The world was swallowed by the gray, its colors drained and its edges blurred like a fading dream.
The sun, veiled and distant, played a silent game of hide and seek behind the clouds. Shadows stretched across the land, and color seemed to drain from the world —
as if even light had forgotten how to hope.
Velza walked briskly toward the stables, her boots crunching against the gravel path. She moved with purpose, preparing the carriage for their journey to the capital.
✦✦✦
Vaelen stood at the window in his office, staring out at the bleak sky.
A sigh slipped past his lips.
"Same old gray skies…" he muttered. Then, quieter, "The way my mother liked it. And the day she died."
The weight of memory pressed down on him — until a knock broke through the silence. Velza's voice followed, polite but direct:
"Your Highness, the carriage is ready. If you wish, we can depart now."
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before replying,
"Alright. Wait for me outside. I'll join you in a few minutes."
✦✦✦
Outside, Velza stood near the carriage, arms crossed, watching the clouds swirl above.
"It might rain," she murmured.
Her gaze caught a faint movement at the edge of her vision. Instantly alert, she shifted her stance, hand moving to her sword. Her body tensed as the figure neared.
She slipped behind the carriage, ready to strike.
But just as she lunged — steel flashing — the figure parried effortlessly with a wand no longer than a quill. The clash sent a vibration up her arm. Before she could counter, the figure stepped forward, boot pinning her blade to the ground.
"Look at my face," he said calmly. "What do you see?"
Recognition dawned.
"Your Highness… it's you."
Vaelen dusted off his shoulder. "Thanks to this artifact — and a bit of magic." He held up a glowing blue pendant. "See?"
He stepped back, letting her sword go.
He looked down at the weapon, then raised a brow.
"Your sword seems… fragile. Easy to bend."
Velza sat down slowly, her expression folding in on itself.
"My sword… it was made to be too sharp. So it bends."
There was something in her voice — almost a tremble. Almost a cry.
Vaelen's gaze lingered on her face. Something about her features stirred a memory. An ache.
Without thinking, his hand moved toward her hair — but he stopped himself just in time.
What is this feeling… like I've seen her before?
He cleared his throat. "We'll buy a new one. In the capital."
Her eyes lit up — then, quickly, she masked it.
"Really? I mean—yes, Your Highness."
The horses snorted, hooves shuffling against the dirt as Velza moved around the carriage, inspecting everything with the calm of habit. She checked each wheel, every strap, the oil on the axles — a rhythm of motion drilled into her. With a quick tug, she steadied the reins.
Vaelen paused at the top step before entering.
He turned back briefly, gaze flicking to the stone walls, the high windows that once watched over him. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders — a small armor against memory.
Velza noticed. Just for a second.
But said nothing.
Then she climbed into the driver's seat and took hold of the reins.
✦✦✦
The carriage groaned as it rolled forward, wheels creaking against the narrow road. Mist clung low to the earth, swallowing everything behind them. Old trees flanked the path, their trunks like watchful sentinels, and the fog that drifted between them moved like spirits with unfinished thoughts — slow, searching, silent.
✦✦✦
The fog began to thin as the path widened. Cobblestone replaced dirt. The sound of hooves echoed differently now — sharper, more hollow — bouncing off paved walls, wrought-iron gates, and looming buildings.
The capital slowly unfolded around them like a beast stirring from slumber. Tall spires pierced the gray sky, and banners flapped lazily from balconies. People bustled in the distance — merchants setting up stalls, guards posted near alleyways, and the muffled clang of blacksmiths at work behind thick stone walls. Everything smelled faintly of smoke, rain, and wet stone.
Velza's voice broke through.
"We've reached our destination, Your Highness."
Vaelen's eyes sharpened. "Don't call me that. Not in the capital."
She blinked, then nodded. "What should I call you, then?"
"Just 'sir,' for now."
A small grin tugged at her lips. "Alright, sir."
Vaelen stepped out of the carriage. His boots met the stone road with a solid thud. The city's sounds wrapped around him — distant chatter, chiming bells, the rhythmic clatter of carts. Life was moving. Watching. Listening.
And now, so was he.
The streets narrowed the deeper they walked.
Vaelen pulled his hood lower, vanishing into the current of the crowd. Velza trailed a step behind, her eyes scanning rooftops and alleys like she'd memorized the place long before they arrived.
The capital always looked grand from a distance — spires, domes, banners fluttering like promises. But up close, it was chipped stone and layered grime. Barefoot kids darted between puddles. A man ranted about cursed onions. A noblewoman stepped delicately from a black carriage, her heels never touching the cobblestones thanks to her footman's well-timed handkerchief.
"Smells like old coin and older lies," Velza muttered.
Vaelen cracked a faint smile. "Home sweet home."
