Sofia was staring at her fingertips, willing them to glow and change their color, even slightly, even just a little bit.

Of course, they didn't.

She told herself that she was not disappointed, that she hadn't even really expected anything to happen. Orì had played a trick on her, teasing her that she could do the same things as she. Sofia was certain that this had just been the blue-skinned girl's way of making fun of her. She was probably watching her from a hiding place, amused by her trying and failing.

She heard her aunt calling.

"Sofia, come inside."

With a sudden fright, Sofia looked around as if Orì might be there after all. Then she checked her fingers one last time. Nothing. Now, she was relieved by this.

"Why, Aunt Sybil?" she called back, buying a bit more time.

"I need to talk to you."

The window closed with a smack, emphasizing, as usual, Aunt Sybil's unwillingness to engage in any discussion.

Sofia went in and put her boots in the corner behind the door. She took off her heavy coat and scarf, and wavered for a moment longer. The last time Aunt Sybil had called her to her room had been years ago, for an uncomfortable conversation about Uncle Tomas, and why she was not to take anything he said seriously. For a woman with such a rich vocabulary, Aunt Sybil had been at pains to find the right words, especially since she had tried to sound compassionate and forgiving, qualities that she did not possess.

"Your Uncle Tomas does his best," she had said with an expression on her face that had silently added, and his best isn't much. "But you and me, we need to accept that he is a very fallible man and that he will never change."

For Aunt Sybil did not believe that people could change.

At the time, Sofia had merely nodded and gone back outside to play. She did not remember feeling particularly upset, only sad and somewhat restless. Aunt Sybil had not told her anything she hadn't known already. If anything she had thought that if Aunt Sybil wanted Uncle Tomas to make a bigger effort than she might start by trying to make one herself. But maybe Aunt Sybil considered herself beyond improvement, too.

This time, Aunt Sybil was sitting in her customary place as if nothing unusual was going on. The only abnormality was that there were two cups of tea on the table instead of one. The hot liquid was steaming, freshly brewed. There was even a single cookie laid out artlessly next to Sofia's cup.

Aunt Sybil gestured towards them self-consciously.

"I made tea," she said and cleared her throat, uncomfortable.

Sofia couldn't help but smile over her aunt's clumsy attempt at being motherly, but she quickly hid the smile and thanked her, taking the cup in both hands as if nothing could make her happier. Actually, she was checking it for colored fingerprints, but there was nothing. Of course, there is nothing! she thought angrily at herself. Stop checking!

"I am worried about you, Sofia," Aunt Sybil began. "At your age, I had long been given a purpose. It is true, on some days, it has felt like a burden, but it keeps the mind from wandering. Nowadays, there is less urgency in assigning people their duties. The border villages seem to have become forgotten. Life in the big towns must be so much more amusing."

Aunt Sybil pointlessly stirred her tea. The spoon screeched along the bottom of the cup. Sofia was holding in her breath. She felt like this conversation would shape her entire life. Her stomach started to burn. She felt hungry and nauseous at the same time. She stuffed the cookie into her mouth and swallowed it, barely chewing. It was strange. She had been waiting for this moment for years, and now that it had arrived, she didn't want to hear it.

"Have you ever been outside the village?" she asked quickly, trying to sidestep the upcoming conversation.

Aunt Sybil's face hardened. "I am the Guardian of the Bridge. I have no business going anywhere else."

"Don't you want to?"

Aunt Sybil studied her carefully. "Do you want to?"

Sofia shrugged. She felt a push and a pull at the question, and she couldn't tell which was which. She knew that the world was wide and full of different sights, people and customs. She knew this from books and stories, but she had never dared to picture herself as a part of this variety. At same time, she felt as if the invisible walls of the village were closing in like a balloon losing air and shrinking, suffocating her in her own skin.

Aunt Sybil's eyes never left her. She sighed, but didn't explain the sigh. Something in Sofia seemed to be lacking.

"When the Assessors come, you better tell them that you are perfectly happy here, and would not dream of leaving."

Sofia stared at her. It was the first time Aunt Sybil had told her to lie. Usually, she was truth's most determined advocate as if she had been chosen for this role by some divine being.

"Of course you shouldn't lie to them," she clarified, apparently realizing her hypocrisy. "But they don't like people who are dissatisfied. They think they will cause trouble, and they are not wrong about that."

