The twin lights of Sissifus and Lunis hadn’t even peeked over the horizon yet. The sky hung deep and heavy, like velvet draped carefully over the world, while stubborn Solariis kept its golden spears trained on Niandra’s colorful rooftops, refusing to clock out for the night.
That’s when Crystal Square woke up.
One by one, ethereal globes flickered to life overhead like tamed fireflies. Floating lanterns etched with ancient runes drifted in lazy circles above the streets. Arcane silk ribbons swayed between pale blue marble columns, catching shades of lilac, amber, and turquoise. The square’s floor—polished translucent crystal slabs—grabbed those colors and tossed them back in soft reflections, like the whole city was breathing magic.
At the heart of it all loomed the Grand Crystal of Niandra.
Massive. Ancient. Alive.
Its faceted surface pulsed slow and steady, giving off a cool, comforting glow—like winter’s heart beating with infinite patience. Runes swirled inside, appearing and vanishing like forgotten constellations. Every pulse made the air hum faintly, carrying scents of hot spices, caramelized fruit, enchanted wine, and fresh-fallen snow… even though there wasn’t a flake in sight.
Niandra, the Arcane City.
Haven for scholars, bards, chroniclers, and wandering mages. A place where stories were traded with the same passion as forbidden grimoires. And this time of year? It turned into the stage for the Festival of the Last Veil.
A celebration marking the end of the annual cycle—when the world symbolically bowed to winter and thanked the Myriads, the pantheon of virtue, for harvests, chance meetings, and quiet survivals. The Last Veil was that moment when the year got tucked away, preserved, handed over to memory before a new one was woven.
The vibe was abundance.
Relief.
Conscious joy.
And yeah, it wasn’t just scholars and bards cashing in.
Adventurers poured in by the wagonload. Some for rest. Some for fat contracts. Others just to remember they were still human, elf, kiteni, or whatever messy mix in between.
And among them, slipping through the Moonlit Gates and crossing the Scribe’s Walkway, came maybe the most mismatched crew of all.
Layla reacted first.
Her cat-like eyes lit up with almost childish wonder, reflecting the square’s lights like living gems. Ears twitched, catching laughter, music, distant enchanted bells.
“Meow…” it slipped out before she could stop it. “This… this is next level! After all that road grind, I’d already accepted civilization was just a pretty myth.” She spun slowly on her heels, tail swishing side to side. “And we show up right for the Festival of the Last Veil? Jackpot!”
Jay smiled.
The quiet kind—mostly in the eyes, barely touching the lips. He scanned the square with way too much familiarity for a random traveler, already hunting for one very specific thing.
Stalls.
“This time of year’s… special,” he said, voice unexpectedly soft. “Not just the party. It’s the only week certain delicacies show up.”
He nodded toward a side street where the air thickened with grilled meat and cold herbs.
“That’s when you find Polar Cockatrice.”
Instant chaos.
Layla slapped a hand over her mouth, literally drooling.
“Did you just say cockatrice and polar in the same sentence?” Her eyes sparkled. “That should be illegal levels of tempting.”
Nessa closed her eyes and clasped her hands in automatic gratitude.
“May the Myriads be generous…” she murmured. “After endless nights of dry rations, this feels like a legit blessing.”
Su Mei, ever practical, was already digging into her coin pouch, fingers counting with surgical speed.
“If it’s limited edition, the price is gonna be criminal,” she noted without looking up. “Better grab it early before the nobles buy it all on a whim.”
Jasmin tilted her head, curious. Her gaze flicked from Jay to the bustling stalls, piecing together a new puzzle.
“Polar Cockatrice?” she repeated. “I’m not familiar with the species. What makes it so special?”
Jay turned away from the stalls, eyes lighting up with that rare spark of someone holding a killer story.
“Let’s just say…” he started, “it can only be hunted when the world finally accepts winter. And because of that, the flavor carries something rare.”
He paused for effect.
“Memory.”
The central crystal pulsed again.
For a heartbeat, it felt like all of Niandra was listening.
“Memory?” Jasmin frowned slightly, voice soft with genuine curiosity. “Something magical? Or… tied to ancient rituals?”
“Yes. Exactly that.” Jay answered a little too fast, clearly thrilled to have an audience. The controlled tone slipped, replaced by boyish excitement. “The Polar Cockatrice is a legendary bird that only appears when the forests surrender to winter. When snow buries the old roots and everything goes quiet.”
He raised his hands, sketching the creature in the air like he’d seen it way more times than made sense.
“Unlike regular cockatrices… it flies.” His grin widened. “Flies high. Wings broad, feathers pale as ice under moonlight. That’s why hunting it’s so damn hard. It’s not about brute force—it’s patience.”
Layla leaned forward, tail swaying slow, eyes locked like a predator hearing about legendary prey.
“So it’s not just charge in and look cool…” she murmured. “I’m already a fan.”
Jay nodded.
“Some scholars call it an eidolon. A collective winter spirit. Others say it’s the forests’ memory of when the world was younger.”
He lowered his voice, almost reverent.
“Those who manage to hunt it don’t just get the meat. They earn the right. Once a year, during this Last Veil week, they can summon it again. Not as a beast… but as an offering.”
