Erica arrived at Maria’s house. Those cream-colored walls, the white shutters, the hedges, and the scent of freshly bloomed lavender. Beside the entrance, the fountain gurgled softly, though it hadn’t hosted the goldfish in years. Inside, the leather sofa stood as a testament to countless evenings spent chatting, warmed by the fireplace’s glow, often lit even when unnecessary. Rosenfield never truly got that cold. And above the mantelpiece—a wrought iron candelabra? That had never been there before. Maria and Edgar rarely changed the décor, and that candelabra clashed with the rest of the room’s style. It must have meant something important to Maria. Perhaps it symbolized something from her time teaching at the school in Rome? Perhaps it held some superstitious value? The thought of asking about its significance blended with the pulses of energy that continued to hum in the room.

  The vibrations of the Light that Erica had sensed earlier now resurfaced—tangible and precise.

  Jonata advanced like a storm, each step reverberating in the Light like an unrelenting drumbeat. His energy wasn’t just aggressive; it brimmed with impatience and determination, as though he desperately needed to prove something to himself. His steps brushed the rug with the precision of a focused predator. The faint sound of Michael’s shoes, retreating toward the fireplace, was dangerous. That slight noise alone could give Jonata the opportunity to ignite an illumination. Yet within Michael’s cautious movements lay a different kind of strength—a desire to approach the Light with respect, to use it as a tool to defend, not to dominate. Like Edgar, he understood the value of family, the necessity of fighting against injustice. He was so unlike the typical Predators, who wielded the Light to assert their superiority, driven by an innate sense of entitlement. For Michael, the Light wasn’t a tool for power or self-affirmation—it was quite the opposite. He wasn’t a King, but much like the Kings and Queens, Michael sought to dissolve himself within the Light. Yet he couldn’t achieve it, and likely never would—not completely. That was a curse reserved solely for Kings and Queens. For her.

  Even in combat, the difference between the two boys was stark: Jonata’s sheer speed clashed with Michael’s reflective analysis, still raw and unpolished. He studied every minute detail, though he often hesitated.

  She remembered the tremor within the Light when Jonata must have lunged forward. His energy had exploded like a blinding flame, an overwhelming force aimed at overpowering Michael. But Michael hadn’t moved. In that moment, within the Light, he seemed almost motionless. Darkness. So deep it absorbed Jonata’s Light, enveloped it, and sent it elsewhere—to some alternate dimension. His mind had shed all distractions. Through his connection with the Light, Michael had sensed the tremor of Jonata’s next step even before it happened—a signal that allowed him to sidestep just in time to avoid contact. He had moved without thinking, instinctively, like a martial arts master, like a pianist’s fingers, like the subconscious motion of legs while walking. Talent! Michael had immense talent, Erica had thought—only to immediately reconsider. Then and there, Michael had thrown himself into a counterattack, revealing his vulnerability and losing all focus. His attempt had fallen flat… By then, Jonata would have had no trouble illuminating him.

  Determined to help Michael without his knowledge, Erica had intervened to show him what it truly meant to defend against an illumination. She swept away the noise clouding Michael’s mind, sharpening his ability to predict every detail Jonata, as a Predator, would exploit to illuminate him, deflecting the attacks like light bouncing off a mirror.

  Maria, meanwhile, had been observing them. Always composed, always clear-headed—yet Erica had seldom seen her so resolute. The Light seemed to swirl within Maria, ready to be channeled at a precise moment. She wasn’t a Queen, didn’t inhabit the Light as Erica did, but her mastery of emotions—a hallmark of a mythical-level Guardian—made her a formidable opponent for any Predator. And then there was her attention to detail, her talent for calculating the potential consequences of every action… A born leader. She wasn’t merely orchestrating that training session; she was planning the boys’ personal growth for weeks to come.

  Jonata’s forceful, impetuous steps? Predicted. Michael’s cautious movements, using the echoes of their steps as a bridge in the Light? Calculated. Nothing escaped Maria’s strategy.

