The day of celebration had arrived, and the Simhika region buzzed with a rare joy that stretched across every field and every street. Humans from all four regions gathered to lend a hand in the preparations, some tying up banners, others setting tables, and even a few dragons helping decorate. Vibrant fabrics flowed in the wind, illuminating the area with bursts of color, and delicate glowfish bulbs dotted the celebration grounds, their soft, warm light adding to the atmosphere.
Each representative from the four human regions meticulously supervised every detail, ensuring that the decorations reflected the newfound peace and alliance. In the middle of it all, Jacob and Kiira were busy managing the kitchen, coordinating various dishes and ensuring the menu catered to the diverse tastes of their guests. Jacob could feel Kiira's excitement as she worked quickly, her hands busy chopping, stirring, and tasting.
Just then, Kylan, who had been exploring the celebration, wandered over to the cooking area, curious about the dishes he had yet to see in his own reality. As he approached, he caught sight of Kiira and smiled, causing her to fumble, accidentally pouring an extra helping of salt into a pot. Her cheeks flushed with a blend of irritation and embarrassment as she muttered under her breath, trying to salvage the dish.
"Kylan!" she scolded, glaring at him. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
Jacob, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. "Kiira, he didn't mean to distract you." He turned to Kylan with a bemused smile. "Maybe take a look around the celebration areas instead?"
Kylan, still puzzled, shrugged. He couldn't understand why his mere presence seemed to fluster Kiira. As he left the kitchen, he glanced back, still feeling the awkwardness lingering in the air.
Meanwhile, Zede was high up on a ladder, setting up lights along a grand archway. He transformed his arms into mechanical extensions, lifting the decorations with precision. Aayam, wandering by, noticed the unusual light bulbs and raised an eyebrow.
"What's with these glowing bulbs?" he asked a nearby Simhika citizen.
The local smiled. "These are glowfish bulbs from the Ditivasi lakes. The glowfish regrow them every few days, so we harvest the bulbs for special occasions like this."
Aayam inspected the glowing lights, nodding with appreciation. "Ingenious," he said, impressed by the community's creativity.
As Aayam continued down the path, something caught his eye—a hooded figure in a long robe, moving quietly among the bustling crowd. There was something familiar in the way the figure walked, and Aayam's heart skipped a beat. Could it be? With quickened steps, he followed the figure, dodging through the celebrants, his curiosity turning to certainty as he drew nearer.
Finally, he tapped the figure on the shoulder. The figure turned, revealing pale blue eyes set in a fair, calm face.
"Mr. Dragdor?" Aayam breathed, his voice a mixture of surprise and excitement. "I knew it was you!"
But Mr. Dragdor's gaze held no warmth, no recognition. His expression was distant, almost as if he were staring through Aayam. Aayam's heart sank as he tried to connect, speaking in soft, familiar tones.
"I thought you were gone… everyone thought you perished in the explosion of Edmonia."
Mr. Dragdor's gaze didn't waver, his eyes staring through Aayam, and his silence hung heavily between them. Aayam blinked, glancing aside in confusion for just a moment, and when he looked back—Dragdor was gone.
He stood there, his heart pounding, feeling as though he'd just witnessed a ghost. The chatter and laughter of the celebration resumed around him, yet Aayam was rooted in place, lost in a swirl of memory and wonder.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the dry, rugged terrain of Simhika, a sense of tranquility settled over the celebration. The wind blew through the open caves, whistling eerily as it echoed into the underground world of the dwarves. Laughter and music filled the air above, with goblets raised and seats arranged in a half-circle around a stage for cultural performances. Songs and dances, intricate and full of history, entertained the gathered guests, with humans, centaurs, and goblins alike caught up in the joy of the moment.
Aayam, however, was elsewhere in thought. His mind kept returning to his strange encounter with Mr. Dragdor. The haunting expression in Dragdor's eyes, the cryptic silence, and his sudden disappearance weighed heavily on him. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize the latest performance had ended, nor that everyone was clapping—until Kylan nudged him with an elbow. Aayam quickly joined in, clapping with a slight, uneasy smile, trying to put on a normal face.
As the night wore on, goblins grew louder, bursting into off-key songs and half-remembered verses, their laughter mingling with the occasional raucous calls of centaurs who had clearly enjoyed too much drink. The whole scene was warm and alive, but almost chaotic—a testament to the joy of survival and new friendship.
By midnight, the celebration had devolved into a colorful mess. The representatives sat around a crackling bonfire, laughing as they exchanged stories of the evening, discussing their favorite performances, and debating the best dishes. Nearby, Jacob, Kiira, Zede, and Kylan fought off drowsiness, eyes heavy and blinks growing longer as they searched for a comfortable spot to rest.
But then, amidst the laughter and music, a sudden shout tore through the air. A drunken man came stumbling into view, eyes wide with terror. He pointed a shaking finger towards the heavens, specifically at the Ditivasi moons, and a hush fell over the crowd as they turned to see what had startled him.
Above, the two moons were visible: one circling the other in a slow, eternal dance. But tonight, there was something wrong. The smaller moon, usually pristine and whole, was only half-visible, with its other half a jagged, uneven line—almost as if it had been shattered.
An icy fear settled over the crowd. Panic flickered in the eyes of goblins and centaurs, humans and dwarves alike. Some rushed toward their homes; others ran to the caves, hoping the dwarven strongholds could offer protection from whatever unknown horror approached. A thick tension built in the air, as real and heavy as any storm cloud.
Aayam stood up, dread filling him as he looked to the sky. The representative from Hiranyaksha approached him, voice low and urgent. "Do you know what this means, Aayam? What is happening?"
With a grim expression, Aayam looked at the crowd of people, who huddled together in fear. His voice was steady, though his words brought no comfort.
"Leave this place," he commanded. "Take as many as you can. Find shelter, go to your towns or take refuge in the caves—anywhere away from here."
The representative looked at him, wide-eyed. "But…what's coming?"
Aayam's gaze returned to the sky, where the fractured moon loomed ominously. It's something you may not survive if you remain here."