Dusk settled over Minas Solair, and the last rays of sunlight spread like golden honey across the crystal-paved streets. The silver mist slowly thinned, revealing glimmering rooftops and the silhouettes of people hurrying through the low-hanging clouds.
Elior walked beside Lucen, gazing up at the metallic birds gliding toward the communication spires. Suddenly, he stopped short.
"Lucen, I just remembered—I need some money," he said, a little awkwardly.
Lucen raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Money? Don't tell me you're planning to pay off what you owe me already."
"No… just in case," Elior replied with a faint smile. "I'll be right back, promise."
Lucen sighed, hands lifted in mock surrender. "All right, but don't go hopping on the wrong Cab and end up in another cloud tier."
Elior laughed, waved goodbye, and stepped toward the street. A silver Seraph Cab hovered nearby, its winged panels fluttering like the feathers of a luminous bird.
"Sunspire Bank, high level," Elior instructed.
"Understood, honored guest," came the soft, melodic voice of the Cab.
The vehicle soared upward, slicing through a curtain of violet mist. Below, Minas Solair shrank into a maze of radiant lights.
The Sunspire Bank towered above the clouds, its glass dome glowing with a warm golden hue. Hundreds of energy orbs drifted beneath the ceiling, bathing the grand hall in a shifting dance of light. Instead of tellers, crystal stones served as conduits for transaction spells.
Elior placed his crystal card upon one of them.
"User confirmed: Elior Venn. Current balance: one thousand Solar Crowns," a clear, youthful voice announced.
"Withdraw five."
From the stone, five thin golden coins lifted into the air, hovering briefly before landing softly in his pouch. The cool metal brushed against his palm, and Elior couldn't help but smile. For the first time, he felt like a true mage—one with his own account, his own cloak, and a wand of his own resting in his pocket.
When he stepped outside, the sun had nearly vanished. The streets were empty now, filled only with drifting fog, as if the whole city were falling asleep.
Then Elior noticed something—a narrow alley nearby. The same one where, earlier that afternoon, he had seen that dark figure gliding through the mist.
Now it was silent and shrouded in shadow.
He hesitated. Part of him urged to keep walking; another whispered—just one look, then leave.
Elior took a step inside.
The alley was so narrow his shoulders nearly brushed the walls. Faintly glowing moss crept along the stone, casting a greenish-blue sheen. His footsteps echoed—soft, alone.
At the very end stood two stone pillars, motionless and ancient. No doors, no exits, only those pillars, etched with faded runes worn smooth by time.
"Just a wall?" Elior murmured.
He touched the cold surface. The thought of his new wand flickered in his mind.
"Let's see."
Tap!
The moment the wand touched the stone, the ground beneath him spun. A whirl of light burst open, dragging him downward before he could even gasp.
Then—darkness.
Elior landed hard on solid ground. The air was heavy, cold, and scented faintly of burning incense. In front of him stood a vast wooden cabinet, flanked by two stone pillars identical to the ones above.
Heart hammering, Elior crept forward. He eased the cabinet door open. A faint light filtered through the crack, revealing a dimly lit chamber with walls veiled in black mist.
Two figures stood inside.
One, cloaked in gray, bowed low.
The other sat—his voice deep, resonant, and chilling as the depths of a well.
"My lord Belial, everything is prepared," the standing one said.
"I do not trust that old fool, Solomon," the seated man replied, his tone measured but sharp.
"He won't dare betray you, my lord," the other assured quickly. "He knows the cost."
A long pause. Then Belial's voice rumbled again, darker this time:
"I smell something strange… Someone is watching us."
Elior froze.
A shock of terror gripped him. He staggered back, his pulse roaring in his ears. Without thinking, he raised his wand and struck the nearest pillar.
Light swirled violently at his feet—
—and in an instant, he was thrown back.
Elior crashed into the same alley, gasping for breath, cold sweat running down his temple. The fog still drifted lazily, silent as before, as though nothing had happened.
He didn't look back. He ran.
Through the silver streets, past the hanging lamps that floated like sleeping fireflies, until he reached Lucen's door.
Lucen swung it open, hair disheveled, staring. "Where have you been? You look like you just escaped a pack of demons."
Elior forced a shaky grin. "No… just—strong winds, I guess."
"Winds?" Lucen snorted. "Right. The kind that scares people half to death. Come in, tea's still hot."
Elior stepped inside, still trembling slightly. He sank onto the chair, clutching the pocket where his wand rested.
In his mind, the voice echoed again—
I smell something strange… Someone is watching us.
But Elior only smiled faintly and said, "Yeah… must've been the wind."
Lucen chuckled, letting it go.
Outside, night spread over Minas Solair—gentle, calm, as though nothing had stirred at all.
Only Elior knew that this evening, he had stumbled upon a secret the sky itself was trying to hide.