  The room still seemed to breathe with the rhythm of that encounter. Jonata’s raw energy, Michael’s determination to withstand, and Maria’s authority intertwined in an invisible symphony on the polished floor—the stage for that silent battle.

  Yet a sense of unease simmered beneath the surface. The connection among the three wasn’t coincidental. The vibrations in the Light mapped pathways no one could yet discern. Michael would have an important role to play; there was no doubt. But for now, everything hung suspended—a delicate thread waiting to be drawn taut. The girl—the Queen—dissipated her presence into the Light, a fragmented echo that seemed to watch Michael’s every move. Erica couldn’t grasp her intention, but she knew that this fleeting connection would soon crystallize into something real. Everything was in their hands, hers and Malee’s.

  "Michael and Jonata are making progress, aren’t they?" Erica asked Maria, trying to distract herself from the lingering unease. Yet in a corner of her mind, the vibrations of the Light carried irregular fragments. A fleeting presence, unfamiliar but strangely familiar—the girl. She didn’t fully emerge, but the echo of her energy seemed to weave into the room’s rhythm, heightening Erica’s restlessness.

  "Incredible progress. From the day Jonata first came to me, he and Michael have poured heart and soul into the exercises. Yesterday, I had them duel right here, where you’re standing, and…" Maria paused, a thought flickering across her mind. "But why am I even telling you this—you obviously know already."

  Erica didn’t respond. Honestly, she no longer felt like making conversation. Nervous and under pressure, she wanted to retreat.

  It was all so complicated. The girl with Asian features, the prophecy, and then the training sessions with Michael and Jonata that Maria had asked her to monitor. She hated lying to her friends, and the situation had led to no shortage of awkward moments for her. And then there was the weight of her looming responsibility—the moment she would have to unleash her true power, the pinnacle of a Queen’s abilities. Too much. Far too much.

  Some things still gave Erica hope. First and foremost, the bond between Michael and Jonata. It was now obvious to her how different the two boys were—how they stood on opposite ends of the spectrum of the Light, making them practically complementary. A perfect pair.

  "I felt the contrast between them. I sensed it very clearly."

  "And what exactly did you sense?"

  As if you don’t already know! "What are you doing, Maria? Testing me?" Erica laughed, but the sound that came out was entirely unnatural. What good was being a Queen if she couldn’t escape embarrassment?

  They want me at the center of everything.

  For a moment, Erica found herself back in her old bedroom, surrounded by the books and toys that had once filled her afternoons. Carefree, she had never been. How could she, a Queen, have been? Yet there had been a time when the pressures felt far away—an echo barely audible. She had lived for small pleasures: a walk in the garden, a book under the winter sun. Now even those memories felt so distant, blurred, like the broken promise of a future that could never be hers. And now, more than anything, she hated the feeling of being caught off guard.

  Maria smiled, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing inside her. "No, I just want your opinion," she replied lightly, her tone gentle and familiar, like someone who had known Erica her whole life.

  "Fine."

  Erica took a deep breath, exhaling as if to rid herself of her negative emotions. The muscles in her face relaxed, giving way to a smile. How predictable our bodies are. How mechanical our emotions. That’s it, I’m just talking about my friends—nothing more.

  Even though, of course, one of those friends happened to be Maria’s son.

  "I can tell you that, in my opinion, Michael shows great talent in resisting illumination, and Jonata—well, Jonata is a born Predator."

  "Absolutely. When I had them duel, I set some conditions: Michael could only use hearing to illuminate, Jonata touch."

  "More difficult for Michael."

  "Exactly. With touch, you can take a more aggressive approach, you can go on the offensive. With hearing, you have to wait for a sound that both parties are aware of before attempting illumination."

  "Right, because for you, both must be aware of the same thing for illumination to occur. A sound, a touch, a scent—something to act as a bridge between two minds."

