Anastasia

  The Grand Master opened the door, careful not to step outside. Clearly, she didn’t want the neighbors’ curiosity piqued. She was wearing the traditional white robe, long and flowing all the way to the ground—something Anastasia had only ever heard of in rumors. Seeing it now made her freeze. The fabric looked impossibly smooth, rippling like water with pearly reflections. The sleeves seemed to merge seamlessly with the bodice. It was like the robe erased her physical form, transforming her into something weightless, like she was floating in a cloud of light.

  She looks like she’s about to ascend to another dimension or something, Anastasia thought, her awe bordering on disbelief.

  The robe reminded her of a wedding dress, but it was far simpler—save for the silver choker she wore. The choker ended in a round pendant, the symbol of the Illuminates: a Tao-like circle resting in the palm of an open hand. A hand that gives light.

  This was the first time Anastasia had seen the Grand Master’s ceremonial robe up close. It was simple, yes, but it screamed power, just like Maria Rovelli herself. The fabric’s unadorned elegance mimicked the purity of light itself. By contrast, the three of them were dressed in their student uniforms—similar in cut but a dark blue that seemed almost drab in comparison. Instead of necklaces, they wore bracelets bearing the same Illuminate symbol. Subtle power dynamic much? Anastasia thought.

  She swallowed her nerves and bowed politely. "Good morning, Grand Master," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  Maria Rovelli—the legend—looked down at her with a calm gaze. Anastasia still couldn’t believe she was standing in front of her.

  "Good morning, Anastasia. And these must be Giona and Giacomo?"

  The boys bowed too, though it was clear neither of them really knew how to pull it off.

  "First of all, Giona, I hope you’re well. It’s not every day one gets kidnapped and drugged."

  Giona cleared his throat, a hint of color rising to his face. "I’m fine, thank you. Uh… no problem." Even Giona—the usually composed one—seemed rattled. Anastasia felt a pang of secondhand embarrassment for him.

  Giacomo, on the other hand, couldn’t help sneaking in his trademark smug smile. Oh no, here we go.

  "Good. Come in, don’t stand on ceremony."

  They followed her into the living room, which was furnished with two armchairs and a sofa. Anastasia’s mind immediately jumped to wild speculation. The armchairs were clearly the "parents," and the sofa… Her son, maybe? The elusive child of Maria Rovelli, who—according to whispers—was around their age. No one really knew much about him. Did he have the Light? Was he some kind of prodigy? What was he even like? To be the child of the Maria Rovelli… That must be insane.

  "Come, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. Did you have a good trip?"

  "Yes, thank you. Everything went well."

  "I hope you didn’t attract too much attention dressed like that. You could have changed here at the house."

  "I don’t think so," Anastasia replied quickly. "We wore light jackets over our uniforms. We only took them off right before ringing the bell."

  "Giacomo and I tucked our skirts under our jackets. We’re wearing regular jeans underneath."

  "Excellent." Maria offered a small, approving smile. At least they’d managed to make a decent first impression.

  "Please, sit down. Make yourselves at home."

  Anastasia sank into the couch, trying to find a spot where she wouldn’t feel awkward. Her relief was short-lived. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Giacomo still standing—about to open his mouth. Her stomach dropped. Oh no, Giacomo, don’t…

  "It’s a great honor…" he began, completely oblivious to the formal title he was supposed to use.

  Anastasia internally groaned. For Giacomo, the "honor" wasn’t about meeting Maria Rovelli, the Grand Master. It was about being in the presence of the ultimate Steal the Light player.

  Luckily, Maria cut him off before things could get any worse.

  "Giacomo, please, these formalities embarrass me," she said, though her perfectly calm demeanor suggested otherwise. "Sit down, please."

  Giacomo wedged himself between Anastasia and Giona, forcing her to awkwardly shift to avoid getting squished. He was definitely not a lightweight.

  "Would you like something to drink?"

  "Water, please," Giona answered quickly.

  "The same for you two?"

  Anastasia and Giacomo nodded in sync.

  "My son here, like most of the other people your age, would have probably asked for a coke. Thank you for making me feel back at home," Maria remarked, her tone light, almost teasing. The she left the room, her movements deliberate, almost exaggeratedly calm.

  Is she doing this on purpose? Anastasia wondered. The tension felt almost staged, like a subtle power play to keep them off balance.

  As soon as Maria was out of earshot, Giona pounced on Giacomo.

  "‘A great honor’…" he said, mimicking Giacomo’s tone and breaking into a grin.

  "What were you thinking?" Anastasia hissed, shooting him a glare. "And you’re supposed to call her Grand Master. This is an official occasion, you know!"

