Three weeks had passed since the start of the semester. The *HGF Expanse* buzzed with life, its halls alive with the chatter of students and the steady rhythm of crew and travelers going about their business. Groups of students mingled together, their voices rising with excitement as friendships blossomed and stories were exchanged. Workers in uniforms and seasoned travelers navigated the crowds with practiced ease, adding to the ship's constant hum of activity.
Most students embraced the lively atmosphere, eager to connect and explore the opportunities the school offered. But not everyone joined in. Here and there, a few figures kept to themselves, skirting the edges of conversations or disappearing into quieter corners of the massive airship. Even in a place like this, some preferred solitude to the whirlwind of socializing.
Venera sat alone in her private quarters, staring out the wide glass window. A slice of toast hung loosely in one hand, half-eaten, as her gaze drifted far below. The endless grasslands stretched out like a sea of green, slowly giving way to the rolling foothills that marked the beginning of the central mountains. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular—just watching the world go by, enjoying the quiet.
It was a rare, peaceful moment. No classes, no students, no demands on her time. A day off. And yet, Venera couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the calm wouldn't last. It never did. Especially with the *HGF Expanse* set to make port in Lancel soon. The city of crafts. She sighed, already imagining a certain fox-eared menace dragging her through endless shops and markets.
After a moment, Venera rose from her chair, brushing crumbs from her lap as she moved toward the washroom. She ran a comb through her golden hair, wincing as she worked out a few stubborn knots. It wasn't long before she was dressed and ready, but the serenity of her morning was interrupted by the ship's intercom crackling to life.
"All passengers, we will be making port at Lancel in fifteen minutes. We ask that you remain in your quarters until the landing procedure is completed. Thank you."
The metallic voice droned on, but Venera barely listened. She closed the door to her closet, catching a glimpse of an old, gray uniform as it swung shut. The sight sent a pang through her, an unwelcome memory stirring at the edge of her mind. Her mood darkened slightly as she pulled herself away and sat down to wait, bracing for whatever the city of crafts—and her persistent companion—would throw her way.
Sure enough, as soon as the ship finished docking, there was a knock at Venera's door. She sighed, already suspecting who it was. When she opened the door, her suspicions were confirmed.
Standing in the doorway was an odd-looking girl, her grin impossibly wide. She had short, snow-white hair and deep blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. But it wasn't her grin—or the sharp canine teeth it revealed—that made her unusual. It was the pair of fluffy white fox ears perched atop her head, twitching with excitement, and the tail swishing behind her like it had a mind of its own.
Most people might have found the sight unsettling. The sharp teeth alone could give someone pause. But Venera? She just sighed.
"Abel," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Surprised?" Abel's grin widened, and her ears perked up. "I'd be offended if you were. Come on, Ver! We've got a whole city to explore! Lancel waits for no one!"
Venera groaned, already feeling her peaceful morning slipping further away. "This better not turn into another 'let's see how much trouble Abel can cause in one day' kind of trip."
Abel's grin didn't falter. In fact, it seemed to grow even more mischievous. "Trouble? Me? Ver, you wound me. I'm just here to soak up the culture."
"Uh-huh," Venera replied dryly. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."
Abel clapped her hands together and practically bounced on her heels. "That's the spirit! Let's go!"
It didn't take long for Abel to drag Venera off the airship and toward the gates of the city. Outside, a crowd had gathered, necks craned upward as they marveled at the *HGF Expanse*. Venera had to admit, it was a sight worth admiring. The ship's immense metal hull gleamed in the afternoon light, its sheer size dominating the skyline. Twin magitek engines loomed at the rear, their faint hum barely audible over the crowd's chatter. Large sails, pristine white and trimmed in blue, billowed gently in the breeze, each one embroidered with the sigil of Himlasia—a sword flanked by two roaring lions.
It was impressive, she supposed. But she didn't have time to dwell on it. Abel's insistent tug on her arm snapped her attention back to the present. With a resigned sigh, Venera turned away from the ship and allowed herself to be dragged toward the gates.
When they reached the entrance, a man sat slouched in a small booth, his uniform wrinkled and his expression bored. He barely glanced up as they approached, stifling a yawn before addressing them.
"Welcome to Lancel, city of crafts," he droned, his tone devoid of enthusiasm. "What's your reason for entering?"
"Sightseeing!" Abel replied cheerfully, flashing him a grin that could've lit up a room.
The man grimaced, clearly unimpressed, and waved them through with a lazy motion. The gates creaked open, and the bustling streets of Lancel stretched out before them. Abel wasted no time, practically bouncing with excitement as she led the way. Venera followed close behind.
