The carriages rattled to a slow halt as the spires of Netharial rose beyond the hills. Sunset bled across the skyline, gilding pale-stone towers and slate rooftops in fiery gold and rose. Narrow streets wound like silver threads through the city, lined with lanterns of wrought iron and ivy-draped balconies. Minarets and domes shimmered with copper inlays, catching the dying light like distant fires.

  Music floated through the air—soft violin strains interlaced with the cheerful jingle of a tambourine. The sharp, sweet scent of caramelized almonds mingled with the buttery aroma of fresh brioche, weaving together with the tang of wine casks being rolled into cool cellars.

  Kaelen leaned over the carriage rail, eyes wide and sparkling. “Wow… this place is fancy! I never knew Netharial was this pretty,” he murmured. “Lys, what do you think?”

  Lys sat quietly, her gaze drinking in the rhythm of the city. Flowing skirts of local women, embroidered with intricate patterns, brushed past the deep blue coats of merchants. Children chased paper kites strung with tiny bells that jingled in the wind. A vendor held up a bundle of hand-dyed silks—scarves that shimmered like flowing water in shades of midnight blue and bright scarlet. Her fingers brushed a swatch of wool dangling from a nearby stall, soft as cloud-light, dyed a vibrant cobalt.

  It took a heartbeat before she spoke, her voice soft with wonder. “…Oh. Yeah. Pretty.”

  Her eyes caught on a baker’s stall where golden pastries cooled on wire racks. One particular crescent-shaped pastry, glazed and dusted with sugar, made her expression falter. A flicker of memory shadowed her features. Kaelen noticed her fixation and opened his mouth to ask, but a sudden ripple of stares froze him.

  A cluster of locals nearby muttered venomously under their breath. “Ugh… are those the so-called Dawnbreakers? Barbarians, the lot of them,” one spat.

  “How dare they dirty our kingdom with their blood and filth…” another hissed, eyes narrowed.

  Kaelen felt the back of his neck prickle. Lys’s shoulders stiffened beside him, the color draining slightly from her cheeks.

  A heavy presence drew their attention. Caelum stood at the head of the convoy, his weathered face calm yet commanding, unshaken beneath the city’s disdain. His voice carried like steady iron across the courtyard. “Our duty is not understood by everyone. But we must still bear it. Not everyone sees the truth,” he said, his gaze sweeping over them.

  He turned toward Kaelen and Lys, his tone firm but steady. “Hold your heads high. You are guardians of humanity. We may not be remembered for our mission… but we do it for the safety of others.”

  Kaelen straightened instinctively, a warmth of pride rising in his chest. Lys drew in a slow breath, her jaw setting in quiet determination. They echoed him almost in unison: “Yes, sir.”

  Night deepened as the convoy stopped before a weather-worn tavern. Its wooden sign, painted with a faded gryphon crest, swayed gently in the evening breeze. Inside, laughter and clinking mugs masked the tavern’s hidden depths.

  A trapdoor behind stacked barrels creaked open, revealing a staircase spiraling downward into a cooler cellar. The air was tinged with the scent of oak and faint spice from aging wine. Torches flared against the walls, illuminating a wide chamber carved into the rock, furnished with bunks, training dummies, and supply racks.

  Caelum strode to the center, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “We may have lost brothers and sisters, but this is the time to stand and fight. Let’s not let their sacrifice be in vain. We will end this war—once and for all.” He raised a fist. “For humanity!”

  A roar echoed back, bouncing off the stone walls. “FOR HUMANITY!”

  Then his voice sharpened. “Alright. We’ve got work to do. Beds, training halls, medical stations, meals—move your asses and get it done!”

  The chamber sprang to life. Dawnbreakers hauled planks, laid out bandages, stirred great pots over crackling fires. The air filled with a symphony of clanging tools, laughter, and muted curses.

  Later, in the kitchen area, Kaelen and Lys found themselves prepping vegetables. Lys diced onions with deft fingers, while Kaelen struggled to peel them, his eyes watering uncontrollably.

  “Kaelen… are you crying?” Lys asked, smirking without malice.

  “Shut it. It’s the onions, alright?” he mumbled, cheeks red.

  “Didn’t know onions make you so… sad,” she teased lightly.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Kaelen grunted, focusing stubbornly on his task. A voice called from across the cellar: “Can someone help me carry these boards?”

  Seizing the excuse, Kaelen straightened. “Me! I’ll help!” he announced, hurrying off. Verona chuckled as she watched him leave.

  “You teased him too much. Now he’s run off,” she said to Lys.

  “Oh, he’s a big boy. He can take it,” Lys replied with a faint smile.

  Verona tilted her head, smiling. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “Thanks, I guess. You thought I was just some brooding statue, didn’t you?” Lys countered.

  “Exactly. But you… you light up around him,” Verona said softly.

  Lys’s gaze softened. “He’s the first friend I made here. We’ve been through hell together. It’d be weird not to feel safe with him.”

  “Yeah. Luka’s like that for me,” Verona added quietly.

  Meanwhile, Luka and Kaelen balanced wooden boards down a corridor.

