Sole Survivor of a Generation

The narrow, winding streets of Asua stretched ahead like a frozen labyrinth. Bitter winds howled through the alleys, biting at the exposed skin of Valeryon's face as her iridescent black veil fluttered in the gusts. Each step sent a soft crunch through the snow beneath her boots.Laurel, shivering beside her, pressed closer to her significantly warmer body, seeking some relief from the relentless cold.

Around them, the city loomed—a skeletal remnant of its past grandeur. From afar, the towering stone buildings still carried an air of stateliness, but up close, the decay was unmistakable. Cracked facades and deep fissures marred the once-proud stonework. Shattered windows with jagged edges glimmered faintly like ice shards in the dim light. Where glass still clung to the frames, it was sealed behind rotting wooden planks, sagging under the weight of time and neglect.

Shadows flitted at the edges of the streets—hunched figures draped in dark cloaks, slipping silently between alleyways. Valeryon couldn't tell whether they were fleeing the cold or something more sinister, but the weight of their retreating gazes lingered in her chest, heavy and unsettling.

Ahead, a fountain stood frozen in mid-motion, a grim relic of the city's past glory. What might have once been a graceful cascade of water was now a jagged pillar of ice, grime-streaked and frozen solid. "It feels... abandoned," Valeryon murmured, her voice nearly lost to the wind.

Laurel pressed closer, his breath misting in the frigid air. "If only," he sighed. "It sure would've spared us the misery of being here."

The knights flanked them in a tight formation, their eyes vigilant as they swept every street and alley. Silent and efficient, they were a steadfast shield, allowing Valeryon to move through Asua's decaying grandeur with a semblance of ease.

After what seemed like an eternity of trudging through the icy streets, a small, unassuming shop came into view. Nestled between two towering buildings, its wooden sign swayed with the wind, creaking like old bones. A warm, golden light spilled from its windows—a rare beacon of life amidst the bleak, frozen landscape.

The knights stopped at the shop's entrance, forming a protective perimeter. Lady Daphne gave Valeryon a nod, a small smile softening her expression. "We'll stay here, Your Highness. My son can assist you with the rest."

Laurel held the door open for Valeryon, and the soft chime of a bell above the entrance was almost swallowed by the gust of wind that followed them inside. As the door closed, warmth immediately enveloped them. The air inside was rich with the comforting scent of cinnamon and amber. Bolts of vibrant fabric lined the walls, and mannequins displayed finely crafted garments, each meticulously arranged to draw the eye.

"Ah, customers!" called an elderly woman from behind the counter. Her silver hair was neatly pinned into a bun, and her sharp brown eyes, magnified by thin spectacles, flicked between Valeryon and Laurel. "How may I assist you today?"

"We're here for our Forester Academy uniforms," Laurel replied pulling his acceptance letter out of his pocket and waving it.

The woman's thin lips curled into a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Of course, dears. This way." She gestured for them to follow.

They walked deeper into the shop, arriving at a fitting area where two mannequins displayed the pristine uniforms of the Forester Academy. The girls' uniform was a double-breasted coat dress, lined with gold buttons and cinched at the waist, flaring into a voluminous skirt that reached the ankle length. The boys' version featured a trench coat with matching gold buttons and tailored trousers. Both uniforms bore the Academy's emblem: a golden hand with a silver spark hovering above it, embroidered boldly on the back.

Valeryon's eyes lingered on the white fabric. In the Orcus Galaxy, white was a statement of power. Such clothing was a declaration of the wearer's strength, their confidence in their ability to face danger and emerge unscathed—unstained.

Usually she would not dare to wear such a bold colour, but she supposed this was Fiore, not the Orcus Galaxy, the significance was not the same.

"Step up here, dear," the woman said kindly, motioning to a raised platform.

Valeryon hesitated, then obeyed, standing rigid as the woman measured her—across her shoulders, down her waist, along her arms. Each touch made her skin prickle, and she had to resist the urge to pull away.

When the measurements were done, the woman handed Valeryon a uniform to try on. She slipped behind a curtained area, feeling the fabric cool against her skin before it warmed and moulded to her shape. Emerging from behind the curtain, her veil once more draped around her shoulders, she found Laurel already dressed in his uniform, inspecting himself in the mirror with a slight frown.

"Is something wrong?"

"Laurel faced her with a teasing smile and leaned in to whisper, 'Plenty, but mostly just thinking that you've ruined me for all other clothes. After all these years in yours, nothing else compares.'"

