Chapter 27 - Gunpowder

  Calamity rarely announces itself, it comes when the world is most certain it is safe.

  ***

  The three of them wandered through the now darkened halls of the castle, the echoes of the ball still faintly reverberating through the stone. Laughter and music were muffled by distance, leaving only the soft rhythm of their footsteps to fill the silence.

  Ryn glanced at Lilia, his voice low but edged with curiosity.

  “So… where exactly are we going?”

  Lilia’s hand flew to the back of her neck, her cheeks warming as she gave a sheepish laugh.

  “I–I didn’t think that far ahead…”

  Ariel, trailing just a step behind, let out a quiet sigh. She moved past them both with a decisive swish of her skirts.

  “Follow me.”

  Following their princess's order, they trailed after her.

  He soon realized where Ariel was leading them; it was the same tower where he and Lilia had shared lunch earlier that day. Why they were returning, he couldn’t guess.

  They wound their way through the hushed corridors until the stairwell opened before them, its white stone steps spiraling upward. The climb was steady, each turn pulling them higher and higher into the dark.

  Through it all, Ryn found himself almost surprised at how smoothly things had gone. He’d braced for assassination attempts, but it seemed that had only been Solvara’s paranoia. The thought brought a small, fleeting relief.

  A faint glow touched Ryn’s vision as they ascended, though he couldn’t place its source. Step by step, the light grew stronger, seeping down the stairwell until it seemed to guide them forward.

  And then, suddenly, he emerged into brilliance.

  Hundreds, no, thousands, of lanterns floated across the heavens, their flames swaying gently within fragile shells of paper. They rose in slow tides, drifting higher and higher until they mingled with the stars, smearing the sky in strokes of molten gold.

  Above them all, the scarred moon hung vast and broken, its golden veins gleaming softly, as if answering the lanterns below.

  The castle rooftops below were bathed in their glow, the whole city of Solvara shimmering like it was lit from within. The wind carried faint whispers of the crowd far below, but here, at the tower’s edge, the sound was swallowed by the quiet vastness of the night.

  Ariel stood with her hands resting lightly on the stone railing, her face illuminated in amber. Lilia stepped closer, her eyes wide and shining, a small breath escaping her lips.

  Ryn could only stand still, his chest tight, as though any sudden movement might shatter the fragile wonder stretched out before them.

  For a long moment, none of them spoke.

  Lilia pressed her tray against her chest, eyes wide, lips parted. For a long time, she simply stared, unable to tear herself from the sight. The lanterns swayed like living stars, each one drifting higher into the velvet dark.

  “It’s… so beautiful,” she whispered at last, the words slipping out like a prayer. “I’ve never… I’ve never gotten to experience it like this.”

  Her voice trembled, as though saying it aloud might make the vision vanish.

  Ariel didn’t look at her immediately. She kept her gaze fixed on the sky, the lanternlight flickering across her face like golden brushstrokes. Only after a moment did she nod, slow and deliberate, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “It is.”

  Lilia turned toward her, still dazzled, her eyes searching Ariel’s profile as though the princess herself was part of the spectacle. Ariel, still watching the horizon, lifted a hand and reached out, letting the light wash over her fingers, her nod deepening into something more certain.

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  It was then that Ryn tilted his head back. Not in wonder, not like them. His eyes locked onto the drifting lights, following them with a steady, unblinking focus that was almost unnatural. He didn’t sigh or smile, didn’t whisper anything reverent. He simply stared upward, as though trying to trace where each lantern went, as if expecting to see something hidden within the sky itself.

  For a moment, the light painted him in gold, softening his sharp features. But his stillness was too deliberate, his gaze too intent.

  Lilia glanced at him once, half-ready to laugh at how stiff he looked, then thought better of it. Something about the way he watched, so utterly fixed, made her hesitate.

  Then it happened.

  A sharp, ear-piercing crack split the night, shattering the silence. Lilia flinched, nearly dropping her tray, and Ariel’s head snapped upward.