  "Relax. I gave her a compliment, not an insult," Giacomo said, brushing it off.

  Giona barely stifled a laugh. "I think we’d better let Anastasia do the talking today. Otherwise, we’re doomed."

  Giacomo muttered something under his breath, sulking. Then, suddenly curious, he leaned toward Giona.

  "Anyway, does she have a son?"

  "Really?" Anastasia shot back, raising an eyebrow. "You didn’t know?"

  Before Giacomo could reply, Anastasia noticed Maria returning. She elbowed Giacomo hard enough to make him wince. He stayed quiet this time.

  Maria entered, carrying three glasses on a simple plastic tray. She set them down gracefully before settling back into her seat. Her gaze moved between them, unhurried and deliberate, as they sipped their drinks.

  Anastasia felt the weight of the silence. Was this part of her strategy? What’s her play here? she wondered, resisting the urge to squirm under Maria’s watchful eyes. One thing was certain—the Grand Master’s calm demeanor was just the surface.

  Maria asked the question as if it was obvious. "Do you know why you’re here?"

  Dead silence.

  "Of course you do," she said dryly, scanning their faces.

  Anastasia shifted uncomfortably. Right. Time to step up. She cleared her throat and spoke in a firm yet polite tone, determined to hold her ground. "We couldn’t just let Giona be killed, Grand Master."

  "Of course not," Maria replied, her smile deceptively soft. "But you shouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with. And why didn’t you ask the school for help?"

  "There wasn’t time," Giacomo jumped in, blurting it out before Anastasia could concoct a smarter excuse.

  "Ridiculous!" Maria snapped, her calm composure slipping for just a second. "Even if you’d called just minutes before entering the church, reinforcements would have arrived in time."

  "But—" Giacomo tried, but Maria shut him down without hesitation.

  "Nonsense. Now, tell me, how did all this happen?" She shifted her piercing gaze to Giona, who—shockingly—answered immediately.

  "Someone was stupid enough to think that sacrificing me—on a full moon night or something—or drinking my blood would grant them the Light," Giona said matter-of-factly.

  Anastasia winced inwardly. Maria asked the question as if it was obvious. "Do you know why you’re here?"

  Dead silence.

  "Of course you do," she said dryly, scanning their faces.

  Anastasia shifted uncomfortably. Right. Time to step up. She cleared her throat and spoke in a firm yet polite tone, determined to hold her ground. "We couldn’t just let Giona be killed, Grand Master."

  "Of course not," Maria replied, her smile deceptively soft. "But you shouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with. And why didn’t you ask the school for help?"

  "There wasn’t time," Giacomo jumped in, blurting it out before Anastasia could concoct a smarter excuse.

  "Ridiculous!" Maria snapped, her calm composure slipping for just a second. "Even if you’d called just minutes before entering the church, reinforcements would have arrived in time."

  "But—" Giacomo tried, but Maria shut him down without hesitation.

  "Nonsense. Now, tell me, how did all this happen?" She shifted her piercing gaze to Giona, who—shockingly—answered immediately.

  "Someone was stupid enough to think that sacrificing me—on a full moon night or something—or drinking my blood would grant them the Light," Giona said matter-of-factly.

  Anastasia winced inwardly. Does he even realize what kind of impression he's making right now?

  Maria didn’t blink. "This is irrelevant for now. I asked you something else: how did they know about the Light?"

  Her fingers began tapping a steady, insistent rhythm on the armrest of her chair. Anastasia felt like it was ticking down to something—like a countdown.

  She’s sharp. Too sharp, Anastasia thought. She liked Maria's directness, her commanding presence. In another world, they might’ve been allies. But right now, it felt more like a chess match, and Maria was several moves ahead.

  "They must’ve seen something," Anastasia admitted reluctantly, breaking the silence.

  "Excellent, we’re making progress. Keep going."

  "Ma’am…"

  "Grand Master, please," Maria cut Giacomo off, her tone sharper this time. "That’s twice now."

  "Grand Master," Giacomo corrected himself, clearly annoyed, "you should know that Giovanni—"

  "And who is Giovanni?"

  "Giovanni was the one holding the knife. A classmate of ours."

  "Oh, this is where we’ve arrived—a classmate trying to kill you. Go on."

  "Well, apparently he had a crush on Anastasia, but she rejected him," Giacomo added, his voice too casual for Anastasia’s taste.

  Maria turned her calculating gaze to her. "Is that correct, Anastasia?"

  Anastasia’s stomach tightened. Seriously, Giacomo? She felt like strangling him but managed a reluctant nod instead.