"I am not dissatisfied."

Aunt Sybil nodded, looking somewhat relieved. "Good. That's good. I will talk to them. You should start your training to become Guardian of the Bridge at the beginning of spring. Maybe even sooner."

For years, Sofia had been waiting to hear these words. But now, she understood them for what they meant, and why Aunt Sybil wouldn't meet her eyes. If she was the Guardian, she would be confined to these four walls, to this small window, to this imaginary life on the pages of books and inside the limits of her own mind.

"Yes, Aunt Sybil," she said, fighting the choking sensation that was almost taking her voice away. "That would be nice."

Aunt Sybil dismissed her with a flick of her hand, and Sofia went to her room which was one floor beneath. Her window showed the same view as her aunt's room. The bridge stretched long and lonesome over the river. Sofia sat on her bed that was unmade and cold, and she stretched her fingers until her joints ached. She didn't know how Orì had done it. If it had been an illusion, or if there had been real colors flowing from her fingertips. She wanted it to have been true.

She strained to make the colors appear, she tried all day. She tried in vain.

The next day, Sofia was reluctant to meet Orì and to have to admit her failure. And yet, before the sun was up, she snuck out of the house and went to the spot where they had met the day before.

The sky was turning from a black night into a grey day. Sofia crouched at the riverside, sliding her fingers through the ice-cold water that was stinging like needles. She observed their movements with a quiet sadness. All her life, she had wanted to become Guardian of the Bridge, so why was she not more excited? She tried to put it on the impending visit of the Assessors. She did not want to admit to herself that she didn't want her aunt's life anymore. Maybe there was more to it than Sofia knew, maybe there were incredible secrets about to be divulged to her. Maybe this would be the greatest adventure anyone had ever been on. But she couldn't help but think that her aunt was deeply unhappy.

The sun broke through the clouds, and as Sofia's fingers were becoming numb with the cold of the water, a glint of rosy color flared up. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again. She wasn't sure what she had seen, if she had seen anything at all. She had felt nothing. It had only been the light breaking on the surface of the water.

She heard a low clapping sound and looked up.

Orì was lolling on a rock in the water, applauding her with a condescending smile. Then, as she was certain of Sofia's attention, she extended her legs and pressed them together. The space in between them became blurry and her legs became one. Iridescent scales slipped over them like a second skin, and fins enveloped her feet. Orì flipped the sparkling tail, splashing the water, laughing at Sofia's amazed stare. With her laughter, her concentration broke, and the scales fell away, her legs reappearing.

"Nice, isn't it? I practiced it just for you since you would prefer if I was a mermaid."

"You're a show-off," Sofia muttered, though all she wanted was to see it again.

Orì rolled her eyes.

"If I know how to do something, why shouldn't I show it off? I practiced all day, yesterday. You're only jealous."

Sofia fumed. "I'm not jealous of your silly tricks. It's nothing but smoke and mirrors."

"Smoke and mirrors are as real as anything. Illusion and reality are just two sides of the same coin."

"No, they're not," Sofia said, although she didn't know what to think. But she knew that she wanted to disagree with Orì.

Orì merely smiled. She dipped her fingers into the water, and from each fingertip ran a different color. Yellow, green, red, blue and purple. She swirled her hand around, and the colors formed a whirl that continued down to the bottom of the river in all the colors of the rainbow.

"Did you learn how to do this?" she asked.

Sofia shook her head.

"But before, I saw a little color."

"That was the sun. It was reflected on the water."

Orì laughed. "Maybe this was the sun as well. Have you thought about it like that?"

"That wasn't the sun. I'm not stupid, I know what the sun can and cannot do."

"And yet, you have no idea what you can do," Orì said. She couldn't help herself and added, "or cannot do."

Sofia didn't reply. She had vowed that she wouldn't let herself be provoked by Orì. At least, she wouldn't show it.

"Why don't you try again?" Orì said.

"I don't even know what I am trying to do," Sofia said, frustrated. "I can't do magic like you."

"You just said that it's nothing but a trick."

"Is it?"

Orì gave a sly smile. "Maybe."

She held out her hands, her fingers spread out. Hesitating, Sofia did the same.

"Close your eyes," Orì said. "Try to forget that your fingers are there."