Nessa drew a deep breath, feeling the spiritual weight, fingers crossed over her chest.
“A pact of gratitude…” she whispered. “Life given to sustain others. The Myriads would smile on that.”
“And they do,” Jay confirmed. “They say one Polar Cockatrice banquet can feed an entire city. But it’s not just that.”
He paused, choosing words.
“Anyone who eats its flesh tastes memories that aren’t theirs. Simple moments. Warmth. Laughter. Loved ones who might not even be around anymore.”
Jasmin fell silent.
Her gaze drifted to the floating lanterns overhead. Firelight reflected in her green eyes, glistening almost imperceptibly before she blinked and steadied herself.
“That…” she said softly, “sounds a lot like an elven tradition. In my homeland, we hunted the Forest Spirit at the end of a great cycle. Not to eat—but to listen to its memories before it departed.”
She smiled faintly, melancholic.
“I’ll admit though…” she added with shy humor, “a cockatrice sounds way tastier than an ethereal stag.”
Layla barked a satisfied laugh.
“Finally, someone speaking the universal language of hunger.”
Jay caught the odd shimmer in Jasmin’s eyes. Didn’t comment. Just rested a warm, steady hand on her shoulder—simple, almost brotherly.
“You’re gonna love it, Jasmin,” he said, genuine softness in his voice.
That’s when Su Mei slid in from behind, footsteps silent as always.
“This one heard a complementary version of that tale,” she noted in her usual formal tease. “They say the Duke of Niandra hunted a Polar Cockatrice with his bare hands decades ago.”
She raised a finger, professorial.
“Ever since, every year he summons it during the Last Veil and throws a massive banquet for the whole city. Nobles, commoners, travelers—no one’s left out.”
Su Mei tilted her head.
“If true, it’s an insanely rare act of nobility. Power like that… shared.”
“Or damn good political marketing,” Layla muttered, arms crossed.
Nessa shot her a disapproving look.
“Not everything has to be cynical.”
“Yes it does,” Layla grinned back.
Jay just watched the glowing square, the distant crystal pulsing, spices thickening the air.
“Truth or not…” he said finally, “tonight, Niandra’s gonna remember who she is.”
For some reason, the words landed heavier than they should’ve.
2
Moments later, Jay and the girls found the stall.
Calling it a stall was an insult.
It sprawled across a huge chunk of Crystal Square, held up by carved wooden pillars and ornate metal arches laced with thermal runes. Thick crimson curtains shielded the interior from the night chill, while enchanted braziers bathed everything in warm, welcoming light.
The smell was… obscene.
Thick cuts of meat, winter herbs, slow-smoking over black iron grills fed by ancient oak logs—deep, sweet smoke. Hot spices duked it out with the buttery scent of fresh-baked bread. Something sweet lingered—crystallized fruit or arcane honey—making everyone’s stomach growl in harmony.
“I knew it!” Jay crowed, almost triumphant, yanking a fat coin pouch from his dimensional bag with a satisfying clink. “They still set up the Grand Tavern here… this is freaking legendary!”
“Childhood memories, paladin?” Su Mei teased, sidling up with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smirk.
“Something like that,” he admitted, glancing away with a sheepish grin. “Let’s say… good ones. And I’m glad our last jobs paid off.”
Layla wasted zero time.
“Nya! Tell me every Aura we scraped together is getting spent here… pretty please, Jaaaaay!” She practically climbed his back, tail fluffed, ears quivering, eyes huge and begging.
Before Jay could diplomat his way out, a familiar voice sliced the air like a well-honed blade.
“Ugh… still dragging that crazy cat around, Jay?” Female, young, dripping arcane sass. “Figured she’d wander off chasing mice eventually.”
Layla whipped around, eyes flashing.
“Oh hell no, meow!” She jabbed an accusing finger. “It’s the sexy redhead pain-in-the-ass mage… run out of bitter tea and come looking for more? Bit late for old ladies to be out, meow!”
They locked eyes.
Air thickened—tiny arcane sparks dancing between them. Invisible auras flared hard enough to make passersby suddenly remember urgent errands elsewhere.
“Hey, Amy!” Nessa jumped in fast, angelic smile diffusing bombs.
Amy blinked, snapped back to composure, and surgically ignored Layla.
“Hey, elf-loli,” she said with a crooked grin. “Glad you’re still kicking. Sword behaving, or still got a mind of its own?”
Nessa flushed instantly.
“Stop calling me that, Amy…” she mumbled, looking away. “Th-the sword’s quiet. Hope it stays that way while we’re here.”
“Ha!” Amy snorted.
Su Mei stepped forward and gave a graceful bow.
“The lovestruck shorty has been duly checked. This one greets you, mage.”
“Hmph…” Amy narrowed her eyes. “Eastern fox. Thought you’d get bored of Jay’s company and go hunt ninjas by now.”
“Still blunt and rude,” Su Mei replied serenely. “This one clearly intends to stay by this handsome paladin’s side… much to your obvious despair.”
Jay felt the collision incoming.
He tried two discreet steps back.
Nope.