  "Since then," Giona interjected, his tone bold, maybe even reckless, "it seems he started following her, but we didn’t notice."

  Maria tilted her head slightly, her fingers tapping faster. "Oh, dear Giona, I understand. But then how do you know if you didn’t notice? Anastasia, you truly didn’t realize?"

  "Some of my friends told me," she said carefully, trying to decide how much truth to reveal. "But after a few months, we were all sure it had blown over."

  She paused briefly, her mind racing.

  "Until I heard he was following me again, I was very careful. I’m certain he didn’t see anything compromising during that time. He must’ve spied on me recently, when I thought the matter was resolved."

  "And do you know exactly what he saw, if he talked to anyone about it?"

  "No, but it’s clear he didn’t understand much if he thought drinking my blood would grant him some kind of power."

  "The Light?" Maria clarified.

  "Yes, the Light. As if it were a scepter to snatch from my hands."

  Maria leaned back slightly, her sharp expression unchanging. "But if he was angry with Anastasia, why did he target you instead of her?"

  "Maybe he was jealous of our friendship," Giona offered.

  "And why not Giacomo?"

  "I don’t know. Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe it was easier for them to find me alone."

  Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Maria didn’t flinch, but her hand rose in a simple yet commanding gesture, silencing them immediately.

  Wow. That’s the kind of move that says, “Don’t mess with me.” Anastasia thought, impressed despite herself.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that even the interruption was staged. Everything about Maria’s timing, her movements—it all felt calculated.

  Maria waited for whoever was at the door to leave, her gaze never breaking from the group, scrutinizing each of them in turn. Then she spoke again, her voice colder now.

  "No, I asked your teachers. You’re always together on your trips to and from school. So how did this happen?"

  Giona hesitated.

  “Go on, please. We don’t have all day.”

  The boy sighed. He had no choice but to speak. “That morning, I got an anonymous phone call. They told me to hurry home.”

  “And you fell for it. Now, another question. Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

  Giona turned to show a bruise on the back of his neck, still visible.

  “You were attacked from behind?”

  “Yes.”

  “All clear. I’m sorry, it must have hurt.”

  “Only for a moment. Then I didn’t feel anything, not even when I woke up.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Could be.”

  “Was it, let’s say, pleasant?”

  “The sensation?”

  “Yes, the effect of the drugs.”

  “All in all, yes, but I didn’t have much time to enjoy it.”

  “Good. I’d like you to talk to a doctor in Rome, maybe get a blood test. I want to understand what they gave you. Now, back to the first question. Who else knows about this? Do you know if Giovanni confided in anyone?”

  “Probably with the others in the cult.”

  “But we erased the memories of many of them.”

  “I didn’t know you were good at that, too.”

  “I’m pretty decent at it,” admitted Giacomo, as always, happy to show off.

  “And the others?”

  “They fled in the panic that followed the fire, as soon as I set it. So, they didn’t see anything.”

  “They wouldn’t talk anyway,” Giona explained. “They were committing murder—or, well, about to kill me. And there’s no guarantee they understood much, considering Giovanni himself didn’t get it.”

  “Are you sure he was spying on you alone?”

  “That’s what my friends said.”

  “And what do you two think?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. He’s just a fat loser. Even if he talked, no one would listen to him.”

  “First of all, I don’t like those terms, Giona. ‘Fat’ is offensive, and ‘loser’—is that what you call people who aren’t socially fortunate?”

  Giona nodded.

  “I’m a bit behind on modern slang. In any case,” Maria weighed her words with deliberate calm, “there will be consequences, as you can imagine.”

  Anastasia could almost see the bold confidence drain from Giona’s and Giacomo’s eyes as their minds drifted to the rumors they’d heard a few days ago—rumors that they might be punished by being excluded from the international Steal the Light championship. But she forced herself to remain impassive.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “It has been suggested,” so the rumors were true, “that you be disqualified from this year’s international championship.”

  Giona nearly jumped to his feet in protest.

  “But we’ve been training all year…”

  “We have to defend the cup!” Giacomo protested, almost in unison with his friend.

  “You’ve won it once already; you can let someone else win it this year.”

  “But, Grand Master…”

  “Silence. Stop acting like children. It’s disgusting. Steal the Light is just a game, and you’re giving it too much importance. In any case, I never said I accepted the suggestion. The punishment will be of another kind, and you’ll find out soon.”

  Giacomo and Giona slumped back into the couch with a sigh of relief. Anastasia, however, wasn’t so sure they should feel satisfied, given they didn’t yet know what awaited them. Then, right on cue, as if everything had been orchestrated, the phone rang. The Grand Master excused herself and stepped away for a moment, leaving the three of them to whisper among themselves.