  "Does that seem strange to you?"

  "No, it doesn’t seem strange. Nothing that happens in the Light is strange."

  Maria studied Erica for a moment, trying to discern whether she had finished speaking or had more to say. Erica felt the weight of the silence and decided to break it as quickly as possible.

  "But you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to see Jonata on the attack and Michael in defense, right?

  "Exactly," Maria replied.

  "I don’t know how Michael did it—he must have a natural talent—but he immediately understood that, to defend himself, he would have to shut out the senses that wouldn’t be of use to him. They started sizing each other up right away, as if they were veterans."

  "Veterans?" Erica couldn’t help but laugh. "Maria, are you teaching them to play Steal the Light?"

  This time, Maria burst into nervous laughter. "Oh, no. It’s just that sometimes… you know, all things considered, it’s an educational game."

  The sudden roar of a motorbike broke through the room, entering through the open window. Erica turned to look outside, but she didn’t see anything. Maria’s kitchen window didn’t face the street directly.

  "Wasn’t that the Amber boy’s motorbike?" Erica asked innocently, trying to change the subject. She didn’t like the situation. It felt as though she had been forced to spy on her two friends through a keyhole in their bedroom doors. Almost without realizing it, she found herself wishing she were somewhere else. But Maria didn’t let her change the subject.

  "Did you follow their training in the Light as I asked?"

  Erica felt her cheeks flush, still unable to control the embarrassment of the situation.

  "A little…"

  "Then I want to hear your perspective."

  "Well…" Erica gathered her strength. It was her role, and there was nothing she could do about it. "But I can, right? I can talk about them without feeling embarrassed?"

  "Of course. I’m not asking you to reveal their secrets or things they’re hiding from me. I just want your opinion on their level."

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Alright. You asked for it.

  Erica took a few seconds to organize her thoughts and memories. "I think Michael realized he couldn’t go on the offensive because Jonata would only need to reach out and touch him to illuminate him. Jonata, on the other hand, knew he had the advantage of being able to attack. But he also knew he had to be careful, not make a single sound, because Michael had the edge of being able to illuminate from a distance—through sound."

  "All of this went through their minds?"

  "I think so. I don’t know exactly how, but I’m pretty sure that’s what they were reasoning. You know, they’re learning to feel at ease in the Light."

  "I know. I mean, I know they’re learning to illuminate. I have no idea what you mean by ‘feeling at ease in the Light,’ but it doesn’t matter. What happened next?"

  "And then Jonata must have charged. Like a bull. And then—"

  "And then you intervened. You helped Michael."

  Erica’s jaw dropped. Maria knew. She had noticed.

  Maria didn’t let her continue. "Of course I noticed. One moment, Michael was showing his usual flaws. The next, he gained a much more advanced ability to focus, to stay on task. Why did you do it?"

  "You think I did something wrong?"

  "That’s not it."

  "Then what? The only thing that matters is that Michael learns to resist illumination."

  There. She’d let it slip. Erica suppressed the urge to cover her mouth like a child. Maria immediately pounced.

  "Why all the secrecy? Why does he need to learn so quickly? You know something you’re not telling me, don’t you?"

  Know? In the Light, Erica saw everything. But seeing isn’t knowing. Knowing is being able to say that two plus two equals four, that a specific action leads to defined consequences—it’s being able to give something a name and think you understand it. Erica, in the Light, just saw. But meanings remained veiled to her. Why couldn’t Maria understand that? Why did everyone keep pressing her as if she were some kind of oracle, a modern-day Cassandra, a superheroine?

  How could she possibly explain, in ordinary words, something that happens "before" words?

  "It’s not easy," she admitted at last. "It’s not what you think. The Light... it’s chaotic. In my mind, there are… fragments. Pieces I don’t know how to fit together."

