A dim glow crept through the narrow window of the room as Zaphara let out a quiet sigh, reaching for the newspaper she had placed beside her earlier. Aaron was snoring impressively, Seraphion’s head hung halfway off the bed, Lunara slept curled up like a fox, and Talon, for once, looked surprisingly peaceful in his slumber.

  With a swift flick of her wrist, Zaphara hurled the newspaper straight at Aaron’s face. “Wake up, dwarf,” she said dryly.

  Aaron jolted upright with a muffled grunt, the newspaper sliding off his forehead. “What the…?” He blinked groggily, his hands immediately patting his beard as if to ensure everything was still in place. “Are you insane? What the hell was that for?”

  Zaphara planted a hand on her hip. “You snore like a bear in hibernation. My head is already pounding, and we don’t have time to laze around. So get up.” Impatience dripped from every syllable.

  Aaron felt his blood pressure rise. “Listen, Snow-hair…” His gaze flickered over her ever-cold expression, and he instinctively reached for his axe, resting beside his bed. “Are you picking a fight? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

  Before he could say more, Lunara stirred, lifting her head sleepily. But before she could intervene, Zaphara simply flicked her wrist in Aaron’s direction. A shimmer of cold light flickered through the air—within a heartbeat, Aaron’s mouth was frozen shut by a thick, bluish chunk of ice. The only sounds that escaped were muffled, indignant grunts.

  “Much better,” Zaphara observed coolly. “Maybe now you’ll actually listen instead of swinging that axe around. Hurry up and get ready.”

  Aaron sat rigid with fury, his breaths coming in frustrated huffs through his nose. The stunned silence that followed was only broken by a groggy groan from Seraphion. “What… what in the heavens…?” He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes sluggishly.

  Talon stirred next, his red eyes flicking between Aaron and Zaphara, assessing the scene. Lunara, meanwhile, gasped in exasperation. “What the hell is wrong with you two now?” she muttered sleepily.

  Aaron, still struggling against the ice sealing his mouth shut, growled incoherently and staggered to his feet, his axe gripped tightly in one hand. His furious glare locked onto Zaphara as he stomped toward her.

  “Careful!” Lunara gasped, realizing what was about to happen.

  Zaphara merely rocked back onto her heels, entirely unbothered. As Aaron raised his axe, she sidestepped fluidly. The massive blade swung down in a brutal arc, missing her by a hair’s breadth—

  —and slamming directly into the wooden wall behind her.

  The impact echoed through the room like a thunderclap. Wood splintered, dust exploded into the air, and with a deafening crack, an enormous section of the wall was ripped apart. Chunks of timber and plaster rained down, and in the golden morning light, a gaping hole now yawned where the wall had once stood, large enough for a person to step through.

  Zaphara remained frozen, eyes slightly widened in genuine surprise. Seraphion, Lunara, and Talon barely breathed, staring at the destruction in utter disbelief.

  No one had expected Aaron to unleash such devastating force with a single strike.

  Aaron himself stood motionless, his axe still embedded in the shattered remains of the wall. A cold morning breeze tousled his beard, and his muffled, astonished grunts vibrated against the ice still covering his mouth.

  Seraphion was the first to find his voice. “What in the name of the gods did you just do?!”

  Lunara spun toward Aaron, her eyes wide with horror. “Are you insane?! You can’t just—just take down half a damn inn!”

  Talon had leapt from his bed, carefully stepping over the discarded newspaper as his crimson gaze flickered across the wreckage. “Enough! This isn’t helping! If Arnold sees this—”

  Zaphara finally exhaled, shaking off her shock. She took a slow step back, arms crossed, before shooting Aaron an unimpressed look. “I knew you were rough, dwarf, but demolishing a wall?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was a tremor in her posture, betraying her genuine alarm.

  In the stunned silence, the frozen seal on Aaron’s lips cracked slightly as he kept clawing at it, his fury undiminished. Lunara opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

  From the floor below, shouts rang out, and heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

  The first light of the morning streamed through the gaping hole, illuminating the street outside. Pedestrians had already stopped to stare, rubbing their eyes as if unsure whether they were still dreaming. A gust of wind swirled dust and mossy debris into the room.

  The door burst open, and there stood Arnold, flanked by several wide-eyed patrons. Their expressions ranged from confusion to outrage—and, in some cases, sheer disbelief.

  "By all the gods…" Arnold stammered, his gaze darting between the wreckage and Aaron, whose icy chin still glistened in the morning light.

  Thus began a morning at the Silver Ember that neither the inn nor the city would ever forget.

  Zaphara lifted her chin, her heart hammering, though her face remained unreadable. Whatever happened next—there was no undoing this.

  Arnold, still gaping at the destruction, finally found his voice. “What… by the gods happened here?!”

  Aaron opened his mouth, but before he could make a sound, Zaphara flicked her fingers. The ice around his lips shattered into fine, glimmering shards that tumbled to the ground. Aaron inhaled sharply, but the moment his eyes met Zaphara’s, something in her gaze made him pause.