The city was alive with activity, its streets packed with people from every corner of the continent. Shopkeepers lined the bustling market lanes, their voices ringing out as they called attention to their wares. Prices and promotions were shouted with practiced fervor, each vendor trying to outdo the next in capturing the attention of passersby.
Lancel had earned its title as the city of crafts, and it wore the name proudly. Blacksmiths hammered away in open forges, their sparks flying like fireflies. Alchemists tended bubbling cauldrons and vials, the faint scent of herbs and
strange chemicals wafting through the air. Craftsmen of every kind displayed their creations—intricate wood carvings, fine textiles, and gleaming jewelry—all on proud display in the countless stalls and workshops.
This was more than just a market; it was a hub of innovation. Lancel had birthed countless inventions, and among its most notable achievements was magitek itself. The hum of arcane machinery and the faint glow of powered devices were everywhere, a testament to the city's legacy as a pioneer of magic and technology.
Venera's gaze wandered over the countless trinkets and devices displayed in the market stalls as she walked alongside Abel. The sheer variety was overwhelming, and while she could easily spot a few cheap fakes, she was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the magitek items appeared genuine. Small arcane gadgets hummed faintly, and intricate rune-etched tools glinted in the sunlight. This city truly lived up to its reputation.
"Hey, Venera! Are you even listening to me?" Abel's voice cut through her thoughts. The fox-eared girl glanced over her shoulder, her tail swishing impatiently.
"No, sorry. I got distracted," Venera admitted, pulling her attention away from a particularly well-crafted magitek compass. "Where are we going, anyway?"
Abel's grin turned mischievous, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's a surprise!"
"I hate surprises," Venera muttered, her voice laced with irritation. But despite her grumbling, she followed along, resigning herself to whatever scheme Abel had in store. There was no stopping her friend once she was set on something.
After half an hour of winding through Lancel's bustling streets, Venera and Abel approached an unusual building. Its all-black facade stood out starkly against the colorful market stalls and intricate architecture surrounding it. A sign hung above the door, painted in bold letters: Harpies Haven.
Venera frowned, eyeing the building with suspicion. "What is this place?" she muttered under her breath. Still, she followed Abel inside, curiosity outweighing her hesitation.
The moment they stepped through the door, Venera was hit by a wave of sound. A cacophony of voices and noise filled the air, making it impossible to hear herself think. The interior was vast—far larger than the exterior suggested. It was a single, sprawling room packed with people, all talking excitedly among themselves. The air buzzed with anticipation, the energy palpable.
"What's going on, Abel?" Venera asked, raising her voice to be heard over the din.
Abel turned to her, grinning ear to ear. "It's a concert!" she exclaimed, her fox ears twitching with excitement. "Arcane Sylvester is performing!"
Venera blinked. "Arcane… who?"
Her question went unanswered as more people streamed into the room, filling every available space. Abel grabbed her arm, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, and dragged her closer to the front. The crowd thickened as they neared a stage draped in rich red curtains.
"Is this really necessary?" Venera grumbled, though her curiosity began to outweigh her reluctance.
Abel just shot her a beaming smile. "Trust me. You'll love it."
Venera's skepticism deepened, but it was far too late to slip away unnoticed. The crowd pressed in around her, and she resigned herself to the chaos. Moments later, the lights dimmed, and a wave of silence rippled through the room. All eyes turned to the stage as beams of light focused on the red curtains.
With a dramatic sweep, the curtains slid aside, revealing a man standing at the center of the stage. He was surrounded by a collection of floating instruments—violins, drums, flutes, all suspended in midair as if held by invisible hands. The man himself was striking in appearance, dressed in a crisp black suit that fit him perfectly. His long hair, tied neatly into a ponytail, gleamed under the stage lights.
From her right, Venera heard a dreamy sigh and glanced over to find Abel gazing at the man with an expression of utter adoration. Venera rolled her eyes. Sure, the man was probably handsome—she could admit that much—but such things had never really mattered to her.
"Thank you all for coming," the man began, his voice smooth and commanding, but Venera barely heard the words. She had already tuned him out, her attention wandering as the crowd leaned forward in rapt anticipation.
Venera had fully intended to ignore the concert, letting her mind wander as the performance unfolded. But then the music started, and her resolve crumbled. It was… breathtaking.
The first notes filled the air, and the room seemed to shift. A symphony of sound enveloped her, rich and layered, each instrument weaving into the next. Arcane Sylvester stood at the center of it all, his hands moving like a conductor's as the floating instruments danced through the air. Glittering trails of light followed in their wake, illuminating the room in shifting hues that matched the mood of the music.
Venera found herself drawn in, her usual resistance forgotten. She wasn't alone—everyone in the room seemed utterly captivated. Some listened in reverent silence, their expressions soft with wonder. Others cheered, their enthusiasm spilling over as the music stirred something primal within them.