  “How the hell did you let yourself get caught so stupidly?” Anastasia finally snapped, her pent-up frustration spilling out.

  “So stupidly? They threw a rock at the back of my head!” Giona shot back, his tone defensive. “And you—why didn’t you say from the start that you were being followed?”

  “And what good would it have done you?” Anastasia retorted sharply. “At least I’m not dumb enough to do what an anonymous phone call tells me to do.”

  “I just used it as an excuse to go home early…”

  “Oh, genius move. Worked out great for you, didn’t it?” Anastasia silenced him with a wave of her hand, her irritation mounting. She gestured toward the door.

  From the next room, they could hear Maria’s voice on the phone, calm and steady. “See you in a moment,” she said in English. Moments later, her footsteps retreated, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

  “She’s coming back. Be quiet,” Anastasia whispered, her voice low but firm.

  The silence was unbearable. The kind of awkward, heavy silence that made every second feel like an eternity. Anastasia felt her cheeks burn. We look like kids. Worse—like clueless idiots, she thought, fighting the urge to bury herself in the couch cushions.

  When Maria returned, her composed demeanor hadn’t budged. She stepped into the room, radiating that cool, calculating presence that Anastasia couldn’t help but envy. How does she do that?

  To make things worse, the three of them instinctively started pretending to look around—at the furniture, the walls, anything—like they were trying to distract themselves from their own awkwardness. The only thing missing was Giacomo whistling. Anastasia internally cringed. Great. We’re practically begging her to think we’re useless.

  Maria, unbothered, placed a design magazine casually onto the table. “As I thought, it was just the postman ringing earlier. He left this on the doormat,” she explained, her tone so neutral it felt like a deliberate move to unsettle them further.

  It was all so staged. Anastasia was sure of it. The timing, the interruptions—it was carefully orchestrated. And as much as she hated feeling like a pawn in Maria’s game, she couldn’t deny it. She’s good. Cold. Calculated. No wonder she has the reputation of being a tactical mastermind, she thought, her resentment mingling with reluctant admiration.

  “Now, the second matter,” Maria continued, her voice smoothly shifting gears. Her eyes settled on Anastasia. “Anastasia, you’re a rather talented Navigator, correct?”

  “So they say,” Anastasia replied, her irritation barely masked as she crossed her arms. Obviously, you know that already.

  “You’ve dreamed of an Asian girl too, I’ve been told.”

  “Yes. She contacted me.”

  “What age would you give her?”

  “Hard to say. Younger than me.” Anastasia shrugged, hoping her indifference came through clearly. Why does it even matter?

  “And how did it go, exactly?”

  “I saw her against a white background. I approached her. She seemed friendly, seeking warmth—maybe help. I’m not great at it yet, but I tried to communicate with her, and we lost contact almost immediately.”

  Maria leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. “I see. Did she seem forced to do it?”

  Anastasia frowned. “I hadn’t even thought of that. No, I wouldn’t say so… But I didn’t have enough time to fully understand the situation.”

  "And what about you two? I hear you’re quite talented as well, Giacomo. In what field?"

  Giona barely managed to stifle a laugh, and Anastasia knew exactly what was on his mind. She had never understood this attitude so many had toward Scavengers. Sure, it wasn’t the most glamorous name, but what else could you call them? Sweeping away memories was their role, and they were far from second-tier Illuminates. Without them cleaning up the messes others left behind, the community of the Light would face serious trouble.

  Once, Giona had explained to her that he understood the necessity of that kind of illumination, but he just couldn’t help it—whenever he heard the word “Scavenger” used for the Light and especially for Giacomo, it always made him want to laugh.

  "I’m a, uh… painter," Giacomo said hesitantly.

  Giona couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into laughter. Anastasia felt herself flush with embarrassment. However, she noticed with some relief that even the Grand Master seemed to let her guard down slightly, chuckling along with the others.

  "Painter? Do you mean Scavenger?"

  "Yes, but I don’t like that word very much," Giacomo admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on the carpet. "After all, painters cover up stains on walls, don’t they? The name would make sense."

  "I see. Very well. So, you’re skilled at, let’s say, erasing memories. That reassures me when it comes to the events of that night at the church."

  "And I’m also a good hunter."

  Giona laughed again, but Anastasia wished she could disappear into the couch or hide behind the cushions...

  "Predator, you mean?"

  "Yes, Predator. Sorry, I got mixed up for a second with Steal the Light. You know, the players on offense in Steal the Light are sometimes called hunters."

  "Let’s just say I know a little about that… Don’t worry," Maria replied, offering him a genuine smile.

