse gave a final approving gesture and left, closing the door.

  "Thank you." — As soon as the nurse stepped out, I flopped back onto the bed.

  I lost three days of classes. — The sigh was as heavy as my body thrown onto the bed. I wonder if I should even attend today.

  Of all the students involved, only Pedro and I were kept away for so long. I hope he’s doing fine. — My eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall. It's 09:47. If I leave now, I'll arrive in the middle of class.

  "There's nothing to be done. It would be strange to return under any circumstances. Even if I miss only the first half, it's better than skipping another whole day," I murmured to myself, getting up from the bed with some effort.

  I gathered my things. I took one last look at the white, impersonal infirmary room. No reason to stay. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The dimmer light of the corridor was the first to greet me.

  If I'm not mistaken, the way is to go to the end of this hall, go down the stairs, and head to the main building.

  It wasn't long before I found the hall that led to the exit. Before leaving, I confirmed my discharge at the reception. The attendant, a middle-aged woman with glasses perched on the tip of her nose, simply checked a list and gave a confirming nod.

  "Everything is in order, Miss Phoenicis. You’re cleared to leave."

  I stepped out into the gardens. The sun, brighter than I remembered after days in the infirmary's gloom, forced me to shield my eyes before I was fully outside.

  A sudden gust of wind blew against me, stronger than the morning breeze, carrying the damp smell of earth and something else.

  Mom... Dad... Promise I won't be grounded when I tell this story.

  Blinking against the excessive brightness, I began walking toward the main building. My eyes gradually adjusted, picking up details of the gardens: the geometric beds of luminous herbs that glowed faintly even in daylight, the shrubs trimmed into perfect geometric shapes, the great trees whose bluish leaves whispered with the slightest breeze.

  A few people passed by me — hurried students with stacks of books, a gardener focused on pruning a crystal-vine creeper, a group of freshmen listening intently to an older monitor explaining the magical properties of the local flora.

  No one seemed to particularly notice me, or if they did, they hid it well. A strange feeling that the day was too normal.

  Not long after, the wide, pale stone steps of the main building rose before me. The great oak door, carved with the Academy's emblem: Two circles, side by side, joined at their edges. The same emblem I wore on my uniform.

  I kept walking and entered the main hall.

  From here, find the second floor and look for room 1st/7991. — My steps swallowed the stairs as I took in more details of the hall. Finding the second floor shortly after.

  "This is it." The words came out unintentionally as I faced the number above the door. I stopped for a few seconds, searching for the best approach.

  Entering results in a class pause. Knocking and entering results in a class pause, immediate attention to the door. — A few more seconds passed. Class pause... knocking and entering results in a class pause, immediate attention.

  The thought of sneaking in intruded, quickly discarded for a single reason: None of this made sense, from me considering sneaking into the classroom to why I was standing in front of a door searching for the right moment to enter..

  And then, the door opened. As certain as the doorknob turning would open the door, the class had a pause, and attention inadvertently turned to me.

  Everyone stopped for a few seconds—first the students, and then the teacher.

  "Sorry for being late. And for interrupting." I declared

  The room opened into a wide circle, descending in tiers to the center, where the large blackboard occupied the lowest part. The dark wooden desks followed the curve of the environment, divided into spaces for three people, arranged in successive levels like bleachers facing down.

  My gaze quickly passed over Varis, who was near the board, before finding Katia at one end of the room.

  Varis tapped a piece of chalk lightly on the board, drawing everyone's attention back to the front.

  "Let's keep our curiosity focused on the lesson, not on tardy arrivals," she said, her tone relaxed but firm. "Class continues."

  I took the moment to go down a step and head toward my seat. The path seemed longer under everyone's gaze, but I managed to sit next to Katia without further interruptions.

  I had barely settled when she leaned toward me, her voice a whisper veiled by the sound of Varis's explanation.

  "So? How does it feel to walk into class like it's your first time?" she asked, a mix of sarcasm and genuine curiosity in her lavender eyes.

  "Worse than facing an intelligent, indestructible monster," I replied, keeping my voice as low as hers. "What did I miss?"

  "Most of the classes during your absence were about history," she whispered back, discreetly pointing to the board. "The past lessons were about Fontana's reconstruction period and the school's founding." She paused, a complicit smile touching her lips. "You can borrow my notes later."

