Chapter Nine: Cracks in the Gold
(Lyra's POV)
If last night burned like a secret,
this morning shimmered like denial.
Day three of the Autumn Festival was in full swing again — stalls glittering with fairy lights, ribbons curling from every lamp post, the air thick with sugar and chatter. My art club's booth was already crowded; the mural looked almost finished now, a mix of orange skies and ink-black leaves.
Rina grinned as she handed me a cup of hot cocoa. "Your section's my favorite. Everyone keeps asking who painted it."
"Please don't tell them," I mumbled.
"Why not? You're the mysterious girl. It fits your brand."
I laughed softly, stirring the cocoa. Somewhere across the field, the football team was still basking in their win — Evan surrounded by people, Cassian half-listening to whatever Aveline was saying.
Aveline.
She looked perfect, like always — curls pinned up, gold pendant catching the sun. But her smile was tighter today, her eyes flicking toward Cassian every few seconds like she wanted to say something and couldn't.
Around noon, Soraya dragged me toward the food stalls. "You have to try the caramel apples," she said. "It's festival law."
We passed by a group of students playing ring toss when Cassian appeared out of nowhere, holding a bottled soda and that calm smile that made everything else blur.
"Hey," he said. "You vanished after the bonfire."
"I went home," I said, feeling my face warm.
"Should've stayed. We ended up playing 'truth or dare.' It was chaos."
Soraya made a noise of agreement. "Yeah, Aveline almost killed Evan for daring Cassian to dance with someone."
Cassian's smile faltered for half a second. "Right. That."
My curiosity sparked. "Who'd you dance with?"
Soraya answered before he could. "A random girl from Section B. Aveline was not thrilled."
I didn't comment, but I noticed Aveline at a nearby booth, pretending to look at bracelets — her jaw tight, her hands restless.
Cassian sighed, muttering, "She'll get over it."
"You sound sure," I said.
He glanced at me. "I'm not."
The tension between them was visible even from where we stood. And somehow, it made my stomach twist — not from jealousy, but from the realization that everyone here was tangled in something they didn't know how to untie.
Later that afternoon, the group gathered again — Soraya and Saphira showing off the prizes they'd won, Evan joking too loudly, Cassian and Aveline standing on opposite sides of the table.
"So," Evan said, leaning his elbow near me. "You surviving the chaos, Solenne?"
"Barely," I said. "You all function like a sitcom cast."
He grinned. "We try. Cassian's the straight man, Soraya's the chaotic cousin, and Aveline's…"
"Don't finish that," Aveline warned.
He smirked but stopped. For once, his teasing didn't land right.
Cassian looked away, jaw tight. The unspoken energy between him and Aveline felt thick enough to touch.
I tried to break the silence. "The mural's almost done," I offered. "Rina said we might enter it in the showcase tomorrow."
"That's amazing," Soraya said. "We're all going to come see."
"You better," I said, smiling.
As the day faded into evening, I found myself alone again — sitting near the fountain at the center of the festival grounds, sketchbook open, soft light flickering across my page.
Evan found me first. Of course he did.
"Didn't peg you for a festival junkie," he said, sitting beside me.
"I'm not," I said. "Just… observing."
"Always observing." He looked at my sketch. "Is that me?"
"It's the fountain," I lied.
He laughed, low and knowing. "Sure it is."
Then Cassian's voice cut through the noise. "Evan—Coach is looking for you."
Evan stood, brushing his hair back. "Guess that's my cue." He shot me one last grin. "Don't draw me too handsome, okay?"
When he left, Cassian lingered.
He didn't say anything for a while — just watched the reflection of lights dance over the water.
Finally, he said quietly, "You notice things you shouldn't."
"Is that bad?"
He shook his head. "It's rare."
I wanted to ask what he meant, but Aveline called his name from behind us — her voice sharp, breaking the stillness.
He looked back at her, then at me. For a second, something flickered in his eyes — apology, maybe, or warning.
"See you tomorrow, Lyra."
And then he was gone, walking toward Aveline as fireworks cracked above us.
I watched them talk — her arms crossed, his voice calm but strained — and thought, not for the first time, that Saint Valley's perfect golden circle was full of quiet fractures.
And somehow, I was standing right in the middle of all of them.