After a long and surprisingly uneventful journey, the group reached the city of Kean in the late afternoon. The peaceful road particularly impressed Talon and Zaphara. Talon murmured quietly to himself, "No ambush on the carriage… not even a small problem along the way… I never thought it could be this peaceful here."
Zaphara cast him a sideways glance, her ice-blue eyes filled with skepticism. "We haven't reached a safe inn yet, so don't jinx it," she replied dryly.
As they passed through the massive city gate, Ivory's gaze drifted into the distance, and her usually lively presence seemed to fade. She paused briefly before turning to the group. "I'll see you later at the tavern. I'll join you as soon as I'm done." Her voice was softer than usual, almost subdued. "The bartender's name is Arnold, an older gentleman. Just tell him I'll be coming; he'll be happy to hear it."
It was clear that something was weighing on her, even though she tried to hide it. Aaron noticed the change and saw an opportunity to apologize for his behavior. He stepped forward hesitantly but with a serious expression. "Your Highness…"
Ivory turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "You mean Ivory?"
Aaron gave a quick grin and continued in an unusually gentle tone. "Yes, Ivory. I wanted to apologize for earlier. The hand-kiss was really inappropriate. I'm sorry." He inclined his head slightly—a gesture that almost seemed as if he was mimicking Zaphara's earlier demeanor.
Ivory paused, and for a moment, the heavy mood seemed to vanish. She laughed brightly, a lightness returning to her face. "I should probably apologize for Silen instead. The way he threw you to the ground didn't look very gentle. Let's just say we're even, okay?" With those words, she turned away, waved over her shoulder at the group, and called out, "I have to go, or Silen will be mad at me. Ciao, ciao!"
As Ivory disappeared from view, Aaron turned to Zaphara, a visible question mark on his face. "Do you think that was the right thing to do? That didn't sound like me at all. Why did I have to say it like that?"
Zaphara, who had already taken a few steps towards the city, didn't even look at him as she answered. "It makes a good impression on her. Whether it suits you or not doesn't matter. She won't notice the difference—yet." Her tone was indifferent, almost casual, as she vanished through the city gate.
Lunara, who had been silently observing the entire exchange, stepped up to Aaron and placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing, and that's what counts," she said with a gentle smile, her golden eyes shining. But within her, other thoughts stirred.
What game is Zaphara playing? Lunara wondered. Of course, it was important to be friendly to Ivory if they wanted to win her over to the group. But this sneaky manipulation, this dishonest approach—it didn't feel right. Ivory had looked so happy when she was invited… A flicker of pity rose within Lunara. She understood the seriousness of the situation, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was another way—one that wasn't so cold and calculating.
As soon as they left the mighty gate behind, the group was immersed in a world pulsing with life and lights. The city felt like a dream that only came alive at night. Everywhere, strings of lights hung like falling stars between the buildings, bathing the alleys in warm, soft light. Street lanterns of wrought iron flickered with a golden liquid glow, their dancing shadows seeming to merge with the movements of the crowd.
Despite the late hour, the streets were packed. Merchants with colorful stalls loudly advertised their goods, their voices a multilingual chorus echoing through the air. A fruit vendor waved a shiny apple in the air, while an old woman turned steaming skewers over an open flame. The scent of sweet and spicy foods filled the alleys—roasted nuts, fresh flatbreads, and the aroma of something unfamiliar that piqued their curiosity.
A boy ran laughing through the legs of the people, followed by a small dog whose bell-adorned collar jingled softly. In a corner, a group of musicians played on hand-carved instruments, their melodies so lively that some passersby spontaneously began to dance.
In a side alley, a fire-breather was surrounded by a small crowd, his breath igniting the night with glowing flames. Right beside him, a fortune teller under a crooked tent offered her services, her table filled with candles, crystal balls, and cards painted with eerily beautiful symbols.
Yet, despite the city's vibrant and inviting atmosphere, a touch of mystery lay over everything. It was the fleeting glances of the people, lingering too long on the strangers before hastily looking away. It was the way certain alleys remained dark, as if deliberately spared from the light. And it was that feeling—as if the city itself was watching them, testing them, inviting them in while simultaneously warning them.
"This is… overwhelming," Seraphion murmured to himself, his words barely audible amidst the hustle.
Aaron, however, seemed completely at home. "Look at this!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement as he pointed to a stand displaying a tower of candied fruits. "This city knows how to live!"