  "Right," I replied, turning to the rest of the room.

  My eyes scanned the room again, an automatic tactical check. The direct stares had ceased, but subtle attention persisted. In the front row, on the other side of the class, a girl with short, greenish hair averted her gaze with almost convulsive speed as my field of vision crossed hers, fixing intently on her own notes as if the world's survival depended on them.

  A bit ahead, sitting next to Hadrian, Elian kept his gaze fixed on the professor. His hand was on his chin, in a pose of deep concentration. But there was a rigidity in his shoulders, an immobility that went beyond academic focus.

  Then I looked at the empty chair next to Katia.

  No one wanted to take this spot... Am I to blame, or is it Katia? — The class seemed to continue without further interruptions.

  "The Capital, at that time, was being strangled by a dual crisis," Varis explained, her voice taking on a narrative tone. "Constant attacks from the borders eroded security, while internally, the army was fragmented into three factions. The disunity was so great that, at times, it seemed the external enemy was the least of their concerns."

  She paused, letting the gravity of the situation hang.

  "It was in this chaos that the unofficial pillar of one of these factions — Ophira, the Golden — resolved the crisis of the attacks. Alone, according to accounts, she stabilized the eastern border in a matter of hours."

  A student at the back raised his hand, his expression confused.

  "Professor, but you said she was a 'pillar' of a faction, but not official? How does that work?"

  "Good question, miss. Officially, by court and army records, Ophira did not belong to the royalty, nor to any of the great houses, nor was she even listed in the formal chain of command." Varis crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the desk.

  "However, the correspondence of the time, letters exchanged between officers and nobles, is unanimous on one point: her impact on the battlefield was so overwhelming that a significant portion of the troops — from various factions — began to follow her on their own initiative. That's when this third faction was created."

  “But in that case, were people with no military or state affiliation allowed to operate on the front lines?” the student asked again.

  “At that time, Fontana was receiving many immigrants, some of them mages. Due to the crisis, some of them were allowed to operate on the front lines.” Varis answered him. “Ophira is a more complicated case—she was summoned by the king at the time due to her contributions”

  "And the most interesting part is that the same letters indicate that her behavior didn't change a millimeter from the first day to the last. There's no record that she ever formally requested or supported this movement that sprang up around her..."

  I'm not following any of this. Another topic for the library.

  After some time the bell rang, its deep chime echoing through the amphitheater and marking the end of class. An immediate murmur of voices and the sound of chairs being scraped filled the space.

  Beside me, Katia stretched with a muffled yawn, raising her arms above her head.

  "So?" she asked, turning to me as she began to pack her things. "How are you feeling?"

  "I'm fine," I replied, closing my blank notebook. "But I feel uncomfortable. I think my body is missing some physical exertion."

  Katia made a face, a flash of guilt passing through her eyes.

  "Sorry. I know who's to blame for you being like this."

  "Anyway," she said, picking up a notebook, "it looked like you were on another planet during the whole explanation. Here." She handed the notebook to me. "My notes. From the first day you were absent. The history is interesting; if you have time, it's worth looking for more in the library."

  "Thank you," I said, quickly flipping through the pages. "I really couldn't follow anything."

  It was when I looked up from the notebook that I stopped.

  About eight students were standing in front of our desk, forming a loose semicircle that blocked our exit path. They didn't seem hostile — at least not openly — but there was a collective intensity in their gazes, a silent expectation that tightened the air around me.

  My gaze instantly flew to Katia. She met my eyes and gave a small shrug with her shoulders and hands, saying: I don't know. I have nothing to do with this.

  "You... are Mio, right?" a girl in front asked, her voice a mix of hesitation and curiosity.

  Before I could answer, a boy next to her stepped forward, his eyes shining with an almost feverish urgency.

  "It's about the expedition!" he said, ignoring any formality. "Is it true what happened? That there was a monster and you fought it?"

  "Hey, stop that, you're being too direct," murmured another student, a girl with braids, poking the first boy in the arm with evident embarrassment.

  The first boy didn't seem to mind the reprimand. He just raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, but his eyes remained fixed on me, full of an irrepressible curiosity.

  "Ah, come on!" he exclaimed, looking quickly at the others around him. "Let's not pretend we're not all dying to know. The whole room went silent when she walked in. Everyone wants to hear the story."

