“We have made an error,” said the woman.

“Only in judgement,” said the man. “The girl has put it into motion.”

The man and woman, cloaked in darkness, stood high above Nadi, looking down on the continent from atop a tall peak. The lands were hazy. The corners of it could not be seen even from this height. Their hoods were removed, as the sun was quite bright and hot. Both of them bald. Their faces quite average. Their eyes, however, of a striking silver, and their flesh of a similar color.

“It appears we are to take a… less direct approach.”

“That was our most recent instruction, yes.”

“Difficult. But I will adjust.”

“I will assist you if you struggle.”

“Thank you.”

The woman stepped a bit closer to the edge. The continent of Nadi was pleasing to look at from this height. There were people down there, millions of them, but they were now invisible. And many of those invisible people were of heightened physicality and ability than the average person. Much like her in many ways. But in many other ways, not at all.

“Are you ever curious about these capabilities of theirs?” the woman asked. “About these so-called Gifted? About the Aurora?”

“I choose not to be. As much as I can.”

“Why is that?”

“Deep thinking on such subjects will interfere with our observations.” The man lowered his head, as if in deep thought. The woman tilted her head toward him. “The girl. Svana. She should have died. She should have been a failure. And the woman. Rina. She’s been a known variable. An outlier, but present nonetheless. Her involvement lowered the chances of success to a single percentage point.” The man did not breathe. Because neither he nor the woman did such things. “But they both survived.” The man looked at the woman. “I try not to think about the origins of their abilities. I try not to think about these seemingly impossible odds they overcome. Because it will distract me. And I know there’s a logical answer that I simply do not know about currently.”

The woman nodded. “You are right.”

“I will admit, however, that I find myself fascinated by them. In the late hours of the night I grant it thought.”

“Admittedly, as do I.”

“But discovery of the Aurora is not our duty. It is hers.”

“Yes, it is hers.”

“And we will be there to claim her when she breaks past her duality point. When her Aura transcends what is known.”

They were silent for a while.

“Would you like to play our game before we rest?” Asked the woman.

The man nodded. “I believe I could use a little activity.”

The woman walked back to their campsite, which only consisted of a metallic cube, about the size of her head. As her hand neared the top, the material moved away for her to reach inside. She removed a ball, one that was only slightly larger than her palm. She held onto it tightly. They both enjoyed their game. But she enjoyed it a great deal. To such a point she would never admit to him beyond a simple pleasant disposition.

The woman tossed the ball to him and he caught it.

He tossed it back and she caught it.

She tossed it to him and he missed the catch.

“Oh my,” the man said. He chuckled, going to retrieve it.

When he threw it to her, she purposefully fumbled with it. Whenever he missed, she would miss too. Because it was strangely comical to unintentionally do something. And it was an odd sensation of motivation to try again after failure.

“Oh,” she said. “That was not what I wanted!”

“Very humorous!” the man smiled.

They continued their game for about an hour. The man caught the ball and held it.

“That was quite enjoyable,” he said. “I do think I need some rest now.”

The woman hated when the game was over. But it was logical to have it end eventually. And their bodies needed rest and nourishment, of course. Her energy levels were quite low.

“Yes, that sounds appropriate,” said the woman. She watched him go and reach into the cube, removing their capsules of food and water. She looked away, back out over the Nadian landscape near the edge of the peak they stood on. For a moment she was ready to leap off. She wouldn’t die from the impact. But there was a certain thrill in doing unexpected things. A part of her craved for much more of it. Much more than simply failing to catch a ball.

But these thoughts were interferences. Thoughts that were dangerous to dwell upon. Their mission was their purpose.

Before she joined the man for a meal she stopped thinking. Gave herself something to get her through the days to come. She whispered a word, randomly, whatever came to her mind first.

“Blueberry,” she said.

It sent a chill down her spine.