THREE DAYS.

  The next day, Helios and Didaden met at Modunalds once more, and this time, neither of them had paid. Even the employee, a woman who wouldn’t forgive anyone if they didn’t finish their plate, didn’t bother to ask what they were doing here so early.

  “So, it was a dud, huh?”

  Didaden facepalmed with both hands, leaning back with an exhausted sigh.

  “Unfortunately so, and I heard what happened with principle Ganji.” He replied, opening his eyes, “What now?”

  “Nothing.”

  Didaden froze, and just now did he realize that there was not even a tint of confidence in Helios’ stare.

  “I’ll just have… to fight him myself.”

  In the face of such a cog-like system like the Moduran, it made sense to just play into it. But that wasn’t the person Didaden knew, and more importantly, this wasn’t the right way.

  The Moduran acceptance possibility is 7.9% for those with strong Origins, and 5.5% for those with lesser.

  Yet, Didaden was here. A half assed chance given to him and him only.

  So he stood up, walking away without context.

  “Where are ya going?”

  “To work.” Didaden said.

  The Moduran Department of Education is filled with fools. Only the most picture-perfect student who obeys all the rules will be noticed.

  And if Spriggan gets in… that’ll piss them off.

  “But, it’s pointles—”

  “Don’t worry.” Didaden turned back with a look of fiery passion only a Sunreaper could contain! “I REALLY… DON’T GIVE A DAMN!”

  Well, Helios didn’t expect that for sure.

  However, he couldn’t help but smirk as he walked away.

  TWO DAYS.

  SHIGERU TRAINING HIGH TRAINING GROUND FOUR!

  Zip-zap-boom!

  Puck went to the left to the right, and went straight in for a speedy kick that shattered the skeleton!

  “Heh!” Chuckling through a heated landing. “Man, I’m so psyched! I can’t believe Ganji trusted us with getting kids onto the Polar Express! I bet we’ll be big Moduran Sorcerers after this! Ha!”

  Robin watched as he continued on, sharing his enthusiasm in silence. “The Manufacturing Club can also get a boost this year!”

  “Seriously?” Puck stopped, punching away a large beetle without looking. “Can you stop thinking about your gold just for the job?”

  “Can’t ignore a reward.” Wink!

  When night fell, Queen Calomfina Lightwaver personally assisted her daughter’s “Royal Studying” in the room in the upper section of the castle.

  Adora Lightwaver. A girl of seventeen, wearing a metallic purple skirt with long sleeved and light blue stripes near the shoulders. The theme of light blue extended to her purple boots and dominated her glimmering light blue cape. Her hair was less flowing than her mothers, courtesy of her father, with five, puffy spikes with a cotton candy-like feel! Well, they were quite shimmering.

  The candle lit the room just fine—more so, exactly what it needed to. Her feather-pen, and the paper. “Mom! Why does Nicholas need this anyway?”

  “It’s for you, daugher.” Calomfina corrected, sitting across from her. “In order for a princess to not get on the naughty list, she has to write a poem for Santa.”

  “I’m not eight anymore, mom! I’m sure he’ll just be fine with the play. I’ve arranged it and everything.”

  Adora was efficient in planning. In fact, all of the roles, the story, and the theater were decided in merely ten days. A hard worker, but slightly lazy. “It’s crazy, though. Can’t believe I’m going to be the one standing next to the son of Saint Nicolas.”

  “Ah,” A look of nostalgia on the queen’s face. “You’ve grown up, huh?”

  “Yeah… I’m becoming more like you everyday.”

  And it disappeared with that comment. “It would seem so…”

  “Bela!!!”

  The might of winter, ever stronger! Spriggan kept on running, but it seemed to be in vain. Every time he called out Bela’s name, the blizzard shouted the meaningless of it all.

  Spriggan wouldn’t lose his smirk, though. “A challenge, huh? Bring it on!”

  “I wonder how it feels to ride a slay.”

  Marion and Cyromin exited the classroom, minds filled with an abundance of rules on aerial maneuvering.

