The glow of the capital city was visible even from ten miles away, a soft, enchanting radiance piercing the darkness of the surrounding forest. These weren't the harsh, flickering lights of electricity that Alex had once imagined but the steady, warm glow of magic lamps. The streets and homes shimmered with these ethereal orbs, casting a golden hue over the cityscape.
Maren had explained them to me when I asked about the strange lights. He said these lamps were crafted using intricate magic formations, each one etched with precision to channel and store magical energy. According to him, the art of creating formations was one of the most complex and demanding magical disciplines, requiring not just power but an exceptional understanding of magic theory.
"It's not something you can pick up easily," Maren had said with a smirk. "Most people spend decades just trying to master the basics."
As I drew closer, the city grew in stature, its tall stone walls rising like a fortress against the wilderness. The air seemed charged, humming faintly with an undercurrent of magic. It wasn't oppressive but undeniable—a steady rhythm woven into the life here. The gates loomed ahead, immense and unyielding, their reinforced steel surface adorned with glowing sigils that shimmered faintly in the darkness. A line of travelers stretched before them, each one waiting to pass under the scrutinizing gaze of the guards.
I descended carefully, the floating spell around Lyra dissipating as her body settled in my arms. The guards reacted instantly. Their polished armor reflected the light of the lamps, and one of them, a mountain of a man with a spear that seemed more fitting for a giant, stepped forward.
"Halt," he barked. His tone wasn't hostile, but it carried the weight of authority. "Name and purpose."
I met his gaze, steady but not defiant. "Alex. We're travelers seeking refuge. My companion needs rest and care."
The second guard, younger and leaner, eyed Lyra closely. His sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. "She looks bad," he said. "What happened?"
"An attack on the road," I replied evenly. "She hasn't recovered since. We've come far for help."
The older guard's frown deepened, but he didn't press. "The capital's safe," he said after a moment. "But entry isn't free. Two silvers each."
I reached into my pouch, the worry gnawing at me like a dull blade. Maren had pressed the coins into my hand before I left, insisting I'd need them. Until now, I hadn't. Thankfully, there was enough to pay. The clink of metal in the guard's hand felt heavier than it should have.
"Go straight down the main road," the younger guard instructed, stepping aside to push the gate open. "The healer's guild is near the central plaza, by the fountain. They'll know what to do."
I nodded my thanks and shifted Lyra gently, floating her once more as I passed through the gates.
The city unfolded like a dream. Magic lamps bathed the streets in golden light, illuminating a world alive with movement and sound. Vendors shouted over one another, advertising wares that gleamed and glittered in the lamplight. The air was thick with the smells of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spices I couldn't name. Everything seemed to pulse with vitality—a sharp contrast to the harrowing silence of the forest I'd left behind.
I moved quickly, keeping Lyra steady ahead of me. The crowd parted for us, their eyes flicking toward her unconscious form. There were no words, but I felt their questions lingering in the air. Was it pity? Curiosity? Worry? I couldn't tell. It didn't matter.
A vendor called out as I passed. "Traveler! You look worn out. Try one of these—best pastries in the city!"
The smell was tempting, but I shook my head. "Not now," I said, gesturing toward Lyra. "She needs help."
The vendor's smile faltered, replaced by concern. "The healer's guild is straight down this road," she said, pointing. "You'll see the fountain. Can't miss it."
"Thanks," I muttered, already moving.
The central plaza came into view soon after—a sprawling open space dominated by a massive fountain. Water shimmered as it fell, imbued with the faint glow of magical glyphs etched into the stone. Behind it stood a tall building marked by the symbol of a staff, its light dim yet unmistakable. The healer's guild.
The interior was cooler than I expected, the air tinged with the sharp scent of herbs. A robed woman behind a desk looked up as I entered, her eyes narrowing as they fell on Lyra.
"She needs help," I said, my voice tight with exhaustion.
The healer didn't hesitate, gesturing for me to follow. The treatment room was lined with glowing potions and softly inscribed magic circles. Everything about it felt deliberate, from the positioning of the beds to the low murmur of incantations in the distance.
I set Lyra down carefully, releasing the spell. The healer placed her hands on Lyra's chest, a faint green glow radiating from her palms as she closed her eyes.
"She's stable," the healer said at last, her voice calm but firm. "Exhaustion and mild magical depletion. She'll need rest and restorative potions, but she'll recover."
Relief washed over me, but it didn't last. "How long until she wakes?" I asked.
"A few hours. For now, she needs quiet."
The healer glanced at me, her eyes softening. "You look exhausted. There's food and water in the alcove, if you need it. We'll discuss payment once she's stable."
Payment. The word lingered in my mind, heavy with implication. "How much?" I asked.
"Five silvers for the care. Potions will be extra."
I nodded. It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't unreasonable.