THWACK!

  An arrow pierced the chainmail target.

  Amiri plucked another shaft from the quiver on the ground and drew his bow again.

  "Too slow!" a voice cut in.

  "How many arrows can you hold?"

  Before Amiri could answer, a figure in the shadows held out a handful of arrows.

  "Grabbing them one by one wastes time."

  "Hold them in your hand, and learn to shoot with both!"

  Amiri clenched several arrows between his fingers and loosed them like a rain of steel.

  His hands began to go numb, blood seeping from his fingertips, yet the sound of the wind never ceased.

  “Did you read the Morning Bell today? The Princess of Carista has gone missing.”

  “Bad news after bad news. The King of Kyros was almost assassinated.”

  “I couldn’t care less! If Pinnacle wins one more race, that’ll make it a Thalon Triple Crown!”

  The snip of scissors blended with the hum of voices, carried through the air thick with the sweet scent of honey and vanilla.

  The soft glow of a glass lantern cast shifting shadows across the tall mirror.

  Amiri’s hair was trimmed to flow with movement, the front just long enough to sweep aside.

  His ash-gray hair had been dyed to a shade of charcoal.

  The once flushed face had turned pale as snow.

  His gray-blue eyes, once gentle, now gleamed with cold resolve.

  No trace of the boy he once was remained.

  The heavy thud of Thalon’s feet mingled with the clatter of the coach wheels on the street.

  “How long will you be visiting?” a middle-aged man asked.

  “I’m from here,” Amiri replied curtly.

  “Your accent… it doesn’t sound local,” the driver said, tilting his head in curiosity.

  Amiri only offered a faint smile.

  The smell of smoke drifted on the breeze, and the chatter of people along the roadside grew louder. They were nearing the bustling merchant district.

  What lay before Amiri was not just a small market… but something grand enough to rival a central city square.

  Once a humble village, nourished by fertile soil and the forest’s abundant moisture, it had gradually grown into something tangible and thriving.

  They said no place showed the crescent moon more beautifully than Lunacia.

  The city was founded by the wealthy merchant Cenric Siegbert.

  Although Lunacia lacked standout resources such as gold or gemstones, through shrewd investment and careful planning, it grew to become one of the most prosperous cities in Myriel.

  Endless stretches of lush green grass, and a cool climate year-round. The land was ideal for farming and raising livestock. Vineyards and a variety of fruit orchards thrived here. Father had once told him that this was a prime wine-producing region. Beyond that, Lunacia’s beef was famed for its tenderness and a flavor unlike anywhere else.

  The vital river that flowed through both the capital and its satellite towns sustained the city’s wealth seemingly without end.

  Over time, it came to be known as the Daemon River — the very waters that ran through Aidengaard, where the prince had sacrificed his life to protect, stretching all the way to Syrin, the port city he had once tried to restore, before finally emptying into the Memoria Sea.

  Once an independent city, Lunacia had been repeatedly scorched by the fires of war.

  Yet each time, it rose anew from the ashes.

  Eventually, Lunacia came under the rule of the Kingdom of Myriel during the reign of King Heinrich Stormveil.

  The heavy thud of Thalon’s feet echoed back and forth, while shops lined both sides of the street. People bustled about, and the cheerful strains of a violin filled the air.

  The scent of roasting meat drifted to the nose. A young girl laughed with delight as she ran across the white stone pavement, holding a smoked turkey leg in her hand, her hair streaming in the cool breeze.

  If only Father, Mother, and Iris were here... together.

  Amiri stepped down from the coach and handed some coins to the driver.

  “Welcome to The Garden,” the middle-aged man said, tipping his hat with a smile.

  “Enjoy the Harvest Festival.”

  He flicked the reins lightly, and the ash-colored Thalon shivered before gradually trotting away.

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  The pristine white square was surrounded by lush green trees, with the gentle clink of glasses filling the air. Aromatic red wine was served alongside perfectly grilled, juicy steaks, while the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee drifted through the square.

  Not far away, children’s eyes sparkled as they gathered around a display of brightly colored candy.

  Amiri stepped past a great oak, its branches stretching beneath the azure sky, leaves tinged with green and blue trembling in the breeze. Stalls of fresh fruit and vegetables stood near sizzling grills, the scent of aromatic smoke wafting through the air. A young boy carried a golden ear of roasted corn as he passed by.

  “Hot smoked lamb sausages!” a vendor called, and Amiri could hardly resist.

  Crispy on the outside, tender within, with the fragrance of black pepper and thyme, the sausages were even more delightful when paired with freshly squeezed seasonal orange juice, bringing a smile to his face.

  “Mom… take me here again, okay~?” the little girl chirped, her voice sparkling amidst the festive crowd.

  “Of course, dear,” the young woman beside him said with a smile, gently patting the child’s head.

  Amiri hadn’t intended to come to The Garden, for his destination lay beyond, at the grand cathedral.

  The Sanctuary, twin spires piercing the sky, towered above everything, bathed in sunlight that shimmered in black and gold.

  The towering doors slowly swung open, revealing a vast hall that stretched as far as the eye could see. Sunlight poured through intricately patterned stained glass, while gray stone pillars lined the sides. The vaulted ceiling crisscrossed above in layered arches, magnificent enough to belong in a fairy tale.