  “They said your ears ring for a little moment.” Marion said with a tinge of disgust, “Ugh, I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Why don’t you hold onto those toys of yours? It’ll make you look the part, too.” Cyromin suggested. Half in reality, half in mind. The blue boy from a few days ago. He hadn’t heard of him. “Speaking of, I gotta thank you.”

  Marion paused. “For what?”

  Only recently had Cyromin given it some thought.

  For the past few days… his sister looked a lot less down.

  “The bunny.” Cyromin said, “My sister likes it.”

  On this cold day, Marion’s soul was the warmest it’d ever been!

  ONE DAY.

  A legend stood on the balcony of the Kamerlot Castle.

  A boy as cold as winter, although he was born of a maternal warmth.

  Draped in a white kimono, a light blue kataginu, and a black hakama.

  The katana, Kusanagi no Tsurugi, to his side.

  Cascading, straight white hair, and blue eyes.

  The greatest swordsman, bearing the imperial radiance of an onmyoji in modern day, comparable to the legendary Abe No Seimei!!!

  Ｈａｒｕｓａｍｅ Ｙａｍｉ-ｏ!

  [ 光の君主 ]

  Light opposed the darkness, but even so, a cursed woman was close to him.

  Not too far behind, watching as the snow passed by, was a woman as dark and beautiful as a curse.

  Draped in a robe of complex black and white matrices, sleeves hanging off her forearms.

  Long, curly hair of an intertwining dark blue and black.

  Yellow earrings, and tired eyes.

  The one who held the monsters across every era. A consumer of curses. A Witch turned Moduran.

  ?????????? ????????????????

  “A familiar night, huh?” Harusame asked, gaze out into the night.

  “I don’t remember much.” Nyxia replied coldly, moving over to lean on the balcony, and become lost in the city.

  “...You’re losing weight.”

  “It’s because of the weather.” Nyxia assured, “We’re not busy until tomorrow—and because of the harmony in the air—there’s been a decline in my consumption.”

  Even with that, Harusame couldn’t ignore the bags under her eyes. A consistent trait of hers since the beginning of the year. “Do you think… you’ll be able to operate tomorrow night?”

  “We’re Contessa’s guards… we have to.”

  Pat! Suddenly, she felt a hand over her shoulder, and turning, she was treated with those calming, warm eyes that never failed to rid her mind of the burden.

  “We’re Moduran Sorcerers, too.” Harusame corrected.

  They were.

  Yeah, when they were in a team.

  “I’ll be fine.” Nyxia sighed, smiling at Harusame and moving over to the exit. “Shall we go?”

  “...Sure.”

  A big thing was happening in town, and everyone was on edge. Dashing through the snowy skies, bearing the celebrations of the students of the Sky Workshop Academy, was a sleigh. Of course, that sleigh contained the son of the famous, bearded man derived from the Origin of Miracle Eve itself.

  SAINT NICHOLAS JUNIOR!!!!

  Wearing festive attire, but nowhere near as… round. In fact, he was quite fit, albeit a bit of grayness in his black hair. Upon landing, everyone was eager to touch the sleigh and its magic bells; children were asking for their spot on the list, but he never spoke.

  Harusame and Nyxia stood in the crowd, drowning in the crowd, not noticed by anyone. It was quite tight due the sturdy foundation of the city, designed to enclose Curses in a confined space so they were easier to track.

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  The umbrella-like wooden hats they wore made them invisible.

  How interesting it was to see the breath of a new era. Sorcerers like them were special—a reincarnation every two-hundred years or so. Only they could hear the voices of their predecessors. Well, mostly Harusame. Those cognitive conversations were burdened by the amount of curses consumed by Nyxia.

  “What’s this about?” Nyxia asked.

  “A Miracle Day tale.” Harusame asked, “I’ve seen the contents… you might be interested.”

  To the west, the theater. Built in an ancient brown texture, the pinnacle of antediluvian in this city. Inside, a crowded corridor that led up to the grand stage. Chatter, chatter. Reunions, greetings. All mixing together—a labyrinth of life.

  And it all stopped when Harusame and Nyxia entered. Morton was there, so if the people further away didn’t notice—

  “BWAHAHAHAHA! NO WAY! IF IT ISN’T THESE FELLOWS?!”