Bumped right into Nessa, who gave him that almost-maternal glare of disapproval.
“Jay… you start all this mess and then sneak away like it’s got nothing to do with you?”
“Look, Nessa…” he scratched his neck. “I really don’t have anything to do with this. Well… maybe a little. Or a lot. Depends who you ask.”
Before he could dig deeper, everything shifted.
The square’s buzz faded. Laughter, music, clinking glasses—replaced by weird silence.
Amy froze.
Literally.
Face turning red. Not cute blush—full-on crimson flood up to her ears.
Layla and Su Mei exchanged confused glances.
Jay swallowed hard.
Then he looked behind him.
And saw Jasmin approaching.
“No…” he whispered.
The girls turned in unison.
“NO!”
Jasmin strolled casually, carrying an elegant box stuffed with sweets, crystallized fruits, and enchanted treats. Black hair cascaded down her back, catching lantern light like polished obsidian. Posture perfect, effortless, ethereal. Her deep-toned outfit hugged that classic tall, graceful elven silhouette.
Jay frantically signaled for her to turn around.
Too late.
Amy sucked in an audible breath.
“T-tall…” her voice cracked. “M-majestic… black hair… c-corset… g-glowing eyes…”
She clutched her chest.
“By Lehir… by all the Myriads…” she whispered. “A-a real elf…”
Jasmin tilted her head, surprised but smiling gently.
“Oh my…” she said, voice like a calm lake. “A friend of yours? Pleasure to meet you.”
Amy didn’t answer.
Just stood there.
Frozen.
Crimson eyes shining like she’d witnessed a personal miracle.
Without a word, Amy moved.
Brushed past Layla and Su Mei like they were poorly placed furniture and stopped way too close to Jasmin.
Jay swallowed again.
Around them, the Grand Tavern chatter dipped. People suddenly found other stalls fascinating, but curious glances snuck through cups and shoulders. Something was happening. Everyone felt it.
Amy clenched fists at her sides. Shoulders rigid. Breathing too shallow for someone who’d faced dragons and royal councils.
“V-very pleased to meet you,” she rattled off, voice way too steady for how obviously not steady she was. “Amy Croix. Archmage of Dalmastia. Former royal advisor. Sage of Edsoria Tower.”
She lifted her chin, scraping together the last scraps of dignity.
“Please… grant me the honor of your name, n-noble elf!”
Jasmin blinked at the near-ceremonial formality. Looked briefly embarrassed, then settled into a gentle, amused, perfectly controlled smile.
“Oh my… I’m flattered, Lady Amy,” she replied, calm as still water. “The pleasure is mine. Jasmin Calen Mornafind?, from the lands of Blackmane, to the south.”
The name landed like a perfect chord.
Amy locked up again.
Lips moved silently, repeating it like a prayer. Mornafind?. Then the shine in her eyes shifted—not just awe.
Recognition.
“B-Blackmane…?” she murmured, snapping back. Blush still raging, now mixed with real shock. “To the south… Elvanaar? But… that people…”
“Amy—” Jay cut in fast, sensing incoming historical disaster. “Maybe we talk at an inn?”
He forced a polite smile, scanning the square.
“Lots of ears. Nosy types. And folks who love overhearing juicy stuff.”
He sighed, already tired.
“And honestly… I just wanna eat one or two cockatrice thighs without becoming the main attraction.”
Amy blinked. Looked around. Noticed the accidental semicircle of gawkers.
Smacked her own cheeks lightly.
“Pull it together, Amy,” she muttered.
Deep breath, posture straightened, turned back to Jasmin with suspiciously laser-focused eyes.
“Lady Jasmin,” she said, suddenly way too polite, “would you join me at an inn? Somewhere quieter. We could talk properly. Maybe some arcane herb tea?”
Jasmin smiled, eyes twinkling with amusement. Without fuss, handed the sweets box to Jay.
“Of course, Lady Amy. I’d love to.” Then to the group: “We’ll all go, right girls?”
“Absolutely,” Nessa said instantly, relieved to escape the spotlight.
“This one fully approves the venue change,” Su Mei added, already looping an arm through Amy’s.
The archmage hesitated a second… then accepted, fate sealed.
Layla lingered, grinning like a satisfied cat. Shot Jay a teasing look.
“Aww… she ditched you quick, huh? One pointy-eared beauty shows up and the hot paladin gets benched, nya!”
She sidled closer and winked.
“Don’t worry, Jay. Your Laylie here would never trade you. Not even for a super fluffy yarn ball!”
“Don’t start, crazy cat,” Jay laughed, though still eyeing the group warily. “Go on. Babysit the girls. I’ll make sure there’s cockatrice left for us.”
“Hehe!” Layla bounced away, hands behind her head. “Good luck, pallymeow!”
Jay stood there a moment, feeling curious and slightly jealous stares from the crowd.
“Yeah, yeah. Party day. Enjoy it, folks.”
Shrugged.
“These girls…” he muttered, shaking his head.
And headed determinedly for the tavern.
3
Minutes later, the girls stepped into the grand room at the Crystal Hearth Inn.
Instant impact.
