The first checkpoint passed in silence.
Then the second.
And by the time the cart wheels touched polished stone instead of packed dirt, Fay leaned slightly forward.
"We've arrived."
I felt it too. The mana density was enough to make my chest tighten, it was layered like fog, humming with static.
Velshire.
The capital didn't just hum. It throbbed. Mana coiled up from every sigil on the ground, every tower-top ward, every enchanted railing or lantern. Even the air carried whispers of old mana.
It didn't feel oppressive.
It felt like potential.
"Guess we've got a few hours before the names are read," Rōko muttered, stretching her arms overhead. "Someone better feed me or I'm gonna eat this cart."
"Is that a threat?" Alven asked dryly.
"No, it's a prophecy."
The doors creaked open. Warm air hit my face — laced with food oil, roasted meat, and a hundred spices I hadn't smelled since the last time i was in a captial. I felt my stomach make a small, sad noise.
"We're getting food," Salem said instantly.
"Is that a threat aswel?" I echoed.
"No. It's mercy."
The market avenues near the north square were thick with people and movement. Mana flickered across stalls like sparks — hot oil, fried dough, ice mana keeping drinks cold. The air swirled with sound and heat, punctuated by cart wheels and laughter, but none of it pulled my attention like the small, hesitant tug on my sleeve.
I turned, just slightly.
A child.
Her outline was small — barely came up to my hip. Her mana trembled, fast and frightened, jittering like a trapped songbird.
"Look here, a little girl," I said softly, to Salem.
I heard Salem shift beside me, her aura tensing for a heartbeat — then softening.
"Lost?" she asked, crouching low. Her mana curled down with her like a cloak, slow and grounding.
The child gave the smallest nod.
Salem's voice lowered. "What's your name?"
No answer. Just a hand clutched tighter around mine.
"It's alright," I murmured, crouching too. "You can stay here with us."
Salem stood again after a moment, her presence steady behind me. "I'll look around. See if anyone's searching."
"You don't have to—"
"I'll get food too. Stay right here. I'll be fast."
Her fingers brushed mine once, like a quiet promise and then vanished into the pulse of the crowd.
The little girl stayed tucked against me, her very small amount mana buzzing a little less. My hand rested gently over hers. The crowd moved like water around us, never crashing, just rippling past.
She didn't speak. But when a loud voice burst nearby — some merchant shouting over prices — she flinched. I squeezed her hand.
"You're safe," I said. "I've got you."
We waited like that. Just the two of us. Still and quiet in the middle of too much noise.
Then…
I felt Salem coming before I heard her. Her outline curled with purpose, shoulders slightly tensed. She carried two things: a paper-wrapped pastry in one hand, and a presence following quickly behind her.
A woman.
Heart racing. Mana rushing in spikes, not aggressive, but afraid. And hopeful.
She called out once. A name.
"Mayuri!"
The girl beside me jerked. Then ran.
I stayed still, listening. The sound of feet slapping against stone, of arms wrapping around a child, of breath breaking with relief.
The woman's outline knelt. Her voice cracked, half-sobbing: "Thank the gods, thank you, I thought i lost her."
She turned toward us. Toward Salem.
And flinched.
Her mana spiked sharp.
"You're—" she started. "You helped me, yet you're a…."
She didn't finish the sentence.
But her thoughts were loud. A demon.
Salem only raised an eyebrow, barely tilting her head.
"I am."
The woman froze.
Then bowed.
Hard.
"I… I didn't mean it like that, I mean… thank you."
Salem shrugged. "She's safe. That's what matters."
Another bow. Then the woman scooped up the child again, her aura jittery with leftover shame, and disappeared into the crowd.
Salem handed me the pastry.
I didn't move right away.
"Sorry," she said. "Only found something sweet."
"That's what I wanted."
We stood for a second longer, just breathing. The kind of quiet where your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.
"Did you get anything for yourself?" I asked eventually.
"I'll steal Rōko's."
"Rōko will stab you."
"She'll try."
We both smiled, it felt so warm. So nice
A few minutes later, I felt a fast shape sprinting up behind me — familiar outline, stronger than the civilians. Earthy mana, warm and solid.
A tap on my shoulder.
"Guess who."
I turned, already smiling. "Kate."
Her hug hit hard, tight, fast, grounding.
"Gods, Annabel, you got tall," she said, pulling back. "How is a near thirteen-year-old almost eye-level with me? What are they feeding you?"
"Panic and non stop training," I offered.
She laughed. "Yea that sure sounds effective."
Her outline moved as she ruffled my hair — a gesture I was too old for, and she knew it.
"I missed you," I said quietly.
"Same, kid. Don't scare me again, hearing you almost died last year, i almost fainted."
Then she turned, already knowing who was beside me.
"Salem."
"Kate."
Salem's voice was light, teasing. Her outline curled into something softer — not quite a smile, but close.
Kate didn't hesitate. She pulled her into a quick hug too, grinning.
"Still terrifying?"
"Only when Annabel is in trouble."
"I heard, thank you for saving her."
Then Kate turned again — and this time, her mana bristled.
"Rōko."
"Kate," Rōko replied, her tone calm and just a little too polite. "Still recovering?"
"Thats been two years, how would i still be recov-"
Rōko cut her off. "Just because your shoulders are a bit uneven."
"You little. You got lucky that you used a chain and sickle, it was my exact counter."
"I think you just left an opening."
"I was moving at the same speed you did! You just had range."
"Mmh i think you just blinked and lost."
Kate let out a long sigh. "Kids these days."
"You were twenty-three."
"You were fifteen."
Fay coughed quietly, trying not to laugh.
William leaned in toward Alven and whispered, "Should we be taking notes or calling a healer?"
"Depends if they start throwing punches," Alven muttered.
Kate crossed her arms, her mana pulsing faintly. "You got real smug since that match."
"I got stronger."
Kate squinted. "Don't make me rematch you."
"I want that rematch."
They locked a silent beat of eye contact, or outline tension, in my case.
Then, suddenly, both of them cracked a grin.
Kate shrugged. "Alright, fine. You're less annoying when you win with style."
"And you're less annoying when you admit I'm better."
"Let's not get carried away."
"I'll take it."
Salem whispered beside me, "They've actually always liked each other."
"i know," I murmured.
Kate stepped back into the group like she belonged there — and she did. Familiar mana brushing each of us, warm and steady.
"Good crew," she said. "Better than most squads twice your age."
"You didn't even meet Fay or Alven," I pointed out.
"I've heard things," she replied.
"Like what?" William asked warily.
Kate just grinned. "Well my prince, i've heard that they're brave. And exhausting. And that Alven got beat to a pulp once. By Salem."
Alven blinked. "That wasn't a fair match!."
Fay her mana brightened softly.
"You totally got your ass kicked back then haha."
Alven didn't respond back, he know she was right.
Kate folded her arms, stepping beside me again. "So. Are we waiting for fate to unfold, or getting arrested for sneaking into the front row?"
"I think we're doing both," I said.
She laughed again, and the sound anchored something in me I hadn't realized I'd been missing. Home wasn't always a place. Sometimes it was a voice you hadn't heard in too long.
We walked together toward the square.
The crowd swelled. Mana curled like tidewater.
And somewhere beyond the great banners rising overhead.
The names waited.
And the world held its breath.