  Anastasia was surprised to realize that the Grand Master had taken a liking to Giacomo now that he had shown his softer, less arrogant side. So she’s not just a cold politician after all, she thought. And she seriously vibes with screw-ups like him? Strange, very strange.

  Maria continued questioning Giacomo. "Very well. Have you dreamed of her as well?"

  "Yes, from start to finish. She hugged me. And then she disappeared, and I woke up."

  “All clear. Now, Giacomo, at what level are you?”

  “Adept, Grand Master. But, as a, uh… Scavenger, I can already use Memory Collapse.”

  “Really?” The Grand Master’s surprise seemed genuine. “Show me, then.”

  Giacomo looked baffled. He shot a glance at Anastasia, who could only shrug.

  “Try. On me.”

  “But, Grand Master, how could I…”

  “Oh, come on, just try. I promise I won’t get angry or punish you.”

  Giacomo inhaled deeply, then cautiously placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. His concentration was palpable, his brow furrowed in intense focus. Maria, however, kept smiling as if unaffected.

  “Very good,” she admitted after a few seconds.

  Giacomo leaned back in the sofa, looking completely stunned.

  “You… I couldn’t even—”

  “Don’t act so surprised. There’s a reason I’m the teacher and you’re the student.” Maria replied with a calm smile.

  Anastasia looked at his friend. How can he be so dumb? What was he expecting? She’s the most legendary Guardian in the history of Steal the Light!

  Then the living legend turned her attention to Giona.

  “And you, Giona?”

  Giona inhaled sharply, as though caught off guard. “Ah, Grand Master, that night I took a blow to the head. I don’t remember much, if I dreamed or not.”

  “Obviously. That’s fine; I don’t need anything more.”

  “Grand Master, who is this girl?” Anastasia dared to ask.

  “We don’t know yet, but what do you think?”

  Anastasia hesitated, taking a few moments to gather her thoughts. Well, in the dream, I only saw kids our age… “Grand Master, did she contact the elders or more experienced people?”

  “No.”

  “So, that is strange. If she needs help, why contact kids?”

  “Exactly. Your reputation as a clever girl is well deserved,” Maria said with a rare hint of approval. “You’re at the Ascendant level, right? Or do you prefer to say ‘Advanced’ nowadays?”

  Anastasia felt her cheeks flush slightly. She straightened up a little, emboldened. “Yes, I reached that level.”

  “Can you use Dreamway Bond, like the Asian girl, to navigate through dreams?”

  “No, that’s still way beyond my league, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes, I expected that.”

  Then, she felt it. A surge of energy—raw, electrifying—pulsed through her palm. The Light wasn’t just rippling; it was flowing, unbridled, as if the barriers separating them had dissolved in an instant. It felt smooth, impossibly smooth, like liquid silk weaving through her veins. Anastasia’s breath hitched as the world around her seemed to fade, replaced by a kaleidoscope of sensations.

  Her vision blurred, the boundaries of reality dissolving as colors she couldn’t name shimmered at the edges of her sight—intense yet soft, a spectrum that seemed to belong to a different realm entirely. Anastasia wasn’t sure where she ended and Maria began; the connection was overwhelming, a seamless merging that felt as natural as breathing. Every nerve in her body thrummed in perfect harmony with the Light, as though she had stumbled upon the very rhythm of existence itself.

  Maria’s presence was commanding yet calm, a quiet tide that both grounded and uplifted Anastasia. The Light pulled her deeper, unraveling her consciousness while weaving it back together. It was as if Maria’s essence had become a beacon, radiating clarity and strength. Anastasia glimpsed flashes of Maria’s nature—like unspoken truths laid bare through the connection. She felt the assurance of a leader who had stood against the impossible, the quiet pride of someone who had achieved remarkable feats. Yet, layered within that strength was a profound weight—a burden carried with unwavering resolve, heavy with responsibilities no one else could shoulder.

  The connection wasn’t just a link—it was an immersion. Anastasia felt Maria’s emotions ripple through the Light, faint but undeniable. A tide of calm determination washed over her, steady and unyielding, as if Maria herself was lending Anastasia a fragment of her own fortitude. It wasn’t invasive; it was empowering, illuminating the enormity of the Light’s potential.

  And then it ended. The connection severed as suddenly as it began, leaving Anastasia breathless and disoriented. She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing as the mundane world reasserted itself, feeling somehow less vibrant than the realm she’d just been drawn into. Her chest heaved as she realized she’d been holding her breath, and she inhaled deeply, the cool air grounding her once more.

