The wargon rumbled unevenly as its heavy wheels fought against the soggy ground, each turn kicking up wet clods of earth. A low, unpleasant squelching sound echoed under them as the whole beast shifted its weight uneasily.Luke squinted ahead, studying the way the terrain darkened and softened like a breathing swamp. His fingers tightened around the reins before he glanced over his shoulder, his voice loud enough to cut through the groan of the straining wheels.
"We'll have to detour left," he called, tapping his gloved hand against the beast's flank. "Ground's too soft here — wheels'll sink and get stuck real fast."
Nymei, lounging in an awkward half-sprawl atop the cushioned bench, turned it strange golden-yellow eyes toward Luke, it expression pulling into a theatrical grimace. It fingers drummed lazily against the leather seat, making a hollow, bored sound.
"Isn't that gonna take more time to get out of this forsaken pit?" it asked, the words dripping slow and syrupy, like someone half-awake and unimpressed.
Luke gave a one-shouldered shrug without looking back, his jaw setting a little tighter."Well… yeah."He said it simply, plainly, as if that was just the curse they had to live with now.
Nymei huffed, the sound dramatic, it entire body slowly melting from a seated position into almost lying down, like a cat that had given up all pretense of dignity. It hair — that wild blend of blue, gray, purple, and yellow — fanned across the seat like a tangle of riverweed.
Liora, sitting cross-legged with the sketchbook perched on her lap, suddenly brightened, her eyes wide with a spark of mischievous hope.
"What if we use this again?" she piped up, lifting the sketchbook slightly, as if showing off a miracle.
Kairo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. His face remained mostly neutral, but the slight tilt of his eyebrows betrayed a trace of skepticism.He didn't speak — maybe because he'd learned the hard way that commenting on Liora's ideas always got you dragged along for the ride — but his fingers drummed once against his knee before falling still.
Before anyone else could say anything, the ever-present flower at Kairo's shoulder — the one that had somehow merged into his strange existence — let out a dry, crackling laugh that almost sounded human.
"Ugh, look how ridiculous she is," it said in a voice sharp with mockery and dripping with exhaustion, as though it could barely muster the energy to insult her properly. "Now she wants a mile after being given an inch — pfffttt—"
The flower's laughter exploded, raw and unhinged, a high, shrieking sound like leaves caught in a fire.Kairo didn't even twitch. He simply stared blankly ahead, so accustomed to the flower's voice that it no longer rattled him. His face might as well have been carved from stone.
Luke, however, leaned back a bit, shaking his head with a low chuckle, brushing hair out of his eyes.
"If it still works," Luke said, "then… yeah, we should give it a try. Nothing to lose, right?"His voice was light, but there was a note of caution buried underneath it, like a man who knew better than to trust miracles without reading the fine print.
Liora, undeterred by the flower's jeers or Luke's caution, beamed and immediately started flipping the sketchbook open. She placed it carefully on her lap, her fingertips hovering reverently above the pages. Her voice took on a tone of ceremonial grandeur, even if she was just improvising.
"Give me," she whispered, "a wargon that can move across any ground… one that can protect itself from anything... and one that can repair itself if damaged"
The moment the words left her lips, the golden lacquer coating the sketchbook began to shimmer violently, as if struck by sunlight.It moved — a slow, viscous ripple first — then faster, until the liquid seemed to boil and seep from the cover onto the page below, hungry and alive.
Seeing it react so fiercely, Liora yelped softly and scrambled to her feet, clutching the sketchbook like it might bite her.Without thinking, she hurried to the wargon's open door and hopped down onto the squelchy ground, her boots sinking slightly into the mud.She bent quickly, setting the sketchbook gently on the wet earth, careful not to damage it — or worse, accidentally destroy the wargon's floor.
Vivy, sitting cross-legged near the front of the cabin with her own book open in her lap, noticed the commotion.At first, she turned her head to watch Liora — eyes half-lidded, focused — but then her attention shifted back to her own book, frowning slightly.
Curious, she brushed her fingers lightly across the golden lacquer that also coated her book's cover, feeling the strange warmth radiating off it.Without thinking much, she tilted the book slightly and brought it closer to Nymei, who was now lazily propped up against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
"Hey," Vivy said, her voice even, but her brow furrowed in curiosity."You know anything about this? About this golden stuff? Or even these books?"
Nymei tilted it head in an exaggerated, birdlike motion, it yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and mild confusion.For a moment, it just stared — at the book, at Vivy's face — it smile lazy, inscrutable.
Finally, Nymei shrugged dramatically, rolling her whole upper body with the motion, like a marionette given slack strings.
"I've slept almost my whole life, lady," she said with a dry chuckle, voice rippling with amusement."I don't know anything about your fancy toys."
The words stung more than they should have, and Vivy's lips pulled into a thin, flat line. She stared at Nymei for a beat longer — searching for any hint that maybe she was lying or holding something back — but all she saw was lazy honesty.
With a soft sigh, Vivy closed her book with a snap, the golden sheen on its surface catching the faint, misty light leaking through the cracked windows.
Her shoulders sagged slightly as she muttered, half to herself, half to the world:"Figures."
The ground outside rumbled faintly, the sketchbook beginning to pulse in time with some heartbeat that none of them could hear yet.
The wait began.
The earth trembled again — just a subtle, unsettling shift underfoot — as the golden lacquer continued to writhe and spiral across the muddy ground like liquid fire given form. The scent of warm metal and burning parchment tinged the heavy, humid air.
Luke narrowed his eyes at the glowing page from his seat near the reins. He turned halfway, glancing back toward the sketchbook, then to Liora. His brow furrowed, uncertain, suspicious.