  —His loud voice would sure get them to.

  Nyxia didn’t acknowledge any of the praise she gained. Not like many were fond of her anyway, except for those engrossed in gothic Origins. Harusame was far more suitable and participated in more social events.

  A look of indifference in every request for an autograph. Hope I’m not taking too much away from the show.

  “Yo!” Puck was there, too! Leaping into action! “You must know me, right?”

  “No.”

  Such a direct answer—though Puck wouldn’t succumb to embarrassment!

  “Well, I’m Puck! An upcoming speedster Moduran Sorcerer!” He announced, “Soon, I’ll be known as the fastest! You might not care, but you’ll remember me when I’m famous!”

  “Um, sure.”

  “Such ignorance.”

  A voice Morton knew all too well. The Four Magic Kings, Helios’ group, wasn’t fully together. One was overseas, and the other with her family. This left only two. Helios…

  And Legdrial!

  The Elf from the north, honoring spring. Perfectly parted, long brown hair, and soft blue eyes, wearing a green robe with a wide flowing sleeve that only hung on his right forearm. The other half of the robe was left to hang on his waist, where below he wore tight, white pants and brown boots.

  Known for being a total snob in public…

  “After my first year at Shigeru, I was moved to Takeru High. It was there where I learned the value of hard work, dedication, grit, and more importantly, how to remain silent.”

  “Ah, the archer kid!” Morton called out, catching up to the small group. “Where’s Helios?”

  “Taking the day off.” Legdrial said, “He wants to reserve his heat as much as possible. You should be doing the same.”

  “Gee, you really haven’t changed after all these years.”

  “That’s my line.”

  “Don’t mind him, kid.” Morton assured, patting Puck on the back, “He’s just jealous.”

  “A Moduran Sorcerer’s heart has no room for jealousy.” Ledgrial scoffed, “Just what values is principal Ganji preaching in those halls?”

  “Ganji?” Harusame instinctively recalled that name. “You mean, Ganji No Retsuden Meikyou Enmonton Kaito?”

  “Oh yeah,” Legdrial just realized. “He was a member of your party, yes?”

  “Where is he?”

  A rather demanding tone from Nyxia, but no one would have to put up with the awkwardness.

  Principle Ganji emerged from the crowd, receiving a stern glare from Morton.

  “It’s been a while, old friend.” Harusame said with a smile.

  But despite the greetings, there was a sad breeze in the air. Perhaps it was the nature of the snow—but in their hearts—all three former members remembered a time where that breeze was embodied by a vessel. A vessel of a bright, young woman as beautiful as ice.

  Ganji took Harusame and Nyxia through the crowd, taking them to the side.

  “I need… to discuss something with you both.”

  That quipped their interest.

  The small tint of desperateness in that voice.

  “What is it?” Nyxia asked.

  Ganji set his eyes on the play. The lights were beginning to dim.

  It was time!

  Before the play began, Nicholas got onto the stage, receiving his well deserved round of applause. For a second, he looked like his father. On both edges of the stage, the Royal Guard watched out for any kind of trouble.

  Of course, this included Didaden, who was blown a kiss by Adora. Smooch-?!

  He didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Words exchanged, a handshake, and a thank you to the crowd.

  Now, for the princess to announce.

  A play.

  “Today, the Magicians will be acting out the play, “Nightmare on Miracle Eve”.”

  Harusame and Nyxia immediately sensed something was off.

  The play.

  Joy to the world.

  Joy to the world.

  Thousands of insignificant dots dancing in the snow.

  Nothing special, so let’s get to the point.

  Life doesn’t discriminate. It takes its shit up with anyone.

  The case for an old woman in the North Pole.

  A gingerbread home with no name with no homes near.

  Even the pointy trees seemed lifeless.

  The loss of the only life she could care for.

  A hopeful girl who wanted to travel the world and infect everyone with her joy.

  Alone, but feeling the cheers of everyone around.

  No matter what she tried, losing was imminent.

  The battle against darkness.

  The sin of the happy is the ignorance of those who aren’t.

  But maybe, this time, she’d have something.

  A star twinkled in the dark night, granting the woman with the fire of inspiration.