The place wrapped around them like a perfectly calculated hug. Pale stone walls stood ancient and solid, dark wooden beams crossed the ceiling in gentle angles, polished by time and care. Huge enchanted glass panels filtered Niandra’s night light into blues and golds, like the city breathed inside.
A wide hearth ruled the center. Fire crackled lazy, patient, like it had all the time in the world. Flames threw dancing shadows across walls, warming the soul more than skin.
Comfort runes drifted through the air in slow cycles, glowing softly then fading—tiny luminous sighs. Just enough to remind you peace here was magic too.
“Wow…” Nessa breathed, reverent whisper.
Opposite the hearth, two huge beds sat side by side, draped in crisp sheets and thick blankets. Scent was subtle but unmistakable: fresh lavender mixed with petalus solariis—the sun flower that carried the smell of quiet mornings when the world hasn’t started demanding yet.
Layla dove face-first onto one bed.
“Meow…” muffled into the pillow. “This should be illegal for tired adventurers. Makes me wanna ditch axes, swords, bows, everything!”
Su Mei prowled the room slow, assessing every detail like a solid investment.
“Architecture designed for extended rest,” she noted. “Warm materials, low lighting, non-intrusive magic… this one approves.”
Jasmin approached the hearth, hands outstretched to the flames, eyes reflecting firelight. For a moment she looked completely at home—like this comfort wasn’t foreign, just… long forgotten.
Amy lingered near the door.
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Watching.
Feeling warmth, scent, the cozy silence only well-designed places create. Still, something in her wouldn’t fully unwind. Maybe the day’s weight. Maybe an elf standing a few steps away.
“It’s…” she muttered, arms crossed. “Good choice.”
Layla lifted her head, mischievous grin blooming.
“Did we choose, or were we chosen, meow?” Eyes gleamed. “A room like this begs… celebration.”
Nessa went on instant alert.
“L-Layla…” already sensing trouble.
“Relax, elfie,” the kiteni said, sitting up. “I’m not talking explosions. Yet.”
Su Mei tilted her head thoughtfully.
“The room has a heated communal bath downstairs,” she noted, as if that solved everything. “A soak now would be… truly appropriate.”
Amy spun.
“B-bath talk again?!” Instant blush. “No way, you exhibitionist fox!”
Jasmin blinked, genuinely curious.
“A bath?” Light smile. “Sounds… pleasant.”
Nessa and Layla exchanged looks.
Layla laughed first.
Amy opened her mouth to protest—when a polite knock sounded.
Room service.
Soon a small table sat by the hearth, loaded with Last Veil classics: crystallized sweets, fruit in syrup, hot spiced breads. Centerpiece: frosted glass bottle of shimmering amber-blue liquid.
“Festival ritual drink,” the server explained before leaving. “Compliments of the house.”
Layla sniffed the bottle.
“This looks like bottled trouble.”
“Only looks like,” Su Mei replied, already pouring. “Where’s the fun without risk?”
She served generous shots for each.
The motion too precise to be innocent. The smile too cryptic to be just friendly. Sympathy or mischief—with Su Mei, probably both.
Amy eyed the liquid by firelight.
Not just pretty. Familiar.
Inside the glass, it sparkled with tiny constellation patterns, fractal crystals shifting slow like the drink was breathing.
She knew it. Of course she did.
“Hmph.” She raised her glass, critical archmage stare. “Light fae liquor, classic Last Veil. Harmless… unless you’ve got unresolved feelings.”
“U-unresolved feelings?” Nessa asked, already sipping.
Small sip.
Instant effect.
Amy barely covered her mouth before a low, warm laugh escaped.
“Oh it’s nothing major, elf-loli. Just—”
Nessa didn’t hear the rest.
Her smile bloomed loose and light. Shoulders dropped. She giggled soft, like the world lost fifty pounds.
“This drink is soooo nice…” she murmured, eyes sparkling. “By Malkut, I feel light enough to… dance.”
And she danced.
Kicked off sandals without thinking, delicate feet on cool stone. Spun slow, robes swirling in gentle circles through hearth-warmed air. Each step surer than the last, like this Nessa had always been there, just hiding.
Amy watched.
No judgment. No smirk. Just watched, something squeezing gently in her chest.
“Look at that…” Su Mei commented, eyes narrower as she took another sip, voice oddly loose. “This one greets the Nessa hiding under that good-girl robe… hic.”
Amy glanced away a second.
When she looked back, Jasmin was sipping.
“Er… Lady Jasmin—” too late, “that stuff hits humans and el—”
Elegant sip. Natural. Unhurried.
Amy watched.
Watched the slow flush rise on elven cheeks. Watched the quiet sigh. Watched Jasmin’s eyes drift to the flames like fire whispered something ancient.
Then Jasmin looked at her.
And walked over.
Amy couldn’t back up. Couldn’t move.
“You.” Jasmin’s voice low, warm, way too close. “Owe me an explanation.”
She stopped inches away. Amy felt body heat. Clean scent—lily-of-the-valley and cold breeze.
“You seem to know something about my people…” Jasmin continued, eyes calm-curious. “Or am I wrong?”
Amy’s brain… blue-screened.
