Semira stood with her arms crossed and a blank expression behind the rotting wooden fence that marked the forbidden zone.

  The world pillar, which had always moved at the edge of her vision throughout her life, now rose from the earth before her, massive and undeniable. Yet she hardly noticed. She stared at the spot where Salome’s backpack had been discovered, her thoughts turned inward.

  The grass beside the pillar was burned. A black cone of charred earth stretched from the gray stone, ending in a small circle large enough to fit two people. Ravil had been kneeling beside it for several minutes, carefully examining the ground. Eventually, he raised his expressionless face toward Semira and shook his head.

  How could this have happened?

  Nobody had noticed Salome’s disappearance. It was only after a rumor reached her father—that the girl had been seen with a strange young man—that he had asked about her whereabouts and discovered she was nowhere to be found. Instead of immediately reporting the matter to the Ministry, he had initially conducted discreet inquiries himself.

  When it became clear that Salome had left the village with the boy, his next step was to send an acquaintance from the village, a hunter, after her. It was this hunter who eventually discovered Salome’s backpack within the forbidden zone.

  Semira’s vision nearly turned black, overwhelmed by rage, disappointment, and terrible worry for her younger sister. If anything had happened to her, if she never returned, then everything—every sacrifice—had been for nothing...

  She composed herself, forcing slow, deep breaths in and out.

  No.

  Salome was fine. She was just somewhere on the road and would soon reappear. She might have gotten herself into some trouble, but that was precisely what Semira was here for. She would protect her, no matter what she had done. Now she only needed to find her.

  Ravil, meanwhile, had crossed the barren area and approached her. "I'm not sure what to make of this," he said thoughtfully. "This was no ordinary fire. The embers ate deep into the ground. And everything looks far too… uniform if you ask me. Other than that, I can’t find anything," Ravil continued. "No footprints, no objects left behind…"

  "No… remains?" Semira asked softly.

  "No. No remains. Neither artificial nor organic. The hunter’s account is our only evidence someone was here."

  Semira nodded, and the knot in her stomach loosened slightly.

  Ravil seemed about to say more, but changed his mind. "Should we head back?"

  Semira glanced at the pillar, then let her eyes wander across the forbidden zone. Usually, each of these zones had guardians responsible for maintaining and securing the boundary. But the man who normally did his duty around here was nowhere to be found. His hut, hidden in the woods, had been abandoned for a long time, and he had no family.

  Semira had already initiated a search for him, which had yielded nothing—other than revealing that his routine reports had abruptly stopped. This oversight had earned the responsible agent a disciplinary action. To Semira, the guardian's disappearance seemed suspicious, though at the moment it was low on her list of priorities.

  She nodded to Ravil. "Yes, let’s go. The others might have learned something by now."

  When Semira entered the village where she was born and raised, there was a flurry of activity. Several black Ministry carriages lined the main street, and between them, agents hurried busily from house to house, questioning villagers.

  Semira walked past gray facades so familiar to her, along countless gutters and pipes streaked with rust, channeling rainwater into ditches beside the street. The crude planks bridging those ditches clattered metallically each time an agent stamped across them. Behind some windows, curious faces peeked out, covertly observing the scene. She knew nearly every one of them by name. Yet she also saw fear in their eyes, especially when they noticed her. Quickly, curtains closed and shutters snapped shut.

  The agents paused briefly in their work to salute her. She summoned one of them and asked for a situation report.

  "We’re still collecting testimonies," he explained impassively. "It seems confirmed that a noticeable stranger entered the village. Both his appearance and behavior were unusual, and there's a clear connection to the girl; he specifically asked about her. So far, we've located three eyewitnesses: a woman who spoke with the boy, a neighbor who claims to have witnessed some sort of argument, and a coachman who saw them outside the village. Their statements are being taken now."

  Semira nodded. "Good. I want every tiny detail about this boy. Continue your work."

  After the man had moved away, Semira turned toward a large house set apart from the others and enclosed by a shoulder-high wall. She clenched her jaw so tightly it ached.

  "See to the witnesses," she instructed Ravil, who had silently accompanied her. "And question them about cloud devils as well."

  Surprise flickered across his face.

  "I know what you're thinking. The forbidden zone, the burn marks… It might all be coincidence, but we can’t overlook anything."

  Ravil looked at her, concern briefly touching his expression. But he was too tactful to comment and simply nodded before joining the agents by the carriages.

  Steeling herself, Semira walked towards her parents’ house.

  When the door shut behind her, iron silence greeted her—an anxious silence created by people waiting, anticipating fate with nothing but dread.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Unsurprisingly, she found her father and mother in the living room. Both were staring out separate windows, one nervously tapping his fingers on the armrest, the other impatiently bouncing a foot. When they noticed Semira, they leaped up and rushed toward her.

  "Semira! You're finally here," her father called. "What about Salome? Have you found out anything?"

  "Oh Semira, my dear Semira, please say there's good news," whimpered her mother.

  They spoke over each other, but Semira didn’t listen. She stared with clenched teeth between them into emptiness.

  After a while, the stream of words faded into a new kind of silence—one thick with horror. It became so quiet, she could hear the muffled voices of the agents outside.

  Embers crackled softly in the kitchen stove. A horse whinnied.

  Her father spoke again, hesitantly. "Semira? What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"

  She turned toward him, looking him straight in the eyes. Despite deliberately keeping her expression neutral, the stout man recoiled. “Salome didn’t come home for three whole days. Another three passed before the Ministry received a report. Six days. Why am I only hearing about this now?” she asked in a flat voice.

  “Well, we don’t even know for sure if she was really gone for three days,” her father mumbled defensively. “Nobody was home; it could’ve just as well been only one or two—”

  “Why didn’t you report her disappearance sooner?” Semira hissed.