  Maria offered her a small smile, serene and composed. “Yes, you’re very good, Anastasia.”

  She clenched her palms, still tingling, and glanced at Maria. It was not just how good she was at navigating, but also her incredible level of concentration… if this was Maria Rovelli’s level, how would it feel to navigate in Estro’s mind? Exceptional, incredible!

  Anastasia barely noticed her friends’ gazes fixed on her, their curiosity palpable. She was too caught up in the aftermath—the sensation of having been utterly exposed, stripped of every defense. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she refused to meet their eyes. She felt as though Maria had seen her, truly seen her, in a way that no one else ever had.

  Maria nodded slightly, her gaze sharpening.

  “And what conclusion do you draw from that?” She directed the question to all three of them.

  Giona and Giacomo looked confused first at each other, then at Anastasia. “About the fact that she contacted only students?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “That we need to be careful,” Giona said after a moment, his voice calm but firm. His usual confidence seemed to return. “Because things don’t add up.”

  There it was—his Predator instincts kicking in. “She might have been forced to do it, or her intentions might not be good.”

  “Exactly,” Giacomo added, his tone unusually serious. “She clearly contacts only gifted people, but ones who are still vulnerable, with little experience. Like a boy—he seemed about our age, he was looking very awkward, but he was the one being more drawn to her.”

  Maria’s fingers froze mid-tap for just a fraction of a second before resuming their steady rhythm. It was so quick that Anastasia almost thought she imagined it—but the flicker of tension in Maria’s eyes, there and gone in an instant, told her otherwise. Was she thinking of someone she cares about? Someone she’s worried for?

  “In fact,” Anastasia interjected, seizing the chance to prove the Grand Master’s sharp gaze shifted from Anastasia to the others, “as soon as she realized I had some training as a Navigator, she immediately cut the connection.”

  "Yes, that’s possible," she said, her tone even. "It’s the first thing we considered, too. But we’re still not sure about anything, and we don’t want to jump to conclusions. She might truly just be a girl in need of help, and nothing more."

  "But in Asia…" Giacomo ventured hesitantly. "Could it be that…"

  The dark age, the war between the western and eastern world, lead each by their own Queen, is back?

  "As I said, we don’t know, and we don’t want to jump to conclusions." The Grand Master’s voice hardened. "The dark ages are long behind us, and we certainly won’t be the ones to ignite the fuse to make them resurface again."

  "But if—"

  "Enough!" The words rang out like a slap, her expression colder than ice. Any trace of warmth was gone. "I said silence! I’ve already told you too much."

  Anastasia could practically feel the tension rising. Of course they’re thinking she’s overdoing it, she thought, casting a quick glance at Giacomo and Giona. They wouldn’t say it outright—thankfully—but it was there in their expressions. They probably thought she was just one woman against three teenagers. Old, too, by comparison.

  But Anastasia knew better. Maria Rovelli wasn’t someone to mess with. She was perhaps the most legendary Guardian of her time—maybe of all time. Her ability to navigate was unparalleled, and if she wanted to call for reinforcements, she could do it in seconds. We wouldn’t stand a chance, Anastasia thought grimly. She didn’t know how many Illuminates were hidden in this little town. But if Maria made that call, their teachers and the elders would be on them before they could even think about resisting.

  "Now, before we move to the third item on today’s agenda," Maria continued, her voice suddenly calm again, "do you have any questions? Not about the girl."

  "Grand Master, why did you call us here?" Giona asked, his tone cautious but steady.

  "You’ll see soon enough."

  Giacomo raised his hand, his posture so exaggerated it was almost comical. What is he doing? This isn’t school.

  "Why are you here and not in Rome or in a city where there’s a community of Illuminates?" he asked.

  Maria didn’t flinch. "I didn’t come here alone. There are other Illuminates. Few, but enough for our purpose."

  "But there’s nothing in geography books about a community of Illuminates here," Giacomo said, frowning.

  "No, that’s true. Not yet, at least. It was a decision Ingrid and I made when we came here."

  "Ingrid? Isn’t she one of the Sisters?" Anastasia couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, curiosity stirring.

  "She was. She passed away not long ago. And she was also a Nursemaid."

  "I thought there was no longer any need for the Sisters," Giacomo interjected. "Since we don’t have a King or a Queen anymore."

  Maria nodded slightly. "Exactly. Without Kings or Queens, the Sisters have no purpose. But that doesn’t mean they stop being who they are. In any case, Ingrid, Eleanor, and I formed this small community here."

  "Eleanor?" Anastasia asked, her curiosity growing.

