Fay and Silvestia craned their necks forward.
The wind sounded almost like a high soprano voice as they stood at the edge of the Luminal Obelisk, the highest point in Lunarel. The balcony, wide and open, offered an unobstructed view of the royal capital below.
Their gazes swept over the sprawling city, the shimmering canals tracing patterns like veins of blue across the landscape. Beyond the city, the distant snow-capped mountains loomed.
Fay's breath caught in her chest as she looked out, her heart filled with a mix of awe and disbelief. The city spread before them like a dream, its marble-paved streets teeming with life, the vibrant rooftops standing in perfect harmony.
"It's… breathtaking," Fay whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind as she watched the gondolas drifting lazily across the central lake.
Silvestia nodded, her eyes reflecting the beauty that surrounded them. "It is, isn't it? With everything that's been going on, sometimes it's easy to forget just how magnificent Lunarel is."
Fay's fingers tightened around the stone railing as she recalled the struggles she endured upon first entering the city. "…It feels almost unreal."
"It does, doesn't it? But it's real, all of it. This is Lunarel, the heart of our kingdom. It definitely needs some work, but this is our home."
They stood in silence for a moment, the vastness of the city wrapping around them, its beauty as endless as the sky above. Fay couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, her thoughts drifting to the life she once knew—a simpler life, where nothing seemed so grand or unreachable.
Yet, standing there with Silvestia beside her, she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe—despite everything she had been through in the beginning—that her place was here, too.
Without a word, Fay pulled back her hood. Time seemed to slow as Silvestia took in her features with wide eyes. Her straight, shoulder-length pink hair framed her delicate face, the strands catching the light with a silken luster. Crimson-red eyes, striking and deep, held an almost hypnotic allure, their intensity softened by the innocence in her gaze. Just beneath her right eye, a small mole added a touch of elegance, subtly accentuating her spellbinding beauty. Her features were refined—far too mature and graceful for her age—yet there remained a youthful charm in the gentle roundness of her cheeks and the natural pout of her lips.
"Kuaaagh!" Silvestia fell on all fours with a pained yelp as an arrow embedded with the words 'ugly in comparison' struck her poor heart. "I-I can't believe that face is what you've been hiding underneath your hood all this time!"
"Si-Silvie!" Fay exclaimed worrisomely, reaching down to assist the girl.
"Ohh?" Silvestia said with an ominous smile, a single eye flashing like a laser beam. "So, we're on a nickname basis now, huh?"
Fay cringed back, the cowlick atop her head morphing into a stiff exclamation sign.
"I'm just kidding, Fee-Fee," Silvestia grinned mischievously. "Silvie is fine. Loosen up a bit."
Fay let out a long sigh, her cheeks puffing out like a balloon. "You can be such a meanie sometimes."
"Pff," Silvestia snickered, her amusement growing until it spilled into a full, infectious laugh.
Fay frowned at her for a moment, but it didn't take long before the warmth of Silvestia's laughter spread to her and she couldn't help but smile, as well.
As the wind gusted, Fay held locks of hair behind her ear, her gaze drifting off into the distance again. "This place is incredible," she murmured. "I'm surprised we're the only ones here."
Silvestia's tone shifted, taking on somewhat of a melancholic edge as she spoke. "There are four of these obelisks in Lunarel," she said, her voice quieter. "This one sits near the outer edge of the city where the lower classes reside. It's got a bit of a rough history, so not many people come here anymore. But if you can look past that, it's the best spot to take in the whole city from above."
Fay's eyebrows knitted in curiosity. "Rough history?"
Silvestia turned, her eyes locking onto the satchel she had left on the ground behind them. "Hey, since we've got such a great view, why don't we dig into the snacks we got earlier?"
Fay's eyes lit up, her cowlick shifting into the shape of a heart as she beamed. But when her gaze fell on a curious object in the back of the room where the light barely reached, the tendril of hair shifted to an antenna instead. "Wait—what is that?"
Silvestia squinted in the direction Fay was pointing. "…Is that hay?"