  “I, uh…” the man stammered.

  “Semira, darling—” her mother tried to intervene, but Semira cut her off.

  “And the same goes for you! Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

  Her mother looked down, flustered. “You know what Salome’s like... sometimes she stays away longer than she should… And just look at all this fuss she's caused! Imagine how it looks!” She waved dramatically toward the windows, through which the commotion in the street was clearly visible.

  Semira glanced back and forth between her mother and the window in confusion, but then it slowly dawned on her what her mother meant. Her expression shifted to disbelief.

  “You were worried about that? About your reputation?” Her voice trembled with fury. Seeing the guilty expressions on their faces, she clenched her fists to control her shaking.

  “We just wanted to avoid causing a scene,” her father said, unable to meet her gaze. “People were already talking badly about Salome! We didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

  “Oh, really?” Semira said through gritted teeth. “So it was all purely for her sake? It had nothing to do with the two of you trying to avoid further embarrassment as parents of a difficult daughter?”

  “Of course it didn’t,” her mother pleaded desperately. “Semira, please!”

  She could practically taste the guilt in her mother's voice.

  Semira turned away in disgust, walking past them to stand by the window with her arms tightly folded. Her fingers dug painfully into her skin as she unsuccessfully tried to keep her jaw from grinding.

  “Just a bit longer and the Ministry school would’ve issued an official reprimand…” she muttered.

  Silence returned—a silence so complete it felt as if her parents had stopped breathing entirely.

  Frowning, Semira slowly turned around. Both parents stared down at the floor, avoiding her gaze.

  “Tell me… Why exactly are people speaking badly of Salome?” She looked from one to the other.

  Neither responded.

  “What exactly is going on here?” Something wasn't right. Her parents were hiding something.

  Semira fixed her eyes on her mother. “How is Salome doing at school these days? Now that I think of it, you haven’t mentioned her progress for quite some time. Is there some issue at the school?”

  Her mother remained silent. Semira’s expression darkened further. She pressed on: “I already considered sending someone to the Ministry school to inquire about this strange boy. Did he make contact with her there? If so, security lapses will need addressing.” She watched her mother closely. “Do you think I’ll find something there?”

  Her mother opened and closed her mouth several times, but it was ultimately her husband who spoke: “Salome… hasn’t been going to school.”

  Semira froze. “What?”

  “She refuses to get into the carriage each morning. Whenever we confront her, she locks herself in her room or runs off, roaming the woods for hours.” His expression hardened, as if addressing a long-standing burden.

  Semira simply stared at him, unable to form words.

  “We deliberately didn’t tell you,” her mother said. “It’s our problem, not yours. You already have more than enough responsibilities as an enforcer and we didn't want to burden you further. We decided to handle it ourselves.”

  Semira put her hand to her forehead. “Of course it’s my problem,” she said incredulously. “This is Salome we’re talking about! My sister!” She had to lean against the windowsill for support. She couldn’t believe her parents had withheld something so crucial. Salome wasn’t attending school? Something serious must have happened.

  She took a deep breath, fighting to contain her anger and worry. She knew she was overly protective of her younger sister, but now wasn't the time to lose herself in emotions. Salome’s well-being came first. To protect her, Semira needed information.

  To calm herself, she slowly and deliberately took in the details of the living room. Every wall, every corner was ingrained in her memory, as familiar as could be to someone who’d spent half her life there.

  The cracks in the plaster. The frayed corner of the carpet, catching the door each time it opened or closed. The wooden table with its worn and rounded edges. Her father’s wingback chair, whose leather upholstery was cracked from years of use.

  Everything seemed so well-known, yet at this moment strangely foreign, as if her eyes had always slid over these details without truly seeing them. Now, focusing clearly, they seemed overwhelmingly obvious. The familiarity triggered a wave of revulsion. Suddenly, she found this place disgusting.

  She closed her eyes. “What happened?” she asked. When she reopened them, her head was clear again.

  “We’re not exactly sure,” her father replied. “After we couldn’t get answers from Salome, we contacted the school. But no one there had noticed anything unusual. For some reason, they hadn’t even realized she’d been absent. I was told they'd investigate the oversight, but each time I asked, there was no progress. Something’s wrong there, if you ask me. If only I had more time, I could…” He trailed off.

  His wife continued instead: “At first, we tried persuading Salome to return. But you know how stubborn she can be. And since we both were terribly busy, we couldn’t spend all day chasing after a rebellious child. We agreed to give her some space, thinking she’d come around eventually.”

  “And somehow,” her father grumbled darkly, “within a short time, the entire village knew Salome was holed up at home. Suddenly everyone was looking at me disdainfully, as though it was my fault.” His wife nodded gloomily.

  Semira regarded them in disbelief. Did they honestly see themselves as being in the right? She had enough clarity now to guess exactly what was happening. How Salome must have felt. Didn’t her parents realize Salome wasn’t the only girl from the village attending the Ministry school in the city? Did they really have no idea how cruel girls could be toward each other? She didn’t even want to imagine what Salome had endured at school. Her classmates probably covered up her absence with ease. Semira knew firsthand how little the educators there cared about their students.

  She would take care of this matter personally. She would drag every one of those worthless, cloud-damned nobodies who'd tormented Salome through the dirt herself.

  And the sooner she got to it, the better.

  Before giving her full attention to this issue, however, she needed to solve the murders in the city. Senator Nito must not be disappointed, and Senator Sargo was breathing down her neck.

  She made her decision. Without another word, she walked past her parents and left the room. She ignored their calls and questions, which ceased abruptly when the front door closed behind her. She signaled to Ravil, who’d been waiting nearby, but her gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

  It was time for more drastic measures.