Northward, early afternoon.

  Solara stepped out of Waller Forge — Blades & Worksteel empty?handed, a claim ticket tucked into her pocket, muttering to herself. “A hundred kilos. One hundred. And they’re making me come back in two hours for the customization—two. If that idiot chips it after I wait, I swear to the stars I’ll—” She caught her reflection in a shopfront and let a slow, villainous smile bloom. “—I’ll cut that stupid ponytail. Yeah. No more chaos trash.”

  She clasped her hands, pleased. “So many rules. It’s going to be heaven. Suck it, Keira—you’re doing laps for a month.”

  The plaza opened ahead—wide, busy, a tall platform built dead center like a dare. Solara’s eyes moved over its braced legs, the tether lines, the neat perimeter of guards.

  “And he thinks this is going to be easy.” She exhaled. “If they captured one of those emerald things, someone here’s on our level.” A beat, softer—almost a complaint. “I hope he isn’t right again… with that dumb grin. I hate it.”

  She checked the clock face over the map. “Two and a half hours until the show.” South was Caelan, Takeshi, and a bar. North was a little teacup icon.

  “I did say I’d join him, but… the tea shop is north.” She traced the map with a fingertip. “Garden?” The word sat there like permission. “Sorry, Cael, I love you, but… Solara time is an order, I think.” She corrected herself, prim. “No—Lieutenant Solara time. Much better.”

  —

  Garden Court.

  The city hushed the moment she stepped through the archway. Buildings formed a square around a pocket of green: beds of flowers, a narrow path of pale stone, and at the center, a strange tree whose trunk seemed to spiral around itself, corkscrewing upward until its crown lifted above the roofs. Leaves filtered the light into calm, breathing shade.

  “Please, please, please,” Solara whispered. “Oh, goddess, don’t let Keira find this place.”

  She slid the claim ticket deeper into her pocket, lay back on the grass beneath the tree, and stared up through the leaves. The shade moved like water over her face.

  “God damn it, Caelan,” she muttered. “Why did you have to point out that there isn’t actually a star in the sky?” She huffed. “Five minutes won’t hurt.”

  The quiet took her.

  —

  The dream.

  She lay on her side in a space without edges. Around her drifted glowing marbles, slow as lantern fish, colors deepening and fading as they circled. A single drop of water fell—plink—somewhere behind her. Another, louder. A third, heavy enough that the air seemed to shiver.

  By the ninth drop, the marbles began to powder, crumbling to pale dust that streamed away from her in thin ribbons. Solara lunged toward them, mouth open, screaming, but no sound came.

  Light gathered under her skin—first a thread, then a flood. It spilled out in a widening halo. Wherever it touched the drifting dust, the marbles re?formed—bright, whole, wheeling back into their paths. The light grew, surged, and the marbles converged, a slow, tidal drift toward her until their glow became one, hanging in front of her like a small sun.

  A flash washed the scene white. When it cleared, her sword stood point?down in the ground beside her. A white?haired woman turned away, her footfalls soundless.

  “This is neither a gift nor a curse,” the woman said without looking back. “This is who you were born as. Live the life you wish—even if reality fights it. Keep going, my beloved sister.”

  —

  Solara jerked awake and sat up—and bonked foreheads with someone leaning over her.

  “Ow—what in the stars—” the stranger yelped, staggering back, rubbing her brow. “What was that for? Your forehead is massive.”

  Solara’s retort died on her tongue. The girl was slight, fine?boned, with white hair that fell in a clean sheet to her shoulders. For a heartbeat, the afterimage of the dream overlapped the living face.

  “Wait,” Solara said slowly. “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t know?” the girl said, tilting her head. “Maybe? You were still half?asleep when we woke up here. Sorry, I didn’t stick around.”

  Solara’s eyes widened. “Are you… actually…?”

  The girl brightened and held out a hand as if they were old neighbors. “Oh—right. I never told you my name. My bad. I’m awful about forgetting things.” A quick, lopsided smile. “Elyria Fallden. Nice to finally meet you—while you’re awake, I mean.” She laughed, soft and unforced.

  Sunlight broke the canopy in narrow, golden shafts, laying leaf shadows across Elyria’s cheeks. Dust motes drifted, turning in the beams like slow snow. For the first time since the plaza, Solara felt the tightness in her chest loosen.

  South Gate — beer garden.

  The guards were three rounds past sober. Caelan and Takeshi had them howling.