  Her friend’s annoyance was obvious, and Erica felt a surge of sudden anger: she wasn’t Maria’s tool or subordinate. Maria should have known better. There were things Erica could do and things she couldn’t. And above all, there were things she didn’t want to say.

  "Anyway, he still lost," she added, her gaze drifting into the distance, to nowhere in particular.

  "Of course he lost. He resisted the first illumination, but you can’t stay passive forever. Eventually, concentration slips. And to move out of that level of calmness, to reach an even higher level of skill and be ready to counterattack, you need to be at a level of…"

  "You?"

  "Of course, mine. Only a few others and I can do it. Or could do it."

  Erica smirked. For a moment, she thought, she was in agreement with Cutrone.

  "The champion of Steal the Light and her pride!" she mocked.

  "It’s not pride. It’s a fact." Maria waved her hands dismissively, as if to shut down the topic entirely.

  It wasn’t the time to push further on the subject.

  "Maria, let’s not argue. I wanted to show Michael what it really means to be good at resisting illumination, and it’ll serve as a lesson for him. That’s all."

  Maria sighed. Erica knew well that the tension between them had been growing lately, and she also knew that even the Grand Master—the authoritative side of Maria, whom Erica barely knew—had noticed.

  "But why does he need to accelerate his training so much?" Maria asked again, her tone feigning gentleness. But Erica knew perfectly well—she felt it—that underneath, Maria was simmering.

  "I understand you can’t explain in words what you saw in the Light, but... can’t you help me understand? Is it a serious risk?"

  "Let me finish," Erica said. Maria nodded.

  "When Jonata charged at Michael, he moved just enough to throw Jonata off balance. Jonata must have made some kind of noise, right? Because I sensed Michael coming out of defense and trying to illuminate Jonata with that sound. Am I right?"

  "Yes, I think that’s what happened."

  "A sound Jonata must not have heard, which is why Michael’s attempt failed—because that ‘bridge’ necessary for illumination couldn’t form. For Jonata, at that point, it was child’s play to reach out, touch him, and illuminate him."

  "Exactly. So what?"

  "So what, Maria? Don’t you understand? Michael still relies too much on his instincts, on what he thinks is right,. He wants to do things his own way. Instead of staying defensive, suppressing his will, and letting the Light act through him, he jumped at the first chance to attack—making himself vulnerable."

  "He’s a boy. He’s just started his training. What did you expect?"

  "I think his stubbornness is his weakness… but also his strength."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that what I saw—well…" Erica hesitated.

  "Once again, please, what did you see?"

  Enough. No more hiding. Michael was in danger. "I think Michael is going to play a very important role with the girl. He needs to learn to be less… impressionable."

  "Wait, which girl? The one from the dreams?"

  "Yes. I know she’s been here too, in Rosenfield. Both Michael and Jonata have dreamed of her. I… I’ve sensed her."

  Erica hesitated, unable to explain to Maria that her perception wasn’t just a memory, but an intermittent presence that roamed the Light, brushing against every vibration in the room. The girl seemed to be searching for something, and every time her energy appeared, Erica felt its devastating potential.

  "That I already knew. How old is she exactly?"

  "I’m not sure—how could I know? But she seems younger than me."

  "And she contacted Michael directly?"

  "Both him and Jonata, without a doubt."

  "But Michael hasn’t had any training in long-distance navigation. How could the girl have contacted him? Navigation can only be done in pairs."

  "That’s the same question I’m asking myself."

  Maria lowered her gaze, thoughtful for a moment. Erica knew her well enough to guess what was going through her mind. If Michael—a novice with no training in navigation—had managed to make contact with her remotely, it was only because the girl had used her power as a Queen to enable him. Queens and Kings, just like Erica, possessed this extraordinary ability: to grant others the capacity to illuminate, resist illumination, or even temporarily live, as they did, “within the Light.”

