Chapter 16: Chapter 15: The Story Chasers

The cliffside greeted them with the scent of salt and sun-warmed stone.

It wasn’t a particularly high cliff—just enough of a rise to overlook the curve of the bay below, where white foam traced lazy spirals on the tide.

The wind was stronger here, tugging gently at cloaks and hair, and somewhere far beneath, waves murmured against the rocks.

Mira stepped onto the flattest part of the outcropping, where the grass had grown soft from repeated visits.

Behind her, the path narrowed into a trail marked by scattered wildflowers and an old cedar tree, whose gnarled roots clung stubbornly to the cliff’s edge.

Finn arrived moments later, arms flung wide, chest puffed.

“This is it!” he declared, as if discovering it for the first time. “Today’s the day I master lightning!”

Mira arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t even mastered focus.”

“I have too,” he huffed. “Yesterday I focused so hard I lit the kettle, and the curtains.”

“That’s not the kind of multitasking we want,” she said dryly, setting her satchel down on a nearby rock.

Finn gave her a sheepish grin. “I put the fire out before Dad noticed.”

He sat cross-legged beside her, the wind teasing at his curls. He was bouncing on his heels again, barely able to contain his energy.

“All right,” Mira said, smoothing her braid over her shoulder. “Lesson two: stillness.”

“Stillness?” he echoed. “But I’m ready to cast!”

“That’s exactly why you need it.” Her tone softened. “Magic isn’t just about force—it’s about presence. About knowing where you are, and where your mana is.”

Finn grumbled but settled down.

For a few breaths, there was only the sound of the sea and gulls wheeling overhead.

Mira sat across from him, letting the wind settle between them.

“Close your eyes. Take a breath. Feel the way the wind touches your skin. The warmth from the sun. The mana in the air.”

Finn obeyed, surprisingly quiet. His breathing evened out.

Mira watched him, then let her own eyes drift closed, matching his rhythm.

For a moment, it wasn’t teacher and student. Just two souls sitting on a cliff, listening to the sea.

Then—

A spark.

Just a flicker, near Finn’s palm.

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His eyes popped open. “Did you see that?!”

“I felt it,” Mira said, smiling.

He beamed like he’d won a tournament. “That was me! That was totally me!”

“Yes,” she said gently. “But now do it again. Controlled this time.”

He groaned dramatically and flopped backward onto the grass.

Mira chuckled. The lesson was far from over, but for now, it was a good start.

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She was just about to say something encouraging to Finn—when something in the air shifted.

Not the wind—it still came steady from the sea.

Not the mana—it remained gentle, barely disturbed by Finn’s eager spark.

It was something else.

A presence.

One that carried the scent of... menace.

She straightened slowly, hand pausing mid-motion.

Finn noticed her stillness. “Mira-nee?”

She raised a finger—quiet.

Then she heard it.

Footsteps.

Not from the narrow cliff path they had used, but from the woods above.

Light, deliberate, and not in any particular hurry. Three sets, maybe four. She couldn’t be sure over the sound of the breeze.

Mira rose to her feet, dusting off her skirt and glancing toward the treeline. The shadows there were deeper than usual.

“Stay behind me,” she said softly.

Finn blinked. “Wait, what—?”

Then the figures stepped out.

Four of them. Dressed in traveling leathers, boots worn from long roads, cloaks dusted with foreign soil.

Not bandits—at least, not the loud, messy kind. They were quiet. Calm.

And they didn’t belong to anyone from Mermaid’s Cove.

Mira had lived here her whole second life. She knew every regular face, every merchant who passed through the docks, even the wandering adventurers who came for food and supplies.

These people were not from around here.

The lead figure was tall and pale, with a hood pushed back and a black band tied loosely at the throat.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes swept across Mira, then down to Finn, then back to her with measured interest.

“Good morning,” he said, voice low but not unkind. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“But you did,” Mira replied evenly.

Another one chuckled—a woman with sunburned cheeks and silver-threaded hair. “We’re just passing through. Thought we saw light from the trees. That your doing, boy?”

Finn swallowed. “...Maybe.”

The third didn’t speak. His face was covered by a patterned mask, and he held something long and wrapped in cloth—too stiff to be rope, too slender to be a staff.

The fourth leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed. Watching. Not smiling.

Mira felt it again—that quiet pressure in the air. These people were hiding a knife behind their faces.

She shifted slightly, putting herself between Finn and the strangers. “Who are you?”

The leader smiled faintly. “Travelers. Scholars. Curious people.”

Mira scoffed. “That’s a lot of words to say nothing.”

“Then let’s say we’re… observers.” His gaze locked on her face.

Mira didn’t answer.

The woman spoke again. “We don’t mean trouble. Honestly. This just caught our attention.”

“Then what do you want?” Mira’s brow furrowed.

The masked one finally moved—just a small step forward. His voice was muffled, but the words were clear.

“The Saintess of the South.”

Finn pressed closer to Mira. “Mira-nee, I don’t like them.”

“Me neither,” she said quietly.

The leader tilted his head slightly, like someone connecting puzzle pieces in real time.

“Mira,” he said thoughtfully. The name lingered in his mouth. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer.

He continued anyway. “According to the information we’ve gathered… the Saintess of the South was also called Mira. A girl with blonde hair and emerald eyes. Soft-spoken. Lives in a fishing town.”

His gaze swept over her again, slower this time. “That description fits you rather well.”

“There’s no saintess here,” Mira replied, her voice low and steady.

“I highly doubt that,” he said mildly. “We've been asking around towns and villages nearby. All the answers lead here—to Mermaid’s Cove.”

Mira’s eyes stayed locked on the man in front of her. “You’ve come a long way for whispers.”

“Well, that’s our job,” the silver-haired woman added with a lilting tone. “To chase stories.”

The masked figure gave a soft snort—amusement or warning, she couldn’t tell.

The leader didn’t move, but the warmth in his voice cooled slightly. “So… it’s you, isn’t it? The Saintess of the South.”

Mira stood taller, her hair dancing in the wind. “If you’ve found what you’re looking for, maybe you should leave.”

“But we’ve only just arrived,” the fourth said, finally speaking. His voice was rougher—low, almost gravelly.

Mira’s expression darkened.

That made the leader smile again. Not cruel, but... amused. As if this entire conversation was just a prelude to something inevitable.

“Yes, I think we’re going to stay for a while,” he agreed. “The town seems... charming.”

Finn tugged gently at her sleeve, voice quiet. “Mira-nee… we should go.”

She didn’t answer right away.

The wind pressed in again, carrying the scent of the sea—and something else beneath it. Leather. Dust. The faint, metallic tang of magic recently used.

Mira looked at the man and spoke with the same calm she’d used teaching Finn only minutes ago.

“You should walk away. All of you.”

For the first time, something flickered in the leader’s eyes. Not fear. Not anger. Just... interest. Like a scholar finding a rare page in an old tome.

And then he bowed his head slightly.

“Perhaps we will. But not yet,” he said.

He turned, cloak swirling around his boots. The others followed—quiet as ghosts—disappearing into the treeline without another word.

Only the woman looked back, her smile too sharp to be friendly.

Then they were gone.

The wind returned to normal. The waves kept murmuring. The gulls circled overhead, unaware.

Finn exhaled shakily. “What was that?”

Mira didn’t answer right away.

She only stared into the trees, where the shadows had swallowed the strangers whole.

Her voice, when it came, was low.

“Trouble.”