"What did you wish for?" he asked, voice taut, low and rough like bark scraped with a knife.
Liora, brushing the mud off her boots and plopping down next to the sketchbook again, turned toward him with a bright smile and a shrug that held no guilt.
"A wargon!" she said, like a child confessing to sneaking extra sweets — unapologetic and proud.
Luke blinked. His body twisted fully toward her now, eyes wide with confusion.
"A wargon?!" he echoed, brows climbing his forehead. "I was thinking, you know, wheels. Something to help us move through the mud. Or maybe change the terrain itself — solidify it somehow. You went and asked for a whole wargon?"
Liora tilted her head, her hands planting on her hips like she'd done something marvelous."Well—yeah!" she chirped. "It's an upgrade. A big upgrade!"She beamed as though she expected applause.
Luke let out a breath that sounded half like a groan and half like a surrender. He rolled his eyes skyward and turned away again, muttering under his breath with a dry, unimpressed tone.
"Goddess above… she asks for a star when we just needed a torch."
Inside the cabin of the older wargon, the wood creaked with their shifting weight. The scent of leather, oil, and golden ink still clung to the air like perfume trapped in memory.
Vivy, ever watchful with her quiet, sharp eyes, shifted closer to Kairo without a word. Her expression was thoughtful, her book now resting open on her lap. She turned toward Liora, who had just come back inside.
"Liora, come here," she said softly, but with the gravity of someone preparing for something important.
Liora blinked, surprised, then nodded and padded over. She settled beside them, her arms curled around her knees, her clothes still damp with mud from earlier. Her energy slowed, curiosity replacing her usual vibrant recklessness.
Vivy pulled her book between them and flattened it open on the floor. Her fingers tapped the edge of the page, eyes flicking between the shimmering lacquer lines and the symbols hidden beneath.
"I'm curious," she began, her voice soft, a whisper sharpened by thought. "About this golden lacquer. On my book... and on your sketchbook."
Kairo didn't respond at first. He looked down at the book, gaze narrowing slightly. Then he glanced at Vivy, then at the golden lacquer. A shadow flickered across his expression — recognition, maybe. Or just unease.
Then the flower spoke.Its voice was flat and low, but laced with something uncomfortably cold — like stone sliding across bone.
"You know, some knowledge is better left undiscovered."
Kairo's head tilted, eyes narrowing. He didn't respond aloud. Instead, he pressed the words silently in his mind, like someone pushing on a locked door.
"Seems like you know something you're not telling me… you hide things, don't you?"
A moment passed.
The flower's voice returned, quieter, but with an edge now — both mocking and intimate, like someone whispering something terrible with a smile pressed against your ear.
"So? What I know… or what I don't know… doesn't change the fact you're still alive. And I like to keep it that way, boy."
Kairo's expression barely moved, but the corner of his mouth twitched — not from fear, but from the growing, boiling frustration of never getting a straight answer.
Vivy, unaware of the internal exchange, looked between the two of them, then narrowed her eyes slightly.
Kairo finally spoke aloud, voice low but certain."They could've been created by the same person," he said."Or come from the same place."
Liora's eyes lit up with the gleam of someone chasing an idea through a foggy forest.She glanced at Kairo, then at Vivy, then back again.
"Why don't we just ask Luke?" she offered brightly, as if the obvious solution had just walked into the room.
Vivy turned toward her slowly, her eyes a little narrowed. Her lips pressed into a skeptical line.
"He may have lived longer than us," Vivy replied, carefully choosing her words. "But he hasn't lived for thousands of years like Zerathi. Or Koyrach. Or Lephyrmaw."
Liora blinked, her expression shifting — a touch of defiance blooming on her face.
"It doesn't cost anything to just ask, Vivy."Her voice had a slight bite now, the kind that didn't hurt but made its presence known."We're not buying truth, we're just asking."
Vivy looked down, her brows tightening slightly, then gave the smallest of nods."Right..."
Kairo, sensing the moment, lifted his voice across the rumbling wargon.
"Luke!"
Luke turned his head, still holding the reins with one hand."Yeah? What is it?"
Kairo glanced at Vivy, giving her a subtle signal — just the briefest lift of his chin.
Vivy nodded, then turned her book around, holding it up so the gold shimmer caught the murky light."Do you know anything about this? This golden lacquer?"
Luke squinted. He slowed the wargon slightly, then turned more fully to look.He leaned closer, peering at the pages with narrowed eyes. The gold swirled in the paper like it had a life of its own, pulsating faintly.
He stared at it for a while, long enough for the silence to feel heavy.
Then he shook his head and gave a flat answer.
"I got no idea at all."
The words dropped like a stone in water. Vivy sighed, closing the book slightly.
But Luke wasn't finished. He tilted his head toward them, curiosity prickling in his voice.
"Where'd you all even get those things anyway?" he asked, voice lighter now.
Kairo shrugged.
"Antique shop," he said simply.
Then Liora chimed in, her voice a little too casual.
"With a weird lady as the shopkeeper."
Kairo's head snapped toward her with a sharp jerk — not enough to speak, but enough to warn. His eyes said don't — but Liora was already going.
Luke leaned forward slightly."What did she look like?"
Liora tapped her chin, thinking. Then she nodded to herself, speaking slowly.
"She looked really young. But the shop looked old, like… ancient dust and silence kind of old. She was quite short. And her hair was—"She paused, hand lifting to demonstrate."—very, very long. Violet. So long it covered her whole face like… a curtain."
Luke went quiet.
Very quiet.
His expression didn't change — not exactly — but something in his eyes shifted. Something older, darker, like a memory brushing against the inside of his skull.
He didn't say anything more.