The cold midnight air bit through Aiven’s shirt as they touched down on a slanted rooftop overlooking the residential district. Below them, the gas lamps of Lowhaven flickered like dying embers.

  Aiven looked over the space that had defined his life for years, every corner heavy with familiarity. They couldn’t stay—not anymore.

  “If we’re going to survive out there,” he murmured, “we’ll need more than just the clothes on our backs.”

  Aiven thought of the silvers and the single gold coin he earned from previous quests; he always put the earnings in a pouch inside the drawer. “We may need to go back to my place, provided they have not looted the place yet.”

  ?Virelle drifted beside him, her hair shimmering under the moonlight. She looked toward the direction of his small, cramped flat. "A risky venture, Master. The tin-clad lapdogs are likely scouring every corner of this district by now. However, if they do decide to 'bust in' while we are retrieving your baubles, I can simply blast them all into the next island. It would save us the trouble of a chase." ?

  Aiven looked at her, his expression weary. "Virelle, we’ve talked about this. Do you actually want us to become mass murderers? Once we spill the blood of the City Guard, there’s no coming back. Ever."

  ?Virelle pouted, her sleeves fluttering. "You are so terribly preoccupied with the longevity of your enemies, Master. It’s quite a boring trait." She tapped her chin. "Fine. If you insist on this 'pacifist' narrative, I have another solution. Why walk through the front door like a commoner when I can simply teleport us directly into your room? No soldiers, no drama, no blood on your precious floorboards." ?

  Aiven blinked, genuinely taken aback. "I’m actually surprised you could think of such a peaceful idea." ?

  Virelle’s eyes widened, and a radiant, overjoyed smile broke across her face. She spun in a slow, graceful circle in the air. "Oh? Did you hear that, orb? Master is praising my tactical restraint! He finally recognizes the genius of my versatility!" ?

  "I didn't exactly mean it as a—" Aiven started, but he was cut off as Virelle grabbed his hand.

  ?"Hush, Master! Enjoy the moment!" ?With a sharp snap of her fingers, the rooftop vanished. The sensation of being squeezed through a needle-eye passed in a heartbeat, and suddenly, the smell of soot and wind was replaced by the familiar, dusty scent of old paper and cheap wax. ?They were in his apartment. It was small, dark, and felt strangely like a museum of a life he no longer lived. ?

  "Virelle," Aiven whispered urgently. "Cast anti-sound magic. Just in case there are guards in the hallway." ?Virelle waved a hand dismissively, and a faint, shimmering veil of lavender light settled over the room, muffling the world outside. "Done. Not even a mouse’s sneeze will escape this room, Master. You may proceed with your looting." ?

  Aiven had the absurd thought that sneaking through his own apartment like a thief technically still counted as looting.

  He moved quickly. He pulled a worn leather backpack from under his bed and began stuffing it with essentials. He reached into the hidden compartment of his desk, pulling out a small velvet pouch. Inside, the single gold coin he had been saving felt like a lead weight. He added the silvers, his identification papers, and a few changes of sturdy clothes. ?

  As he was about to cinch the bag shut, his gaze drifted to the bottom drawer of the nightstand. He paused, his hand hovering over the handle. Slowly, he opened it. ?Resting on a pile of old ledgers was a nicked, plain short sword he had stored before he got a new one which was broken by the four-armed kobold.

  It was chipped and lacked any enchantment, a far cry from the Armvil Mark 3. ?Aiven stared at it for a few seconds, the memories of his life as a simple clerk clashing with the fugitive he had become. ?

  "You should take it," Virelle said softly. She was floating just behind him, her usual arrogance replaced by a quiet, perceptive gaze. ?

  Aiven looked at her, then back at the blade. It wasn't powerful, and it wouldn't save him from a vampire. But it was his. It was the only thing in this room that represented the choice he had made to step out of the shadows. ?

  He reached down, gripped the hilt, and slid the short sword into the side of his backpack.

  "Yeah," Aiven whispered. "I guess I should." ?He stood up, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

  He took one last look at the room—the desk where he'd written reports, the bed where he'd dreamed of a quiet life, and the girl he still hoped to see, somehow.

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  Then turned to Virelle. ?"Let's go," he said. "Before the sun comes up."

  "Teleport us out of here, Virelle. Get us into the air, as high and as far as you can. We need to clear the city's immediate detection range."

  ?Virelle drifted closer, her eyes glowing with a soft intensity. She didn't snap her fingers immediately. Instead, she reached out and offered both of her slender, porcelain hands. "Then you must grab hold of me, Master. Grab my hands as hard as you can. I would hate for the sudden shift in momentum to leave you falling toward the cobblestones."

  ?Aiven didn't hesitate. He reached out and gripped her hands. Her skin was cool, but the mana humming beneath the surface felt like a hidden hearth. He tightened his grip, nodding once.