“I-I… Y-y-yes Ja-Jasmin…” Words gone. Throat closed. Face on fire. Heart hammering too hard for a seasoned archmage.
Jasmin tilted her head.
Smiled.
“Hmm… playing hard to get, redhead?” No malice—just amusement. “Fine. Drink with me. Might make talking easier.”
She offered the bottle.
Amy didn’t think.
Chugged a big swig straight from it.
Liquor went down warm. Smooth. Dangerous.
Nothing happened.
No rush. No lightness. No giggles.
Amy blinked.
Nothing.
Layla, sprawled belly-down on a bed, feet kicking air, burst out laughing.
“Meow!” Tail thumped the mattress. “This is gold! Shame the stuff does nothing to me… but there’s plenty more to get me wasted, hehe!”
Amy barely heard.
The room felt more alive. Warmer. Closer.
Su Mei’s laughs.
Nessa’s dancing.
Jasmin’s relaxed glow.
And her—stone-cold sober.
Watching like someone staring at rearranging stars she couldn’t touch.
Something twisted in her chest.
Not envy. Not lust.
Admiration.
And maybe… an uncomfortable pinch of awareness.
Blackmane… Mornafind?…
The Queen’s Curse whispered through her mind uninvited.
Amy closed her eyes a moment.
The party rolled on. Girls laughed. Fire crackled.
For the first time that night, Amy realized she was painfully aware of herself.
Until—
“Aah… hic…” Su Mei’s lazy, dangerously cheerful voice cut through. “Girls… this one believes the bathwater downstairs must be absolutely divine right now, don’t you?”
Amy turned just in time to see the fox casually untying silk ribbons, fabric sliding off arms with practiced ease.
“What do you say…” Su Mei continued, eyes half-closed, satisfied smile, “to a little competition?”
Time slowed.
Amy’s eyes went wide.
Like trapped in a time-dilation spell, she watched—one by one—the girls start shedding gear, robes, belts, cloth. No rush. No excessive modesty. Just loose confidence too much for any sober mind to handle.
“Oh no…” Amy tried, voice thin. “Seriously? The bath thing aga—”
She froze.
Because her eyes… slipped.
Jasmin was there.
Standing calm, like this was the most natural place in the world. Smile light, almost absentminded. Eyes serene in torchlight. Clothes pooled on the floor like they didn’t matter.
Amy felt her face ignite.
The elf noticed the stare, tilted her head. Amusement there. Not direct teasing. Something worse.
Comfort.
“Come on, Lady Amy,” Jasmin said soft, inviting. “Or will those fiery locks go out in water?”
Direct hit.
Amy didn’t think.
Shot up, hands over burning face like that could shield her from her own imagination. Legs shaky. Heart pounding. Couldn’t refuse.
Not that invitation.
“Th-this is completely irresponsible…” she muttered, more to herself.
They descended together.
Steam already thick and hot in the communal bath, heavy with natural oils and winter herbs. Water shimmered softly, reflecting light in lazy waves. Heat wrapped bodies instantly, chasing away night chill.
The girls went first.
Soft laughs. Contented sighs. Water shifting lazy.
Amy went last.
Extra careful. Too stiff. Sat slow, eyes locked on any spot that wasn’t… people.
“Ahh…” Nessa sighed, sinking deeper. “This… this is heaven…”
“This one agrees,” Su Mei murmured, arms on the edge, body way too relaxed. “But let’s get to the good part.”
She shot Jasmin a sidelong glance.
“This one has always wondered…” casual but dangerous tone, “if the rumors about Elvanaar elves are just poetry… or if there’s… structural foundation.”
Jasmin blinked. Then laughed.
“Structural?” she echoed, amused. “Interesting word choice for a bath.”
“Purely academic observation,” Su Mei countered, smile intact. “Nothing more.”
Layla howled, splashing with her tail.
“Meow! This is getting too good!”
Amy wanted to vanish.
Steam rose. Laughter echoed. Hot water melted tension against her will. She kept shoulders locked, eyes forward… but felt Jasmin way too close. Heat. Water moving.
“Amy?” Nessa called, voice too soft for someone fully loosened up. “You okay? You’re all tense.”
“I-I’m perfectly fine!” Too quick.
Jasmin leaned slightly her way, elbow on the edge.
“You seem… thoughtful,” she said, almost whisper. “Relax. It’s just water.”
“Just water,” Amy’s mind shrieked hysterically.
Heartbeat slowed a bit.
Maybe the heat.
Maybe the laughter.
Maybe the liquor.
Or maybe realizing—surrounded by steam, confidence, and warm skin—she didn’t have to understand everything right now.
4
Meanwhile, under the massive tent in Crystal Square, Jay stood firm in the infamous Polar Cockatrice line.
Firm… and bored out of his skull.
Easily half an hour gone, line crawling like a philosophical turtle. The smell—roasting meat, hot spices, dripping fat on enchanted coals—made waiting pure torture.
“Ah… worth it,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Though… I could probably hunt one myself, right?”
He snorted loud. A few people grumbled, but Jay ignored them. Too busy negotiating patience vs. pride vs. hunger.
