Stella leaned against the edge of the gondola as she took in the scenery around her. People strode down the streets and crossed over bridges, their footsteps being soundless and swift. Hardly any of them chitchatted as they went their ways; those who did looked like they were discussing important matters rather than something more lighthearted. Those who had no immediate destination rested by leaning against the cement fences, which lined the banks of the canals, or took shelter indoors. The only chairs that she spotted belonged to cafés, bistros, and restaurants, and they were reserved for patrons. It then occurred to her that she had not seen a public bench in Mondéum since the first day she set foot in the city. Maybe that's why they're always in a hurry, she wondered. There's no place to relax here.

Crackle. Stella turned her head to see where the sound was coming from. A small group of children was gathering at a park, fireworks flying from some of their hands. "Cool," she breathed. She did not see smoke rising from their fingertips, so they likely did not have pyrokinesis. Then that meant... they were using lumokinesis? Did that mean that Stella could do what they did? She glanced at her fingers and concentrated. Instead of a speck of light, a spark of electricity buzzed between her fingers. She huffed. Maybe she would have to wait a while before she could try.

She lifted her head and continued to look at her environment. She paid more attention to the shops. Signs were either hung on windows, nailed to doors, or attached to horizontal rods that jutted from the walls. Mannequins dressed in Mondéne fashion—which mostly consisted of long coats and flat shoes—posed behind the windows of clothing stores. Bracelets, brooches, and metal bands lined the displays of jewelry boutiques. Up ahead, she caught sight of a store that she initially thought sold toiletries and bath salts. She glanced at the sign. "Apothecary," she read aloud, confused. What's an apothecary? She squinted at the windows. The shelves were stocked with bottles of various liquids. Some of them were clear, like water; others were colored, like dye; and some were viscous, like honey. She took a closer look. Inside, a woman purchased a vial of liquid that she had just picked from a shelf. She then proceeded to drink its contents before disposing of the bottle and exiting the store. A potion shop? she hypothesized.

Stella sniffed. A minty and flowery aroma diffused in the air. She turned her head and traced the scent to a café that was sandwiched between two shops. A waitress was serving mugs of tchan to a table occupied by three people.

"What are you looking at?" Jon asked her.

"Just looking around at anything."

"Anything interesting?"

"Um, everything?" she said, an awkward chuckle escaping her lips. She hoped that it was a good answer.

It seemed to be so, for he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, this place is cool. I mean, look"—he pointed upwards—"red sky."

"Yeah. It's not completely red though. It looks a bit purple too?"

"Red, purple, basically not blue. I wonder if the other realms have reddish skies."

"Me too."

Stella lifted her gaze and admired the sky above her. Earthen nights were blackish blue, like indigo dye. The Mondéne sky was a deep and velvety red, like wine. Golden stars danced overhead, and though they were bright, they were not enough to illuminate Mondéum's thoroughfares. That job was left to the metal streetlights, which flooded the city with pale yellow.

Jon reached into his bag and pulled out a sketchpad and pencil. He laid the sketchpad on his lap and held his pencil in his left hand.

"Wait," Stella said, "I thought we're not allowed to do that?"

"We can. My dad says it's fine to draw. Pictures are not allowed," he told her. He then asked, "What should I draw?"

"Ehm, that?" She pointed vaguely.

He cocked his head in the direction she was pointing at. "Hmm, I can draw that!"

He landed the tip of his pencil on the paper and began sketching. Stella leaned a bit forward. She watched as he made an outline of a building before sketching its environment.

"May I see?" she asked.

"Sure."

She scooted to his side and observed him more closely. He was still drawing the rough outline but quickened his pace when he realized how fast the gondola was moving. It would only be seconds before his inspiration was out of sight. He completed his outline and moved on to shading mere moments later.

"By the way, you can still talk to me while I'm drawing."

"Um, talk about what?"

"About anything," Jon said, shrugging his shoulders.