Valeryon felt her face heat up. Unsure how to respond, she opted for a safer route. "What else is on your mind? Y-you said there was plenty."

Laurel chuckled softly and stepped back, adjusting the lapels of his coat as he looked in the mirror. "How do I look?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers through the reflection.

Valeryon hesitated, taken aback by the question. "Presentable," she replied cautiously.

Laurel's expression faltered momentarily before he masked it with a half-smile. "So, awful?"

Valeryon frowned, realising her response had missed the mark as usual. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "You look... beautiful, Laurel," she said earnestly.

Laurel blinked, visibly surprised, a flush creeping into his cheeks. Valeryon, puzzled by his reaction, wondered if she had said the wrong thing again.

"Val," Laurel murmured, his voice softer now.

"Yes?" she replied, her heart racing.

The tension broke as Laurel's grin returned. "You think I'm pretty?" He asked, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

Valeryon sighed in relief, a smile forming on her lips. "Yes," she confirmed. "Very pretty."

The tailor clapped her hands, drawing their attention back to her. "You both look wonderful. I think we've found the perfect fit," she said, with a smile. "Now, about the payment…"

Laurel pulled a golden cheque from his uniform pocket and held it out to her. "Here," he said.

The tailor's eyes widened as she took it, glancing at its contents before quickly tucking it into her apron. Clearing her throat, she continued, "Thank you, dear. Your uniforms will be ready in ten days, complete with the usual runes—resizing, preservation, dirt resistance, and, of course, colour change."

"Runes for colour change?" Valeryon asked, intrigued.

"Yes, dear. Once you select your magical pathway of study, the uniform will adapt to reflect that," the tailor explained. "We also accept requests for additional runes like dimension expansion for the pockets or heating and cooling runes for the fabric. That usually incurs extra costs, but your payment covers it, so just let me know if you would like further customisation for you uniforms."

Laurel tapped at his pocket and looked to Valeryon for confirmation. She gave a slight nod. "Yes. I think, we would like the dimension expansion runes on the pockets."

"Wonderful. Will you be picking it up in person, or would you prefer delivery?"

"Delivery," Laurel said, handing the tailor an embossed card with all the relevant details.

The tailor beamed. "Thank you, dears. I'll be sure to send word if anything arises."

With everything settled, they changed back into their original clothes and stepped out of the shop. The bell chimed softly behind them as they returned to the snow-laden streets. Lady Daphne and the knights greeted them at the door, and together, they resumed their walk through Asua.

Lady Daphne, her silver hair gleaming softly in the muted light, walked ahead with purpose, guiding them toward their next destination. Beside Valeryon, Laurel hummed a lighthearted tune, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gently swung their linked hands. The earlier gloom that had weighed him down seemed to have completely lifted.

"Happy?" Valeryon asked, her gaze sliding toward him.

Laurel's dimples became more prominent as his smile widened, his lavender eyes sparkling. "Yes. We're on the brink of something life-changing, Val."

"Life-changing?" Valeryon echoed, her brow furrowing slightly.

"In a good way. I'm not sure what exactly, but I've got this prem—" Laurel's voice faltered, and he coughed, his hand instinctively rising to his throat as the Ban flared, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Without hesitation, Valeryon's thumb traced the back of his hand in a soothing gesture. Her brows drew together as she discreetly channeled a thread of magic, its faint green glow hidden beneath her gloves. Running diagnostics had become second nature to her—not out of necessity, but for her own reassurance. The Ban had never truly harmed them, but it didn't hurt to be certain.

"A feeling," Laurel managed, his grin turning crooked once the cough subsided. "I just have a feeling."

Before Valeryon could respond, Lady Daphne halted in front of a modest yet elegantly crafted storefront. The name Starlit Staff-works shimmered above the door in delicate silver script. "The finest Valerite staff-makers in Asua," she announced with a small smile. "You're in good hands here, Your Highness."

This time, Lady Daphne entered the shop with them, gently pushing open the door as warmth and soft light spilled out from within.

Inside, the shop was far larger than its modest exterior suggested. Valeryon's eyes swept over the room, taking in the rows of staves displayed along the walls. Polished woods gleamed alongside smooth metals, while crystals shimmered, catching the soft light that filtered through the windows and hanging lanterns. The air was thick with the scent of cedar and resin, mingling with the faint aroma of burning sage from an incense burner tucked away in the corner. Workbenches cluttered with an array of materials—both familiar and strange—were scattered throughout the space, creating a sense of organised chaos.

