Welcome back. The The Flow journey continues.
Chapter 2 – Exchange
There was a pause. A long one. Silence filled the room — so heavy and so loud that even the creaking of the shelves felt deafening. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but he was afraid. Not of what it could mean, but of what he thought it implied, and whether he was ready for that or not. He lifted his eyes and looked at Alaeyira, his gaze asking for an escape, for something he could understand.
She sat back, relaxed in the armchair, as if her request had been far more normal than asking for 82 crowns. He was somehow hoping to see her smile — a sign that it was a joke. A bad one by normal standards, but maybe a good one for magic‑born folks.
“What I mean…” Eonis straightened his back instantly. “…is not you‑you. But you as… let’s say, the missing piece of your own journey.”
“The… what now?” he asked, more puzzled than when she had simply said you.
“Too early for that. If you agree, the focus array is yours,” she said calmly, taking a sip to empty the cup, pouring a fresh drink, and placing it in front of him.
“And… instead of payment you want… me…” he said, clearly without knowing what was happening.
“Exactly.”
Eonis took the cup and drained it in a single gulp. The hot liquid made him wince, but this time he refrained from sticking out his tongue. What does she mean by ‘exactly’? Does she… want me or something? She’s gorgeous in her own weird way, but that’s not the point… nor my need right now.
“Oh… thank you, but… no,” she said, pulling her shawl over her cleavage as a precaution, knowing full well how men’s minds work. “I see you agreed. Good. Now you can take the focus array and leave through there.”
She stood up, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Until next time…” Then she walked toward the back of the room and disappeared.
He pushed himself on his feet and for a moment was unable to think of anything, until her voice echoed in his mind: “Thank you, but… no.” What does she mean by that? He remembers his thoughts before her answer, and how she covered herself. The mere idea that she might be able to read his mind makes him flinch, shaking his head.
“I see you agreed,” he remembers. Agreed on what, precisely? When did they agree on anything?
Nevermind, he thought. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.
He arranged his coat a bit, went, without a single mistake, directly to the part he needed, and picked it up with a victory smile. “Until next time,” he re‑heard her voice. What next time? I’ll be buried in my lab… good luck with that, he said, and left through the same door he came, without looking back.
Almost three weeks passed since he obtained the energy‑matter focus core, and he barely managed to advance in putting together the quantum specter‑gauge. Everything was ready, in place, aligned — and yet, nothing. No power, no fluctuation, no resonance between the parts. He reviewed his calculations spread across four different glass‑boards, and everything worked… or it should have.
Lady Maria entered the room carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a simple sandwich. She had been taking care of him since he was eleven, when his mother died by unknown cause right after a victorious negotiation with the magic ministry — something he never believed was just a coincidence. Then she placed the bowl and the plate with the sandwich on the table, picked up the plates and leftovers from the previous meal. She knew him well enough to know that when he was deep into something, it was better to let him be. She smiled and left.
Not long after, much noisier than Lady Maria, entered his assistant Zian — a fresh post‑graduate, far too exuberant for his taste, but his doctorate paper was as inspiring as it was bold: The Universe Matter–Antimatter Energy Balance Flow Through Gravity Pulse.
“Master, still nothing I see,” he said, sitting at the table, taking the sandwich, and having a big bite.
“Teacher. Or Eonis. I’m no one’s master,” Eonis said, sitting in the chair near Zian. “I see the sandwich is enjoyable,” he continued, taking the spoon, the bowl, and starting to slurp.
“Very…” confirmed Zian, his mouth making him barely intelligible. He continued as soon as he swallowed: “There is a nice lady outside. Looking for you. She said she’s your partner or something. I told her you have no partner, but she insisted I tell you,” he finished and took another big bite.
“What partner?” he asked, and Zian gestured that he had no idea. “Where is she?” Zian pointed at the door.
Rarely was anyone unknown visiting him here, as few knew of his lab — let alone a woman. Eonis put the bowl and spoon down and went to open the door, curious who it might be. He opened it only to find himself face‑to‑face with Alaeyira. He had almost forgotten all about her, just to have every detail rush back into his mind.
“Hello, Eonis,” she said with her soft, unforgettable voice, and passed right by him as if he were just a doorman.
She walked slowly through the room, with Eonis and Zian watching her without a word. She looked over the papers spread on the desk, the glass‑boards full of drawings and formulas, the device he was trying to put together. It took a while for Eonis to move — just enough to reach the table and sit on the chair. Both continued to watch her studying their room as if it were a museum, and neither dared to disturb her.
Finally, she stopped right in front of them.
“As promised. Now is the next time,” she said calmly, then looked straight into Zian’s eyes. He instantly stood up and offered his chair.
“Master, I must go to… somewhere. See you later,” he said, took another bite from the sandwich, and rushed out of the room.
She looked at what was on the table: scraps of paper, the plate with crumbs from the sandwich and a piece of sliced tomato, the half‑emptied bowl of soup, a couple of crayons, a pair of round glasses, and a few more things she didn’t bother to identify. Then she looked at him.
He snapped out of his fascination, went to the cupboard, picked up a glass and the water can, then returned, placed the glass in front of her and poured some water.
Lady Maria entered the room with a tray holding two porcelain teacups and a porcelain teapot from the same set.
“Oh dear… look at the mess,” she said, carefully moving aside some papers and placing the tray on the table. “Where are your manners? For the first time such a fine lady is visiting you, and you serve water? Here, dear — your tea,” she said in an even softer voice. She placed the other cup in front of Eonis and the teapot on the table. Then she quickly took the bowl, the plate, and the spoon, tidied up the table — mostly by pushing everything together on the side opposite to Alaeyira and Eonis. Then she left as quietly as she had come in.