He made a long stroke with his pencil that seemed so straight, Stella wondered how he could do it without a ruler. Her eyes wandered to the other page. It already had an illustration drawn on it. She widened her eyes; Jon drew a sketch of the three of them! Everything was accurate, from their body proportions and relative heights to their facial features. She was amazed at the level of detail he put into them. He drew her with a sling bag slung from her shoulder, her hair tied in a distinct ponytail, and he even portrayed her smile "correctly"—mouth closed, shallow dimples near the corners of her lips, and her eyes squinting as though the lights were too bright. She nearly laughed when she came across Jon's depiction of Edmond—he was depicted with a serious, almost frowning, face, and his eyes were cold and sharp. Jon's drawing of himself was the most cheerful, his mouth wide open as he grinned.

"You drew this?" Stella asked.

Jon glanced at the other page. "Oh, yeah," he said. "It's not that good."

"Not good? This is amazing! You're very talented."

"Really? Thank you! I'm still learning how to draw people." He let his hand rest on the sketchpad and lifted his head to look at her. "Are you also into drawing?"

"Um, no," she replied. "I like looking at art, but I'm not good at making it."

"I think everyone can make art," said Jon. "Art isn't just drawing or painting. Music is art. Do you sing?"

"I can't sing, but I can play the violin."

"See? That's making art. You're an artist."

"Haha, I guess so," she said, touching the side of her head.

The two of them continued to converse as the gondola glided across the canals. For the first few minutes, Stella would help Jon to pick out the next scene or landmark to illustrate, and they would chat as he drew. Stella realized that she and Jon shared more in common than she first thought. They both had been playing the violin since a young age and enjoyed listening to classical music. After a while, Jon stuffed his sketchbook and stylus back into his bag and spent the rest of the ride chatting with her. The two of them ended up discussing which composer—Ernst, Paganini, or Wieniawski—wrote the most difficult pieces. Jon claimed that he could play some parts of Paganini's caprices, found Ernst's "The Last Rose of Summer" virtually unplayable, and thought Wieniawski's compositions were easier than the other two's on average. Meanwhile, Stella joked about seeing them as equally challenging, claiming that the hardest piece she could play in full was Vivaldi's "Winter."

The two of them took a short break. Stella took a deep, relaxed breath as she watched the world around her. Though there were several people surrounding them now, the noise level had barely changed. The Mondénes did not seem to be the talkative type. Speaking of which, the third member of the trio had not spoken a single word since they departed from the dock. Stella and Jon turned their heads towards the back. Edmond was lounging against the back of the gondola as he contemplated his environment, not a sound escaping his lips.

"Hey Edmond, why not you talk more?" he asked.

"I don't talk much," Edmond replied. "And, uh, you can call me 'Eddie' by the way. That's what most people call me."

"Eddie," Stella articulated softly. She thought it rolled off the tongue more nicely, though she also thought it suited his persona less. Edmond was quiet and reserved. Eddie sounded warmer and friendlier.

She glanced at him. Unlike Jon's illustration, he did have a smile, albeit a rather faint one. Though the corners of his lips barely rose, it was enough to make her feel warm and fuzzy. Perhaps it was because he rarely smiled in the first place, so when he did, the world seemed to be a little warmer. At least for her.

Though she continued conversing with Jon, her eyes could not help but wander to Eddie every now and then. It began with a few quick glances before evolving into three-second stares. The longer he lingered in her vision, the more she found him attractive. Everything about him appeared immaculate, from the way his fair hair was styled to the tailored clothes that flattered his physique. And his eyes—she paid the most attention to them, for their blue-green color was unlike anything she had seen. It was as if he was carefully sculpted into existence.

His eyes met hers. "Yes?"

"What?" she said.

"You were looking at me."

"Oh, was I?"

"Wait what?" Jon interjected.

"Her eyes have been wandering towards my direction," Eddie said, chuckling.

"Oh, ehm, it's because you've been quiet and I wanted to know if you had something to say," she explained herself. She paid attention to his reaction. He seemed to know that that was not the case, but he did not bother to comment on it.

"Anyway, I heard you guys talk about classical music," Eddie spoke. "I'm not a violinist but my best friend is. She says Paganini is the hardest composer, but Ernst's 'The Last Rose of Summer' is the hardest piece."

"Do you play an instrument?" Jon asked.

"Yes, piano, since I was five. I started learning guitar four or five years ago, but I'm not that good yet."

"What's the hardest piece you've played?" Stella inquired.

Eddie held his hand to his chin and pondered. "Hmm, on piano, I'd say 'Mazeppa' by Liszt."

