Mavis glided into the alley, her steps silent as the shadows seemed to stretch and curl around her. The dim light of the market faded behind her, replaced by the flickering glow of a single lantern hanging from a rusted hook. The alley reeked of alcohol and desperation—a sharp contrast to the lively hum of the main streets.
The group of individuals responsible for the noise came into view. Three men and one woman, all wearing rough, mismatched clothing that suggested they weren't strangers to trouble. They surrounded a young vendor, a boy barely in his teens, who clutched a small pouch to his chest as though it were his lifeline. His wide eyes darted between his aggressors, fear etched into every line of his face.
"Just hand it over, kid," one of the men growled, his tone rough and impatient. He was tall and broad, his face marred by a jagged scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. "Wouldn't want something to happen to you, now would we?"
The boy shook his head, his voice trembling as he stammered, "P-please... this is all I have. I need it for my family."
The woman in the group laughed, a harsh and grating sound. "Oh, how noble. Shame it won't matter much when you're lying in a ditch."
Mavis leaned against the wall of the alley, her arms crossed as she observed the scene with an air of detached curiosity. Her mismatched eyes glimmered faintly in the low light, a predator's gaze fixed on its prey. She could sense the raw emotions emanating from the group—fear, greed, cruelty—all laid bare before her.
"Humans," she muttered under her breath, a trace of amusement in her tone. "So predictable."
The boy let out a startled cry as one of the men lunged forward, yanking the pouch from his grasp. The boy stumbled back, falling to the ground, and the group erupted into laughter. Mavis pushed off the wall, her movements fluid and deliberate as she stepped into the light.
"That's enough," she said, her voice cutting through the laughter like a blade. It was calm, almost gentle, yet carried an authority that immediately commanded attention.
The group turned to face her, their expressions shifting from amusement to annoyance. The man with the scar stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of a crude dagger at his waist. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Mavis tilted her head, her silver hair catching the faint glow of the lantern. "Just someone who doesn't appreciate bullies."
The woman scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "You've got some nerve, stepping in where you're not wanted."
Mavis's smirk widened as she took a slow step closer, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of Karitoru. "Oh, I assure you, I'm exactly where I want to be."
The scarred man's patience snapped. "Enough of this!" he snarled, drawing his dagger and charging at her.
Mavis didn't flinch. In a single, fluid motion, she unsheathed Karitoru, the blade gleaming with an eerie light as it whispered through the air. She sidestepped the man's charge effortlessly, her movements a dance of precision and grace. With a flick of her wrist, the flat of the blade struck his wrist, sending the dagger clattering to the ground.
The man cried out in pain, clutching his wrist as he stumbled back. The others froze, their confidence wavering as they took in the sight of Mavis standing unscathed, Karitoru held lightly in her hand as though it weighed nothing.
"Now," Mavis said, her voice calm but edged with a dangerous undertone, "you can leave, or I can ensure you'll never harass anyone again. Your choice."
The group exchanged uneasy glances before backing away, muttering curses under their breath. The scarred man shot her a hateful glare before spitting on the ground and retreating with the others.
Mavis sheathed Karitoru with a satisfying click, turning her attention to the boy. He stared up at her with wide eyes, clutching his retrieved pouch tightly. "T-thank you," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mavis crouched down to his level, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Be more careful," she said, her tone carrying an almost maternal warmth. "Not everyone will step in to help."
The boy nodded, scrambling to his feet and bowing deeply before hurrying away. Mavis watched him disappear into the crowd, her smirk returning as she rose to her full height.
"Well," Mavis murmured to herself, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face, her mismatched eyes glinting with subdued amusement. "That was mildly entertaining. Let's see what else this night has to offer."
The hum of the main streets beckoned her, a vibrant symphony of clinking coins, animated chatter, and the sizzling of food from dozens of stalls. She slipped back into the crowd, her graceful stride carrying her towards the heart of the night market.