  Could I sneak out...? No, it won't work.

  My eyes met Katia's again. She seemed as lost as I was, with a slight shrug that said, "I don't know what to do either."

  I turned my attention to the group. Taking a deep breath, I kept my expression as neutral as possible.

  "It's true. I don't know what rumors you've heard but maybe they’re a bit exaggerated—I spent most of the time running away.," I said simply.

  The girl with braids seemed to get the message, her face becoming even more embarrassed.

  "Look, it's clear she doesn't want to talk about it," she said to the boy, her voice a bit firmer now.

  The boy finally seemed to back down a bit, his shoulders slumping. He rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat ashamed.

  "Ah... right. Sorry. It's just... it was all very intense, the rumors, you know? I just really wanted to understand what actually happened."

  "It's okay," I replied, trying to end the subject. "But there's nothing interesting about the story. It was just a bad situation."

  It was then that a third student, who had been observing silently from the back of the small group, spoke. He was a thinner boy with glasses and an analytical expression.

  "Just run?" he questioned, his voice calm but incisive. "That's... statistically improbable. According to the reports that circulated, if you actually faced it and survived without employing offensive or defensive elemental magic... That, by definition, makes you incredible. Or at the very least, impossible."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I knew that if I answered like that things would end up like this.... I feel bad for using Professor Varis like this.

  Without me needing to take any further action. A hand found the shoulder of the last student who spoke. Behind him stood the scarlet-haired figure with a smile that was not one of joy.

  "Ra-ve-llo… If you have time to pressure someone who was just discharged, perhaps I should increase the number of exercises that you’ll take home" Varis declared.

  A murmur of discreet panic swept through the group. The bespectacled boy jumped, turning to find Varis's not-so-friendly smile. The other students instantly backed away, some murmuring hurried apologies, others simply turning and leaving through the nearest door with impressive speed.

  In seconds, the inquisitive semicircle had dissolved, leaving only Varis, Katia, and me around the desk.

  Varis placed her hands on her hips, her gaze losing its severity as she turned to me.

  "So?" she asked, her tone now softer. "How are you feeling, Phoenicis?"

  "Better now," I replied, still a bit stunned by the sudden intervention. "But I think it'll take a while to catch up on the material."

  "Don't worry about that," she said with a dismissive wave. "Getting back into the rhythm takes time. The important thing is you're back." She took a step forward, lowering her voice slightly. "And thank you. For not feeding the rumors any further."

  With a final nod to Katia and me, Varis turned and left the room, leaving behind the sudden silence and the echo of her words.

  Katia let out a sigh, repositioning her backpack on her shoulders more firmly.

  "Well, that was... weird," Katia commented, looking toward the door through which Varis had left. "What are you going to do now? Head straight to the dorm to rest?"

  "I was thinking of going to the library," I replied, putting the notebook she lent me into my bag. "Try to make up for some of the lost time. Wanna come??"

  She made a genuinely regretful face. "............ I can't… I have to go to the administration office."

  "They are finally catching you begging for two desserts every time in the cafeteria?"

  Katia laughed, a brief, genuine sound.

  "Of course not. My charm is infallible with the kitchen staff," she said with a careless wave of her hand. "It's probably because of the incident. Since I'm the daughter of a high-ranking officer, my statement is kind of treated with special attention."

  "Strange," I remarked, looking at her. "They haven't taken your statement yet? It's been days since we got back."

  Katia shrugged, but a slight discomfort passed through her eyes.

  "They took an initial version right when we arrived. But it seems they want something more formal now. Auntie will be there too."

  “I kind of want to see Aunt Bela.” The thought crossed my mind quickly.

  Katia glanced at the clock on the wall.

  "Speaking of which, I should already be there. If it doesn't take too long, I'll look for you in the library."

  I was left behind, finishing organizing my things — the blank notebook, Katia's borrowed notes, the pen. I took a deep breath, preparing to face the library and the solitude that would come with it.

  But before I could take the first step toward the door, two more people stopped near my desk.

  I quickly connected the points. The conclusion didn’t seem obvious, but given all the interruptions, the thought felt logical. “Is trying to go to the library some kind of a sin?”

  A thick silence fell between us. Lira kept her head down, her interlaced fingers twisting nervously in front of her uniform. Elian, for his part, stood beside her, but his gaze was stubbornly fixed on the empty corridor window, as if the scenery outside were the most fascinating thing in the world.