"You can play Liszt?" Jon exclaimed. "That's so hard!"

Eddie smiled. "Well, I've been playing for ten years, I should be able to play something difficult," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I plan to tackle 'Gaspard de la Nuit' soon. My dad played it a couple of times and he said that it was extremely difficult."

"You can play Liszt; Jon can play Paganini. You two are prodigies."

"I'm not. It's just a lot of practice. You'll get there," Jon said, winking.

The gondola gradually slowed. Stella looked towards the front. A quay was stationed up ahead, and it was larger and busier than the dock they had departed from. She could make out José, Celestine, and Helene waiting for them at the platform, having arrived there a few minutes earlier. The boat halted as soon as it reached the platform. Jon snatched his bag from the seat next to him before hopping off the gondola and half-jogging toward the adults. Eddie got off next. Stella stood up and slowly made her way out of the gondola. The boat swayed from side to side as she walked.

Eddie reached out his hand towards her. She held onto it as she stepped off the boat and let go once she had set foot on the platform.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The two of them walked side-by-side as they caught up with the rest. Helene led them through the town as they made their way toward the Earth portal. They then crossed back to Earth. Helene removed her cloak before she followed them out of Old Port Warehouse. They congregated right outside the metal door.

"So," Helene began, "this is the last time I'll see you guys."

"You won't be with us anymore?" José asked.

"I'm old and retired; I don't think I'll meet you again. But we can always keep in touch."

Helene's mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile, but a heavy sadness filled her eyes. Stella glanced at the other adults, noticing a similar expression appearing on their faces.

"The last few weeks have been fun," Helene said. She spread her arms wide. "Goodbye."

She enveloped José and Celestine in a warm embrace, patting them on the back as they wrapped their arms around her. Stella had never seen them so emotional—even José had a tear or two trickle down his cheek as he rested his head against his mentor's shoulder. After a moment, the adults let go of each other.

Celestine exhaled. "I just want to say, thank you so much for taking the time to teach us."

"And thanks for also for protecting us," José added. "We're really not going to see each other again?"

"Not likely. But you don't need me anymore," Helene said. She turned her attention to the three teenagers. She patted each of them on the shoulder. "You three have done so well. Keep it up, will you?"

"We will," Stella promised.

They said their goodbyes and then parted ways. As they strolled through the forest, Stella glanced behind herself. She watched as Helene reentered Old Port Warehouse, her flowing blue cloak disappearing behind the door. And to think that that would be the last she would see of her. Stella glanced at Celestine and José. A somber demeanor still painted their faces.

The five of them have reached the town. Up ahead was a road that branched into three paths. Stella and Celestine stood on one side; the boys stood on the opposite side. They smiled as they gave each other one last look.

"We'll still be seeing each other, right?" Stella asked.

"Definitely," José said. "In fact, we'll meet again next summer."

"Here again?" asked Jon.

"No," said Celestine, "probably somewhere else. We'll tell you later."

There was a slight pause. Finally, Eddie spoke, "It was nice meeting you all. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

"Ciao."

"See you next year!"

They then turned their backs and walked away from each other; the girls took the left footpath, while the boys trod down the right road. After strolling a few paces, Stella glanced over her shoulder. Jon was glancing over his as well. He smiled and waved. She did likewise.

Stella faced forward once more as she and her aunt continued their walk back home. A soft smile formed on her lips. She was definitely going to miss them.

***

Stella packed the last of her belongings. She sighed as she heaved her luggage out of her bedroom and down the stairs. The hangout at Helene's house happened the day before Stella had to leave Oppidula and return to Rome. Celestine helped her to put her luggage in the trunk of her car. They got in and fastened their seatbelts.

"Have you checked everything?" Celestine asked.

"Yes," Stella answered.

"Double-checked?"

"Yes."

"Your clothes? Phone? The PPR and book?"

"Yes, everything."

"The bracelet?"

"Right here." Stella held up her right wrist.

"Good. Just making sure."

Celestine started the engine and began driving. Stella gazed out the window and watched her aunt's house fade from her view. She glanced at her bracelet. Her lips curled into a smile. Though her first phase of training had ended days ago, Stella knew it was not the end of her journey.

Her journey had just begun.

THE END