The air was thick with the tantalizing aromas of sizzling spices, sweet confections, and roasting meats. Vibrant lanterns cast warm hues over the bustling stalls, their colors reflected in the polished cobblestones beneath her feet. Mavis found herself drawn to a particularly lively corner of the market, where vendors showcased their culinary delights with theatrical flair.
The first stall she approached displayed skewers of all kinds, their fragrant charred edges tempting even her refined palate. Each skewer boasted a medley of grilled meats and vegetables, some brushed with glossy sauces that shimmered under the lantern light. The vendor, a stout man with a hearty laugh, tossed the skewers expertly over a crackling grill, sending bursts of smoke and spices into the air.
"Care for a taste, miss?" he called out, his jovial voice cutting through the din. "Best skewers in the city!"
Mavis offered a polite smile but moved on, her attention caught by a stall laden with tanghulus—glistening red candied fruits skewered and arranged in neat rows. The sugar coating sparkled like jewels, reflecting the light in a way that made them almost too beautiful to eat.
She paused, her fingers brushing the cool surface of a coin in her pocket. Tanghulus were a luxury she remembered Raven enjoying in passing memories, their sweet-and-sour flavor a rare indulgence.
"Why not?" she murmured to herself, handing over a silver coin to the vendor. He beamed as he handed her a skewer adorned with perfectly candied hawthorn berries.
She continued strolling, nibbling delicately on the tanghulu as she took in the sights. Nearby, a woman deftly flipped paper-thin pancakes onto a hot stone griddle, filling them with a savory mixture of chopped herbs, spiced meat, and melting cheese. The aroma made Mavis pause, tempted by the blend of rich flavors.
Further down, a small crowd gathered around a performer spinning glowing threads of sugar into intricate shapes. The vendor handed the creations to wide-eyed children, their laughter infectious as they marveled at the edible artistry.
Mavis allowed herself a small chuckle, the sound low and unfamiliar even to her. "Humans and their fleeting joys," she mused, though a faint warmth flickered within her chest as she watched the simple, unguarded happiness around her.
Her steps took her to the edge of the market, where a quieter cluster of vendors showcased wares beyond food—handcrafted trinkets, delicate jewelry, and intricately woven fabrics. One particular stall caught her eye: a display of small glass vials, each filled with swirling, iridescent liquids. The vendor, a wiry man with a shrewd gaze, noticed her interest and leaned forward.
"Ah, you have an eye for the unique," he said smoothly, holding up one vial that shimmered with a silvery light. "This one enhances agility. Perfect for adventurers like yourself. Or," he added, picking up another that glowed with a faint red hue, "perhaps a potion to heighten your strength?"
Mavis tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Interesting," she replied, her voice smooth but noncommittal. She leaned closer, her mismatched eyes studying the vials intently. Though she doubted their potency, the craftsmanship of the glasswork intrigued her.
She purchased one of the silvery vials, more out of curiosity than necessity, and tucked it into the folds of her coat. The vendor bowed deeply as she turned away, resuming her leisurely exploration of the market.
As the night deepened, the crowd began to thin, the vibrant energy settling into a quieter, more intimate rhythm. Mavis found herself wandering toward the edge of the district, where the lantern light gave way to the cool embrace of moonlight. She paused at a secluded bench beneath a flowering tree, its blossoms glowing faintly in the night.
Seating herself with a grace that came naturally, she gazed out at the twinkling lights of the market in the distance. The tanghulu skewer was now empty, save for its stick, which she twirled idly between her fingers.
"These humans," she murmured softly, her tone contemplative. "They live such brief, fragile lives, yet they fill them with such vibrant moments. It's… curious."
For a fleeting moment, Mavis's thoughts turned inward, brushing against the faint presence of Raven, still dormant and unaware. A shadow of a smile played on her lips as she rose to her feet. She adjusted the folds of her coat, a single candied berry from her tanghulu skewer lingering in her hand. The sticky sweetness on her fingers was a peculiar sensation—another reminder of this borrowed existence.