  "Do you need something?" The first words were mine.

  "She said she wanted to talk" Elian was the second to speak.

  Lira raised her hands to chest height, as if holding something fragile. Her eyes finally met mine.

  "I wanted to thank you," she said, her voice coming out louder than expected, "for saving me when that thing fell from the ceiling."

  "Ah..."

  So that's about it.. To be honest, I didn't even remember that. "It's no problem. I'm glad you're okay."

  "Me too," Elian rejoined the conversation. "I feel like I should thank you as well. If it weren't for you, things would have been much worse."

  I paused for a second, considering Elian’s words.

  "I didn't do anything special. Now that I stopped to think about it," I said, looking past them to the board where Varis's diagrams were still drawn, "I'm not so sure. Thinking from the outside, maybe there was a better way to handle the whole situation."

  Elian let out a muffled sigh that turned into a short laugh.

  "How do you have the nerve to say something like that?" he asked, and this time his gaze remained fixed on me, a spark of genuine incredulity in his eyes.

  Before I could respond — if I even had a response — Lira raised her voice.

  It was a higher, more direct tone than I'd ever heard her use. She seemed startled by her own volume, bringing a hand to her mouth briefly before continuing, more restrained.

  "Sorry. It's just that..." she swallowed dryly, her fingers interlacing again. "Katia told me you're from a small village, in the countryside. That... surprised me a bit."

  “I'm also from a small village. I watched you during the entrance exam. What I wanted to know is” — She paused, searching for the words. "How did you... find the courage? To face that creature? My mind went blank the moment I saw it; you seemed like you didn't think twice."

  "I did that because if I hadn't..." I started to answer but stopped abruptly. The words died on my tongue. Because that answer — "because if I hadn't, you'd be dead" — didn't answer Lira's question. She wasn't asking about probabilities or strategies. She was asking about courage. About the instinct that makes someone move toward danger while others freeze.

  Why did I do that? — My mind automatically pondered the question.

  And I didn't have an answer for that. Because for me, it hadn't been courage. It hadn't been a heroic impulse or a moral choice. It was just a path chosen among many other possible ones. That I simply chose because it was the best for the situation.

  I remained silent, looking at Lira's expectant and somewhat vulnerable expression, and at Elian's intense gaze. I couldn't give them the answer they wanted to hear.

  "Honestly," I said, forcing the words out, "I don't know. I didn't have any specific motivation. It just happened before I could think of it as a choice. I'm sorry."

  Lira seemed surprised, her eyes widening a bit. She didn't seem disappointed, just... intrigued. Beside her, Elian's expression became strange, hard to read — a mix of confusion and something that could be recognition.

  "Oh, no," Lira said quickly, waving her hands. "I wasn't demanding an answer or anything. I was just curious, that's all." She offered a small, still shy smile. "Thank you. I hope we can be friends someday..."

  With a final nod, she turned and left the room, her step lighter than when she had entered.

  Elian stayed for one more second, his face still marked by that pensive expression. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, shook his head almost imperceptibly, and, without another word, followed Lira out.

  The room, already almost empty, now seemed to amplify the silence left by the unspoken words.

  The library...

  I left the room and began walking through the halls toward the library, but my feet seemed to move automatically. My mind, however, was stuck on Lira's question.

  Courage, huh... What defines the act of having courage? The absence of fear? I can't say that applies to my situation. I knew the outcome of the action before I even started moving; it's different from Elian, who charged at the creature without knowing what could happen.

  I arrived at the large double doors of the library without really noticing the path. I stopped for a moment, looking at the geometric carvings on the door.

  The library was one of the largest rooms in the school, perhaps rivaled only by the main gymnasium. The space was vast, as wide as the main race track, but where there were shouts and movement there, there was a reverential silence that seemed to absorb even the sound of one's own breathing.

  "What do I have for today?" I murmured, pulling a small notebook from my pocket. Even without opening it, I could see the endless list of topics.

  Ancient languages, Katia's history notes, Ophira, teleportation, ancient ruins, intelligent creatures, Fontana's archaeological records.

  "There's not the slightest chance I can finish all of this this week..." I said as I walked to the reception. "The most important topics are ancient languages, teleportation, and Katia's notes."