  An explosion bloomed across the sky. Not fire, not lanterns, something brighter, louder, wilder. A blossom of red and gold burst apart above them, raining sparks that fizzled out into the night.

  “Fireworks…” Ariel whispered, her voice almost lost beneath the next thunderclap of light.

  They weren’t something Solvara came by often, an indulgence their isolation rarely allowed. She had only seen them once before, long ago, when she was still a child and her mother had been alive to hold her hand beneath the sky. The memory pressed at her chest, fragile and vivid all at once.

  One after another, the sky ignited. Greens, silvers, purples, colors that made the drifting lanterns look suddenly small, swallowed in a storm of fire and brilliance. The night itself seemed to roar, each blast painting their faces in shifting hues.

  For a moment, all three simply stood there, bathed in the glow, the castle towers behind them dwarfed by the spectacle unfurling overhead.

  “For once… it feels peaceful,” Ariel murmured, her eyes half-lidded, as if afraid the moment would vanish if she blinked too long. “Like the whole world stopped to breathe with us.”

  Ryn walked a step behind her, his shadow stretched long across the tower floor. He kept silent, but his eyes never left her or the sky above her head.

  At Ariel’s side, Lilia pressed her hands together at her tray, unable to hide the joy brimming in her chest. The colors of the fireworks danced in her wide eyes, every burst reflected like a hundred tiny suns. She had seen Ariel strained and tired through the entire festival, but here, here was a flicker of something different, something brighter. That, to Lilia, was worth everything.

  Meanwhile, back in the grand hall, the music had softened, the evening's frenzy fading into a gentle murmur. Nobles lingered over their wine, laughter rising and falling like distant waves. The disappearance of the princess had gone unnoticed, masked by the rhythm of festivity.

  At the heart of it, two kings stood side by side, goblets raised high beneath the chandeliers. Their voices rang out as one, filling the hall with certainty.

  “TO PEACE!”

  Crystal clashed, the sound sharp as steel striking stone. Cheers followed, echoing through the vaulted chamber, bright and full of promise.

  Outside the castle, the streets of Solvara had grown quieter. The festival’s roar had softened into scattered laughter, clusters of families and lovers tilting their heads skyward. The fireworks claimed all eyes, bursts of hot fire painting the night with fleeting brilliance.

  Through the thinning crowd, a white cat padded silently, weaving between forgotten lanterns and overturned cups. Its pale fur caught the flashes of color, eyes reflecting the sparks like twin mirrors. It stopped in the center of the street, gaze fixed upward, unblinking.

  Then the sky cracked again. A firework tore open above the city, a bloom of crimson burning against the darkness.

  The three of them stood there, the knight, the princess, and her maid, bathed in its glow.

  Another streak shot upward. Higher, and higher still. Too high.

  Ryn’s chest tightened. The unease was instant, primal.

  It didn’t burst.

  The streak of light hung in the sky, a lone firework, suspended like a false star.

  It didn’t explode. It fell.

  A trail of fire followed it downward, streaking across the rooftops. The lanterns swayed violently in the wind, their glow flickering against the approaching inferno.

  A building shuddered beneath the impact. Stone cracked, timbers splintered, and a burst of flames leapt into the night. Sparks rained onto the streets below.

  Lilia’s tray clattered to the ground as she staggered back, eyes wide. Ariel’s hand flew to her mouth, her breath hitching as the princess’s skirts whipped around her in the sudden gusts of heat.

  Ryn moved instinctively, one hand reaching toward Ariel, the other toward Lilia. He didn’t speak; he didn’t need to. His gaze swept the rooftops.

  Another explosion tore through the city, this one closer, louder. Windows shattered in a cascade of crystal fragments, and the streets below erupted into chaos. Screams split the night, echoing off the walls of the castle. Lanterns tumbled, bursting in showers of embers.

  In the ballroom, after the words of the two kings, the crowd cheered, the music swelled, at least until the floor trembled.

  A low, distant boom rolled through the hall, rattling chandeliers, silencing the strings.

  The cheer died in their throats. Nobles turned, uncertain, searching. Servants froze mid-step.

  And then, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of screaming.