  “I swear,” Caelan said, sloshing his bottle, “he opens the door, shuts it like it’s nothing, and—boom—next thing he’s out the window without a word.”

  Takeshi snorted. “No. I told you what happened. You and your mini-me were too busy betting who’d do the dumbest thing this time.”

  “It wasn’t that,” Caelan protested. “It was when twenty of those wolf things barreled out the same door, and you started sprinting down the street.”

  Takeshi slammed his drink down. “I wasn’t running. And besides, you came out alive.”

  Bob, the head guard, hammered Takeshi’s back. “You’re just like Kip was on his first night shift. I kid you not—panic everywhere.” Laughter rolled around the table.

  Kip raised his hands, wounded. “Not my fault! First night in years!”

  Caelan pointed at him, wheezing. “That’s exactly what Takeshi would say.”

  “Screw you, Captain,” Takeshi said, grinning. “Get another round in.”

  “Sound.” Caelan stood, eyeing the thing Takeshi was fiddling with. “And for the love of god, put whatever that is away.”

  “You’ll want it next time you mess up,” Takeshi called after him.

  At the bar, Caelan leaned on the counter. “Another round for me and the south-gate boys.”

  The barkeep stacked glasses onto a tray. “That’s one kilo. Anything else? We will be closing soon for the event.”

  “You do a carry-out?”

  The barkeep glanced at the heap. “You sure? That’s enough to get fifty people wasted.”

  “Great.” Caelan dumped a stack of bars onto the scale. “Sort the rest for takeaway. I’ll grab it later.”

  “It’s fine. Here’s an extra kilo for the service.” Caelan lifted the tray.

  “Don’t look now,” the barkeep murmured, eyes past Caelan’s shoulder, “but I think your friend has the attention of Commander Dask’s men.”

  Caelan sighed, turned, and saw four knights in heavy, almost ceremonial plate crossing the garden. “Cosplayers,” he muttered. “Let’s push a few buttons, see what opens.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  One of the men jabbed a finger at the table. “The event is about to start. And you’re all sitting here drunk with this weird little man?”

  Takeshi scoffed. “Says the one with a cape. Your mum made that?”

  The knight reached to grab him.

  Caelan “stumbled,” shouldered into the man, and breezed past him like he wasn’t there, setting drinks in front of the guards. The table went quiet with horror.

  “Uh, Captain—” Bob started, pointing.

  Too late. The knight hooked Caelan from behind and flipped him. Caelan hit the stones; in a blink, the man had a knee on his forearms and a hand at his throat. Beer arced and rained.

  “Ow—that’s my bad arm, asshole,” Caelan coughed. “What’s the big deal? We’re having a quiet drink.”

  “Captain, I wouldn’t—” Bob warned.

  The knight leaned close, breath cold on Caelan’s face. “Captain, is it? You come from the northern front?”

  Caelan, somehow still holding a glass, took a sip. “Very common name, or so I’ve heard.”

  “There’s no need—he’s just been—” Bob tried again.

  The knight’s grip tightened. “I am Vice Commander Karvek, second to the great Ravon Dask. Either you haven’t heard of him—which I doubt—or you’re stupid. Either way—” His eye twitched as Caelan took another sip. “Will you stop drinking?”

  “Damn, Takeshi,” Caelan rasped through the choke, giggling. “You think this is what a night with Solara’s like?”

  “I don’t know,” Takeshi said, deadpan. “Why don’t you tell us, Captain?”

  Another laugh from Caelan. Karvek’s hand slid toward his knife—

  A bang cracked the air, not far outside the south gate. The conversation across the street died. Karvek released Caelan and stood, turning to Bob.

  “Well?” Karvek snapped. “You just going to sit there?”

  Bob sprang up. “Right—everyone back to work! Close the gate, form up—move!”

  “Make sure this doesn’t interrupt the event,” Karvek barked. “This is a great day for the Hero of Virelith. Commander Dask will personally deal with anyone caught slacking.”

  He looked down at Caelan, who was lying on the flagstones sipping his beer. “Don’t let me see your face around here again, or we’ll have a problem. Do you hear me?”

  A second bang rolled in from the south.

  “Call for backup!” Bob yelled. “Whatever it is, it’s heading this way!”

  The garden emptied in a clatter of armor and orders, leaving Caelan and Takeshi alone among the glasses.

  “You know you could’ve—” Takeshi began.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Caelan said, sitting up. “Just wanted to check something.”