As they ventured deeper, two figures emerged from the back.

The first was a tall Seraph woman of captivating beauty. Her long silver hair cascaded down her back in a neat braid, shimmering like moonlight. Her molten silver eyes sparkled with an otherworldly light, and her pale skin appeared almost flawless under the soft glow of the lanterns. Her large feathered wings fluttered softly for a moment before folding gracefully behind her. Valeryon could not help but notice the striking resemblance she shared with Lady Daphne, their features and colouring nearly identical.

Beside the Seraph woman stood a shorter Davi woman, even smaller than Valeryon's thirteen-year-old frame. Her cropped copper hair framed her freckled face, and her muscular arms were adorned with vibrant, shifting magical tattoos—dragons coiled around her biceps, phoenixes flaring across her forearms, and unicorns galloping along her wrists. A mischievous grin tugged at her lips as they approached, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth despite her fierce appearance.

"Welcome to Starlit Staff-works, Your Highness," the Seraph woman said, her voice as smooth as a soft breeze. She gave a graceful curtsey. "I am Eilie Lin-Adhe, and this is my wife, Sala Silvers."

Sala stepped forward, skipping the usual formalities to extend her hand. After a moment's hesitation, Valeryon accepted it. Sala's hands were smaller than hers but surprisingly firm, the callouses on her palms hinting at years of dedication to her craft. "It's a pleasure to have you here, Your Highness. It's been quite some time since a royal heir visited us," Sala said, a chuckle escaping her lips.

Valeryon blinked, slightly taken aback by the implication. "Yes, it must have been some time. Two hundred years, to be exact."

Sala's blue eyes widened as she exchanged a quick glance with her wife. "Only two hundred? That must be some kind of record, right?"

Eilie smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "Indeed. The gap between Queen Vera's generation and King Vilram's was even longer—about four hundred years. And between Queen Vera and King Varic before her? Five hundred, if I recall correctly."

Sala let out a hearty laugh, shaking her head. "You Valeryons really put us Davi to shame! My mother's been on my case for being three hundred and still childless, but you all make it seem like we're the ones rushing things!"

Eilie placed a hand on her wife's shoulder. "Sala, dear, let's not overwhelm our guest with your chatter. Her Highness is here for a purpose, after all."

"Of course, darling," Sala replied, taking Eilie's hand and pressing a quick kiss to its back. "Why don't you go relax over there with Daphne while I take care of things here? I know you've been wanting to catch up with her for ages."

Eilie hesitated. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely." Sala redirected her attention to Valeryon, gesturing toward the workbench nearby. "Alright, let's get down to business. You're here for a custom staff, yes?"

Valeryon nodded and stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over the array of materials laid out neatly on the bench—polished woods, smooth metals, and gleaming crystals, all cut evenly into small samples and arranged for easy selection.

Sala leaned back on her heels, arms crossed, her grin widening. "Here's how it works, Your Highness. You just need to pick two materials—one for the staff body and one for the focus. Don't stress about which is which; that's our job. If nothing feels right, that's perfectly fine. We'll move on to the next set until something resonates with you. Sound good?"

"Yes," Valeryon replied.

"Perfect. Now, extend your hand and let your magic do its thing. Trust me, you'll know when you know."

Following Sala's direction, Valeryon hovered her hand over the materials. Glowing green threads of her magic extended from her fingers, probing each option with careful intent. One by one, the materials resisted her, their rejection almost palpable. She closed her eyes, a frown creasing her brow as she continued to sift through the remaining choices.

Then, amid the cacophony of discordant notes, she suddenly sensed it—a harmonisation, a resonance that tugged at her with an insistent, undeniable pull. Just as she began to delve deeper into that sensation, striving to uncover its source, the loud creak of the shop door opening shattered her concentration.

Two figures stepped inside, their presence unmistakable and familiar.

The Lunarys heirs.

The heiress, with those inexplicable glowing peridot-green eyes, stepped forward first, a warm smile illuminating her features. Behind her stood the heir, his amber eyes fierce and unwavering, locked onto Valeryon with an intensity that felt suffocating. His jaw was clenched tight, muscles shifting as he ground his teeth, radiating tension like a storm poised to unleash its fury. His glare conveyed a thousand unspoken words.