Immediately, Sofia became as aware of her fingers as she ever had been, as if her whole body, her whole self was being condensed into the tips of her fingers. They were buzzing. She could feel the blood flow through them. There was no way that she could forget that her fingers were there. They were all there was and all she was.

"Good," Orì said, obviously unaware that Sofia was failing. "Keep your eyes closed. Now, lower your hand into the water, and let the colors flow out as if you were uncapping your fingertips."

Sofia did as she was told. Her fingertips touched the water. It wasn't cold anymore, it seemed to have the exact same temperature as her body. She immersed her fingers but didn't feel anything flow from them. She didn't even feel the stream of the water. This was so frustrating! It looked so simple when Orì did it. Sofia was ready to give up and run away.

"Open your eyes," Orì said softly.

Reluctantly, Sofia did.

She gasped, her eyes widening.

A spidery net of pink-colored threads was billowing through the water, barely moving, then dissolving, leaving nothing but the barest hue of color, like a memory.

Sofia looked up at Orì, speechless.

The blue girl's face was glowing with triumph as if it had all been her own doing. "See? You can do it."

"Was that you?"

"No, silly, that was you."

"But you said that I should forget my fingers, and I couldn't. All I could think about were my fingers. As if everything else was gone, or didn't matter. I don't know how to describe it."

Orì smiled crookedly.

"That was a trick. I told you to do the opposite of what you were supposed to do. A short-cut, if you like."

"You fooled me!" Sofia said, feeling a little huffy again.

"You needed to be fooled. I don't have all day and all week to teach you."

"Why not?" Suddenly Sofia was afraid that Orì would say that she wouldn't be coming back. She felt the impending loss as if it was a physical sensation.

"Because it is boooring," Orì said, dragging the word out.

Sofia was relieved.

"Yeah, really boring," she said, thinking that Orì had no idea what boredom was. "So, you will come back here?"

"Sure. If you don't rat me out to your mean aunt."

"I won't! I promise," Sofia said, reddening over her own vigor. "What are you doing here anyway?" she asked. "Where do you live?"

Orì's face darkened.

"I don't live here," she said, sounding prissy. "My stupid family sent me to a stupid school, and I have to stay there for two years."

She looked miserable as she said this. Sofia felt bad for her, yet envious that she was allowed to go to school and move through Nihon. She had only been taught reading and some basic calculations by Mr Borrelias' wife, together with Pip and Tin. And where Mr Borrelias was whimsical and imaginative, Mrs Borrelias was as dull and fanciless as if she was trying to set a record for it. To Mrs Borrealis, a letter was nothing more than a sound and a form, and a word described one thing and one thing only. Sofia had been glad when her aunt had decided that it was unnecessary to continue her schooling as soon as she had been able to read by herself. "There is no better teacher than yourself," Aunt Sybil had said, and she allowed Sofia to take anything from the library, as long as she didn't bother her.

Maybe Orì's teachers were like Mrs Borrelias, Sofia thought. In that case, she could maybe bring herself to feel sorry for this girl who knew how to do everything.

But it wasn't easy.

"I have been here for a month, and all the other children are stupid, and my room is small and ugly. I hate it." Orì pouted. "My brother has decided this, and my mother agrees with everything he says."

Sofia was seething with envy. "You have a brother?"

Orì scoffed.

"He is ten years older than me, and he thinks he's a prince. He's so stupid, with all his plans and schemes."

Orì kicked the water with her feet. It splashed, and a few drops hit Sofia. But she didn't mind. She wanted Orì to keep talking. It felt like she was ripping open the skies and exposing a whole world behind them that had been there all along, unbeknownst to her.

"What does that have to do with you?"

Orì opened her mouth for another angry reply, but suddenly she looked self-conscious as if she had said too much.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "I'm just angry because they sent me here, and I don't know anybody."

"You know me."

"Yes!" Orì laughed again. "You are my secret, and I am yours. You won't tell anybody about me, will you?"

Sofia remembered the Assessors. She wanted to tell Orì about them because friends were supposed to talk to each other about the things that scared them. But she didn't know if Orì would get angry or scared or stay away from her. It felt like a betrayal, but she didn't have a choice.

"I won't tell," she said. "I've always wanted to have a secret."