  Manifestation.

  Thousands of magical books, gaining the knowledge she needed.

  The secret art.

  Necromancy.

  The art of a witch.

  Nyxia frowned, leaning forward.

  A surprisingly simple spell.

  All one needed to do was draw the symbol of an eight pointed star.

  Chanting, chanting: “Inquire fate, shame fate. Break, break, breakaway!”

  But, what emerged from the depths of her carpet was an abomination.

  The creatures filled with woe, disdain, and despair.

  The error of Magic… is called a Curse.

  Sorcerers of the Sky reported to the scene, informed of a minor disturbance from afar.

  It wasn’t.

  Beware, beware of her.

  Beware of the curse with a name.

  Asundra.

  Can’t you see?

  (Understand?)

  Can’t you see?

  (Understand?)

  Even Curses want to enjoy Miracle Day!

  To persist these warm days… keep yourself warm.

  Harusame understood it.

  And his eyes darkened.

  Back at the balcony, the snow had never looked so dark.

  “Do you guys get it now?” Ganji asked with a groan.

  “I do.” Nyxia turned away from the balcony. “...It was a message to all Moduran Sorcerers. The Curse—it’s still out there.”

  “And more importantly,” Harusame blue eyes, usually beautiful at this time, bore the darkness of regret. “It’s the curse… we fought fifteen years ago, alongside Cyrba.”

  Fate marked their departure.

  This form of nostalgia was far too distasteful for Ganji.

  But the visages of Robin, Puck, and Cyromin didn’t let him sink in it.

  “Cyromin, Cybra’s younger brother, will be one of Santa’s helpers. He’s a good kid, but with that curse around, I don’t think he’ll be able to focus.” Ganji explained, “No non-sorcerer can stop that thing.”

  “Let me do it.” Nyxia demanded, “Back then, I didn’t know the full extent of my abilities nor was I chosen to be Contessa’s Royal Guard.”

  Nyxia, the only witch in history to become a Moduran Sorcerer.

  She is the holder… of an ability that can absorb Curses.

  “I won’t leave any crumbs.”

  But…

  “Let’s not jump too far.”

  Harusame, an Onmyoji of the east, turned into a Moduran Sorcerer.

  He is the holder… of an ability that can repel curses.

  Repel and attract.

  “Haven’t you had enough for the month?”

  The arrival of Miracle Day meant Moduran Sorcerers had to work hard to eradicate any enemies that could interfere with the process.

  The taste of a curse is something she’d become numb to.

  “But—”

  “Neither of you will be doing anything.” Ganji said, unveiling a scroll from his right pocket.

  Directly from the princess.

  “On the night of Miracle Day, three Moduran Sorcerers will be dispatched to deal with the Curse known as “Asundra.”

  Party Members:

  Nyxia Scattera.

  Harusame Yami-O.

  Ganji No Retsuden Meikyou Enmonton Kaito. (Leader)

  Mission Reward: Walking Water Shoes + 1000000 Gold.

  Mission Name: Vs. Asundra.

  Mission Deployer: Contessa.”

  “We’ll be a team again.” Ganji said, “Tonight, Moduran Sorcerers across Kamerlot, along with some others from different countries, will meet in the World Lobby. There, the princess will tell us the plan.”

  “Teaming up again, huh?” Harusame asked, his tone a mix of somber and bitterness. “...Just how long has it been?”

  A long, long time.

  There was a picture Ganji kept inside of his desk that encapsulated everything.

  The picture of the four of them… graduating from Shigeru Moduran High.

  Cyrba could make friends with just about anyone.

  “Fifteen years.” Ganji answered, taking a hold of the scattering determination from that memory. “That’s all the more reason to make it count. We’ll be the only ones in the area, so it’s all up to us.”

  Nyxia was known to be a “grumpy” upcoming Sorcerer. Though, that title seemed like a fallacy when Cyrba was around.

  Once, after she failed an exam about different fashion styles and what kind of Magical Properties they held within the Moduran System, Cybra cheered her up with an invitation to her dance class.

  There was homecoming, too, where a miracle occurred. Somehow, someway, Cybra convinced her to tag along.