"Apologies for intruding once more, Your Highness," the heiress said with a light laugh. "We truly didn't expect to run into you here. Well, we did notice all your knights standing outside. But considering the weather, we thought it better to impose for—oh, please, where are my manners. Allow us to formally introduce ourselves. Heiress Jurien Lunarys of House Lunarys greets Her Highness, Crown Princess Valeryon the Second," Lady Sachar announced, executing a respectful bow the fur lined beanie on her head bobbing slightly as she did so in a charming manner.

"Well met, Heiress Lunarys," Valeryon replied, her tone polite but her gaze lingering on the heir, who remained silent, seething in silent fury, his eyes locked on Valeryon as if she'd personally wronged him.

The heiress reached out, placing a gentle hand on her brother's arm—a subtle but firm gesture.

"Is something wrong?" Valeryon asked, her voice carefully neutral. Truthfully, she wanted them gone, especially with the oppressive hostility emanating from the boy. Yet, sending them back into the biting cold they sought to escape felt like the wrong move if she hoped for a cordial relationship with the Vassal Houses she would inevitably associate with in the future.

The boy remained silent, his glare unwavering. His sister shot him a sharp look before turning back to Valeryon. "Not at all, Your Highness," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Please don't take offence. My brother had a… traumatic experience that has made him wary of… strangers. Um, let me introduce him properly. Heir Jorah Lunarys of House Lunarys."

Valeryon might have believed her if it weren't for the massive eye roll Heir Lunarys had given just out of Jurien's line of sight. Still, Valeryon noted how Jorah's expression softened slightly as he regarded his sister, not contradicting her words. As a result, Heir Lunarys no longer glared at Valeryon; instead, he turned his head, deliberately refusing to face her altogether.

Valeryon honestly could not fathom what she had done to provoke such hatred; the look in his amber gaze felt all too personal, as if an old wound festered between them—one she was somehow at fault for.

Sala, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room, beamed as she spread her arms wide. "Welcome, welcome! Quite the crowd we've got today! Lunarys, you say? Ah, yes, I see the resemblance—wait." She stepped closer, squinting at Jurien with narrowed eyes. "Hmm, but those green eyes… Oh!" A smirk crept across Sala's face. "Ah, I get it! Another Vassal House tangled up with the Amoryons."

Amoryon—adored child.

Valeryon—valiant child.

The family name, clearly well-known judging by Sala's comments, bore an uncanny resemblance to Valeryon's own.

Coincidence? Unlikely.

Sala continued with a laugh, "Even the Lunarys couldn't resist their charm, huh? Can't say I blame them; those Amoryons are quite—"

"Sala!" Eilie's voice cut through the air from where she sat at a nearby table with Lady Daphne. She sighed, covering her face with one hand, clearly exasperated. "Please, not in front of the guests."

Sala winced, raising her hands in surrender. "Sorry, love. You know I didn't mean anything by it."

Eilie shifted in her seat, her wings ruffling as she adjusted her position to face the newcomers better. She offered the twins a warm smile. "Please, take a seat," she said, gesturing to the empty chairs nearby. "I am Eilie Lin Adhe, and that over there is my wife, Sala Silvers. Once Her Highness and my nephew have made their selections, my partner will assist you."

Valeryon felt a flicker of embarrassment for not noticing the connection sooner—the family resemblance between Eilie and Lady Daphne was undeniable. But... Laurel is their nephew? She glanced between the two women, confusion settling in.

Eilie Lin Adhe, with an unmistakable Seraph surname, was clearly a full-blooded Seraph, wings and all. But Lady Daphne was not. The differences went deeper than that. Sitting side by side, Lady Daphne looked significantly older than Eilie, though she had just turned thirty-four. Eilie, on the other hand, had to be over two centuries old, given her ties to King Vilram's generation of Valeryons. Half-sisters, maybe? Valeryon decided to ask Laurel about it later, saving herself the headache of trying to piece it together now.

As the twins settled at a nearby table, Valeryon set her thoughts aside and focused on the materials before her. The soft hum of magic beckoned, and she extended her energy toward the table. This time, the response was immediate. Something clicked into place, like the final piece of a puzzle sliding perfectly into alignment. Two clear crystals rose from the table, floating gently in the air before coming to a stop in front of her.