  Zaphara, feigning concern, stepped forward. “Arnold, I… I think someone was here last night. A sabotage attempt.” Her voice was unnervingly steady, almost regretful.

  The others—Lunara, Seraphion, Talon, and Aaron—whipped their heads toward her in absolute shock.

  Lunara parted her lips to protest, her fox ears twitching, but the second Zaphara shot her a sidelong look—cold and sharp as a dagger—she froze.

  Arnold ran a trembling hand over his forehead. “A… sabotage? What? I don’t… I don’t understand…”

  Zaphara sighed theatrically, gesturing to the wreckage. “I was the first one to go upstairs last night. While walking down the hall, I saw a figure in dark robes. My door was ajar—I assumed it was just someone from the inn staff. But now, seeing this… it must have been a delayed spell, meant to explode hours later.”

  A murmur rippled through the group. Even Talon, who usually remained composed, looked at her in open astonishment. Aaron’s jaw tightened audibly, but he forced himself to stay silent, grinding his teeth. He hadn’t heard a word about Zaphara’s claim before now, and yet… the wall had been torn apart, as if no ordinary strike could have caused such destruction.

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  Arnold swallowed hard. “Holy Mother…” He took a step closer to the shattered remains of the wall. “An attack, you say? Then… then it wasn’t your fault, but… gods above. Who would do such a thing?” His expression was laced with awe at a magic beyond what an ordinary innkeeper could comprehend.

  Lunara stood motionless, her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to scream, to expose the blatant lie, but Zaphara’s steely gaze still burned in her memory—an unspoken warning, as sharp and unyielding as a blade. Seraphion shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck before going along “If that’s true, we’re lucky no one was hurt. But… why target us?”

  Zaphara merely lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Perhaps an enemy from one of the kingdoms. The political climate is volatile, and one never knows who is trying to intimidate whom.”

  Arnold ran trembling fingers through his hair. “By the Ten Gods… I’ll have to report this. The city council, the guards—they need to be informed. If you truly believe this was some kind of magical explosive…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh. “But please, you should go. You said you were leaving, didn’t you? I… I’ll handle this.”

  He sounded shaken and overwhelmed, but before anyone could protest, he abruptly turned away. Two of the inn’s guests, faces pale with shock, stepped up beside him to help assess the damage.

  A heavy silence lingered. Then Talon silently slung his bag over his shoulder, Seraphion hesitated before following suit. Aaron cast one last look at the gaping hole in the wall and muttered in a hoarse voice, “Come on. Let’s go.” Whether it was meant for the group or himself remained unclear.

  The moment they stepped out of the Tavern, Lunara spun on Zaphara, her golden eyes blazing. “Are you insane? Spreading a rumor about an attack when the whole continent is already on edge?! Do you even realize what that could mean? The kingdoms are in turmoil, Sylvaria is at war with the Ashen Wasteland, and you just throw something like this into the fire?!”

  Zaphara curled her lips into a thin smile. “Why are you blaming me? Aaron’s the one who smashed the wall.”

  “But—” Lunara didn’t get to finish. In an instant, Zaphara moved.

  With a swift, unrelenting grip, she seized Lunara by the back of the neck and forced her down. Lunara gasped as she was pushed onto her knees, her trembling hands pressing against the cold, uneven cobblestones.

  “If you have a problem, little fox,” Zaphara hissed, tightening her grasp now around Lunara’s jaw, forcing her head up so their eyes met, “then take it up with Aaron. He put us in this situation—I simply saved us from it. And I don’t care who suffers politically because of it.”

  Lunara was frozen in place, her ears flattening in fear as Zaphara’s icy fingers dug into her cheeks. Her grip was unyielding, cold as steel, and in Zaphara’s eyes, a terrible, abyssal fury burned.

  Seraphion and Talon moved in an instant.

  “Zaphara!” Seraphion barked, stepping forward just as Talon raised an arm, ready to intervene.

  But before either of them could reach her, Zaphara abruptly released Lunara.

  Her gaze flicked past them—toward a familiar figure rounding the corner.

  Ivory.

  And she wasn’t alone.

  Walking beside her was a tall, slender elf woman with a sharp, serious expression—Fionna.

  In an instant, Zaphara’s entire demeanor shifted. She straightened, smoothed a stray lock of hair, and her lips curved into a pleasant, composed smile.

  “Ivory!” she called, her voice suddenly warm and inviting. “There you are at last.”

  Lunara was still catching her breath, trembling slightly as Seraphion and Talon helped her up. “Are you… okay?” Seraphion murmured.

  Lunara gave a stiff nod, but the pain and resentment in her eyes spoke louder than words.

  Ivory hurried over, a radiant smile on her lips. “Good morning, everyone!” Her gaze immediately fell on Lunara, whose knees and clothing were dusted with dirt. “What happened?” She stepped closer, genuine concern etched into her features. “Your clothes are all dirty…”

  “I… uh, just tripped,” Lunara murmured, distracted by the warmth in Ivory’s eyes.