That’s when a voice sliced his thoughts.
“Well, well…”
Husky. Low. Dangerously familiar.
“Look who’s not so slippery tonight—the most elusive paladin in Dalmastia finally shows his face?”
Jay turned, smile already forming.
“Julie?” He tilted his head, giving her an appreciative once-over. “Nice sight in this endless line.”
Julie stepped closer, weight on one hip, posture screaming confidence and exactly the effect she knew she had.
Classic pirate gear: dark leather corset laced indecently tight, pants that left nothing to imagination, tall worn boots, satin accents catching lantern light. Stylish eyepatch barely hidden under wavy brown bangs, adding dangerous charm to already seasoned features.
Looked early twenties. But those eyes… eyes that had seen too much.
“Nice sight?” she teased. “Says the guy running around with a full diverse harem. Heard you even picked up a real elf now, pala. I know my limits, okay?”
“Come on, captain,” Jay laughed, that easy warm smile always his downfall. “Doesn’t sound like you.”
Julie took the hit. Light flush, glanced away a second.
“But tell me,” he continued, “what brings you to Niandra? Just enjoying the Last Veil?”
She leaned against a tent pillar and sighed deep—tired, and something more.
“Amy,” she said simply. “Owe the little gremlin a couple favors. She cashed in now.”
Shrugged.
“Spent time in Fleurmira sorting her spell nonsense. Then—poof. Teleport here. Choices? Pfft.”
Bitterness there. But real smile too. Julie genuinely liked trailing the redhead mage, despite everything.
“Got it,” Jay nodded. “Traveling with that maniac always makes stories.”
He glanced over her shoulder instinctively.
“Speaking of…”
Julie spun instantly.
“She’s at the inn with my girls. Probably… talking, sharing secrets, girl stuff.” Eyebrow arch. “Wanna join?”
“Hell no,” too fast. “Had my Amy quota lately.”
Julie stepped closer, tone shifting.
“But maybe…” side smirk, “we could continue that dance somewhere else. Sound good?”
Before Jay could answer, soft melody drifted through the tent.
Not loud. Not pushy.
Insidious.
Long, wavy notes blending strings, wind, percussion into almost hypnotic rhythm. Music touched the air more than ears.
Jay and Julie turned.
The bardess moved between tables.
Trenti.
Skin soft pink-lilac, tribal tattoos flowing down arms, back, hips like living lines. Curved horns framed soft, dangerously confident features. Minimal flowing clothes designed to move with the body. Bare feet jeweled, touching ground with calculated grace.
Instrument looked like impossible lute-flute-bow hybrid, vibrating every note.
Her eyes landed on Julie first… then Jay.
Julie froze.
Literally.
“A bardess…” Jay muttered.
When he looked back, Julie stared glassy-eyed, breathing slow.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Serenity Song, right?”
The bardess smiled, slow tongue across lips, and approached.
“Well, well…” she purred, bowing almost lewdly while sniffing the air around the paladin. “How unusual. You seem immune to my charm.”
Eyes gleamed.
“Fascinating.”
“Dangerous spell, trenti,” Jay replied calm. “But I don’t sense hostility. What’re you doing here?”
She studied him seconds. Then turned, walking body perfectly synced to music, glancing over shoulder.
“Meet me behind the crystal,” she said. “There I’ll tell you.”
“Or rob me,” he shot back, suspicious.
She laughed.
“Rude, paladin. Not nice to say about a traveling bardess. Every verse has its reason… you just gotta know how to listen.”
And melted into the crowd, melody fading with the spell.
Julie blinked, hand to forehead.
“Ugh… what the hell was that?”
“Bardess passed through,” Jay said. “Probably cleaned a few pockets and bounced.”
“Of course…” Julie sighed. “Just what we needed.”
She adjusted her eyepatch and grinned.
“Well… guess I’ll take a walk. Catch you later about that dance, deal?”
Jay nodded, pulling her into a surprise hug.
Julie startled.
“Your perfume’s still killer, captain,” he murmured. “Go on. If I don’t score this cockatrice, my party’s kicking me out next run.”
“Cheeky,” she replied, but smiling. “See you.”
Julie walked off, corset creaking, boots clicking stone.
Jay watched a moment… then turned back to the line.
Sighed.
“Yeah…” he muttered. “Festival day for sure.”
And waited.
5
Jay strolled slowly around Crystal Square’s edges.
Crowd still buzzing, but here—away from loudest stalls—sound felt different. More rhythmic. Attentive. Grand Crystal loomed ahead, pulsing ethereal light—cool and comforting. Slow heartbeat. Said to sync with Solariis, like the world had a visible heart tonight.
Jay stopped.
Just behind the crystal… there she was.
The trenti bardess played light, festive melody laced with ancient weight. Not the seductive song from earlier. A ballad. The kind that makes people slow without realizing.
She sat on a small makeshift stage, bare feet on cold stone, adorned with delicate golden chains glinting as they moved. Pink skin caught crystal light soft. Tribal tattoos traced legs, hips, vanishing under loose clothes—stories needing no words.
Curved horns framed her face as she fingered the hybrid instrument with hypnotic precision. Strings hummed, bow glided, tiny bells marked rhythm.