  “Hey… anything fun to do here? After everything, I need a breather,” Kaelen asked, adjusting his grip.

  “Oh, definitely,” Luka replied. “Explore the streets, and tonight—go to the Lantern Festival. They light lanterns for the dead, praying for safe passage. Verona and I are going.”

  “I won’t intrude. But… Lys might like that,” Kaelen said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  When chores were finally done and the cellar hummed with quieter activity, Kaelen approached Caelum. “Sir, permission to explore the city?”

  Caelum studied him for a long moment. “Take your weapons. The cult’s reach is everywhere. Be careful—and don’t cause trouble.”

  “Understood,” Kaelen replied, then turned to Lys with a grin. “Let’s go. We need a breather.”

  After a pause, Lys nodded softly. “Sounds… fun. Let’s.”

  Netharial by night pulsed with life. Warm lantern light spilled from ornate balconies, and gold-leafed signs swung gently over shop doors. They passed boutiques with glass-paneled windows displaying hand-stitched coats trimmed in velvet, jewelers arranging rings that captured the lamplight like tiny suns. A muralist knelt beside a half-finished fresco, hands smudged with cerulean and ochre, painting a celestial dragon winding through clouds. Children clustered nearby, whispering whether the dragon would breathe real fire when finished.

  A pottery stand displayed bowls glazed in deep greens and shimmering whites, patterns curling like vines. The potter spun a final flourish, then bowed graciously to passersby. Further down, a bakery pulled fresh loaves from stone ovens, steam curling upward with hints of rosemary and honey. Kaelen’s stomach growled audibly, and Lys gave a faint smile.

  A cluster of artisans displayed intricate music boxes and glass spheres filled with swirling, enchanted motes of light. A violinist played beside them, her bow painting quicksilver notes in the air as coins clinked softly into her open case.

  They turned a corner and found a vendor selling auren-infused charms—little pendants said to bring luck or ward off evil. Lys fingered one shaped like a leaf, its veins glowing faint green. Kaelen noticed, then slipped away briefly, returning moments later with a paper-wrapped pastry, still warm.

  “Hey… there’s a lantern festival tonight. They say you light one to guide your loved ones. Want to go?” he asked.

  “Sure, why not,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. And with that, they headed toward the lantern festival.

  They walked to the far side of the lake, away from the crowds, where the water lay still, ready to mirror the lanterns that would float across the sky. Lysera’s gaze lingered on the dark surface, her expression tinged with sorrow that Kaelen couldn’t ignore. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, and her hands fidgeted with the folds of her cloak.

  Kaelen noticed and reached into the paper bag he had kept at his side. He handed her the pastry he had bought earlier. Lysera blinked in surprise, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she accepted it. She held it for a moment, fingers brushing the paper lightly, caught between hesitation and gratitude.

  Kaelen watched her quietly, hoping for a small sign that the gesture had reached her, a quiet hope lingering in his eyes.

  Lys accepted the pastry, eyes glistening. “When did you—?”

  “When you were looking at the jewelry,” he said with a small grin.

  She bit into the pastry, closing her eyes. “My father used to buy me this. We came here every year… until he died. After that… my mother stopped bringing me. She joined the cult. They promised they could bring him back,” she whispered, voice trembling.

  “I should’ve tried harder for her. Now I have no one,” she admitted.

  Kaelen placed a firm, warm hand on her shoulder. “You have me. And Master Caelum.”

  Lys looked at him softly. “I know. I’m just… grateful for him. After my mother was sacrificed… I ran. I ended up outside a tavern, drenched in rain. Caelum found me.” She mimicked his deep voice with a sad smile. “‘Do you need help, child?’ he said. And I nodded. That’s how I became a Dawnbreaker.”

  Kaelen lowered his gaze, quiet. “Lys… I didn’t know. It’s okay. They’re in a better place now.”

  She gave a small, shaky breath. “I hope so. Aah… I’m getting sappy. Let’s light these lanterns.”

  They set their lanterns afloat. Flames caught and the lanterns drifted across the lake like freed constellations. Lys remembered her parents. Kaelen thought of his father. The moment felt almost sacred, until a subtle scrape reached Kaelen’s ear. His gaze flicked toward the dark edge of the lake. Figures moved in the shadows.

  A harsh voice cut through the night. “Boy. Give us the shard. No one has to get hurt.”

  Kaelen and Lys froze, turning to see silhouettes stepping from the darkness—mercenaries clad in leather harnesses bristling with strange brass-and-crystal weapons that hissed faint blue sparks.

  Lys’s eyes widened. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Kaelen… be careful. Those are aurenic weapons.”

  Kaelen’s jaw tightened. “Aurenic? Those are supposed to be rare… what are these people doing here?”

  Another mercenary lifted a crackling blade, voice cold and sharp. “You’ve got to the count of three. Hand over the shard… or bleed for it.”

  Kaelen’s hand went to his weapon. Lys lowered into a defensive stance, eyes scanning for the first move. Around them, the lanterns still floated peacefully—mocking the storm about to break.

  ? 2025 Damien Shard. All rights reserved. This story and all characters are original creations of the author. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution is prohibited.