Dawn bled silver across the coastal flats when the sky-whale descended. Thirty paces from snout to tail, wings ribbed like storm clouds, it banked once and settled on the salt with the soft impact of a sigh. On its back stood Imara Vey, sentinel of the Heavenly Dawn-Song Sect, armour of white jade glinting like hoarfrost. Seven bronze bells—each the size of a child's fist—hung from the haft of her spear, chiming in perfect, discordant harmony.
Saltmarket's morning market froze. Fishermen lowered nets; spice-sellers forgot their scales. Children stopped chasing gulls and stared, mouths open, as Imara stepped down. Her boots left no prints; the salt simply gave way beneath her, then refilled as if ashamed.
She carried only one thing: a scroll the colour of dried blood, sealed with the sect's sunburst sigil in gold wax.
< Heavenly Dawn-Song Sect – Proclamation >
< Unknown System-User, Tier-3, Saint-Slayer – 1 000 platinum crests >
She pinned the scroll to the central post of the market square and spoke without raising her voice, yet every soul heard her.
"By decree of the High Priestess Lyralei, let every house, guild, and wandering blade know: the killer of Saintess Aurora Vale walks free. Bring word, bring proof, bring blood. The bells will listen."
The bells answered—one after another, a cascade of seven notes that rattled windows and set dogs howling. Merchants flinched; darkness-element stones doubled in price before the echo died. Children bought paper masks of the hooded silhouette; old sailors spat salt and muttered about curses.
Imara did not linger. She remounted, the sky-whale lifted, and the shadow of its wings swept across Saltmarket like an omen. Southward it flew, bells tolling, until the white walls of Aramore Academy rose to swallow the sound.
---
Meanwhile, three leagues south and two floors up
In a narrow dormitory room that smelled of candle smoke and old parchment, Shade sat cross-legged on her bed, fingers idly scratching Umbren behind the ears. The wolf's tail thumped against the mattress like a lazy drum.
"Tell me again," she said, lips twitching, "how you tripped the envoy's bells with your own tail."
Umbren's mental voice slid across her thoughts, dry as winter wind.
—Technically, I only suggested the bells ring. They chose to obey. Very polite bells, really.—
Shade snorted. "Next time try suggesting they play a lullaby. Might put the whole sect to sleep."
—Would save you the effort of dancing on rooftops again.—
She flicked a sesame cracker at him; he caught it mid-air without moving. Outside her window, the faint echo of the distant bells rolled over the Academy roofs like distant thunder. Shade tilted her head, listening, then smiled into the dark.
"Let them search," she whispered. "We'll be here, practicing punch-lines in the dark."
Umbren's eyes glowed violet amusement.
—And practicing the punch that follows.—
The candle guttered, the bells faded, and the night folded them both in quiet, conspiratorial laughter.