Now I just need to lose her and get to District 106, he thought. Time to see who's getting royal treatment behind closed doors.
They passed a weather-worn fountain carved with marble angels — wings broken, faces melted by years of rain. Nearby, guards leaned on their spears, watching the crowd but not the shadows.
"Where are we going?" Velza asked.
"We check in at the candle shop. Then the blacksmith."
"Where is this shop?"
"Just follow me."
They crossed a narrow bridge. Below, the water moved slow and black, dragging flower petals and shards of glass. A bell tolled — three slow chimes. Mid-morning.
A gateway loomed ahead, guarded by two soldiers in dull iron.
Just as Vaelen was about to pass through, one of them stepped in front.
"Where you going, buddy? Haven't seen your face before. Got ID?"
Vaelen didn't speak. He just gave Velza a quick hand gesture to come forward.
The second guard glanced between them. "You with him?"
Velza nodded and began digging through her coat pockets.
The first guard scoffed. "Tell your buddy to know his place. Commoners don't walk through noble districts."
Before he could blink, Velza's curved blade was halfway through its arc — but a flash of fire burst between them, shattering the weapon mid-strike.
The heat singed the guard's sleeves.
Vaelen lowered his smoking palm. "Just show your ID. No need for violence."
Both guards stood frozen, pupils wide. One clutched his chest.
"Hell… I'd be dead if he hadn't stopped her."
Velza sat on the cobblestones, clutching the hilt of her ruined blade. Silent.
Vaelen looked down at her. "We were getting a new one anyway. Now get up and show your ID if you found it."
Still fuming, she handed it over.
The guard squinted. "Whoa… Royal Knight? Why didn't you say so?"
She gave him a stare sharp enough to skin a horse.
"...You can pass."
✦✦✦
They stepped through the gate, the heavy iron groaning shut behind them with a final clang — like a vault sealing.
Beyond it, the roads widened, freshly swept and lined with polished black stone. The buildings were taller here, their walls trimmed with goldleaf and pale marble veined like bone. Balconies hung over the street like elegant jaws, their mouths silent and watching.
Servants in crisp livery scrubbed steps clean of invisible dust. Horses wore silk blinders. Carriages moved without sound, wheels wrapped in felt.
But it wasn't the silence that made the air feel colder.
It was the eyes.
From behind every curtained window, every half-cracked shutter, someone was watching. Pale silhouettes behind frosted glass. A flicker of movement in a mirror. The kind of surveillance that didn't blink.
Vaelen tugged his cloak tighter.
"Welcome to the noble ring," he murmured. "Where secrets cost more than gold… and truth gets you killed."
Velza shot him a glare. "If we were coming here anyway, why did you make me take Entry Gate One? We could've just used Gate Six"
Her hand twitched near her belt — an old habit. But the weight of her broken sword was gone.
Vaelen didn't look at her. "I'm not in the mood to explain things you wouldn't understand."
She scoffed, but didn't push. The last time he said that, someone ended up in a ditch.
✦✦✦
The sign above the door was faint — just a single wax-dripped candle carved into dark wood. No name. No windows.
Vaelen pushed the door open. A tiny bell chimed, the sound swallowed instantly by thick, perfumed air. Rows of candles lined the walls — tall, short, twisted, shaped like animals, skulls, flowers. Some glowed faintly on their own.
Velza stepped in behind him, sniffing. "Smells like someone bottled a storm."
"It's sea salt and myrrh," Vaelen replied, scanning the shelf without looking at her.
An old woman emerged from behind the counter, robes draped like melting wax. Her eyes flicked from Velza to Vaelen.
"You're late."
He placed a silver coin on the counter. "And you still owe me two."
She scoffed but turned, pulling a box from under the counter. It wasn't candles — not exactly. Wax, yes. But folded within a velvet cloth was a single scroll, sealed in gold and bound with braided hair.
Velza took a step forward, but he blocked her view with his shoulder.
"Stay outside," he muttered under his breath.
"What? Why—"
"I said outside." The words came like a warning, heavy and sharp.
Velza hesitated, eyes narrowing — but then turned and left without a word.
Vaelen took the box and nodded at the old woman. "Keep burning the same scent. I'll be back next month."
She didn't respond, only lit one of the twisted white candles with a flick of her thumb — and watched him vanish back into the mist.
Outside, Velza leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. But her foot drifted sideways — just enough to wedge the door slightly ajar.
She listened. Not to spy, she told herself — just to stay informed.
Only a whisper reached her:
"...if the seal breaks before the eclipse, they'll find the grave."
Then — a low breath.
"And if they find it… even you won't be able to burn it fast enough."
Velza's fingers twitched. She didn't know what they meant — yet — but she knew one thing for sure.
Vaelen was tangled in something deep.
And he was lying through his damn teeth.