Zaphara, on the other hand, remained calm, her ice-blue eyes scanning the crowd attentively, taking in every movement, every detail. "It also knows how to hide," she remarked quietly, almost to herself.
The group pressed on, deeper into the heart of the city. The alleys seemed narrower, the lights brighter, the sounds louder. And while the city showed them all its beauty and liveliness, the feeling remained—something was waiting in the shadows, something they couldn't grasp, but whose presence they could feel.
And so, the group made their way through the lively streets, past tightly packed stalls and street performers captivating the crowd with their performances. The alleys grew narrower, the light of the hanging lanterns reflecting off the cobblestone streets, while the scent of spices, roasted meat, and sweet pastries filled their senses. Voices, laughter, and the sounds of instruments echoed through the night, yet the group kept a determined course toward their destination: the tavern owned by Arnold.
Finally, they stood before the massive wooden door of the "Silver Ember," a tavern whose wooden sign was etched with a flame symbol. Aaron, grinning broadly, pushed the door open. "Time for a proper drink!" he announced before stepping inside first.
Inside, they were enveloped by a warm, lively atmosphere. The tavern was a bustling place, filled with traditional music played by a small group of musicians in the corner. A fiddler, a flutist, and a drummer ensured that the guests swayed to the melody or even danced. The benches and tables were crowded, guests toasting loudly, and a waitress skillfully weaved through the chaos with a tray full of frothy mugs.
Behind the counter stood Arnold, the tavern's owner, an old man with silver hair, a weathered face, and an impressive stature that, despite his age, still commanded respect. With strong hands, he wiped down a glass, gave the newcomers a quick look, and nodded in greeting.
"Finally, a place that suits my taste," Aaron said contentedly before heading to a free table on the right side. While the others followed him, Seraphion was the last to enter. The angel let his gaze wander through the room, his sharp eyes capturing every detail.
In the farthest corner, left of the fireplace, he noticed a woman sitting with her head lowered, her shoulders trembling slightly. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she held a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. Seraphion frowned, hesitated, but ultimately turned away. It wasn't his place to interfere. Not now.
Meanwhile, Talon had already scanned the room, his blood-red eyes, half-hidden under the hood of his cloak, suddenly locking onto a figure at the bar. An elf woman sat there alone—a beauty that was hard to overlook. Her long, snow-white hair cascaded like liquid silk over her shoulders, and her eyes—a deep, mesmerizing blue like the ocean—seemed to hold secrets that inevitably drew Talon in.
Aaron, who had noticed Talon's stare, smirked broadly. "Oh-ho! What do we have here?" he said in a teasing tone, clapping Talon on the back. "Do you see someone you like? Maybe you should try your luck before someone else does."
Talon slowly turned his head toward Aaron, his eyes glowing briefly, but he said nothing. Aaron only grinned wider. "Come on, big guy. You can't just sit here all night in silence. Go talk to her! Who knows, maybe there's more behind those pretty eyes than you think."
Lunara giggled softly, while Zaphara merely shook her head and took her seat. Talon remained motionless for a moment, then rose slowly without acknowledging Aaron. Yet, as he moved toward the bar, a hint of uncertainty crept into his usually confident demeanor.
Aaron leaned back with satisfaction, taking a large gulp from the beer mug Arnold had just brought. "Sometimes, the guy just needs a little push," he murmured.
Talon sat down stiffly on the stool next to the elf woman, his entire posture radiating discomfort. Why am I doing this? he asked himself, trying to gather the courage to speak. When he finally looked up, he noticed that she was already watching him—her eyes thoughtful, almost scrutinizing.
"Are you alright?" she finally asked, her voice gentle but concerned.
Talon felt the words stick in his throat. Overwhelmed by the situation, he let out an awkward laugh. "Yeah, yeah, all good," he said hastily before adding, "My name is Talon. I just wanted to introduce myself. What… uh… what are you doing here?"
At the other end of the room, Zaphara, who had caught part of the conversation, couldn't help but sigh quietly. Strong and mysterious, but incapable of talking to women. Impressive, she murmured, audibly disappointed.
The elf woman, however, found Talon's awkwardness rather charming. She smiled sincerely and eventually laughed softly. "My name is Fionna. Nice to meet you, Talon," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "I have a task to complete here before I leave for the capital tomorrow. Nothing special, but I've never seen you here before. Are you new in town?"
