Sofia's left arm was stretched out in front of her, the sleeve of her tunic rolled up. Her fingers were reaching out as if she was trying to touch an invisible wall.

"I can't," she said, frustrated.

But before she could let her arm fall, Kaido interjected,

"Leave it up. Don't stop now. I'll help you."

So, she left her arm as it was, letting out an angry breath. Kaido made circles with his own hands around her arm, but she couldn't see how that was supposed to help her. She was trying to coat her skin in warmth, first through fabric or fur, then with the mere invisible sensation of warmth. The way Orì had done, and the way everybody appeared to be doing, laughing at Sofia when she complained of feeling cold or hot, or physically uncomfortable in any other way.

She started feeling what Kaido was doing. Freezing polar air circled her arm, cold piercing through her skin like a thousand invisible needles.

"What are you doing?" Sofia said, panicking. She couldn't imagine Kaido doing her harm, but this hurt. Her skin was turning red and blue, every hair was standing up as if mirroring her terror.

"You know how to stop it."

"No. No, I don't!"

But Kaido didn't cease, and with what felt like her last bout of energy, a mass of fabric weaved itself around Sofia's arm, messy and muddled, brown and grey, a thick ugly woolen mix, until she couldn't feel the cold any longer, and blood returned to her arm and hand.

Kaido looked at the thick, fuzzy mitten and laughed. Even Mica couldn't withhold a smile.

"It looks silly," Sofia said, aghast.

"It's -, uhm," Kaido started, looking for the right word, "improvable."

For the rest of the morning, they trained as if for a presentation. Sofia's frustration turned into ambition as she finally started making progress. In the end, she was able to keep herself warm without any visible support, although she couldn't hold it for long, and not at all if distracted.

As a treat, Mica showed her how to cover her hands in dark green leather that fit around her fingers like a second skin.

"Looks much nicer," Mica said, as Kaido looked on adoringly.

In general, Mica was a better teacher. She was quicker, more intuitive and more inventive. But Kaido, while slower, was somehow able to grasp where Sofia's difficulties lay, and how to explain to her the various ways in which her usual reasoning wasn't sufficient for these tricks of the mind.

Sofia asked Mica and Kaido to teach her how to make a part of herself jump out, or move out of her own body, the way Orì had used to do. Yet, just like Orì, they seemed uncomfortable with the request, brushing it off, and instead asked Sofia how she knew about this.

It was Sofia's turn to be evasive.

"I don't remember. I think I saw it somewhere."

Kaido and Mica left it at that, not asking further. There was an unspoken agreement between the three of them that certain topics were left untouched as if knowing too much about each other would inevitably lead to their separation.

There was something about the truth in Nihon... Sofia couldn't put her finger on it, but it felt to her as if truthfulness was deeply unwelcome, be it for small things, like a person's real appearance, or more important issues, like the allocation of power or the interaction between strangers.

When Sofia asked who made decisions in Nihon, for example, on where their nightly performances were being held, both Kaido and Mica became evasive, saying that they were just 'held wherever, for no reason'. Sofia found it hard to believe that their lives were governed by chance and nothing else, but they looked so uncomfortable that she didn't go on. She thought that maybe she was too used to the rigid system of her own world, where every movement was decided beforehand and checked upon by the Assessors.

She did not tell Mica and Kaido about the Assessors.

There was a kind of relief that had come over Sofia once she had decided to stay with her new companions. She reasoned that it was the sensible thing to do, to learn about Nihon and how to blend in. As soon as she would feel more at ease, she would go on looking for Orì and be much more likely to be successful. She wouldn't do her friend any favors if she got found out or captured. Whatever captured meant. Maybe a dark prison cell. Maybe getting sent back. Maybe nothing at all.

But for now, she accompanied Mica and Kaido to their various places of performance, the inns, the theaters, the outdoor events.

On the third evening of their partnering, the Talareduh was performed outside, under the starry night sky. There was a field of large rocks, standing in a circle like petrified dancers. Sofia hadn't been able to take her eyes off them and realized later that this hadn't been a coincidence. As Part Six of the Talareduh unfolded, the rocks began to shift and move, transforming into symbols of both the ephemeral and the eternal. The elegance and subtlety of their motions, like water in a river, never the same, yet unchangeable in its rhythm, had worked on her like hypnosis.