  I walked to the reception desk, an imposing structure of dark wood behind which an older man with thick glasses and a tweed vest was organizing cards in a box.

  "Good afternoon," I greeted, my voice sounding louder than intended in the hall's silence.

  The man looked up, adjusting his glasses. A professional smile appeared on his face.

  "Good afternoon, young lady. How may I help you?"

  "I'm looking for books on ancient languages. And on teleportation," I said, keeping the mentally projected list firmly in my focus.

  The librarian furrowed his brow for a moment, thoughtful.

  "Teleportation... yes, yes. We have some theoretical treatises and historical accounts. They would be in Column Seventeen, in the Elemental Magic section." He pointed a finger toward one of the aisles formed by the gigantic shelves. "Of the six columns organized by elemental affinities, the magic of instant displacement is studied under the umbrella of the Pure Mana Affinity, since it is strictly linked to that element."

  He paused, consulting a mental, invisible catalog.

  "Now, ancient languages... that's broader." He scratched his chin. "Your best bet would be Column Thirty-Four, in the History and Philology wing. There we have dictionaries, comparative grammars, and transcriptions of texts recovered from archaeological sites, some from before the Founding of Fontana. If you know of a specific civilization or period, I can narrow it down further."

  "No need, you've already helped," I replied, thanking him with a nod. "I'll start with those. Thank you."

  I turned and faced the labyrinth of knowledge before me. Column thirty-four.

  I began walking down the main aisle, my boots making an almost imperceptible sound on the waxed floor. The size of the place was intimidating. It's going to be hard to search for something I don't even really know what it is.

  I stopped in front of the shelf, wondering how anyone could find anything there. The conventional method — picking up books, reading titles — seemed monumentally inefficient. But I didn't need conventional methods.

  Instead of moving my physical body, I began moving a ghostly version of myself within the flow of immediate futures.

  "Metaphors of Everyday Life, Dialects of the Northern Tribes, Fundamental Studies of Non-Human Languages... Not it..."

  I continued my slow progress down the aisle, a thoughtful shadow that, to any observer, seemed merely lost. Meanwhile, inside me, an imaginary pile of rejected books grew at a dizzying speed.

  The search ceased. In a part I couldn't physically reach, my fingers touched the spine of a book on the middle shelf: "Introduction to Ancient Language: Common Roots and Basic Deciphering." When I reached it, an adjacent book fell. There was no way around that situation, so I simply caught it before it could hit the ground.

  "Tales of the Fieri and Dei Sogni Dynasty" — I observed the book's cover, one eye firmly closed.

  "If this were a scene in a fantasy book, this would definitely be an important book," I murmured, returning the book to its place.

  I replicated the method in aisle seventeen. This time, the criterion was clearer: "teleportation," "transposition," "spatial displacement." The book that emerged from the sea of possibilities was "Fundamentals of Instantaneous Displacement: Theory and Practical Limitations," a dark blue tome with silver edges.

  With both books under my arm, I went to the reading section and looked for an empty table. And as expected for a library of that size, it was full.

  I sat at a table near a wall, momentarily observing the crowd of people also reading.

  "I think I'll start with the ancient languages." — I flipped through a few pages. The first ones were just the authors' introductions and how the research was done using the current language. The following pages contained the content I was looking for.

  "Phonotactics is the study of the rules governing how the sounds of a language can combine.... For example, in the contemporary language, a sequence like 'ptk' at the beginning of a word is impossible..."

  "The study of extinct language corpora reveals remarkable mathematical patterns. The most robust among them, the so-called Zipf's Law, establishes that in any sufficiently long text, the most frequent word will occur approximately twice as often as the second most frequent, three times as often as the third, and so on. That is, the frequency (f) of a word is inversely proportional to its rank (r) in an ordered frequency table: f ∝ 1/r."

  I flipped through a few more pages, the concepts beginning to stick in my mind. After some time, I sighed and closed the book. A break was necessary to figure out how to use that content.

  Closed my eyes for a second, trying to organize the concepts I had just read.

  "First," I thought, structuring the reasoning, "there's phonotactics: the rules of which sounds can go together. It's like the anatomy of the language. 'Ptka' is an impossible word here, but it might have been normal somewhere else."

  "Second, there's the issue of context and meaning. The book mentioned 'semantic fields.' War words appear in battle treatises, not harvest hymns. That's pure common sense, but..."