"Pure diamond for both the body and the focus," Sala whistled softly, leaning in for a closer look. "That's rare. Most staves combine different materials—crystal for the focus and wood or metal for the body. Having both made from the same material indicates an extraordinary level of character consistency, Your Highness."

Jurien, who had been paying attention, leaned forward in her seat, her glowing peridot eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Does the choice of material carry deeper meaning beyond just resonance?"

Eilie paused her conversation with Lady Daphne, turning her attention to the heiress with a gentle smile. "Indeed, it does, Heiress Lunarys. A staff's material isn't just for channeling magic; it reflects the wielder's essence—their core traits."

Jurien's eyes brightened. "Fascinating."

Laurel moved to stand beside Valeryon, his gaze fixed on the floating diamonds. "Diamond is the hardest substance on earth formed deep within the ground under unimaginable pressure." He turned to Valeryon, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There's no material more coveted."

Valeryon felt a sudden heat rise in her cheeks. He was simply stating facts, so why did it feel so...

"Well, well!" Sala exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she darted glances between them. "Looks like all those hours in the Crafting Hall paid off, nephew. You've got quite the eye for... 'things.'" Her smile widened knowingly.

Laurel flushed, waving her hand dismissively, which only made Sala laugh harder.

She gestured to the materials scattered across the table. "Now that Her Highness has made her selections, let's get you started. Eilie has been waiting for this moment longer than you'd believe. She nearly commissioned a painter to capture it, but I convinced her that memory cards would suffice."

Laurel grumbled as he approached the table. "Wow, lucky me."

"Yes, lucky you! Now smile, unless you want to look like a complete grouch in the memory cards,"Sala said, tapping the corner of her right eye with a snicker.

Laurel rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just... don't send a copy to my mother."

Sala smirked, crossing her arms. "No promises. You do realise the only reason we're not the ones spreading this at the next Ostara Gathering is that we're still uninvited, right? Honestly, it's been a century, and they're still upset about us eloping—probably taking that grudge to the grave. So, handing over this prime material to safe hands is the next best thing. I'm sure Daphne will make us proud by ensuring everyone in the family sees just how adorable our little baby nephew looks during his material selection."

"This is exactly why I wanted to buy our staffs somewhere else," Laurel muttered under his breath.

"What was that, dear nephew of mine?"

"Nothing, Aunt Sala." Laurel shook his head, exhaling in resignation as he stepped closer to the table, extending his hands over it.

Valeryon watched as Laurel's magic—subtle and invisible, unlike her own—began to stir the materials before them. Much faster than it had for her, a dark alloy—Draconic Steel—rose from the pile, its gleaming surface catching the light. Valeryon recognised it immediately, recalling how often Laurel had extolled its virtues while showcasing his completed projects to her.

Then, something unexpected happened. One of the diamonds Valeryon had bonded with earlier quivered before splitting cleanly in two. One half hovered beside her, while the other drifted toward Laurel. The sensation was powerful and indescribable, like a taut thread linking them, yet even that failed to capture the depth of the experience.

Sala gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "A Split-Part Resonance! I never thought I'd witness one in my lifetime!"

Even Eilie rose from her seat, moving closer to stand beside Sala. "It really is a Split-Part Resonance. How remarkable," she said, her sharp gaze fixed on the floating halves.

Laurel frowned in confusion, but after a few moments, realisation dawned, and the tension in his face eased. An incredulous look crossed his features. "So that's what I…"

"What does a Split-Part Resonance mean, exactly?" Valeryon asked.

Sala's excitement spilled out in rushed words. "It means this diamond recognises both of you as its rightful wielders. Instead of choosing one, it split—acknowledging both of your resonance! I've only read about this in ancient texts. It's said that—"

Before she could finish, the second diamond hovering near Valeryon split as well. One half remained with her, while the other drifted toward the wide-eyed Jurien Lunarys.

Sala staggered, eyes wide in disbelief. "This... this is impossible. Two split-part resonances? Across both aspects? Am I dreaming?"

Eilie moved quickly, her wings flaring as she caught Sala before she collided with a nearby bench. "Breathe, love," she urged. "Breathe, love," she urged. "You're not dreaming. I wish I had a better explanation, but Sala, listen…"

A faint tingling sensation crept across Valeryon's skin as a ward shimmered to life around the two staff makers. Within the glowing barrier, the pair could be seen conversing animatedly, though their words were completely inaudible to those standing outside. The air grew thick with anticipation as everyone waited in silence for the barrier to drop.