As she strolled through the streets, savoring the final berry, the low hum of excited chatter drew her attention. Ahead, a large gathering had formed in the central square, the crowd illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of hanging lanterns. Rising above them, a wooden stage held seven figures clad in ornate, royal-inspired attire that shimmered in the lantern light.
"What's all this?" Mavis murmured, her tone curious as she maneuvered through the crowd, the tanghulu skewer now twirling idly between her fingers. She took a small bite, her mismatched eyes narrowing as her gaze fell upon the stage. "Mmm… unexpectedly delightful," she commented, momentarily distracted by the tart sweetness.
On the stage, the seven figures stood tall, their commanding presence undeniable. Recognition flickered in Mavis's mind, a recollection drawn not from her own experience but from Raven's memories. These were no ordinary individuals; they were the Seven Pillars of Hope.
Celia Vermillion stood front and center, her crimson hair cascading like a fiery waterfall over her pristine white-and-gold robes. To her right was Aric Soland, his golden hair catching the light like a halo, and Liore Elthaine, whose delicate features and silver hair gave her an almost ethereal presence. On Celia's left stood Darius Kaelthorn, a towering man with a broad grin and eyes that sparkled with mischief, and Talia Vaerendel, whose serene expression masked an aura of quiet strength. Completing the group were Kael Draven, clad in his signature obsidian armor adorned with sapphire accents, and lastly, Arielle Dawn—a newer, more tentative addition, her pink hair and golden eyes giving her a striking appearance.
Mavis's brow arched as she whispered to herself, "The Enforcement Council, aren't they? So now they call themselves the Seven Pillars of Hope? How quaint. And Arielle… the new addition after Raven's little incident. Interesting."
Celia stepped forward, her voice carrying effortlessly over the murmurs of the gathered citizens. "Greetings, citizens of Eldoria," she began, her tone warm and inviting, yet underpinned by an unmistakable authority. "We stand before you not as the Seven Pillars of Hope, but as fellow citizens, here to celebrate the Festival of Wishes with all of you."
A soft cheer rippled through the crowd, and Aric took the lead, his smile dazzling and charismatic. "Tonight is not about titles or duties," he said, spreading his arms wide. "It's about embracing this moment of peace and unity together. So, let's make this night a memory worth cherishing!"
Darius stepped forward, his voice booming with an infectious enthusiasm. "And what better way to do that than with a time-honored tradition? Everyone, come and get yourselves a lantern! When the time comes, light your lantern, make a wish, and let it float into the sky! Let's fill the night with hope and dreams!"
The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, the festive energy surging as volunteers began distributing paper lanterns, each carefully crafted and imbued with gentle luminescence.
Mavis lingered at the edge of the gathering, her expression a mix of amusement and intrigue. "A ceremony for wishes," she mused, her voice low and thoughtful. "How utterly human." She tilted her head, her gaze locking onto Celia, whose radiant presence seemed to draw everyone's attention. There was a weight to her stance, a subtle tension that betrayed the effort it took to maintain such a facade of optimism.
"I wonder what wish you'd make, sister," Mavis whispered, the title slipping from her lips with a playful edge. Her eyes flickered toward Arielle, whose nervous fidgeting betrayed her unease amidst the grandeur. "And you, little healer—what secrets lie beneath that timid exterior?"
Mavis accepted a lantern from a passing volunteer without much thought, her fingers tracing the delicate patterns etched into the thin paper. The craftsmanship was simple yet elegant, a tangible representation of the hopes it was meant to carry.
As the crowd began to disperse into smaller groups, preparing their lanterns, Mavis allowed herself to blend in, observing the swirling emotions of those around her. Laughter, whispered wishes, and the soft glow of lanterns began to fill the square.
For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of the lantern's faintly perfumed oil. "A wish, is it?" she murmured, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Perhaps I'll play along... just this once."
"Then, my wish is..."