  Among the vast number of boys and girls Erica was contacting worldwide—including many from the School of Light already trained in navigation, people far more experienced—the girl had chosen to focus her attention on Michael. Why? Erica had no doubts. Michael was talented, and his goodness was unwavering, almost to a fault… too easily impressionable. He was someone who wouldn’t hesitate for a second to sacrifice himself for a worthy cause—or for what he thought was a worthy cause, or what someone had convinced him was worth it. But above all… Michael was close to Erica and Maria. Michael was the perfect Trojan horse for breaching an otherwise impenetrable fortress.

  Maria was certainly thinking the same thing Erica was. That Michael was the weak link in their defenses—technically raw, psychologically unprepared, and still too immature. But—and this was a huge but—Erica didn’t sense any malice in the girl. No, there was something almost innocent about Malee’s energy, something pure. It unsettled Erica, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Was it jealousy? The thought made her pause. Malee hadn’t done anything wrong, yet her presence in his life felt like an intrusion.

  Erica wanted to dismiss the feeling as irrational, but it lingered, gnawing at her. Michael was impressionable, and Erica’s protectiveness clashed with a strange insecurity she hadn’t recognized before: what if he trusted Malee more than he trusted her?

  She shook off the thought.

  What Maria couldn’t know, what Erica couldn’t explain, was how all three of them—the girl, Michael, and herself—were connected, tied to one another by the events that were about to unfold. The threats Erica could feel, those uncontrollable vibrations that risked compounding into an unstoppable tsunami, didn’t come from within their trio, but from the outside. From somebody else.

  That’s why she and Malee hadn’t stopped. That’s why the grand design continued to take shape in the minds of the two Queens, becoming ever clearer. The three of them—a battle. The two Queens would see their plan through, but its purpose was still unclear to Erica.

  She was utterly powerless. She couldn’t be like Maria—a strategist—because how could you craft a strategy with nothing to rely on? A map, an army, or any data to base it on? She knew, of course, that Michael was destined to play a critical role. But nothing was set in stone yet. She and the girl—simultaneously allies and enemies—would have to keep working quietly in the background, doing what the Light told them to do. And Maria had to be kept in the dark. It was necessary.

  Everything on my shoulders, a Queen I never wanted to be.

  She let out a sigh. The weight pressing down on her for days was growing more unbearable.

  But it was already too late. The Grand Master, the most influential figure in the Western world of the Light and a woman driven by action, had already sprung into motion like a compressed spring suddenly released.

  "If that’s the case, better not take any chances. Better to start building an army," Maria said, taking Erica’s hands with a firmness that left no room for argument. Erica felt the grip tighten beyond what was necessary, as if trying to convey a certainty that Maria herself didn’t truly possess.

  "Why now?" Erica asked, trying to pull free. "Can’t we wait and see how things develop? Maybe—"

  "Wait?" Maria’s voice rose slightly, her tone sharp. "We don’t have the luxury of waiting. Every day we lose, we lose ground."

  "Maria, I don’t think—"

  "It’s just a precaution, Erica. And remember, from now on, keep your distance. Communicate with Michael and Jonata as little as possible. I want you to detach from them for a while."

  Erica sprang to her feet. This, she couldn’t handle. This was when she needed her friends the most.

  "You think it’s my fault? Ridiculous!" She spun around abruptly, clenching her fists as if ready to storm out. But she managed to rein herself in. There was still more to be said.

  "No, of course not. I just think you need to focus on your training," Maria said, her tone calm and condescending. "You need to continue developing yourself. We may soon need the Queen in battle."

  Maria’s words hit Erica like an unbearable weight. She felt a faint tremor in her hands and hid it by clasping them tightly together. Her eyes darted aimlessly around the room, searching for an escape that wasn’t there. Her breathing grew uneven, her throat tightening into a knot. Maria’s words were final—the decision had been made. And yet, deep down, Erica knew she couldn’t back out, even though every fiber of her being begged her to. Those words declared the official onset of war. And that officiality meant chaos and responsibility. Planning and strategy. Order and discipline. The opposite of the Light. The opposite of the world she was accustomed to.