At last, the barrier faded, and the couple turned to face the group, their expressions resolute.

"We are standing at the edge of something unprecedented," Sala declared, her gaze steady as it shifted between Valeryon, Laurel, and Jurien. "This isn't just a rare phenomenon—it could reshape everything we know about magic. But to truly unlock its potential, we need your help."

Eilie continued, "That's why we would like to invite you to participate in this research. Would you be interested?"

As the offer lingered in the air, a soft golden glow caught Valeryon's attention. Her Celestial Receiver flickered to life, and a notification screen materialised above her wrist.

Side-Quest: Investigate the Phenomenon of Split-Part Resonance.

Assist Eilie Lin-Adhe and Sala Silvers in researching split-part resonance as participants.

Rewards: Build rapport with Eilie Lin-Adhe and Sala Silvers. Insight into split-part resonance.

Accept — Reject

A surge of triumph coursed through Valeryon as she stared at the screen. Finally, a side quest had triggered—the moment she'd been waiting for. She glanced at Laurel, wondering if he had received the notification too. It was hard to tell, though, as his crossed arms obscured his Receiver, while his focus seemed fixed on frowning at the screen hovering over Valeryon's wrist.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Laurel shook his head, muttering. "What does 'build rapport' even mean? They're already my aunts."

"The rewards are personalised. What's listed for me might not be the same for you. You'll know for sure once you check," Valeryon suggested.

Laurel grimaced. "Better not. My Observing Agent is... a bit eccentric."

"Why do you say that?"

A faint flush crept up Laurel's face as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, mumbling something indistinct. "Just... the insinuations they make... awkward."

"Insinuations? Were they inappropriate?" Valeryon's brows furrowed.

Laurel's face turned bright red. "No! Not like that! They're just really invested in my lov... situation."

Valeryon's confusion deepened. "Invested?"

Laurel met her gaze with a sigh. "Yeah. It's like having an overenthusiastic fan who knows way too much about your personal life."

"I see." Valeryon nodded slowly, starting to grasp the issue. "People dislike having their privacy invaded."

Laurel arched a brow. "You make it sound like it doesn't bother you."

"I'm used to it," Valeryon replied vaguely, avoiding details that might trigger the Ban. For most of her life, she'd been under constant surveillance—the Trial Grounds had been littered with cameras feeding data to unknown sources. "Regardless," she continued, "whether you participate or not is your decision. But I will be accepting this quest. For Split-Part Resonance to be both the quest and the reward, there must be value in understanding it."

Laurel straightened, his uncertainty fading as a smile crept in. "Then we'll do it together. Besides, if we didn't, you'd probably try to conduct the research on your own."

Valeryon frowned slightly. "And is there something wrong with that?"

He chuckled, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Nothing—just think some things are best left to the professionals, Val."

She nodded. "You're right."

Both of them selected "accept" on their screens.

Before they could say anything further, Jurien spoke up hesitantly, "Um, we're only thirteen. Don't we need a guardian's permission for this?"

Eilie smiled kindly. "Of course. No research can proceed without a guardian's consent. We just wanted to gauge your interest before submitting the proposal to the Staff-Maker Association."

Laurel took the moment to inform his aunts of their decision. "We're interested," he said.

Sala's face lit up, clapping her hands in delight. "Marvellous! We'll be in touch once everything's sorted. And as for your staves, you'll have them within the week."

With everything settled, they didn't linger. Daphne swiftly handled the payment, and after a warm farewell between the relatives, they stepped back into the unforgiving cold.

The knights flanked them in perfect formation, their staves pulsing with dormant magic. Their silver armour gleamed faintly in the dim light, reflecting the flicker of the city's lamps. The rhythmic clink of their armour was the only sound to break the stillness.

A thick fog blanketed the narrow streets, shrouding Asua's scars in an eerie calm. In the distance, the Nexus Gate loomed—a towering silhouette barely visible through the mist. Its obsidian surface, etched with faintly glowing runes, was dusted with snow. Yet, no matter how long they walked, the gate seemed to remain just as distant.

Not a soul wandered the streets now.

As unease began to gnaw at Valeryon, she felt a sudden, urgent grip on her hand—Laurel's cold fingers tightening around hers. Startled, she turned to him. His expression had grown tense, purple eyes narrowing as they scanned the fog-filled alleyways with unnerving sharpness.