  Ah, how fun.

  “...Like I said, no crumbs.”

  This time, Harusame didn’t deny it. In fact, the light in his eyes now carried a menacing darkness.

  The stare of them. The ones with the magic to fight; the ones who told fortunes; those who determined the direction of luck.

  In hell, they gobbled and spat the evil spirits.

  Blessed by the heavenly Shikigami.

  True Spirit Mediums.

  But most of all… loyal.

  One time, Cybra stood against those jealous of his status.

  The bridge that brought him closer to Nyxia.

  “We'll get rid of the curse in Cyrba’s stead.” Harusaume declared, “Fate may have driven us apart, but we haven’t. It would be a sin to act as if we don’t have any stake in Cybra’s current condition.”

  Ganji, a master of art.

  To hear the distinct rhythms unknown to man. Drawings, clothing, buildings.

  Everything.

  The music of Cybra around this time of year… was always a beautiful one.

  “..I’ve paid my dues for my failure as a leader by becoming principal.” Even with that, Cyromin was the one who stuck out the most in his mind. “This time, I will effectively lead this party. Even though Cyromin or Cyrba will probably never know, we won’t let their curse persist.”

  Ah, the name of a party years ago.

  The name was given by some lord…. Or… Commander.

  THE EARTH’S WATCH

  “Let’s go.”

  Cyromin stumbled into his home, and he was given the sight of his sister fixing the star on their tree. She used to do it all the time in childhood—awfully adamant about it, too. It seemed that the past was returning. “Not tired?”

  “..No.” Cybra answered, “Been watching the Elf all day. I know how worked up you get when he goes missing.”

  That made Cyromin smile. “Thanks.” He said, “Tonight’s the night, so… I’ll be getting some rest early. I could make a few summons to keep the house up tight if ya want.”

  “Ah, I’m fine.”

  That would’ve been a perfect way to end the conversation.

  But, Cybra had more to say.

  “Cyromin.”

  He paused.

  “I’m sorry for what I said before—about you becoming a Moduran Sorcerer.” Cybra got off of her tippy toes, staring aimlessly at the tree.

  “Uh, it’s whatever.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  What’s this?

  Those memories of the past.

  They were returning.

  But not the past we know.

  Tears falling upon the tree of Miracles.

  “Sometimes I think… if I never became a Moduran Sorcerer… then maybe you would be even more happy. I kept trying to run away from it by acting cool, but…”

  Falling to her knees, utterly breaking.

  “I truly am… a terrible sister.”

  “No!”

  Cyromin leapt over, sprinting over to embrace his older sister. Not even these tears could freeze.

  A memory occurred.

  He was just a worried kid stumbling down the purple halls. Daytime was out but there was no true light. Moduran Sorcerers prevented him from entering Cybra’s room, but he could at least hear a conversation.

  “That Curse…”

  Ganji’s voice.

  “...It’s in that lone Gingerbread house in the forest near their home?”

  “Indeed.” Nyxia’s voice. “...If I had mastered my ability, maybe this would’ve been stopped. Harusame will be able to heal her, but only slightly. Her days of being a Moduran Sorcerer… has concluded.”

  And with that, a decision was made that night.

  “I’ll kill that curse myself.”

  TONIGHT.

  A fast round of footsteps down the city of Yore. Luckily, Robin had granted Puck with shoes that didn’t make a sound, so there were no disturbances.

  Out of the city, down Candy Cane Lane, and there! The house of the Frost Family.

  “Alright,” Puck glanced at his list, smirking. “Looks like this is the last kid!”

  Jingle-bell, jingle bells.

  This is your cue, chosen one.

  But, it usually took five rings for one to come out. Puck had shook it twice. “Huh? Where’s the kid? Polar Express leaves in eighteen minutes.”

  “Sir!”

  A worried Marion came sprinting down the road.

  “Woah woah, kid.” Zoom! Catching the exhausted kid, “You gotta get on the Polar Express! I’ll handle this.”

  “No, that’s not it!”

  That decision Cyromin made.

  Marion was the only person he told it to.

  “...Cyromin… has gone missing!!!!”

  Mayday!

  END!