Coins dropped here and there from enchanted listeners.
Her voice rose.
Sang of the Winter Duke.
Of a time winter was too cruel. Villages buried in snow. A colossal Polar Cockatrice whose wings set the sky ablaze, melting snow beneath. Where it passed—ash and silence.
The Last Veil threatened.
Then the song shifted.
Spoke of a man from the north.
Long white beard like ancient frost. Blue heavy robes marked with protection runes. Broad sword rested on shoulders like extension of self.
But what made the song tremble…
Size.
The Winter Duke wasn’t human.
Not elf.
Not licanen.
A norsen.
Northern giant—meters tall. Eyes like embers in snow night. Smile to scare lesser gods.
Melody swelled.
Battle sang in fast deep notes. Fire pouring from cockatrice wings. Duke advancing, striking, retreating, answering harder. Ground shook. Sky burned.
Then… silence.
Cockatrice fell.
Eyes dimmed. Colossal body crumbled to crackling ash, carried by wind.
Bardess slowed. Voice almost whisper.
Duke knelt.
Silent homage to fallen beast. Traced ancient seals in still-warm ash. Runes of respect, not domination.
And then… bird rose again.
Majestic. Colossal. Serene.
Cockatrice bowed its head.
Final blow not punishment—but pact.
Song ended telling how Polar Cockatrice meat fed ruined villages. How winter calmed. How Duke vanished into snow, leaving only tradition.
Silence lingered longer than usual.
Then applause.
Jay approached, chest tight with something old he hadn’t felt in forever.
“Beautiful story, bardess,” he said, clapping lightly.
Dropped a coin in her hat.
She looked up.
Eyes met his instantly.
“Oh…” genuine surprise lit her face. “You really came, paladin.”
Voice softer now. Less performance. More real.
“Unusual,” she finished, tilting head. Ankle chains tinkled as she crossed legs, bare feet relaxed, confident.
Jay crossed arms, watching calm.
“Songs like that aren’t heard by accident,” he replied. “Especially tonight.”
She laughed soft.
“Then…” she said, setting instrument aside, “you listened.”
For the first time that night, Jay felt clearly this wasn’t just some bardess.
He drew deep breath, arms crossed relaxed-too-relaxed.
“Right…” half-smile. “Let’s start basic. Calling you just ‘bardess’ feels kinda rude.”
She laughed.
Not loud. Not forced. Light, sweet, syllables sliding like her tongue learned dance before speech.
“Loren,” she answered. “Keldhar lineage.”
Extended hand.
Fingers long, delicate, ringed thin reflecting crystal light. Nails carefully painted, contrasting pink skin. When Jay took it, subtle warmth—almost electric—like music still lived there.
“Pleasure,” she finished. “And your name, paladin?”
Accent light. Not overdone. No sing-song excess, no harshness. Rounded. Elegant. Rhythm turning even questions into invitations.
“Bet it’s famous,” she continued, subtle head tilt. “But I’m not familiar with your class.”
Jay gave short laugh, scratched neck awkward-rehearsed.
“Jay. And I’m not famous. Just a B-rank adventurer.”
She arched brow graceful.
“Yeah…” murmured. “I’ll pretend I believe that.”
“But it’s true, damn it.”
“Not saying it isn’t,” Loren replied, half-smile. “Just saying truth usually wears different cloaks.”
Jay laughed despite himself.
Talking to her was… easy. Scarily easy.
They swapped festival talk, Niandra gossip, square music. Loren natural—teasing one moment, listening genuine next. Sometimes leaned closer than needed. Sometimes let silence stretch just past comfortable.
Jay noticed too late how much time passed.
“Listen…” he finally straightened. “Loren. Why’d you call me here?”
She blinked slow.
“Thought you’d never ask,” no smile lost. “I do love small talk. It’s a specialty.”
Step closer. Didn’t invade space. Just… claimed presence.
“But yes,” voice dropped. “Something I needed to tell you.”
Jay narrowed eyes.
Not instant suspicion.
Recognition.
“Figured.”
Her eyes shifted. Brief moment, flirt gave way to something older. Attentive.
Cold breeze passed, ankle chains tinkling soft. Distant, Grand Crystal pulsed again.
“Then…” Loren murmured, voice low, cadence soft never quite belonging anywhere, “you heard it too, didn’t you?”
Jay didn’t answer right away.
Grand Crystal pulsed behind her, casting cool reflections on pink skin. Each beat echoed in his chest—too slow for comfort.
“A dissonance,” she continued, fingers idly brushing strings. “A chord too beautiful to last. A note that… sooner or later… will stop.”
Jay kept eyes on her, jaw tight. Knew bard reputation—not cheap fortune-tellers, but interpreters of worse things. Resonances. Tendencies. Truths still deciding how to hurt.
He glanced at crystal a second. Pulse answered. Synced. Almost conspiratorial.
“You…” voice graver than intended, “miss often, Loren?”
She met his gaze.
Smile came—not teasing. Not kind. Heavy. Eyes slightly watery, like answer cost something.
“No,” soft absolute.
Silence stretched.
