The sky was painted with shades of deep blue and violet as night settled over Saint-Aure. Kael and Riven stood near the bustling plaza, watching as the city came alive with preparations for the festival. Lanterns were being strung between wooden beams, stalls were being decorated with colorful banners, and the aroma of spiced food filled the air. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the colder, more rigid nature of Veyholm.
Kael observed the people moving around her. Unlike in Veyholm, where interactions between different races were often strained or nonexistent, Saint-Aure was filled with harmony. She watched as an elven merchant helped a dwarven craftsman set up his stand, a group of beastmen laughing together as they hauled large crates of supplies, and centaur children running between the workers, delivering small parcels with ease.
She turned to Riven. "People here work together much more than in Veyholm."
Riven, arms crossed, smirked. "That's because there are fewer humans here. Humans tend to complicate things. In Veyholm, humans hold most of the power, and they prefer to stay among their own. But outside of Velmont, humans are a minority. They learn to adapt or be left behind."
Kael hummed in response. "I think I like it better here. It feels… peaceful."
Riven chuckled. "Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart. Something tells me peace won't last forever in our journey."
As they walked, Kael's gaze was drawn to a familiar group of children struggling with something near a fruit stand. One of them, a small beastman girl with feline features, was reaching up toward a low-hanging lantern that had come loose, her tiny hands grasping at nothing but air. Her friends—a young centaur, a human boy, and a dwarven girl—watched helplessly.
Kael sighed and stepped forward. She easily reached up, fixing the lantern back into place before stepping back. The children turned to her, their eyes wide with recognition.
"It's the pretty lady!" the centaur boy gasped.
The dwarven girl beamed. "Thank you, miss! We couldn't reach it."
Kael simply nodded. "Be careful next time."
The feline girl stepped forward, tail swishing excitedly. "What's your name, miss?"
Kael hesitated for a second before answering, "You can call me Solis."
"Solis," the girl repeated with a smile. "That suits you."
Kael chuckled softly. "Does it now?"
The children thanked her again before scampering off, their laughter trailing behind them. Kael watched them go, feeling a strange warmth settle in her chest. Riven, having observed the entire interaction, leaned in slightly.
"Since you're always so mean and impatient, I thought you wouldn't be able to get along with children," Riven said with a smug smile.
Kael scoffed. "I just helped them fix a lantern." "I guess that makes you worse than a child," she said, laughing slightly.
Riven placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Worse than a child? Sweetheart, I prefer the term 'youthfully charming.'"
Kael smirked. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
Feeling strangely lighthearted, Kael found herself naturally drifting toward the ongoing preparations. Without much thought, she started helping—carrying wooden crates, setting up chairs, even assisting an elderly elf in hanging decorative charms. She moved from one task to another, her hands busy and her heart oddly at ease.
Riven watched her with mild amusement before sighing and rolling up his sleeves. "Well, I can't just stand here while you do all the work."
He stepped in, joining her in setting up the festival space. Together, they worked alongside the people of Saint-Aure, blending into the city's vibrant energy. Lilith, who had been resting atop Kael's head, occasionally flapped her wings before finding a perch on a nearby beam, still invisible to those around her.
After a while, they stepped back, watching as the city was nearly ready for the celebration. The place was brighter now, decorated with glowing stones and floating lanterns. The scent of freshly baked goods mixed with the crisp night air, creating an inviting atmosphere.
"We should head back," Riven finally said.
Kael nodded. "Yeah, I need a bath."
Back at the inn, Kael changed into more comfortable clothing after her bath. She sat by the window, watching the city below, still alive with flickering lights and distant laughter. The sight was mesmerizing.
Lilith, no longer invisible, curled up on her lap, letting out a soft, contented sound. Kael absentmindedly ran her fingers through the Aelith's soft fur. Slowly, she reached into her bag and pulled out the pendant she had found earlier that morning. She traced its edges, her fingers resting over the family crest—two crossed swords forming a cross.
She opened it, her gaze softening as she traced its familiar engravings. A part of her wished she could reach through time, through metal, and grasp the past that had been so violently taken from her. The warmth of memories pressed against the ache in her chest.
"I miss you all," she whispered. "I hope you're watching over me."
As if sensing her sorrow, Lilith nuzzled into her hand, letting out a soft, reassuring sound. Kael exhaled slowly, giving the small creature a grateful scratch behind the ears. She carefully put the pendant around her neck and tucked it under her shirt, as if keeping their memory close to her heart.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Riven entered, shaking his still-damp hair, clearly fresh from his own bath.
"You're staring out that window a lot," he noted.
Kael smirked faintly. "It's a good view."
Riven sat on the edge of the bed. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Just… thinking."
Riven didn't pry. Instead, he laid back on the bed, stretching out with a content sigh. "Tomorrow, we do nothing but enjoy the festival. No worrying about missions, assassins, or conspiracies. Just a little fun."
Kael chuckled. "That sounds… tolerable."
"Tolerable?" Riven scoffed dramatically. "Sweetheart, by the end of tomorrow, you'll be singing my praises for showing you the best time of your life."
Kael rolled her eyes but said nothing. Instead, she reached down and stroked Lilith, who was already curled up against her. Despite everything—despite the pain and the weight of her past—she felt lighter tonight.
Tomorrow, they would let themselves breathe.