  “Wait, let me help you.” Ivory lifted a hand, focusing. A gentle shimmer of light flickered around her fingertips, and the dust on Lunara’s garments dissolved into fine particles, vanishing as if carried away by the wind.

  Meanwhile, Fionna stepped in closer, her brows slightly furrowed. She silently observed the scene, as though she sensed that there was more to the story than she was being told.

  Zaphara offered the newcomer a calculated smile. “We’re just in a bit of a hurry, aren’t we? How wonderful that you’re here, Ivory.”

  Lunara, still somewhat unsteady, leaned on Talon’s shoulder for support and shot Zaphara a look—one laced with both anger and a flicker of fear. Then she turned away, muttering, “Thank you, Ivory…”

  Ivory smiled warmly, oblivious to what had truly transpired moments before. “Well then, let’s get going. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  The sun cast its golden light over the rooftops of Kean as the group finally set out. No one spoke—not to each other, at least. Instead, Zaphara had positioned herself beside Ivory, chattering away as if they were the closest of friends.

  “Oh, Ivory, the color of your eyes is truly exquisite!” Zaphara’s voice carried with feigned admiration. “And your hair looks so silky today… did you visit a stylist recently?”

  Ivory let out a bashful laugh, a soft blush dusting her cheeks. “No, it’s all natural. But… thank you. You’re being very charming today, Zaphara.”

  Zaphara merely smiled knowingly. “A little honesty never hurts, don’t you think?”

  Another quiet giggle escaped Ivory, and she dipped her head in gratitude. Whether she was simply enjoying the attention or genuinely uplifted by Zaphara’s words was uncertain, but the compliments visibly lightened her mood.

  A few steps behind them, Talon walked beside Fionna. The elf had gracefully distanced herself from Ivory and fallen in step with him instead. She was tall, her long, silken white hair flowing over her shoulders, and her sharply defined features bore the elegance characteristic of her kind.

  “Talon?” Fionna’s voice was calm, almost soothing. “You’ve been quiet today. Did you sleep well? Is everything alright?”

  Talon gave the slightest shrug, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a bit tired. I’m not used to sleeping in such a large group.”

  Fionna watched him closely. She could tell that his voice lacked its steadiness, as if something was weighing on him. But she chose not to press him, instead offering a gentle smile as she replied, “I understand. But I’m glad you’re doing well.”

  Together, they followed the narrow streets of Kean. Unlike the previous evening, when taverns and market squares had been ablaze with lights, the city by day felt subdued. Only a handful of merchants were setting up their stalls, and the usual bustling energy was replaced with a quiet, sluggish rhythm.

  A short distance behind them, Aaron, Lunara, and Seraphion trailed along in silence. The thought of the destroyed wall in The Silver Ember still lingered in their minds. Only when the path toward the city gate came into view did Lunara finally break the silence.

  “So… what do we do now?” she asked softly, directing her question at Aaron but including Seraphion as well. “Zaphara fed them a lie, and now… we’re stuck in it.”

  Aaron’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “What do you want me to say? I messed up. If I’d controlled myself better…”

  Before he could go on, Seraphion stepped between them. “Let’s not add fuel to the fire, alright? If something like that happens again, I’ll intervene before it escalates.” There was a quiet resolve in his eyes, enough to steady Lunara’s nerves a little.

  “You’re right,” she sighed. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that again.”

  Meanwhile, Zaphara and Ivory had reached the small square before the city gate. The towering gates were rarely fully opened during the day—security measures arranged between Kean and its neighboring realms ensured that visitors and merchants had to be registered. But this time, Ivory’s mere presence was enough for the guards to recognize who they were dealing with. With a respectful nod, they allowed the group to pass through.

  Beyond the gate, a small plaza unfolded, where a carriage was already waiting. Its wheels were secured, the yoke lay on the ground, and a few travel bags were stacked nearby. Fionna gave Talon a friendly nod, and together they began readying the vehicle.

  As the horses were harnessed and the wheels inspected, Ivory and Zaphara remained close to one another. Laughter, light and fleeting, drifted across the plaza—Zaphara, it seemed, was telling another charming anecdote, one that managed to coax a smile from Ivory.

  A little way off, Lunara, Aaron, and Seraphion had perched on a low stone wall, observing the scene. Lunara swung her legs idly, her golden eyes locked on Zaphara and Ivory. “At least she’s keeping her friendly mask on for now,” she muttered with a sour note in her voice.

  Just then, Fionna’s clear voice rang out from the driver’s seat. “Alright, we’re ready! Come on when you’re set.” Talon patted the horses’ necks and gestured for the others to gather. He deliberately avoided looking at Zaphara as he waited.

  Ivory and Zaphara ended their conversation with a synchronized nod and made their way to the carriage. Lunara, Aaron, and Seraphion followed. For a moment, a strange silence settled over the group as they stood together—but then Ivory reached for the carriage door, offering them all a warm smile.

  “Let’s go,” the princess said softly.