  Takeshi lifted his bottle. “Bottoms up, then. And don’t forget your promise—Solara will beat you.”

  “Pfft. Don’t worry about her,” Caelan waved. “She enjoys it, really. And look—all these drinks for us.” He glanced at the gate, then the tray. “Still got a bit of time. Might as well.”

  They clinked bottles.

  North District — streets & tea shop.

  “…no, no, no—I meant it more like, ‘yo, sista,’ you know?” Elyria chirped, walking backward, hands animated.

  Solara raised one eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

  “And honestly, I’m really, really not a people person,” Elyria barreled on. “Like, party bathroom? I’m the one hiding in there. But you seem nice. Also, how do your eyes sparkle? Can you teach me? It’s super cute. Have you been here before? I haven’t had tea in ages. What kind do you like? Do you do it often? Are you a night person or a morning person? Do you brush your hair every day?”

  Solara stopped dead, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You two are going to be a pain when you meet. I can already tell.”

  “Who’s ‘you two’? Do you have followers, Solara?” Elyria asked, all sunshine.

  “We’re here,” Solara said instead. “Get whatever you like. I’m buying.” She held the door and tipped out a small chair for Elyria. Elyria shrugged off her light jacket and draped it over the chair before sitting.

  Elyria glanced around the snug storefront. “It’s so cute. I wonder when they built it. First time here or—wait, oh my goddess, shut up, don’t tell me—do you have a boyfriend? Is that who you mean?”

  Mid-sit, Solara froze. “Boyfriend? He wishes. Idiot is reckless and runs headfirst into every problem. But he’s a nice idiot.” A tiny smile. “And I wouldn’t swap him for anyone else, if you get what I mean.”

  A server appeared with a menu. “Hi! I’m Marin. Welcome to the Spiral Leaf Tea House. Are you looking for anything special today? We do have a deal—two high teas for 2 kg—with leaves spawned fresh this morning.”

  “Hi, I’m Elyria,” Elyria said brightly. “Do you have beer?”

  Marin blinked. “Uh… no, sorry. The south side is more than that sort of thing.”

  Solara exhaled to the ceiling. “Goddess, give me strength. We’ll take two high teas, thank you.”

  Marin smiled. “Lovely. I’ll put that right in.” She slipped away.

  Elyria leaned across the little table, whispering, “So… about the sparkling eyes—lesson one after tea?” Solara only side-eyed her, which somehow made Elyria grin wider.

  Elyria tilted her head, chin in her hands. “So… tell me about your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend and—”

  A shadow fell across their tiny table. A man in the same heavy plate the south-gate knights wore set his gauntlet on the back of Elyria’s chair. “Excuse me, ladies. A reminder: the event begins in one hour. Please make your way to witness history. A great day for the Aurex–Dask alliance.”

  He paused, eyes snagging on Solara.

  Elyria leaned closer, cheerfully unbothered. “Hi! I’m Elyria. Nice to meet you.”

  The knight’s hand hovered, as if to touch her hair. “Well, aren’t you—”

  “Now, ladies, I’m so sorry, but—” Marin backed through the doorway with a tray, bumped the knight, and a pot of scalding tea sluiced over his breastplate.

  “You little—” He cocked his arm to strike.

  Solara was already standing. She caught his wrist, snapped it down, palmed the back of his head into the wall, then bounced his face off the table—wood split with a crack—and rode him to the ground. Her heel pinned his throat; her other hand twisted his arm until the gauntlet creaked.

  The two knights flanking him lurched forward—one with an axe, the other shouldering an assault rifle. Solara didn’t flinch. She lifted nothing but intent: chin tipped, eyes gone hard and bright, every line of her body promising harm.

  “Move,” she said, “and find out.”

  “You’re making a massive mistake, lady,” the axeman growled.

  “We serve Ravon Dask,” the rifleman added.

  Solara’s smile went wide and unfriendly. “Am I supposed to care?”

  A new voice cut in behind them, amused. “I see we’ve found a firecracker. Why can’t any of you manage that kind of spirit?”

  A taller figure stepped through the doorway: same plate, but layered in dark cloaks, insignia catching the light. He spread his hands, palms open, and kept walking until the tip of Solara’s glare met him.

  “Please accept my apologies for my men,” he said smoothly. “Their behavior is deplorable. I’ll see to it personally that it never happens again.”

  “Uh-huh?” Solara said, not moving her boot.

  “I’m afraid I never caught your name.” He bowed slightly. “I’m Ravon Dask—commander of these men. Slayer of the White Beast, captor of the Red Monster. A pleasure.”