  ?In a heartbeat, the dusty walls of the apartment folded into a blur of lavender light. The air pressure spiked, making Aiven’s ears pop, and suddenly the smell of old paper was replaced by the freezing, thin air. Virelle was suspended perfectly in the air, using both of her arms to hold the dangling Aiven securely.

  ?"Where to, Master?" Virelle asked, her hair whipping around them like a silken storm. "The world is vast, and I find the current scenery of your 'home' rather lacking now that they’ve decided to hunt us."

  ?Aiven adjusted his grip on her hands, his legs kicking slightly in the empty air. "Lowhaven is no longer safe. If the government has labeled us as threats, they’ll have the portals and the main docks watched. We should head to a neighboring island—one still within regular flight distance. If we push it, we can probably reach Fangreach in about two hours by regular flight. It’s small enough to hide in, but big enough to get lost."

  ?Virelle’s smirk returned, playful and arrogant. "Two hours? That distance is not a problem for me. I could carry you across the entire archipelago if it meant keeping you from their reach."

  ?Aiven looked up at her. She was holding him firmly, her face inches from his, but he could see the slight strain of maintaining such a physical hold while flying against the wind. "Virelle... can you do something else? You shouldn't have to keep holding me like this for two hours. It looks tiring, and if something happens..."

  ?Virelle’s expression shifted, her usual theatrical confidence flickering. "I could," she began, her voice dropping into a small, uncharacteristic whisper.

  ?"...you seem like you could do something more effective, but hesitating," Aiven asked, concerned.

  ?Virelle looked away, a faint lavender tint touching her cheeks. "W-well, if I cast a flight-veil... I would lose the warmth of my Master's hands."

  ?Aiven felt a sudden, sharp heat rise to his face. He coughed, looking down at the void beneath his boots to hide his blush. He took a breath, recovering his composure as a gust of wind nearly knocked them off balance. "Virelle, I... I appreciate that. But if we fly like this, it would be hard for both of us to react if we're attacked. We need to be ready."

  ?Virelle sighed, the sound of her disappointment lingering in the air. "You are terribly practical, Master. It is one of your most frustrating qualities."

  ?She obliged, nonetheless. With a soft hum of mana, she surrounded Aiven with a translucent purple veil. The weight of his body suddenly vanished, and he found himself floating on a sort of magical autopilot, drifting effortlessly beside her as if tethered by an invisible string.

  ?Aiven watched her as they began to move, marveling at the ease with which she commanded the elements. She really is like a living miracle, he thought. How could a clerk ever hope to keep up with someone who treats the laws of physics like suggestions?

  ?But as the lights of Lowhaven faded behind them, a new worry emerged. "Virelle, wait. The government patrol air-hovers... those floating bikes. They have mana-sensors. If a patrol catches us out here in the open sky, we're sitting ducks."

  ?Virelle didn't even look back. She simply snapped her fingers.

  ?Nothing seemed to happen at first, but Aiven noticed the stars through his purple veil suddenly shimmered and distorted. "There," she said, her voice regaining its smug tone. "We are now covered in camouflage veils. To anyone else, we are nothing more than a trick of the moonlight. No one shall be able to see us unless I wish for it."

  ?Aiven let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "That’s…impressive.”

  ?"It is only natural," Virelle said, tossing her hair back with a dramatic flair. "I am a Scion of the Arcane. I can do anything, after all."

  ?As they settled into the long flight, Aiven occasionally pointed out the constellations to guide their direction. The silence of the night was heavy, broken only by the whistling wind. Suddenly, Virelle spoke again, her voice quiet.

  ?"Master...umm, I would like to apologize."

  ?Aiven had a hunch why. He looked at her silver profile against the stars. She was likely thinking that her presence was the reason he had to lose his home.

  ?"It's okay, Virelle," Aiven said firmly. "Don't apologize. This was my choice. I need to get to the bottom of what happened at Hearthport. Hiding away or betraying you... that would make me the villain of my own story." He looked her in the eye, his muted gray-brown eyes showing a rare, steady strength. "Moreover, I trust you. I know you'll protect me all the way."

  ?Virelle’s eyes shimmered, and for a moment, the arrogance was gone, replaced by a look of sincere, profound joy. She reached out, her fingers grazing the edge of his purple veil. "Then I vow it, Master. I will protect you with everything I have. The stars themselves will fall before I allow a single hair on your head to be harmed."

  ?The two engaged in quiet talk for the next hour, sharing observations about the passing clouds and the bioluminescent birds that occasionally darted through the sky. Slowly, the darkness of the open sea began to break.

  ?On the horizon, bathed in the faint, pre-dawn light, the jagged silhouette of a new island began to rise from the mist.