  My forehead furrowed. This is where things got murky. I was trying to fit a third principle into the sequence, that mathematical pattern of frequencies, but it didn't fit.

  I reopened the book, searching for the page. Ah, there it was. Two chapters later.

  "Third... it's not about context. It's about statistics, Zipf's Law. 'The most common word in a text appears approximately twice as often as the second, three times as often as the third, and so on. It's a mathematical law of language, independent of the topic.'"

  "I'm going to need two things," I whispered to myself, as if dictating an impossible shopping list. "Texts. And visual references."

  My memory returned to the monumental hall with its colossal statues. If I had to guess, each text is probably about the sculpted figure. Things like that might be easier.

  "Maybe somewhere there's some translation manuscript; it's completely improbable that there's nothing about those ruins."

  My fingers rested on the cold cover of the book. The answer was clear, and it was unacceptable. To apply Zipf's Law, I needed a textual corpus. To cross-reference symbols with meaning, I needed the original inscriptions. Both things were in one place: that silent city beneath the abyss. An option emerged, sharp and dangerous as a blade.

  That's only possible if I go back there…. Or if I manage to get a massive amount of text in that language. Maybe i can search for it on library.

  I sighed, weariness and frustration forming a tight knot in my chest. I had a theory. I had the mathematical tool. But I lacked the raw data. And the data was in a place that might as well be another world.

  "Well, lamenting things I have no control over won't help me at all. I'll check the book on teleportation."

  I set aside the language book, the frustration still fresh. The volume on teleportation, dark blue and serious, seemed to promise more concrete answers.

  I opened it to the introduction. The writing was dense, technical, but clear.

  "The phenomenon of instantaneous displacement, colloquially 'teleportation,' is restricted to users with an elemental affinity for Mana Control. Any link to other elemental affinities, such as fire, water, electricity, earth, wind, renders the process impossible."

  I flipped to the chapter on methodologies.

  "...historically, two main paradigms have emerged for the transposition of living matter. The First Method, or 'Corporeal Transcription,' requires the precise mapping and reconstruction of every constituent part of the target at the destination point. For an adult human body, this represents an uncountable number of elementary and biological particles. The tolerable margin of error is zero. A minuscule deviation in positioning or quantum state results not in a 'half-formed' or 'dead' body."

  A chill ran down my spine. The words were dry, academic, but the image they painted was visceral.

  "...the Second Method, or 'Transport Stasis,' emerged as a solution. Instead of mapping and moving, the user submerges themselves or the target in a state of absolute stasis at the moment of departure. All biological or magic functions are frozen. The 'package' thus created is then displaced through the interdimensional medium as an indivisible and invariant unit, to be 'thawed' only at the confirmed destination. The risk of transcription error is eliminated, as there is no need for mapping since everything is, in a way, 'Frozen.'"

  I closed the book slowly. My fingers were cold. More impossible conclusions materialized in my thoughts.

  "I can't say I understood everything," I admitted in a whisper to the silent library air. "But if this book contains the complete truth about the methodology of teleportation..." I continued, the logic fitting together with oppressive weight, "then it's unlikely someone manually teleported us."

  "I'll note this down too. Going over the information with Katia might help me discover more things. She has an unusual habit of knowing about completely random things." I picked up my pen and touched the tip to the blank page, ready to start writing.

  But my hand didn't move. For a few moments, I just concentrated on understanding my own notes. The writing seemed confused; in some parts, there were notes I didn't remember making.

  To decipher a language, it is necessary... Re?e'êkuaápa guaraníme?... That three methods be...

  The tip of the pen trembled slightly against the paper. The mixed words, the notes that weren't mine, the intrusive whisper in my mind — it was as if the notebook were becoming an open door, and something was trying to pass through it, mingling with my own thoughts.

  With a sudden, almost violent motion, I slapped the notebook shut. The sound echoed on the wooden table, momentarily dispelling the strange fog that had invaded my head.

  I took a deep breath, trying to regain control. It was then that a familiar voice came from behind me.

  "Glad to see you're studious, snow girl."

  Katia: I bet my dessert she's gonna say she didn't do anything special.

  Elian: I'm in. If I win, you have to introduce me to your dad.

  Katia: I can’t believe I got free chocolates.... Thank you Mio.

  Elian: Eh, what is that face you are making?