The laughter was sharp—mocking.
Khai's steps slowed as he approached the fountain, his sharp gaze locking onto the group of boys. They stood in a loose semicircle, their postures relaxed, but the cruelty in their words was unmistakable.
Tristan was at the center, his back pressed against the carved stone, his silver hair catching the fading sunlight. His blue eyes flickered from face to face, tense but unreadable. He wasn't trembling, but his posture was rigid—hands curled slightly at his sides, bracing himself for whatever would come next.
One of the bullies, a broad-shouldered boy with a cocky smirk, sneered. "What's wrong? Lunari don't like standing in the sun?"
Another chuckled. "Maybe he's scared he'll burn up like a vampire."
Laughter rippled through the group.
Tristan said nothing.
Khai had seen enough.
He didn't rush forward or throw a punch—he didn't need to. Instead, he stepped forward with slow, deliberate steps, slipping between the bullies and their target. His presence alone made the laughter die down, the boys shifting uneasily as they noticed him.
The tallest of them, the clear leader, frowned. "What do you want, half-blood?"
Khai met his gaze without flinching. "Nothing," he said, voice calm but firm. "Just thought I'd remind you that picking on someone who won't fight back doesn't make you strong. It makes you pathetic."
The boy's frown deepened. "You looking for a fight?"
Khai tilted his head slightly, calculating. "If I was, you wouldn't be asking."
For a moment, tension thickened the air. One of the boys shifted his weight, glancing at his leader for a cue.
The leader clicked his tongue and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Whatever. Not worth it." He turned away, motioning for the others to follow. "Come on."
One by one, they dispersed, some muttering under their breath, others casting wary glances at Khai before disappearing into the crowd.
Silence settled between the two boys.
Tristan exhaled softly, lowering his hands. "You didn't have to do that," he murmured.
Khai shrugged. "I know."
Their eyes met—brown against blue. For the first time, Khai took in the details of Tristan's face up close. Sharp features, silver hair that looked almost too pristine for a city like Solaran. He looked out of place, like he belonged somewhere far from the bustling streets and the jeering voices.
They had never spoken before, but they knew each other.
Tristan, the noble Lunari boy, heir to a lineage most people resented.
Khai, the half-blood outcast, tolerated at best, invisible at worst.
Two people born into roles neither of them had chosen.
Tristan shifted uncomfortably. "You're Khai Leafblood, right?"
Khai arched a brow. "You know my name?"
A small, almost hesitant nod. "We were in the same class. A few times."
Khai hadn't thought Tristan would remember that.
"You didn't deserve that," he said instead.
Tristan gave a faint, tired smile. "I'm used to it."
Khai frowned but didn't press.
The festival music swelled in the distance, laughter and chatter weaving through the air. The moment passed.
"Well," Khai said, turning away. "Try not to get cornered again."
Before Tristan could respond, Khai had already melted into the crowd.
The marketplace was alive with energy. Lanterns flickered to life as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm glows over merchant stalls overflowing with spices, fabrics, and trinkets from all corners of the kingdom. The scent of roasted meat mixed with fresh bread, the air thick with the hum of laughter and festival music.
Khai walked beside his father, who stopped occasionally to inspect hunting knives or speak with fellow hunters.
Nadrak was silent for a while before he finally spoke. "That boy."
Khai glanced at him. "What about him?"
"Lunari." His father's tone was unreadable.
Khai shrugged. "And?"
Nadrak studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "Nothing."
They stopped by a vendor selling jewelry. Exotic trinkets glittered under the lanterns, but one piece caught Khai's eye—a simple leather cord with a polished black tooth dangling from it.
A Shadow Shark fang.
Rare. Deadly. A trophy only a true hunter could claim.
He reached out, brushing his fingers over the smooth surface.
"Like it?" the merchant asked with a grin. "It's genuine—came from the southern coasts. Price is steep, though."
Khai already knew he couldn't afford it.
Nadrak scoffed at the price. "A rip-off."
Still, as they walked away, Khai found himself glancing back.
From across the market, Tristan watched.
He had seen the way Khai looked at the necklace. And when his father stopped beside him, Tristan turned to him and, without hesitation, said—
"I want to buy that."
Later that evening, as the festival lights danced and the sky turned deep blue, Khai found himself near the town square.
Nadrak had left for home. He stood alone in the cool night air, watching as people gathered for the fireworks.
Then—
"You left before I could thank you properly."
Khai turned.
Tristan stood there, looking slightly nervous. In his hands, he held a small leather pouch.
"I… I saw you looking at this earlier." Tristan stepped forward, holding it out. "It's yours."
Khai blinked. "What?"
"The necklace. Take it."
Khai hesitated. Gifts came with expectations. With debts.
"I don't need a—"
"I know." Tristan smiled, a little nervous. "It's not about need. Just… take it, okay?"
Khai studied him, then slowly reached out, taking the pouch.
He pulled out the leather cord, the fang gleaming faintly under the festival lights. It suited him.
"…Thanks," Khai said.
Tristan exhaled. "Good."
The first fireworks exploded overhead.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Then, Tristan murmured, "Tomorrow… they're choosing the Pure Heart."
Khai glanced at him. "You nervous?"
Tristan let out a short laugh. "Terrified."
Khai wasn't sure what to say. So instead, he just said, "You'll be fine."
Tristan looked at him, then nodded.
The fireworks burned on, and for the first time, Tristan didn't feel so alone.
That night, Khai returned home.
He spoke briefly with his parents, the necklace still in his hand. Merial smiled, relieved to see him in better spirits.
Later, as he lay in bed, the fang resting against his chest, sleep pulled him under.
And then—
The fire again. The ruined city. The sky burning.
But this time, something was different.
Khai frowned.
He wasn't sure how he knew, but the dream had changed.
And somewhere, beyond the flames, something was watching him.