Both girls cautiously inched toward the edge of the darkness. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they spied a nest tucked away in the back of the chamber. Nestled within was a large and unfamiliar egg.
"Alright, I'm going to safely assume this isn't the egg of a Baderhen or a Platyquack," Silvestia muttered, frowning as she examined the object.
Fay's cowlick twisted into a question mark. "Then whose egg do you think it is?"
Silvestia shook her head. "I've never seen one this size before," she responded, scanning the area around the nest with caution.
Fay's gaze drifted to the empty shells—each one at least forty times larger than a typical Baderhen egg. "This one looks like it was abandoned."
Silvestia grunted as she attempted to lift it. "It's at least twenty times heavier than a normal egg, too."
Fay gently ran her fingers along the egg's slightly rough surface, tracing the silver streaks that stood out against its deep yale blue base. She gave it a cautious sniff. "Do you think it's still alive?"
Silvestia smirked lightly. "Pretty sure you won't smell anything without cracking it open first," she murmured, pressing her ear to the shell in search of a heartbeat. "An egg this size could feed the entire royal family several times over."
Fay hesitated, then glanced at Silvestia sheepishly. "Do you think we should… try hatching it?"
"Huh?" Silvestia raised an eyebrow, her surprise evident. "I thought you were going to suggest pawning it off at the Adventurers' Guild, but hatching it?"
Fay's smile faltered and her cowlick drooped slightly. "So… no?"
Silvestia peeked at her from one open eye, her expression softening. "Well, I suppose it can't hurt to try."
Fay's face lit up, and she cheered, "Yay!"
***
The air trembled with the reverent voices of the congregation as they lifted their hymn to the heavens. Their voices, steady and pure, wove together in sacred harmony, filling the cathedral with devotion.
"O Radiant Zepharion, Keeper of Purity, bathe us in your cleansing light. Let our hearts be as unblemished as the morning dew, our souls as gentle as the whispering wind. Guide us, O Blessed One, and sanctify our steps that we may walk forever in your grace."
The hymn swelled, echoing off the marble pillars, a song of faith carried on the breath of the faithful. Midnight perched atop the statue of the goddess, his sleek black form blending seamlessly into the cathedral's dim recesses.
From his vantage point, he watched the congregation below. The scent of incense curled upward. It mingled with the light of countless candles, casting flickering halos upon the faithful.
The feline's olive-green eyes narrowed as he observed their expressions. Some were serene, their worship genuine. Others, however, betrayed something else—an edge of hunger, impatience laced with barely restrained fervor. Midnight's tail flicked thoughtfully. He had seen zeal before, but this… this was different.
His gaze lingered on those who fidgeted, their eyes darting anxiously toward the altar where the bishop prepared the sacred morsel. Their breathing quickened as the time of communion drew near, hands trembling as if the very act of waiting was unbearable.
Midnight's curiosity stirred. Surely a mere blessing couldn't provoke such desperation. Was it the dough itself? Was it really that delicious? He made a mental note to investigate these people further.
Suddenly, despite his concealment, a prickle of awareness made his fur bristle. The feline stilled, eyes flicking toward the bishop who, mid-ritual, subtly glanced upward—toward him. Midnight's pupils thinned into sharp slits. The man couldn't possibly see him through the shadows, but he felt something. A wariness, a fleeting suspicion.
Midnight considered his options. He could stay and observe a little longer, but he decided to err on the side of caution instead. This mission was reconnaissance, not confrontation. His master already had his hands full dealing with the royal court; he couldn't recklessly bring the church into the fold, as well… not yet.
Silently, he withdrew, melting deeper into the shadows, his form dissipating into the unseen. Even as he departed, he didn't forget. Those whose behavior stood out—their unhinged anticipation, their gluttonous need—had been marked. Just as every being carried a unique mana signature, so too did every shadow hold its own essence. And Midnight, a Djinn of the darkness, could memorize and trace it across vast distances.
For now, he would wait and observe the designated targets. Afterwards, he would likely know exactly where to look next.