  "A friend," Maria replied, her tone shifting slightly. "For now, I can’t tell you more. But know that I haven’t been isolated and that I’m perfectly capable of fulfilling my role from here. Any other questions?"

  Giona hesitated, then spoke. "We’ve heard you have a son, our age, who might possess the Light."

  Anastasia bit back her own question, though it burned at the edge of her mind. Why haven’t we seen him at the School of Illumination? Is there another school somewhere—like in America?

  Maria cut her off before she could say a word.

  "Yes, and that brings us to the third point. Very soon, Michael and Jonata, Ingrid’s son, will fly to Rome. They’ll spend the summer there for the first time and attend the lessons."

  "Great, we’ll play tour guides for them then!" Giacomo blurted out enthusiastically.

  Anastasia’s eyes narrowed. Of course, another chance for him to show off.

  Maria didn’t even seem to hear him as she continued.

  "They haven’t received formal education yet, but they are both very gifted. As much as you are. But that’s not the point," Maria continued, her voice calm but authoritative. "Your obsession with Steal the Light is unhealthy and counterproductive, but you are among the best students of your year. Another reason you were chosen is that you’re close friends."

  "You want us to keep an eye on them?" Giona asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  "Don’t be ridiculous—they’re not children," Maria shot back, dismissing the idea almost instantly.

  "Then I don’t understand."

  "They’ll be alone in a land they don’t know, speaking broken Italian. They’ll need friends, not bodyguards."

  "I see," Giona said after a pause. "We’ll stay close to them, like older siblings."

  "Not even that is necessary," Maria countered. "They’re coming to Rome to complete their education, to discover a world they’ve only heard about until now. Understand? There are things that might attract them more than they should. And Jonata has started to show an unhealthy interest in Steal the Light."

  Anastasia’s eyes narrowed slightly as the pieces began to fall into place. Oh, that’s what this is about.

  "Grand Master, don’t worry," she said confidently. "We’ll make sure they don’t become obsessed with it. Education comes first."

  "Good," Maria said, though there was a flicker of doubt in her tone. "Though I fear you’ll end up doing the opposite: the passion for Steal the Light is contagious. Still, learning the game is part of the education, and no one better than you can teach them the tricks of the trade. Help them form a team. I’ll be watching—no excesses."

  "Alright," Anastasia agreed, her voice steady.

  "I want your word, all of you," Maria added, her gaze sweeping across the group.

  Giona and Giacomo nodded in silent agreement, their expressions unusually serious. Anastasia couldn’t help but stifle a sigh. Yeah, right. Those two are already plotting training sessions in their heads. With Giona and Giacomo, there was no such thing as "no excesses" when it came to Steal the Light.

  "That’s enough."

  Right on cue, the doorbell rang again.

  "Right on time!" Maria said with a rare, bright smile as she rose to answer it.

  It was the first time Anastasia had seen her so relaxed—genuinely relaxed. She looked... younger, somehow. She’s still beautiful, even with her age showing. But only when she lets herself breathe.

  They were left alone, but before anyone could say a word, the sound of someone wiping their shoes on the doormat cut through the quiet. Moments later, Maria’s voice drifted back, soft and warm, almost affectionate.

  "Wait here," she said. It couldn’t be a stranger—clearly someone she trusted.

  Maria reappeared moments later, her expression composed once again.

  "Now," she said, folding her hands neatly, "I want each of you to go into the other room, one at a time, and introduce yourselves to the person there. She’s masked because her identity must remain a secret. She’s also wearing ceremonial attire because she’s one of us. Just shake hands and that’s all. Don’t speak to her, don’t introduce yourself… nothing. Are we clear?”

  Yes, it was all clear. But it feels extremely stupid.

  Anastasia was last to go. In the other room, a girl was waiting, dressed in a shade of red Anastasia had never seen before—a vivid, almost surreal crimson that seemed to absorb the light around it. The fabric shimmered faintly, almost like glass, reflecting just enough to catch the eye.

  The symbol of the Light was notably absent, and that caught Anastasia’s attention immediately. Why wouldn’t she wear it? It was almost as if she didn’t need it, like her presence alone made the statement. As if she were the Light itself.

  The dress, unlike their own simple robes, was tailored to perfection, hugging well-defined, feminine curves. It wasn’t immodest, but it was striking. And the mask—it threw Anastasia off. It was the kind you’d find at a cheap costume shop. Improvised. Out of place.

  The girl’s lips and cheeks, visible beneath the mask, were youthful, healthy—vibrant. She looked around their age, Anastasia guessed, but it wasn’t just her features that gave it away. Her posture was rigid, her breathing quick and shallow, almost like she was nervous.

