She shrugged. “I know as much as you do. But I think it’s simple logic. Your translation is traceable because it’s magi-made. While it integrates with the energy of the Metasphere, it doesn’t mesh with the Human world. For me, it’s the opposite. I’m untraceable over there because my magic is man-made—I wasn’t born with it. So, logically, I’d be traceable inside the Metasphere.”
I mulled it over. “So outside the Metasphere, in the Human world, your translation is untraceable but still visible?”
Emma nodded. “Yes, my haze is visible but it can’t be tracked by any LiaPrism.”
“Are you sure it’s visible?” I pressed, wanting clarity.
“Yes! I’ve translated plenty of times in the Human World. Always untraceable, always visible.”
I arched a brow. “Have you ever tried translating without it being visible?”
Emma frowned, clearly confused. “Is that even possible?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But hell, if untraceable translation isn’t impossible, then why not?”
“How would I even try it?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
I hesitated for a moment, then suggested, “Would you be willing to portal out to the border with me and experiment a bit? See if we can figure it out?”
Emma smirked, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re actually asking me this time instead of sedating me?”
She whistled in mock awe. “Personal growth, Colt.”
I sighed. “Guess I deserved that.”
She crossed her arms, pretending to think it over. “Fine. I’ll go. But if you so much as think about trying to hurt me, I will rip your balls out through your asshole.”
Her tone was sharp, but there was a flicker of something almost playful beneath it—like the threat was half-serious, half-dare.
And for some weird reason, it made me smile. “Deal.”
The next day, we portaled to the border of Crown, and crossed into the Human World. As always, the air felt different—more grounded, less charged with energy. We found a secluded spot, and took our positions, standing across from each other.
“All right,” I said, as I watched her closely. “Now, when shooting out your haze, don’t focus as much on the emotion. You’ve got that part down, so focus on not wanting it to be visible. It’s like every other translation you’ve done—home in on your will. Make it invisible.”
Emma nodded; her face set in determination. She extended her hand, and shot her magic out—its familiar scarlet color showing.
“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, clearly frustrated.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “It’d be insane if it worked on the first try. Keep at it.”
She shot me a dry look. “I hate it when you’re encouraging me. You almost sound friendly. It’s confusing.”
I snorted. “Noted. Now try again.”
She tried again. And again. Each time, the result was the same, and her frustration grew more palpable.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, her voice tight with anger as she failed once more.
“Calm down, Emma. Your frustration is overpowering your will,” I said, taking in her tense posture. “Do you need a break?”
“No!” she snapped, her eyes fierce. Damn, she was fiery when she set her mind to something.
She tried once more—and failed again. “Motherflapping fuck!”
I couldn’t help but grin at her outburst. Despite her growing frustration, the sheer drama of her reactions was rather amusing. She was so intense, and it made the moment feel almost absurd in a charming way.
“Just take a breath,” I encouraged, trying to stifle my smile.