  RAVON DASK

  Future Title: Fifth Immortal Emperor

  Post-War Followers: 12,862

  Known As: “Thorn of the Revolution,” “The Butcher,” “Whaa-Whaa Dask” (Caelan; hated)

  Solara removed her heel from the knight’s throat and shoved him into Ravon’s waiting arms. “That’s nice for you. Pay the girl for the table, and leave us alone.”

  Ravon glanced down at the man, lip curling. “Embarrassing.” He let the knight drop and looked back at Solara—eyes never quite blinking. “Of course, my lady. And might I say—those are some of the most extraordinary eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you?” Solara said flatly. She turned, already reaching for Elyria’s hand. “And now, if you don’t mind—”

  She froze, eyes narrowing toward the plaza. “Curse the stars. Come on, Elyria. I have something to pick up.”

  Elyria popped up, waving brightly at the armored men. “Bye! Nice to meet you all!”

  Solara tugged her away, muttering, “Damn the goddess—you two were made for each other. I guess he’s getting two presents today.”

  “Oh! Do you mean your boyfriend?” Elyria asked, skipping to keep up.

  “NOT MY BOYFRIEND!”

  Elyria giggled, delighted.

  —

  Waller Forge — Blades & Worksteel, later. They stepped out into the light together—Solara with a long cloth?wrapped weapon tucked under one arm, Elyria springing along at her shoulder.

  “—So what’s your favorite flower? Do you sleep on your left or your right? How many times do you eat a day? Have you thought about short hair? I have, but what if it gets cold and I don’t have a scarf? Do you like scarves, Solara?”

  Solara stopped, deadpan. “Elyria?”

  Elyria beamed. “Yes, Solara?”

  “A tip for the future,” Solara said sweetly. “When you ask a question, maybe—just maybe—give people a second to answer.”

  Elyria froze, quietly muttered. “Oh. Right. Um… Solara, I have a small problem. Can I ask a favor?”

  “See? Perfect.” Solara’s mouth twitched. “Yes, Elyria. How can I help?”

  “I… forgot my jacket.”

  Solara closed her eyes, counted to three. “You two will be the perfect disaster together.” She shifted the wrapped blade and took Elyria’s hand. “Fine. Let’s go. And after that, we find my friends. Whatever’s going on here, they tend to act first and think later.”

  Elyria brightened. “So how many followers do you have, Solara?”

  “Oh, I’m a follower, too.” Solara smiled to herself. “We call him ‘Captain’—a dumb nickname, but he’s trying to make it mean something. Just wait—”

  Elyria stopped in the street like she’d hit a wall. “What… what do you mean you’re a follower?” Her voice thinned. “This can’t be.”

  “Don’t worry,” Solara said lightly. “We have an arrangement.”

  Elyria looked up at her, eyes gone sharp and unblinking. “And we’re going to meet him? When?”

  “What’s got you so worked up?” Solara asked. She pointed toward a narrow side street. “It’s this way to the tea shop—Elyria?”

  Elyria stared past her toward the heart of the city. “Forget the jacket. Let’s see if he’s over there. Or do you know exactly where you’re meeting him?”

  Solara blinked at the shift, then shrugged. “Fine. We’ll go find him. He won’t be hard to spot.”

  —

  North Plaza — outer ring. The crowd had swollen into a living wall. Banners snapped. On the dais, Aurex droned through a speech that oiled its way over the stones.

  “Short. Horrible jacket. Dumb ponytail,” Solara murmured, scanning faces.

  “There are too many people,” Elyria hissed. “I can’t—will that idiot shut up?”

  “Can you see him?” Elyria asked.

  The answer came as a bang from the execution deck. A man cartwheeled off the platform and smashed through the arch of the north entrance. Laughter—wild, unmistakable—peeled across the plaza like torn silk.

  Solara sighed. “Found him. Told you he does idiotic—Elyria?”

  She looked down. Elyria had folded in on herself at Solara’s feet, arms wrapped tight, rocking. Her face had gone chalk?white.

  “Elyria?” Solara dropped to a knee. “Hey—are you all right?”

  “No, no, no…” Elyria’s eyes were fixed on nothing. “It’s impossible. It’s outright impossible. How can he be here? Have I failed?”

  The crowd roared. The laugh carried. Solara’s hand hovered, uncertain, and then she set it, firm and steady, on Elyria’s shoulder.