“Hurry! They went this way!”

In the pitch-black alley, footsteps rattled like hard rain on tin; a dozen shadows spilled like ink, then stalled as if the trail evaporated.

“No. Impossible. The sentry arrays here didn’t trigger. They can’t have gone far.” The leader’s voice frayed like taut wire. He pointed. “You, that path. You two, right. The rest, with me. We must seize that Elf.”

A wind-aspected haste spell whispered like grass in a storm; their figures flickered and blew away like leaves in a gust.

They didn’t notice the odd smear of shadow clinging to a wall a few paces back, a bruise of darkness against pale stone.

When their footsteps thinned and died, that bruise melted like wax in sun, revealing their quarry—Adelaide and Mira, fresh from the Carne Family manor.

Adelaide breathed a soft incantation, her voice a thread; she wiped the last trace of Lierman’s Cell from the wall like cleaning soot from glass. Mira watched the street, eyes sharp as a cat in dusk.

“Even with Queen Dreamlan stepping in, they won’t quit. What is the Carne Family playing at? Swinging their fists now—aren’t they afraid it’ll stain the Flower Dancer election?”

Mira’s anger crackled like dry reeds. Adelaide sounded almost calm, a river under ice.

“Because if the public learns there are Nuhaman Tribe survivors who saw that night with their own eyes, it’s not just losing an election for them.”

Mira’s eyes widened, bright jade startled by lightning. Before she could ask, Adelaide took her hand, cool as moonlit water.

“No time. Come.”

She turned her face aside; Mira couldn’t read it, only the level tide of her voice. Lines of a muscle-enhancement array beneath white silk flashed like silver fish. Adelaide sprang to the rooftop in one clean arc.

No space to argue. Mira followed, hearts thudding like drums, their paths threading through moon-cast shadows like swallows skimming night, until they reached the Fana Family manor.

Adelaide checked the quiet like testing silk for snags. No Fana members nearby. She led Mira in, shut the door with a soft thud, and traced an array that set like lacquer.

“Um…”

“Where danger gathers, safety hides. They won’t imagine I’d dare bring you here.”

Mira’s words wilted. Adelaide buried her head in the wardrobe, hands sifting fabric like water through reeds. After a pause, she chose a few plain Elf outfits and faced Mira.

Like a boutique clerk measuring sunlight, she held one to Mira’s chest, studied, then shook her head, a painter rejecting a color.

“Still too eye-catching.” She snapped her fingers; blood-red vines slithered like living ivy, dragged a travel trunk to her feet, popped it open. The plain dress vanished into it. Adelaide dove back into fabric like a mink into snow.

Pick, compare, toss. Again and again. Mira watched, the unsaid hanging like fog. Finally, she couldn’t swallow it. When Adelaide turned for the wardrobe, Mira caught her wrist, grip trembling like a bowstring.

“Sis! What did you mean? The Nuhaman Tribe’s past—what does it have to do with the Carne Family?”

Adelaide stopped, still as a statue. The air turned tight, a room-sized held breath.

“When will Varie return to the Nacha Tribe settlement?”

The answer dodged the question like a kite slipping wind. Mira blinked, then said, “Tomorrow,” by reflex. Adelaide continued, voice brisk as a blade.

“Change clothes. Take these bags to the little house outside the west gate where we stayed. Wait till dawn. I’ll have her depart, then meet you. Once you reach the settlement, I’ll arrange lodging with Anta.”

“Huh?”

Mira stared at her back, thoughts in knots. The meaning hovered like a spear—her heart refused to let it land. Her lips trembled, a petal in rain.

“Are you… sending me away?”

Silence settled like ash.

“With Menglan here, the Carne Family can’t touch me. But I can’t protect you right now, Mira.”

“Then let Varie take Anta someplace safe. I can stay. There’s got to be something I can do to help you!”

“That’s too dangerous—”

“I’m not scared of that!”

Her voice rose, a flare in night. Fear had never been her tether, not at the knife-edge of the Flower Dancer election, not when Adelaide wrestled unseen storms and needed a pillar.

On the day they fought the Soul Devourer Sormaidon, the taste of death hung between them like iron. She couldn’t bear that separation again. Ride this heat, she told herself. Say it—use the speech you rehearsed in your bones. Tell her you’ll stay by her side, be her strength—

Then Adelaide’s eyes doused her fire like cold rain on coals.

“Mira.”

She finally looked at her. No tender lilt, only a helpless reproach, a willow bent by wind.

“This isn’t just about fear. The Carne Family has you in their sights. If they catch you, it’ll hammer the Flower Dancer election.”

The words were winter. Mira froze, green irises quivering like leaves in a gale.

She didn’t want this truth. She’d already guessed it, more than once. Hearing Adelaide say it cracked her courage like thin ice.

Don’t you see? Your very existence weighs me down.

The meaning swelled beneath that helpless tone and struck her heart. Her fingers unwound from Adelaide’s wrist. Her gaze fell to the floor, heavy as a stone in deep water.

“Mira, don’t make that face. Look at me.”

Adelaide cupped her cheeks, drawing her eyes back like lifting a lantern. Her voice softened, warm as tea.

“Close your eyes. Like when we were little. Empty your thoughts. Deep breaths…”

She counted “one” and “two,” steady as oars. Mira followed, breath smoothing like a quiet lake.

They leaned together, heartbeats settling, two metronomes finding the same measure.

“I know a lot happened today. And much I can’t explain yet.” Her whisper brushed Mira’s ear like silk. “I shouldn’t have taken you to that banquet. That was my mistake. My weight to carry, not yours. So leave this to me. I’ll handle everything.”

Trust me, okay? The words were a ribbon, impossible to untie.

“Besides, how could I entrust Anta to that careless lioness and feel at ease? You’re the only one I can rely on for this, Mira.”

Adelaide smiled; a light flick of her jade hand sent magic blood-threads to lift the packed suitcase like a red kite. It hovered before Mira. Mira’s hand clenched, knuckles pale.

What is this…?

She points out I’m no help, then hands me a soft task to soothe me, never touching the threat under the waterline. The bitterness tasted like old tea. Yet sharper than subtext was this: Adelaide always has her reasons.

If she’s chosen this path, then the biggest help I can offer is—

To get far away, and keep Anta safe.

Damn it!

Mira bit down, teeth a white arc in dusk.

She reached out and took the suitcase handle, a small thunder hiding in her grip.