"Something's coming," Laurel whispered, his gaze settling on the shadows, his body coiled, ready to spring.

Then, a sound pierced the silence—a low, guttural growl echoed through the streets, reverberating off the stone buildings and closing in from all sides. Valeryon's skin prickled, every hair on her body standing on end.

The knights' staves flared to life, casting a pale light against the creeping fog. Nearby, an Abjurer knight muttered a swift incantation, her staff pulsing with a steady silver glow. A shimmering barrier sprang into existence around Valeryon, Laurel, and Lady Daphne—a translucent dome of protection that pulsed faintly, its surface flickering like a heartbeat.

As the fog shifted, shadows began to take shape within it. At first, they were indistinct—blurry figures moving through the mist, hulking forms that melted in and out of the whiteness. But as the mist parted, the creatures emerged with chilling clarity. Massive beasts loomed, their elongated limbs thick with muscle, fur matted with grime and slick with ice. Sickly yellow eyes glowed from deep within their grotesque faces, gnarled mouths hanging open, saliva dripping onto the cobblestones with a sickening hiss as it met the icy surface. Their claws scraped against the ground, the grating sound cutting through the air like nails on slate.

"Werewolves," one of the knights spat, disdain thick in his voice. "Impervious to magic. Hold them off as long as you can!"

At once, the knights fell into formation. Kinaesthetic knights surged forward, moving with inhuman speed, their staves swinging in powerful arcs. The lead knight—a fierce, battle-hardened warrior with braided hair and eyes like steel—brought his stave crashing down on the nearest creature with a force that should have shattered bones. But the beast barely flinched. Its thick hide absorbed the blow, and with a single swipe of its massive claws, the knight was sent sprawling into the snow, his body limp and lifeless before he even hit the ground.

Valeryon's heart raced, her breath coming fast and shallow. She could feel the weight of Laurel's gaze on her, the protective stance he took as his body moved in front of hers.

The creatures pressed forward, undeterred by the magic flaring around them. The street lit up with bursts of elemental power—flashes of lightning, jets of flame, and shards of ice hurled toward the oncoming beasts. But the werewolves tore through it all, unaffected, their claws slicing through the magic as if it were mere smoke. One by one, the knights fell, their armour no match for the monstrous claws that easily ripped through them.

Lady Daphne's voice rang out amidst the chaos, her hands glowing with a soft green light as her magic flowed outward in waves, revitalising the injured knights. Despite her calm demeanour, Valeryon could see the strain in her movements; the creatures were too strong, their relentless advance overwhelming.

Valeryon's gaze snapped to the largest of the beasts as it broke through the knights' formation and charged forward, its maw wide and dripping with blood and saliva. The Abjurer knight's barrier flickered, a crack appearing in its shimmering surface as the creature's claws raked against it. With fierce determination, the beast began to ram itself against the barrier, each impact widening the cracks, threatening to break through.

Then, with a sickening crack, the barrier shattered.

"No! Not my children, you foul beast!"

In a sudden, unexpected move, Lady Daphne hurled herself in front of the creature. A surge of green light erupted from her, blinding in its intensity.

Time slowed as the creature's claws tore through Daphne's body, sending her crumpling to the ground. Her blood soaked the snow beneath her, vivid and violent against the white canvas of the street. The metallic scent filled the air, mingling with the acrid smell of burnt fur and ash.

Recovering from Lady Daphne's last area-wide healing spell, the Abjurer knight regained her footing and raised another barrier just in time to block a vicious strike from the beast, which attacked with renewed ferocity.

Valeryon stared at Daphne's lifeless body, blood pooling beneath her and staining the snow. Laurel's arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, but she felt nothing. Numbness spread through her as the sounds of battle faded into the background, leaving only the hollow rasp of her own breath.

The remaining knights regrouped, their faces grim and their formation faltering. The werewolves pressed forward, undeterred, their monstrous forms towering over the scattered bodies of the fallen.

Then, something changed. The creatures shuddered, their hulking forms rippling as if gripped by an invisible force. Slowly, they began to shrink, their elongated limbs contorting, fur melting away to reveal pale human skin. One by one, they collapsed onto the cobblestones, unconscious and harmless, their monstrous forms dissipating.

Silence enveloped the streets once more, save for the ragged breaths of the survivors. The knights, bloodied and battered, knelt in a solemn circle around Valeryon, their staves laid at her feet. Their heads bowed low, silent in their grief.