  "You’re scaring me…" Erica admitted, freeing her hands and grabbing a glass. She took a sip of water—it was warm, sliding down her throat and granting a fleeting sense of relief.

  "Why do I need to keep my distance? And for how long?"

  "Only until you join us in Rome."

  "In Rome?"

  "Yes. I plan to send Michael and Jonata to the School of Light this summer."

  Erica had already guessed this. She wasn’t naive. But that wasn’t the problem.

  "Maria," she said, "I hope there won’t be a need. For the army, I mean."

  "Neither do I."

  "I don’t want any war. I don’t want it. It’s not a good idea. I’d rather act alone."

  "Nothing to worry about. There are three boys who could help and know how to defend themselves."

  "I don’t want them."

  "Three boys, Erica. Don’t be frightened—it’s just to cover our backs. They’re your age."

  "I know exactly who they are. I know they’re the reason you want me in Rome. They’re the ones who fought recently… in a church, aren’t they?"

  Maria nodded.

  At that moment, Edgar entered the room. Erica noticed Maria shake her head at him. He turned toward Erica with a brief smile and greeting, then left without a word. A brief interruption, enough to make her forget, once again, the things she had resolved to keep hidden.

  "But why already? It’s too soon…" She blurted, regretting it immediately.

  "Already?" Maria snapped. "What do you mean? Do you already know what’s going to happen?"

  Of course she did. Each day, the battlefield revealed itself bit by bit, like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together. The sky, the clouds, the meadow, the trees. It was the work of herself and the girl. The place in the Light where the two of them—and their armies—would meet, and unfortunately, clash. Already, she could begin to see more clearly the boys and girls wandering within it—the ones contacted by the other Queen. And among them, there was even… But she certainly couldn’t tell Maria. Not yet. She decided to lie as best she could.

  "I meant, why all these precautions when we still don’t know what’s going to happen?"

  Maria relaxed. Did she buy it? Really?

  "Think about it. They’ll need your intervention to fight at your side, your power as a Queen. Whether you act now or later doesn’t change anything. Their daily lives won’t be affected by this. Not until they have to fight, of course." Maria paused briefly, gathering her thoughts. "If they have to fight."

  "You’re right about that, but…"

  "Don’t be afraid. I know this will be the first time for you, but you won’t fail."

  "I wish I could share your certainty."

  "You have more certainty than I do—you’re the Queen. I’m only giving advice. You can refuse if you want."

  Erica stayed quiet for a moment. 'You’re such a thinker,' she would always tease Michael when he got lost in his endless overanalyzing instead of just letting things happen. Now, it was her turn to overthink. Stalling… why? Everything was already set, her path laid out. No one would be hurt because of it... What did she have to lose?

  Maria’s plan was cautious enough, and the three boys, she was sure, would remain in the background and not interfere.

  "Fine. I’ll do it."

  "Excellent. In any case, it was already decided that they’d come."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. As punishment for the mess they caused. I’d thought about banning them from the next Steal the Light championship, but now I believe their punishment will be different. And crueler, even if, for now, they won’t realize it."

  "And I’m the one who has to inflict it, I suppose…"

  "Exactly. I don’t want them to see your face, though. You’ll wear a mask. That’s important."

  Erica agreed. The idea of the mask made her smile. It wasn’t carnival, after all. But staying anonymous didn’t bother her at all—in fact, it was a relief.

  "And," Maria continued, "of course, the ceremonial gown of the Queen."

  Erica jolted upright.

  "The ceremonial gown?" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet so quickly that the chair behind her nearly toppled over. "Can I really wear it?"

  It was stunning—her dream!

  Maria laughed, clearly pleased. "Yes, my Queen," she replied, bowing theatrically. "The time has come for Her Highness to take her throne!"