Morning on Lantern Street was as soft as honeyed mist.
Light drifted through the floating glass lamps, scattering pale gold across the crystal pavement. A breeze brushed the sky-herbs that grew along the balconies, carrying a faint scent of mint that mingled with the breath of the city.
Elior fastened the clasp of his cloak and smoothed the collar. The silver hands of the enchanted wall clock flicked neatly to eight. He smiled to himself.
"Time to go. Lucen's probably waiting…"
A faint whoosh echoed outside as a Seraph Cab glided down to the doorstep. The cab shimmered like condensed dawn—its silver body sleek, its wings fine as glass threads. A gentle, crystalline voice greeted him from within.
"Destination: Lower Cloud Tier, Minas Solair Street, correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Hop in, young master. And hold onto your hat—the low winds can be a bit mischievous today!"
Moments later, the cab lifted off, slicing through bright veils of cloud. Beneath him sprawled the Heavenly City—towers of crystal, bridges of light, floating islands linked like constellations. It was dazzling, and somehow, humbling.
As the cab descended, the air grew warmer. Through thin silver mist appeared Minas Solair, a quiet district nestled low among the cloud layers. The houses were modest but charming—small silver chimneys puffing soft smoke, warm light spilling through windows, and a scent of sweetcorn drifting through the air.
Elior had barely raised his hand to knock when the door swung open.
A cheerful woman stood framed in the golden light. Her hair curled softly like chestnuts and was pinned back with a silver clasp. Her eyes, bright and kind, sparkled like the sky after rain.
"Good heavens—Elior! So you're the boy Lucen keeps talking about! I was beginning to think he made you up!"
Elior flushed slightly and bowed.
"Good morning, Mrs. Madra. I hope I'm not intruding."
"Not at all! Come in, dear. The corn cakes just came out of the oven. You can probably smell them halfway down the street!"
The Varell kitchen glowed with warm light—and, quite literally, life.
Silver spoons stirred batter on their own; a butter knife glided smoothly across a loaf; a teapot tilted gracefully, pouring steaming water into two cups. The air was full of soft clinking and the gentle hum of magic.
Elior stared in quiet wonder.
"Ma'am… did you enchant all your kitchen tools to dance like that?"
Madra laughed, her voice light as bells.
"Of course! If I didn't, I'd be exhausted by noon. Oh—and—" She raised her voice toward the stairs.
"Lucen! Your friend's here! Don't keep him waiting, or the cakes will get cold!"
A lazy voice floated down.
"I'm coming! Don't yell, Mum, you'll upset the spoon again!"
Indeed, a silver spoon near the stove gave an indignant rattle.
Lucen appeared a moment later, golden hair tousled, shirt rumpled, grin as bright as ever.
"Elior! You made it! Did the cab spin around in circles trying to find this place?"
"Three times," Elior replied with a laugh. "You forgot to mention your house is at the very bottom of the cloud tier."
"Well hey—at least you didn't fall through the clouds, right?"
They both laughed.
Madra smiled fondly and set a plate of golden corn cakes on the table.
"Come, sit. The Varell family recipe—everyone asks for seconds."
Lucen leaned closer to Elior, whispering conspiratorially,
"Careful with that spoon over there. It's got a temper. I once said the cake was too salty, and it whacked me on the head three times."
Elior grinned. "Really?"
"True story," Madra said, chuckling. "I gave it emotions—it turned out sassier than my son."
The kitchen burst into laughter, light and easy, like sunlight through steam.
Midway through breakfast, Madra poured more tea and said,
"Lucen's father—Arden Varell—is still at the Angelic Energy Institute. He's been busy tuning Seraph energy circuits lately. But he'll be thrilled to know you boys are heading to Astra soon."
Lucen's eyes gleamed.
"I heard Astra opened a new beginner's class this year! They'll teach us how to channel Ether by hand! How cool is that?"
Elior's expression softened.
"I just want to see the ancient magic library. They say some of the books rewrite themselves to match the reader."
Lucen laughed. "Then I'd get one to do all my homework for me."
"Lucen Varell!" Madra feigned a stern tone. "If a book ever hears that, it'll make you write the apology letter!"
Lucen groaned. "Poor book…"
Elior chuckled quietly. In that simple moment, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the faint scent of corn and silver, he felt something he hadn't in a long time—home.
When the plates were empty and the teapot sighed contentedly, Lucen jumped up.
"Come on! Let's go to the Stillwind Market—it's just below the cloud tier. You'll need your Astra gear: robes, rune pens, maybe a ward charm or two!"
Elior hesitated. "But… I don't have any money with me."
Lucen waved it off.
"No problem! I've still got an Aurum Coin left from my part-time at Lucentia Library. You can pay me back once you start working at Astra!"
Madra laughed as she tidied up, dishes gliding neatly into the cupboard on their own.
"Look at that—Lucen being generous for once! Don't be late, boys. And Elior—dear, stay the night, won't you? We've a guest room ready. Lucen hardly ever brings friends home."
Elior looked up, a soft light reflecting in his eyes.
"Thank you, Mrs. Madra. I'd love to."
Madra nodded, her smile gentle as dawn.
Outside, the wind stirred through the clouds. The house glowed in golden warmth, filled with the scent of corn and laughter.
Lucen pulled on his cloak, his grin wide and bright.
"Let's go, Elior! You've got to see the cloud market. Some vendors talk more to their charms than their customers!"
Elior laughed and followed him out.
The door closed softly behind them, leaving the kitchen bathed in afternoon light, where a silver spoon gave a soft, cheerful clink—as if bidding them goodbye.
Through the drifting mist of the lower clouds, the two figures disappeared—one leading the way, the other just beginning his journey—both walking toward the bright, uncertain promise of the days ahead.