The Talareduh had continued more peacefully after the drama of Part Three. The children grew up and made their first innocent contact with magical thinking. At first, they assumed it was a game, but slowly they recognized the pattern and learnt to make use of their powers. There was a frightful incident at the end of Part Four, where Tala lifted Reduh in the air, and, unable to control his abilities, lost his grip, and she fell into a pit. Thinking he had killed his beloved sister, Tala resolved to jump in after her just when Reduh reappeared, having controlled her fall, transforming it into flight.

This random incident turned out to be a decisive point in the children's life. Part Five showed how the sudden confrontation with danger had turned Tala into a more cautious, contemplative young man, while Reduh showed a worrying propensity for recklessness and adventure. Yet she never ceased to remind Tala of the time he had almost killed her as if it was a kind of blackmail.

And still, the teenagers thought that they were siblings.

Part Six returned to court life. The House of Tà had become the dominant family during a time when there was neither a real struggle for power nor a clear hierarchy. Every powerful family in Nihon considered itself the obvious contender for supremacy, but none of them could muster the decisiveness to turn their respective claim into reality.

It was only behind the walls of the Castle of Tà that ambitions were rising high. This was not due to the family itself, who was caught in the same lethargy as the rest of Nihon but was the work of the sorceress Antibe.

During the performance of Part Six, Antibe arrived at the castle late one stormy night. She hid among the stones until she became part of them. She had the abilities to make every object and structure her own and to shape hard materials and natural forces according to her will. The relentless nature of her mind meant that she could hold illusions for longer than anybody else, and neither sleep nor distraction or illness had any effect on her conjurations. Not even absence could make her forget, or weaken her creations. Her mind was like a library, and in it, every book was open and every word was said out loud. Yet this didn't drive her crazy, but she felt comforted by the incessant accumulation of more. More objects in her power, more shapes, more spaces, more people.

The castle and its surroundings became gradually tinged with her mind, saturated as if colored by the mist of her breath. She held everything inside of herself as if the world around her was caught in a spider's web, and she was handling the strings with the power of her mind.

Nobody knew that Antibe was, in fact, the sister of the unhappy queen of Kiyon, and therefore Prince Tala's aunt. Because of her overactive mind, Antibe had been sent away as a child, to be taught at the best schools of all the kingdoms, and also to be held at a distance, as the dangers of her nature had become obvious even as a small child.

She had been forgotten after the tumult after the children's abduction, and she was in no hurry to remind people of her true identity. But at the birth of her nephew, she had spun a mental web around him, and therefore, she was the only person except for the children's adopted grandparents, who knew of their existence, and their whereabouts.

As Sofia watched Antibe move among the rocks as easily and naturally as if she was one of them, she was reminded of Orì with a violence that frightened her, as if Orì was calling out to her from far away. There was something about Antibe, her stubbornness, her forceful self-righteousness that transpired into her every movement. Nothing seemed to be left to chance, and yet something was boiling underneath the surface as if she was rousing against her destiny.

Sofia felt breathless, watching her. She didn't know what to think or feel. She was simultaneously repulsed and attracted. She wanted Antibe to succeed with whatever secret plan she was hatching, and at the same time, she felt the urge to shout out a warning.

She had to remind herself that it was only a story.

Afterwards in the carriage, she asked Mica,

"What does Antibe want?"

"What do you mean, child?" Mica asked, turning towards Sofia and lazily stroking her shoulder.

Mica was even more tired than usual after this performance. She'd had to keep the whole surroundings in check, threading them in with the protagonists of this evening's story. She was so exhausted that Kaido had to lift her to get into the carriage. But a faint, serene kind of happiness illuminated her face, and Sofia couldn't stop looking at her. It was as if the whole universe lived inside of her, constantly shifting and evolving, but never vanishing.

"It feels like she has a plan. But she doesn't say what it is."

"She told the ruler of Tà that Tala and Reduh are still alive. She even told him where to find them."

"Yes, but -," Sofia felt conflicted. "What does she really want? She doesn't tell them who she is, and how she knows about the children. Why do they even believe her?"

"She makes them believe her."

"That's what I mean. She tricks them. Why doesn't she just -." Sofia stopped herself and shrugged. Kaido and Mica were looking at her with a thoughtful expression in their eyes.

"I guess she has her reasons," Kaido said softly. "Let's go to sleep. We got a long way to go tonight."