The songs shifted effortlessly, each one carrying a distinct emotion. A mournful melody came first, pulling at the heart with its aching beauty. It was followed by a piece filled with hope, its swelling harmonies lifting the crowd's spirits. Then came a fast-paced, vibrant tune, its rhythm infectious. The energy was electric, and people began to dance, moving in time with the jubilant notes.
Venera remained rooted in place, her thoughts momentarily stilled by the sheer artistry of it all. She hadn't expected to be impressed, much less moved. But here she was, lost in the music like everyone else.
"Incredible, isn't it?" Abel said, her voice tinged with awe as her blue eyes followed the instruments weaving through the air.
"It is," Venera admitted, her gaze still fixed on the dazzling display. "I've never seen anything like this." The words slipped out before she realized it—an honest confession she hadn't expected to make. She was utterly entranced, lost in the magic of the performance.
That was, until Arcane Sylvester's voice rang out from the stage, cutting through the reverie.
"All right, everyone, this will be my last song for the evening," he announced, his tone carrying both warmth and authority. "As you all know, our brave soldiers of Himlasia have been holding the borders against the Oswain invaders this past year. As a show of gratitude and support, let us honor them with Himlasian Grace."
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices blending into a deafening roar of approval.
Venera's heart dropped.
The first blaring notes of the Himlasian marching song filled the air, triumphant and unyielding. She froze, the familiar trumpets slicing through her like a blade. Panic clawed at her chest as memories she had buried long ago surged to the surface. She tried to block it out, pressing her hands over her ears, but the crowd around her was packed too tightly for her to escape. The music continued, each note grating against her soul, and her breaths came quicker, more shallow.
"Venera, what's wrong?" Abel's voice broke through the haze, her usual cheer replaced by genuine concern. Her fox ears twitched as she leaned closer, her tail stilling as she studied Venera's paling face.
"I—I need to leave," Venera stammered, her voice trembling as her eyes darted around the crowd, desperate for a way out.
But then she heard it. Not the music, but something far worse. The battlefield.
Explosions thundered in her ears, so vivid she could feel the ground shaking beneath her. Screams of terror and pain tore through her, mingled with the furious roars of defiance and the sickening clash of steel. Each note of the song dragged her deeper into the memory, surrounding her with its horrors.
She saw it—the bodies. Thousands of them, lifeless and broken, strewn across fields soaked in blood. The acrid stench of death filled her nostrils. Venera dropped to a crouch, covering her pointed ears as tears streamed down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though that might block out the sights and sounds, but they only grew louder, sharper.
Abel was saying something, her voice laced with panic, but Venera couldn't hear her. All she could hear was the past—the unrelenting symphony of pain and death.
Then, a firm hand gripped her shoulder, grounding her. The screams and explosions stopped, silenced as though snuffed out by magic. Slowly, the nightmare unraveled, leaving only the faint hum of airship engines in its wake.
Venera looked up, her tear-streaked face meeting a familiar one. Concern etched the old man's features, his long white beard and pointed hat unmistakable.
"August?" she rasped, her voice hoarse from the sobs still caught in her throat. "What are you—?"
"Relax, Venera," the old mage said gently, his tone calm and soothing. "We're back on the ship now."
His words sank in slowly, but the tension in her shoulders eased. She blinked, her surroundings beginning to take shape—the familiar walls of her living quarters. The battlefield was gone. It was just a memory. But one that felt far too real.
"Venera, I'm sorry," August said softly, his voice heavy with regret. "I should have realized sooner… why you went into hiding. I didn't think—" He hesitated, then continued, "I'm here if you want to talk."
"Thank you," Venera replied, her voice strained and hollow. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his gaze. "Thank you for getting me out of there. But I want to be alone now."
"Are you sure?" August's concern lingered in the air, his tone gentle but insistent.
"Yes," she said firmly, though her voice wavered. "Please… just leave."
He stayed for a moment longer, as if weighing her words, but finally, he nodded. Without another word, the old mage turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Silence enveloped her. Venera sat on the edge of her bed, her shoulders slumping as exhaustion crashed over her. The pain still lingered, sharp and unyielding, buried deep within her chest. She wondered, not for the first time, if it would ever fade—or if it would remain a part of her, an unrelenting reminder of the past.
Her eyes drifted to the closet. She didn't need to open it to see the gray uniform hanging within. The image rose unbidden in her mind, as vivid as if she were holding it in her hands. The memories it carried were too heavy to bear, and fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Venera wiped at her face with trembling hands, but the tears kept coming. Finally, she gave up, laying back on the bed and pulling a pillow over her head. She closed her eyes tightly and wished, more than anything, to disappear into sleep—into nothingness—and never wake up again.