  Why is she so tense? Anastasia wondered, even as she stepped forward to shake the girl’s hand. Her grip was light, warm—but trembling. What’s she afraid of?

  Anastasia left without a word, returning to the living room. By the time she sat back down, Giona and Giacomo were already there, exchanging questioning glances. No one spoke. The two boys shrugged and sank into the couch, looking drained.

  Anastasia, however, couldn’t relax. That handshake. It was so deliberate, so careful—and she was scared. But of what? Of me? Why would she be afraid of me? Wait, was she afraid… of her own power?

  Her thoughts spiraled as Maria’s voice interrupted them.

  "Very well. If you have no more questions, your taxi is waiting outside. It will take you back to the airport."

  Her tone was polite, even kind, but the words were final.

  Once they were in the car, the atmosphere shifted almost immediately. The tension from the meeting seemed to evaporate, giving way to their usual chatter.

  "We got off easy!" Giacomo exclaimed, throwing himself back into the seat as if the stress had physically lifted.

  "I never really thought they’d disqualify us," Giona admitted, his tone calmer but still relieved.

  "You should have illuminated her!" Giacomo blurted out, his enthusiasm bubbling over like a shaken soda can.

  "Who, me? And why?" Giona raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical.

  "To test her, to see if she’s really as good at resisting illumination as they say. A duel between you and her would’ve been a show. You’d have crushed her!"

  Giona’s lips curled into a grin, clearly entertained by the idea. But before he could respond, Giacomo had already moved on.

  "And that masked girl—what a ridiculous setup," he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

  "I’ve never seen a dress like that before," Anastasia interjected, her tone sharper than she intended. It was the only part of the meeting that had genuinely captivated her—the girl’s dress. It was undoubtedly ceremonial, but its style and color were unlike anything she recognized. It bothered her. "What color was it, crimson?"

  "No, it was red," Giacomo replied, sounding overly confident.

  "Crimson is a shade of red, idiot," Anastasia shot back, rolling her eyes.

  "Hey, it’s not my fault you like using fancy words," Giacomo defended himself, his tone faux-apologetic as Giona laughed along.

  "It’s a strong color," Anastasia continued, ignoring them. "Almost as if its purpose was to instill fear."

  "It reminds me of blood, sure," Giacomo chimed in, "but from there to fear… I don’t know. Drama much?"

  While the boys continued laughing and joking, their attention drifting elsewhere, Anastasia leaned back into her seat and let her thoughts take over.

  She wasn’t entirely convinced that the Grand Master hadn’t hidden something from them. The way she’d worded her request about keeping Michael and Jonata away from Steal the Light—it hadn’t felt like a warning. If anything, it had sounded more like an invitation. As if she wanted them to get involved, to coach the boys, maybe even ignite their interest rather than extinguish it.

  Why ask us, the reigning champions? Anastasia thought, her brow furrowing. The logic was clear: they were being entrusted with something important. It wasn’t just about keeping the boys occupied—it was about shaping them. Teaching them strategy, teamwork, honing their abilities.

  Steal the Light had been more than a game for centuries; it was deeply rooted in the Illuminate community’s history. It had been used as a tool to train armies in military tactics. Anastasia shivered, the thought unsettling. Are they preparing an army?

  Her mind jumped back to the way the Grand Master had reacted when they mentioned the possibility of the dark ages returning. She’d seemed genuinely uncomfortable—nervous, even. It can’t be true, Anastasia told herself firmly, forcing the thought away.

  And the boy Giacomo mentioned… no, I did not imagine it, she flinched. Who was he?

  The dark ages, the great wars between East and West—they were over. Cutrone repeated that endlessly, as if by sheer force of will. No, surely this was just about Michael and Jonata’s education. The Grand Master wanted them to gain experience, to grow. That had to be the reason.

  She took a deep breath, letting herself believe it—at least for now. But one question still nagged at her, refusing to leave her alone.

  The handshake.

  She’d felt the girl’s fear—there was no mistaking it.

  What was she afraid of? Me? Or what she was going to do to me? That doesn’t even make sense. Anastasia frowned, staring down at her palms as the sound of the car engine hummed softly in the background, rising and falling each time the driver shifted gears.

  The Grand Master had mentioned Ingrid, a Sister. Sisters were responsible for educating Kings and… Queens.

  What if she’s the new Queen? Did I just meet her?

  Queens had the ability to grant and take away the power to illuminate. Anastasia’s heart quickened as she tried to focus on her connection with the driver, searching for the familiar tingling in her hands—the proof that she still had the Light.

  Yes, it was there. The Light hadn’t been taken.

  But then, what had the girl in crimson done to her?