Talon, who was slowly regaining his composure, dared to look at her directly. Her eyes, now up close, were even more captivating than he had imagined—a deep, radiant blue that reminded him of the endless ocean. "Yes, my group and I just arrived," he finally said, his voice calmer. "On our way here, we met one of the princesses and invited her for a drink. Now we're waiting for her. But… what kind of task do you have, if I may ask?"
Fionna, who had been polite but reserved until then, suddenly seemed to open up. "You met Ivory?" Her eyes widened slightly, and an honest smile spread across her face. "That's why she was so late today! I thought it was Silen's fault again." She leaned forward slightly, her posture becoming more familiar. "I work for the royal family and am here to ensure everything is prepared for an important meeting. But I'm glad you invited her. She deserves to meet people who truly want to be her friends."
For a moment, Fionna fell silent. Her gaze wandered into the distance, as if she were lost in thought. Then, suddenly, she turned back to Talon with a touch of playfulness and pointed a finger at him, almost as if she wanted to startle him. "But… you do mean well with her, don't you?" Her voice was still friendly, but there was a hint of seriousness and almost a threat beneath it.
Talon hesitated, unsure of the best answer. At that moment, he heard a quiet throat-clearing behind him. Zaphara, who had been carefully observing the conversation, gave him a brief look—one that made it clear he should not reveal anything. Her message was unmistakable—a warning.
"Of course," Talon finally said, making his voice as convincing as possible. "Ivory helped us after we… had an accident. We just wanted to thank her. She used healing magic, and it was impressive. It was the first time I'd seen anything like it."
Fionna's expression softened, and a hint of pride shimmered in her eyes. "Yes, Ivory truly is special," she said gently. "After every mission, she welcomes us and heals our wounds. She always gives her all for us… sometimes I wish the world would treat her the same way she treats the world."
For a moment, a melancholic silence lingered between them, but Fionna quickly shook off the thoughts and smiled again. "What's your group called? Or are you not yet registered with the guild?"
Talon, caught off guard by the question, hesitated. "That… is a good question," he muttered slowly. "Maybe we should actually register to make some money."
Fionna chuckled softly, then stood up and smoothed her cloak. "It's getting late for me," she said with a cheerful tone. "The nightlife in this city is always impressive. But now I feel like an old lady for going to bed." She smiled at him warmly. "It was nice meeting you, Talon. I hope we see each other again soon."
With an elegant wave, she turned and disappeared into the crowd. Talon watched her leave and let out a quiet sigh. How am I ever going to see her again? I didn't even ask where she lives… He lowered his head and shuffled back to his table.
As soon as he sat down, Lunara and Aaron were grinning at him. "Come on, spill it. How did it go?" Aaron asked with obvious amusement.
Lunara lifted a hand to her mouth as if afraid of the answer. "She didn't reject you, did she?" she asked dramatically. "Maybe next time, you should show your face. Your eyes can be quite intimidating!"
Talon let his head sink onto the table. "It went well," he muttered dejectedly. "But I forgot to ask how I could find her again."
Aaron clapped him on the back. "Don't worry. We'll be here for a while."
Lunara, however, couldn't resist teasing. "White hair, blue eyes, an elf… that's your type, Talon?" She shot a mischievous glance at Zaphara, who happened to possess all those traits. "In case of emergency, you have that cold aunt over there."
Zaphara reacted immediately, her tone sharp: "I don't want to hear anything from a squeaky little duster like you. Don't you have anything better to do than constant chattering?"
Lunara immediately fired back, her golden eyes flashing with annoyance. "Squeaky? At least I'm honest and have a personality, unlike some people who only tell others what they want to hear!"
Before the situation could escalate, Seraphion stood up and placed a hand on both of their shoulders. His voice was firm. "Are you really going to make a scene now?" He turned to the group. "Talon just mentioned that we should register as a group with the guild, didn't even notice it huh? Let's focus on that first."
Zaphara sat back down, cool as ever. "Then suggest a name," she challenged.
Seraphion thought for a moment. "Half Light!" he declared proudly. The others exchanged glances—no one seemed thrilled, but no one objected either.
Satisfied, Seraphion marched toward the bar to handle the registration. At that moment, the door swung open, and Ivory stepped in, her radiant smile lighting up the room.
"I'm here!" she announced.