The wheels of the academy-bound caravan creaked softly as it rolled through the mist-veiled woods. Clem sat across from Alaric, her gaze flicking toward him every so often. His face bore a quiet calm, but she could sense the turbulence behind those soft blue eyes. After all, their recent encounter with an epic-tier beast—and Alaric's inexplicable surge of power—had left everyone shaken, even if none could quite explain what they had witnessed.
They passed a low wooden sign that read, Elgoriya—3 Miles.
The group had voted to make a brief stop in the city to rest and resupply before resuming the journey to the Royal Guardian Academy. Master Kael approved the halt but insisted they'd only stay the night. As the sun dipped behind the trees, bathing the road in molten gold, the caravan crested a hill—and there it was.
Elgoriya.
The city unfolded like a dreamscape before them. Crystal towers caught the light like prisms, casting rainbows over the cobbled streets. Floating lanterns bobbed lazily above the rooftops, guided by some unseen enchantment. Street vendors in silk robes hawked alchemical trinkets, and musicians played strings that emitted shimmering visual notes. The entire city radiated a soft magic, old and dignified, yet alive.
Alaric stepped off the caravan with a deep breath. "It's... beautiful," he murmured.
Master Kael gave a tight nod. "Do not let the beauty distract you. This city has secrets—like any place worth knowing."
The group scattered to find lodging and food. Clem and Elara made their way to the market. Darian sought a forge to repair a cracked gauntlet. Alaric, meanwhile, wandered through the edge of the city's magical district, drawn by an inexplicable pull in his chest.
As he turned down a quieter street lined with glowing vines and whispering stones, he heard a voice—soft and melodic, like the forest wind. "Lost? Or simply searching?"
He turned sharply.
A girl stood at the mouth of a narrow alley. She was slight and barefoot, her cloak woven from translucent fabric that shimmered like a cloud at dawn. Her hair, pale lavender, framed a face both youthful and timeless. Her eyes, a brilliant green, seemed to see through him.
"I—was just looking around," Alaric replied cautiously.
"Then perhaps you've found what you weren't looking for," she said cryptically, stepping closer. "My name is Windy."
He blinked. "Windy?"
She nodded with a gentle smile. "The wind calls me that. It's shorter than my real name. You?"
"Alaric."
She tilted her head. "Alaric Draven." The way she said it wasn't a question—it was recognition. "You carry something... unusual."
Alaric's heartbeat jumped. "Do I?"
Windy turned her head to the side, as if listening to something only she could hear. "Not dark. Not light. Not now. But soon. The threads will snap, and the veil will lift. You should rest while you can."
"What do you mean?" he asked, stepping closer.
But she only smiled, her voice barely a whisper. "A storm is moving, Alaric. The kind that swallows stars."
Before he could say more, she turned and walked into the alley—and vanished, like she'd never been there.
That night, the group reunited at the inn, a quiet place nestled against Elgoriya's inner gardens. Darian boasted about his reforged gauntlet. Clem shared sweetbread from a local bakery. Elara said little, but her eyes never left Alaric.
Windy never returned. No one else had seen her. Alaric didn't even try to explain.
The next morning, Master Kael stood waiting outside the inn, his cloak fluttering in the rising wind. "Time to move."
As they left the city, the once brilliant streets seemed more distant, more fragile. Like a dream already fading.
Alaric glanced back at Elgoriya one last time.
And then—he felt it.
A sharp sting in his palm. He looked down.
The broken amber stone pulsed faintly.
But only for a heartbeat.
A message flashed before his eyes.
"New anomaly detected nearby." "Warning: Presence of classified observer confirmed."
Alaric's breath caught.
He quickly closed the message and buried the stone in his pocket, forcing calm onto his face as Clem called ahead.
"Coming!" he said.
But in his heart, a whisper echoed, soft as Windy's voice:
"The veil will lift."
And for the first time in days, Alaric felt something colder than fear.
He was being watched.