“Sorry for the mess…” he said, embarrassed, and took a sip of water — which surprised him, as he was sure he had picked up the teacup.
“I see the negotiation between magic and science parts doesn’t go too well,” Alaeyira broke the silence.
“How do you…”
“Your science might work by pushing harder, by asking a million questions. But the focus array will never respond to force. Think of it as an amplifier of will — with personality, if you like. It resonates with will, is fueled by energy vibration, and guides its flow.”
Eonis looked at her, puzzled and fascinated. He couldn’t tell if she understood enough science to know the theory was good but the implementation wasn’t, or if she simply presumed what was happening based on how the focus core operates. He frowned — not out of anger, but the way he always did when he felt close to a solution stubborn enough to slip through his thoughts right before capture.
Alaeyira noticed and smiled.
“Oh?…” she whispered.
He didn’t hear her, but the frown shifted toward surprise — or satisfaction. Her words weren’t simple remarks. They were explaining how to make the focus core work, how to make it fit into non‑magic science.
“Show me, please,” he said.
His hands — on purpose or just reflex — moved across the table and grabbed her hand before she could pick up the teacup. This innocent gesture took Alaeyira by surprise at first, but then she remembered what that gesture meant for non‑magic humans. So simple, so boring compared to their “magic meaning.”
Grabbing the palm with one hand is a request for partnership and trust. But “imprisoning” the other’s hand with both hands is a request for full openness — a gate ready to form a magic bond. And that is a life commitment, unbreakable when answered, making human wedding vows feel like a pair of raindrops falling into an ocean.
She looked for a second at her hand captured between his palms, catching the exact moment when his thumb brushed across her wrist, sending a shiver down her spine — a shiver whose cause she refused to analyze. She lifted her eyes and looked straight into his, not staring, but meaningful enough for him to understand why.
He flinched, took her hand in both of his, and gently guided it onto the table, as if it were the most fragile thing in the room.
“My apologies…” he said, trying to control the blood that decided to rush into his cheeks and ears for reasons he couldn’t recognize. “You will… right?” he added, a bit stronger than he intended. He grabbed the glass of water and downed half of it in a single gulp, then set it back on the table with a sharp clink.
“Are you sure you’re ready to face your mistakes? You don’t look ready for me…”
“I am… I really am. Besides, I never make mistakes. I only discover ways that do not lead to my destination,” Eonis replied with a smirk, watching Alaeyira closely to catch any reaction to his cleverness… or maybe his wickedness. But nothing. She simply stared at him in a way he translated as he’s a madman.
“Focus array might be obsolete for magic‑borne, but for non‑magic… I hope you will never learn this the hard way. Let’s say… once learned that way, there will be nothing left to share the experience.”
Eonis forgot to breathe… again. She wasn’t shouting, but the way she said it scared even the blood from his face. His pale complexion started to darken only when the breathing timeout reached a critical threshold.
That was the moment when Alaeyira’s expression changed, showing a light smile.
“Eonis… breathe…” she said softly, gesturing as before. “I thought we agreed that breathing is not optional.”
Eonis immediately started breathing fast, hitting himself in the chest as if he could choke on air.
“It’s a deal then…” she said while standing up, picking up the glass of water and emptying it. “I hope you’re ready for what comes next…”
“Hurray! Thank you, lady… Alaeyira… yes…” he said, jumping off the chair — which tumbled a couple of inches and stopped right in front of her. She didn’t even flinch, simply moved around it naturally, as if the chair had been there from the beginning.
She went to the working table and started pulling apart Eonis’ device with a few precise motions — a couple of clean pulls with her hands and a flick of her finger.
“It took me almost two months to assemble that much…” he whispered, watching her in disbelief, not daring to interrupt. He just stayed frozen with his mouth half open, like someone who spent weeks building the greatest domino design only to watch it crumble when placing the very last piece.
Alaeyira picked up the focus array and let it float above her open right hand. With steady steps, she moved toward Eonis.
“Now… pay attention. Maybe a little demonstration will help you understand what I told you about the focus array. Keep this for me, will you?”
She lifted her hand, rotated her fingers, and between them thin blue electric arcs began forming. With her other hand, she picked up the focus array. The arcs grew stronger, circling her hand a few times, and then a ball of lightning started forming in her palm.
Eonis moved slowly closer and closer, bending forward to watch the formation of the lightning ball. Alaeyira could not miss such an opportunity — and when he was closest, she made a fist. The ball of lightning vanished with a sharp crack.
He jumped back a full step, escaping a short, sharp sound he wished he hadn’t.
“Did you get it now?” she said softly, after letting him catch his breath — and maybe a bit of dignity that ran away with the sound he made. “Hey, look at me!” she said with a clear voice, almost an order that could only be obeyed. As soon as he looked at her, she tossed the focus array toward him.
Already in shock from the lightning‑ball event and her sharp request, now he was facing the most precious thing in the room flying straight at him. Eonis was never good at catching things, and now the entire project depended on his lack of dexterity. He extended his hand, touched the focus core — which bounced to the left. He tried to catch it with his left hand, only to push it again. And he did that in a few rapid successions, dangerously close to the floor, enough to already picture the focus core in pieces.
In the final attempt, he jumped forward on his belly, both hands extended to maximum.
“Nooo…” he hissed, closing his eyes tight. But no smashing sound followed.
He opened one eye, then both. The focus core was levitating above his hands.
“Levitating things might look easy, but it requires strong will, you know. Better take the focus array and put it somewhere safe,” she said — and openly giggled. Eonis grabbed the focus core, sprang back to his feet, and immediately began straightening his shirt with one hand, as if nothing at all had happened.
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