The city of Aeloria was bathed in light from crystal lanterns that floated gently in the air, like stars refusing to fall.
The city was never truly silent. Footsteps, conversations, and the echo of street music formed an unending rhythm of life that played on without pause.
After wandering for hours through alley after alley—past potion shops, warm bread vendors, and masked street musicians dressed as birds—they finally arrived at a two-story wooden building nestled at the end of a small, quieter lane, away from the bustle of the main square.
The inn was called "Serambi Rumaian."
Its name was carved into a wooden sign that hung beneath the glow of a hanging lantern. The building wasn't lavish like those of the nobles, but it was clearly built with care. The wood looked sturdy and well-maintained, and the walls were adorned with carved floral patterns that soothed the eyes.
From outside, the sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery drifted from the main dining hall—conversations of travelers from who-knows-where, laughter of merchants who had just ended their day, and the sharp calls from the kitchen as dinner was being prepared.
"Finally, a place to rest," Leona said, her tone heavy with exhaustion.
Clara gently pushed open the door. As they stepped inside, a wave of warmth from a crackling fireplace embraced their tired bodies. The air was filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon, baked bread, grilled meat, and local herbs.
The inn's main hall buzzed with light and life. Wooden tables were filled with patrons—some devoured their meals hungrily, others leaned back with raised mugs, and a few simply sat in silence, soaking in the warmth of the room. The walls were lined with old paintings, mostly portraits of Aeloria across different seasons.
In one corner, a harpist played soft, intricate notes that wove between conversations like a whisper.
Clara, Leona, Lux, and Liorin stood still for a moment, taking in the scene.
But amid the vibrant din, Clara caught a line of conversation from a table near the hearth.
"...I heard the Darkness Organisation has been moving in silence and has infiltrated several cities. They're just lying low, waiting..."
The words were hushed, yet clear enough to stir Clara's instincts. She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse.
At the table sat four men dressed as travelers. Their faces seemed ordinary, but their eyes were sharp and alert. They spoke in low tones, clearly not wishing to be overheard. One of them held a partially folded map.
Liorin stood silently beside Clara. He heard it too but said nothing. Just a brief glance passed between them before they turned back toward the counter.
There, a woman stood behind a small rack filled with room keys. She looked to be in her late fifties—still upright and strong, her gaze sharp as if she could read a person's soul.
Her hair was neatly tied up, and though her face was lined with age, it radiated a mix of sternness and sincerity.
"Good evening. Looking for a room, perhaps?" she asked. Her voice was firm, but not unkind.
"Yes," Liorin replied. "Two rooms. One for me, and the other for my two companions and this small creature." He gestured to Lux, who was now perched on Leona's head, making a comical face.
The woman gave Lux a brief look before offering a thin smile. "As long as it doesn't bite the pillows, I don't mind."
"He won't cause trouble, ma'am," Clara answered quickly.
"Call me Mak Inya." She handed over two keys. "Don't try to fool an old woman like me. I've run this place since the Grand Mage was kid. I've seen many travelers come and go—not all with good intentions."
"We're just passing through," Clara replied softly with a small smile.
"Good." Mak Inya nodded. "Anyone who starts trouble in my house—whether their robe is lined with gold or caked in mud—I'll kick them out myself."
Leona chuckled lightly. "You're quite the fierce one, ma'am."
"Mak Inya," the innkeeper corrected with a glance toward Leona.
"Better fierce than foolish," she added briskly as she looked over her shoulder, perhaps checking on the kitchen staff. "Go get some rest. Dinner's served until nine. After that, the kitchen closes."
Clara took the keys and gave a nod. Before heading upstairs, her eyes were drawn once again to a figure seated at the far end of the dining hall.
A lone man in a dark grey battle cloak. The cloak was thick, bearing the signs of long travel. His face was partially shadowed beneath a hood, and he hadn't touched the food or drink in front of him. He simply sat, watching, listening.
Clara didn't focus too much on it. She merely committed the image to memory—just in case it mattered… later.
Upstairs, the atmosphere was much calmer. Clara and Leona settled into a cozy room. The wooden walls radiated warmth, and the floors were spotless. A window stood open, offering a view of a small garden behind the inn.
Lux leapt onto a pillow and rolled around contentedly.
"Finally, a soft place to lie down," Leona sighed as she threw herself onto the bed. "I didn't think we'd end up somewhere this nice tonight."
Clara smiled, though her mind lingered on what she'd overheard downstairs—those words about the Darkness Organisation.
Leona lay sprawled on the mattress, gently stroking Lux's tiny head. The little creature's breathing was steady, his face serene—as though the day's weariness had melted into a sweeter dream.
Clara, meanwhile, was tidying their belongings in the corner of the room. She carefully arranged scrolls of incantations. Her hand paused briefly on a pendant hanging around her neck, as if touching a memory buried deep within time.
Leona glanced at her, then slowly stood and stepped closer. Her voice was soft, like a night breeze brushing leaves, "That necklace… from your family?"
Clara didn't answer right away. Her gaze lingered on the crescent-shaped locket, shimmering faintly in the lamplight. She took a deep breath and replied quietly, "It might've been my mother's."
Leona gave a small nod, not pressing further. Some answers weren't meant to be explained—only respected.
"Did your family know about this journey?" she asked next, her tone still gentle but filled with curiosity.
Clara shook her head slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I sent them a letter before I left. I trust they know… and that they trust me too."
Leona went quiet, then spoke in admiration, "That's amazing. They really believe in you…"
Clara chuckled lightly. "Or maybe they just got used to how weird I've been since I was a child."
Their smiles met for a moment in comfortable silence.
Then Clara asked in return, "And you? What made you wander alone in that forest back then?"
Leona's eyes dimmed slightly, as though her soul drifted back to the past. "I wanted to see the world. The Leonin rarely interact with the outside world. They believe our land is enough—safe, peaceful, untainted. But I always wondered… is that really all life is meant to be?"
Clara nodded in understanding.
"But… did your parents know about your decision?" Clara asked, her voice softer now, sensing the weight of the answer.
Leona didn't reply immediately. Her face turned somber as she looked down. Her eyes shimmered, but no tears fell. Only silence spoke.
Seeing that, Clara quickly changed the subject. "I… I didn't expect to come this far either. I was just… caught off guard—and suddenly, the Gate opened."
Leona looked up, watching Clara scratch the back of her head with an awkward smile. They both laughed quietly—not because it was funny, but because fate was absurd.
In the next room, Liorin was already seated at the edge of the bed near the window. His fingers flipped open a small notebook kept in the inner pocket of his robe. On one of its pages, a symbol had been roughly sketched in charcoal—a black eye split down the middle.
A symbol he despised deeply, for it had once stolen the happiness he held dear, and shattered it all in a single day—
the mark of the Darkness Organisation.
Liorin leaned against the window, gazing at the night sky strewn with stars. The cool breeze kissed his face, carrying with it the scent of dew and the hush of the quiet little town. Overhead, the constellation Orion had begun to emerge in all its grandeur, shining brilliantly among the other stars.
His lips moved softly, as though whispering to the wind.
"Orion… the ancient guide of the night… heralding the change of seasons."
His hand moved slightly, tracing the motion of the stars—
as if reading from a celestial scripture only understood by those who truly listened to the murmurs of the universe.
Then, he lay back on the bed, eyes fixed on the silent wooden ceiling. A face began to form in his mind—faint, almost like a memory.
Someone he respected… someone who once became a light in the darkness of his knowledge.
"This… can't be just a coincidence…" he murmured, before his eyes slowly closed, carried into slumber by the starlight that continued to shine—
even behind the quiet window of the night.