  Amiri walked past long, antique wooden benches that lined the hall.

  “Shipping stocks in Syrin are starting to recover. I’m thinking of buying more.”

  “But I think the weapons factory stocks at Blomburg are more profitable.”

  Voices argued over rising and falling shares, their cadence echoing like a chant.

  The Sacred Ark of the Covenant stood proudly on a pedestal at the center of the cathedral. It was said that when the great merchant families first came together to found The Sanctuary, they placed the very first silver coins used in trade inside the ark, as a symbol of new beginnings and the enduring prosperity that followed.

  Amiri stepped across the polished marble floor to the intricately carved wooden counter, gleaming beneath the crystal chandelier.

  “How can I help you, Mr…?” the young woman in an elegant dress smiled warmly.

  “Amiri River,” he said softly, placing a black metal card on the counter.

  “Will you be using the silver box today?” she asked, her voice gentle and courteous.

  Amiri nodded.

  “My name is Irida. This way, please,” she said, guiding him along petals of pale blue flowers that shimmered under the sunlight.

  They came to a halt before the massive metal doors, adorned with soft green foliage.

  The young woman guided him through the doors, then flipped a switch and pushed a lever. The gears inside whirred and clanked like the workings of a clock.

  The tall, airy glass chamber began to rise, and slowly, Lunacia unfolded beneath them, as if seen from the sky.

  People shrank to the size of ants, buildings grew smaller, rivers faded to pale blue, and the vast meadows stretched to the horizon.

  Amiri’s ears rang, and he had to swallow hard, until finally, the glass chamber came to a stop.

  The metal doors swung open, eighty-nine engraved in delicate patterns.

  The glass hall floated above the white clouds, a spiral staircase like a carousel rising from its center.

  The antique silver boxes were arranged like a constellation, shimmering as sunlight spilled across them.

  “Your box, number 1982,” a soft, sweet voice called, rousing him from his reverie.

  “I’ll be waiting right here. Please, take your time,” she added.

  It wasn’t long before he found the box — simple in appearance, yet the number 1982 was engraved with elegant precision.

  Click! The metal mechanism shifted as Amiri slid the black metal card into place.

  Inside lay a few silver coins, shares of the Aidengaard Central Bank, and a single pristine white letter from Father.

  Inside, the message read,

  To Amiri,

  I promise… to tell you everything when we meet again.

  The chips clattered rhythmically across the table.

  A blonde woman in an elegant dress moved between players, serving drinks with a warm smile under the soft white lights.

  Suddenly, a stack of chips was pushed in front of Amiri.

  “This kid is so aggressive,” someone whispered.

  “Look at his pile of chips!”

  Murmurs rippled around the Gistol table, mingling with the steady clatter of chips that never seemed to stop.

  The young man stacked his chips on the rack with calm precision.

  “Are you calling it a night?” the dealer asked.

  “Feeling sleepy, Shirl,” Amiri replied, pushing a single chip forward before walking away.

  He’d lost it all before. Every time, he came back to a bigger table.

  After exchanging his chips at the cage, Amiri yawned and made his way through the line of people waiting.

  Suddenly, a white metal card slipped slowly from an elegant handbag.

  Amiri bent down quickly to retrieve it and handed it back…

  The young woman, with glossy black hair and almond-shaped eyes, smiled with quiet satisfaction, and he was instantly captivated.

  The sound of her gentle laughter and the sweet, springlike scent in the air brought him back to himself.

  Amiri merely smiled and walked away without a word.

  Yet the lingering fragrance remained, as if spring itself had never passed.

  “Look… a shooting star!” a sweet, clear voice exclaimed, a tiny hand pointing toward the sky.

  “Then we have to make a wish quickly,” the boy replied with a gentle smile.

  The little girl closed her eyes…

  And in an instant, thousands of shooting stars streaked across the edge of the sky,

  as if time itself had slowed.

  “What did you wish for?” the boy asked softly.

  “I wished for lots and lots of wishes!” she giggled, twirling around joyfully.

  Then she stopped and looked back at him.

  “And you?”

  “I’m not telling,” the boy replied with a smile.

  A chill brushed his cheeks. The wind whispered through the leaves, and the scent of dew hung in the air, as if this moment were no dream at all…

  Amiri opened his eyes. He stood before Uncle Will’s desk.

  “I’ll find them,” the young man said, staring straight ahead.

  Uncle Will sighed and handed him an envelope.

  “It’s been two years… your father hasn’t sent word. I can’t hold you back anymore.”

  He squinted for a moment before continuing.

  “They’re dangerous. Be careful, Amiri.”

  “I… will hunt them down,” Amiri said coldly, taking the envelope and walking away.

  The young man in a blackish-brown hood stepped into the gloom. Sharp metal armor clung to his body, as if forged for killing. A tattered, faded crimson scarf whipped in the wind. The shadow of indigo wings followed close behind, and its blue eyes were ice-cold.

  The fountain in front of Whitecastel danced with grace… but he did not look back.

  The door creaked open.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” a voice murmured from the shadows.

  Uncle Will gave a slow nod.

  “Will he… bring down the royal bloodline?”