The theater traveled by night. At first, Sofia thought that this was going to be exhausting, but the carriage rumbled along in such a steady, soothing way that she felt as if she was being sung to sleep. And even though she wasn't sure if it was the smart thing to do, she had come to trust Mica and Kaido.

In the mornings, they usually rested somewhere along the way, and Mica and Kaido showed Sofia things about Nihon, answered her questions and taught her new tricks. Even though Sofia looked forward to being transformed by Mica before the start of the show, and she couldn't wait for the performance to see how the Talareduh would continue, these mornings were her favorite. She felt like she was finally receiving an education, even if it was random and unstructured, and all three of them were quick to become distracted and to go off-topic never to return to the original lecture.

Mica told Sofia about the origins of the Talareduh, and Kaido explained the different types of storytelling. Mica revealed that the dragon of the Dragon's Lodgings had actually just been a dog, to Sofia's great disappointment, and Kaido showed her how to slide off the tiniest splinter of her obsidian, so thin that it was practically see-through.

It was the opposite of Aunt Sybil's teachings, but Sofia found it easier and easier to push thoughts of home away. The memories were like a shadow, casting a cool shade. But Mica and Kaido shone so brightly that, most of the time, Sofia barely noticed it.

The morning of the fifth day, Sofia got up early. She'd had a dream that had felt more real than being awake, and at first, she was convinced that she had been sleep-walking.

In her dream, she had gotten a cup of water from a nearby stream, but as she drank from it, the water tasted foul, and she was repulsed by it. Yet, she had felt such an overwhelming thirst and an inner coldness, that she had turned the water into hot, spicy tea the color of autumn leaves. She had drunk it in one gulp, feeling warm and happy.

Sofia had awoken with this feeling of warmth still in her belly. The carriage had come to a halt, and she heard the gurgling of water close by. She got out of the carriage. Mica was outside, she had her back turned to Sofia and didn't notice her. She appeared to be praying, or maybe just savoring the stillness.

At the stream, Sofia filled a cup, and she was amazed, though not surprised, to see her dream repeat itself. She barely needed to do anything, feeling like she was only witnessing the water turning hot and red and fruity, but still, she knew that it was her desire for it that had made it so.

She took a small sip and squealed in delight. It was the most wonderful taste she had ever experienced. She turned around to call for Mica, but she couldn't see her, so she went back to the carriage to surprise Kaido.

Kaido was still covered with his blanket. It was pulled up over his head, as always. Mica was adamant that Sofia leave him alone, to "get his sleep", as she would say, and then roll her eyes as if she was indulging a particular fancy of his.

Sofia balanced the cup on one hand, its fumes rising into her face. She almost couldn't withhold her pride. She had done this. She had transformed pure water into fragrant sweet tea, with the perfect color and the perfect taste.

"Kaido?" she whispered, then again, louder, "Kaido."

He didn't stir under his blanket, but the sun was almost completely up. Mica wasn't there, and Sofia didn't know how much longer she could keep the tea flavored. She needed to know if it tasted as good to another person as to herself.

"Kaido!" she said, louder, and pulled on one end of his blanket.

Without resistance, it slid to the floor.

Kaido's eyelids fluttered against the light. He crinkled his nose, and sighed, not yet fully awake.

Sofia stared. The cup almost fell from her hand.

Kaido's head was almost bald. His skin was wrinkled like an accordion. A few white hairs stuck out. There were brown spots on his face, and his eyes, sunken deeply in his eye sockets, opened slowly. They were coated with a milky film.

He squinted as if he could barely see.

"Mica?" he asked, with a hoarse, hesitating voice.

As he sat up to see better, Sofia saw that his body was skinny and frail beneath his clothes that hung around it like a loose curtain. His fumbling hands reached for the blanket, trembling as if under great strain. They were covered with the same spots as his face. The skin was papery thin and crumpled, his nails yellow and hard.

Sofia couldn't move. She wanted to help this ailing person, but she could barely recognize him. She stood there, frozen to the ground, feeling an ice-cold desperation mount inside herself.

"It's alright," came Mica's voice from behind Sofia.

Mica lifted the blanket from the floor, put it over Kaido's legs and kneeled beside him. She turned back to Sofia. Her face was full of sorrow.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said.

"She -, she knows?" Kaido said with a weak voice.

Mica nodded. There was nothing to be said. For once, it was too late for tricks, for stories, for transformations.

Kaido was an old man.