Jealousy
There is no uglier emotion than it.
It drives people to madness—twisting even the kindest of souls.
Reason falters, control slips, and those closest to us suffer the wounds of our blindness. We forget the weight of consequence.
Yet envy is woven into our very nature.
To want is to be human.
Desire is instinct.
And it is this very instinct the wicked exploit. Blinded by greed, we stumble into their snares, like moths drawn to fire—burnt by the very light that once promised warmth.
And the people of this country were about to be burned.
The festival preparations filled the land with joy. Floral vines stretched from building to building, silver blossoms shimmering with dust like fallen stars. Ornaments of a lady bearing a vase upon her head, surrounded by blooming flowers, adorned the town. Children played and devoured sweets, while adults laughed and drank ale—oblivious to the distant shore, where evil crept closer.
It came not with sword or flame, but with sweetened words. Not as a warrior but as a wounded man, whose coated whispers bred jealousy and envy. And so, beneath the music and laughter, a shadow grew, and that shadow would soon devour Flos.
Remy and Chad followed the two girls the entire day.
Earlier, they had tried to speak with the people around them, but no one responded. It was as if they weren't really there—nothing more than shadows, phantoms neither here nor there.
"Come, Rosalina! It's beginning!" Ilex called, grabbing Rosalina's hand as they rushed toward the festival stands.
The square was packed. People stretched like an ocean as far as the eye could see; laughter and murmurs filled the air, a melody of life and joy.
"Can you see those?" Chad said, tapping Remy's shoulder.
Scattered throughout the streets were piles of stones—just like the ones they'd seen before. But these looked different. Unlike the dull grey ones from before, these were vibrant—blue, purple, yellow—each stone stacked neatly from smallest to largest.
"Yeah…" Remy replied, crouching beside one. "Can you feel that? They're emanating Mystic," he whispered.
"And that sound, can you hear it?" he continued. "it sounds like voices; it's like I can hear the hopes and prayers of this town… Their sorrow, their joy, their lives—it's all recorded in these stones."
Remy felt something stir within him, something familiar—like the feeling he'd had in the limbo state when awakening his Mystic. He wanted to study the stones more closely, but there was no time; the girls had already moved on, and at this point, he felt like she was the one to show him the true Flos.
They hurried to catch up, finally reaching their spot near the square and sitting down.
As soon as they did, a soft melody began to play.
A soft, steady rhythm began — the sound of drums, deep and deliberate. Then came the sharp cry of string instruments, echoing like a voice calling across the air. The tempo rose: one… two… three.It repeated again and again, filling the hearts of the people with joy as they swayed gently to the rhythm.
Then, dancers began to float toward the stage. They wore garments of woven flora that mimicked nature itself — petals, vines, and leaves glimmering under the starlight.
Their movements were light, almost ethereal, as they drifted gracefully through the air.
The crowd clapped along in unison, their hands becoming another instrument in the performance. Humans and fairies danced together—harmony in motion.
And as the dance continued, the stone structures would pulse brighter.
Suddenly, a performer wearing a fiery red outfit stepped forward. Flames burst to life around them. The crowd gasped and cheered, but no one panicked; it was all part of the act.
Then came a young boy, gliding through the air on threads of green. He commanded vines that reached toward the flames – but as they touched, the fire devoured them whole. The flames grew higher, burning brighter.
"Mommy, the fire is scary!" a small child cried.
"Don't worry, my son. Look—the water fairy will put it out," his mother said softly, comforting him.
Just as she spoke, another dancer appeared—cloaked in blue. She swirled her hands, summoning waves of water that cascaded toward the fire. But each wave evaporated before it could touch the flames. The fire roared, stronger than before.
"Ahhh!" the little boy screamed, hiding behind his mother.
"Come now, Aina, look!" she said again, pointing toward the stage.
This time, humans joined in — carrying buckets of water. Together, the fairies and humans fought the flame side by side. Finally, at last, the fire began to die down.
When the final ember vanished, the crowd erupted in cheers — and the little boy clapped the loudest of them all.
As the dancers cleared the stage, a broad-shouldered man stepped forward. His skin held an earthy tone, his hands were wide and strong, and his face carried a kind, gentle smile.
"Papa!" Ilex called out, waving excitedly.
The man's smile widened as he waved back to her. Then he turned to the crowd, his voice booming across the square.
"People of Flos!" he declared. "My heart rejoices to see you all once more! For generations, our two peoples have lived together — sharing this land and our lives with one another. And today marks the day when we share our gifts once again!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, their hands clapping in unison. The man stepped onto the platform, where a large vase rested upon a pedestal. He lifted it carefully and placed it upon his head.
Each step he took afterwards seemed heavier than the last, as though the weight of tradition itself pressed upon him.
"Now," he said, raising his voice once more, "all who have a wish to make—come forward with your wishing stones."
A hush fell over the square. Slowly, people began to step forward—a few dozen in total. Though the festival was open to everyone, only those who were eighteen and unwed were permitted to make a wish.
Each person carried a small, polished stone in their hands. One by one, they approached the man, whispered their wishes, and dropped the stones into the vase.
With every stone that entered, the man swayed slightly under its growing weight. The faint hum of mystic energy filled the air, resonating through the crowd like the sound of a heartbeat.
Finally, Rosalina stepped forward. Her hands trembled faintly as she held her stone close to her chest.
"I wish for the happiness of everyone here," she whispered, placing her wish into the vase.
The vase shimmered faintly—as Ilex's father seemed to lose quite a bit of strength.
"And so it is—may all your gifts be as beautiful and grand as you are," Ilex spoke, still balancing the vase atop his head. It began to shake violently as golden symbols formed along its surface.
A stone shot out and landed on one of the villagers, glowing a soft blue. Another followed, then another—until one drifted gently toward Rosalina. This one, however, was peculiar; its colours kept shifting, unable to settle on a single hue.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as awe replaced silence. The festival's melody resumed, laughter rising once more—
"Help!... Help—me!"
The peace shattered like glass as a feminine cry tore through the air.