“And unfortunately…” she added, “not even you can do anything about it, paladin.”
She stood and—without asking—took his hands in hers. Touch warm, firm, too real for someone speaking doom.
“But…” Loren closed eyes a second, “I hear something else too. A very faint song. Almost gone… but refusing to end.”
Opened eyes again.
“A chord that won’t stop.” Accent softened words, almost cradling them. “Maybe… you should check that out, Jay.”
He frowned.
“Maybe…” trying any crack of hope, “I could—”
“A song can’t be changed,” she interrupted gentle. “Not without changing its whole meaning.”
Squeezed his hands lightly.
“You know.”
Jay silent.
Then released her hands, pulled a coin from pocket. Not ordinary. Old. Marked. Placed it in hat among others.
Loren looked down.
Recognized.
Another place.
Another time.
Another pain.
She said nothing.
Jay gave final look… walked toward inn, distant festival sounds returning slow, like nothing said.
Loren stayed.
Sat again beside instrument. Bare feet touched cold stone. Tattoos seemed to pulse answering invisible something. Closed eyes.
Listened.
Therium’s song flowed through her like ancient river. Full harmony… inevitable cracks. Among notes dying too soon—one insistent vibration.
Presence.
Chord refusing silence.
Loren breathed deep.
Murmured something very soft, almost fond.
And played again.
6
Hours later.
From grand windows of Crystal Hearth room, arcane fireworks painted Niandra’s sky like it decided to play. Explosions drew impossible colors—violets, golds swirling into shapes lasting only breaths. One formed massive Winter Duke, broad sword raised. Another spread white-blue wings—colossal Polar Cockatrice, majestic even in light.
City laughed.
Songs crossed streets, glasses clinked, hurried happy steps mixed distant instruments. Last Veil closed dignified, ending Astraliis while Unerus announced itself ahead—quiet, promising.
Food smell filled room.
Polar Cockatrice sat on wide platters—pale succulent meat steaming, winter herbs, crystal salt. Smoky notes, imperceptible sweetness, comforting warmth only shared food has.
Jasmin smiled.
Belly-down on balcony, elbows on cold stone, watching people below with light almost-childlike look. Fireworks reflected green eyes—she looked simply… at peace.
“This is beautiful,” she murmured, more to herself.
Layla far from contemplation.
“Mine!” she growled, yanking massive thigh.
“Ridiculous,” Su Mei countered, arm raised precision-annoying, keeping thigh out of reach. “This one won fair and square.”
“Fair my ass!” Layla bared teeth, laughing. “Give it back, you busty fox trickster, meow!”
Room exploded laughter.
Jay leaned against balcony pillar, watching with calm smile too calm for all he carried. Food warmth, girls’ laughter, city glow—dangerously normal.
Then he saw her.
Down near Crystal Square, Loren danced.
Trenti bardess spun among people, bare feet light on stone, body flowing with melody like part of it. Played and smiled, spun and laughed. When she looked up—met Jay’s eyes.
Light head nod.
Nothing big.
Kept twirling, like that crystal-back talk never happened.
Julie noticed bardess too. Frowned second, recognized… shrugged. Preferred leaning lightly against Jay’s back, way too comfortable, way too familiar.
Amy noticed.
Rolled eyes, shoved them apart casually, sat elegantly on balcony, legs crossed theatrical dignity. Still, gaze slipped—almost unwilling—to Loren below.
“She hears,” Amy thought.
Didn’t know what.
Or how.
Or why she was there.
But felt it.
Nessa watched quiet, calm smile. Sat near hearth, petting Zarpheon curled small round fluffy. Griffon slept deep, full belly, ears twitching now-then like still catching distant city music.
“You know…” half-elf said soft, “this day was everything we needed.”
Jay nodded, eyes on city.
“Soon everything goes back to normal,” Nessa continued. “Northbound. Roads, cold, new problems.”
“For now, Lady Nessa,” Su Mei interrupted, holding cockatrice thigh overhead while fending Layla with foot, “how about helping keep this crazy cat away from this one’s food?”
“Crazy cat?!” Layla pounced, laughing. “I’m gonna bite you, fake fox!”
Nessa laughed, stood, joined others on balcony.
Cold breeze slipped gentle through room, carrying distant melody… and moment something more. Amy frowned, weird shiver—like something ancient breathed far away.
Very far.
Beyond hills.
Beyond lights.
Where Niandra’s Labyrinth slept patient, waiting right moment to be remembered.
But that night, no one thought about it.
Cockatrice meat shared.
Wine warmed.
Laughter real.
Last week of Astraliis ended serene.
Happy.
Like good thought… one you only notice when it’s already memory.
And for now, that was enough.
?
Happy Holidays!
A Pause Along the Road
Swordbringer Saga will enter a short hiatus until mid-January.
No disappearing act.
Just a strategic pause to organize chapters, align story arcs, and prepare the next cycle of the saga with the care it deserves.
SBS x ZZZ fanfic (Chapter one) is available on my Ko-Fi.
An unlikely meeting between worlds, fractured portals, rising chaos… and choices that were never meant to exist.
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Until the next cycle.
See you in 2026.