The sunset bled across the sky, afterglow washing half the heavens, staining the harbor a warm orange-red.

Out on the water, fishing boats glided home, sails like scattered gull wings, cheerful songs trailing like ribbons, breathing life into the quiet dusk.

Into this harbor walked two girls, out of step with the locals: black hair streaming like wind-blown ink; pale green hair falling like a waterfall.

The black-haired girl wore a long black dress; its hem danced like shadows. Her eyes held deep still water, reading for secrets in the oncoming night.

The pale-green-haired girl wore a classic adventurer’s outfit, easy to move in; her once-gray tights were now clean. Her gaze glittered with curiosity and hope, like a first blossom craving the unknown.

Their names flickered like lanterns in the dusk—Lucimia and Rexi.

Lucimia’s destination was the Lowegar Kingdom. People said it was as old as the Empire and the northern Kingdom.

It lay to the south, sea at its feet. Up north, it was pinched between powers. A small land in an awkward spot—like a lone reed between stone banks, easy to crush.

How could such a small country stand unbroken, especially when the Empire once loved war? How had it weathered the Empire’s spearpoint?

In Lucimia’s mind, they had to have a specialty—not resources, not everyday craft. It had to be force, steel under silk.

But how does a small land wield heavy might? Unless their army strikes on another level, it shouldn’t be possible. And if they do, they wouldn’t stay small. To stalemate giants, there’s only one answer—a Dark Deity.

She didn’t know which kind.

To reach Lowegar, Lucimia headed south from the Empire’s far northern border, like a swallow chasing warmth.

At first they flew fast on a flying carpet, wind hissing like strings; midway, Rexi spotted a great river running south like a silver blade and blurted, "Hey, Lucimia, I’ve never ridden a boat. I want to try it once!"

Lucimia refused at first, patience thin as paper; but Rexi used her classic move—she clung to Lucimia’s leg and wailed like a little storm—until Lucimia’s resistance crumbled and she agreed.

To feed Rexi’s curiosity, they dropped from high sky like falling petals and descended to the harbor.

Helplessness pooled in Lucimia’s chest like cool water.

This was a small country up the river, called the Ael Kingdom. Nothing special, just a port named Starglow Harbor, and that’s where the two stood.

Lucimia gazed over the moorings; in the distance only one ship sat at the pier. Two merchant ships crawled closer like slow beetles. The rest were fishermen’s dories—no passengers.

Those merchant ships would take a while to depart, so Lucimia led Rexi to the moored sailboat.

"How do we catch a boat?" Rexi peered left and right, eyes hopping like sparrows. "Do we just board? Then they count heads and we pay?"

"No way," Lucimia said, voice cool as shade. "If people sneak aboard, what then? You find the captain or an agent, settle the price, get a ticket, then board."

The world’s still rough-hewn; for ships, that’s the usual path.

"Ohhh, got it, got it," Rexi nodded, a little glow in her eyes. Then doubt pricked her like a thorn. "Wait—what do you mean, settle a price? Aren’t prices fixed?"

Lucimia gave her a look full of meaning, like a lantern half-shaded. "You’ll know soon."

Lucimia tugged Rexi into an empty, cool shadow. She cast Invisibility Magic; the spell wrapped them like clear water. Then they slipped out invisible.

"What’s up? Are we sneaking aboard?" Rexi whispered in Lucimia’s ear, her breath a tickle. "It’s not that serious… I’ve got money, Lucimia. If you’re saving, I can pay."

"No… sigh. Just follow me."

Lucimia led Rexi to the foot of the gangway. A portly, bearded man stood there, paper cone in hand like a poor man’s trumpet, shouting, "Anyone boarding? Passenger ship here! We sail in two hours! Miss this and you’ll take those merchant boats—those cost more!"

Every so often he barked again, his voice beating the air like a drum. Lucimia and Rexi stood beside him, still as stones.

"We… aren’t boarding?" Rexi murmured, voice small as a thread.

"Wait and watch."

After a while, an old granny hobbled up on a cane, a basket of eggs hanging from her other hand like pale moons. She told the bearded man, "Um… I want to take the boat."

"Oh? Granny, where are you headed?"

"Uh… that place… what’s it called… the Lowa-haha Kingdom. I’m going to see my son. He won’t come home for New Year, so I’ll go find him."

"Lowa-haha Kingdom? Granny, you mean the Lowegar Kingdom, right? There’s no Lowa-haha on this route—honestly, nowhere in the world," the bearded man said, stroking his beard like tangled moss.

"Right, right—Lowegar. My memory’s not so good," the granny said, shaking her head like a tired willow, helpless at her own lapses.

"All right. For Lowegar, it’s far from here. The fare is fifty silver," the bearded man said, raising five thick fingers like stakes.

"Eh? Fifty?" The granny’s eyes widened like saucers. "Why fifty? It used to be thirty."

"Heh." The man smiled, oil-slick. "Can’t help it. This route’s been unsafe lately. A bit extra’s only fair. And we won’t take it for nothing—no food before, food now. So a pricier ticket makes sense."

"I… fine," the granny sighed, a little wind leaving her. She didn’t want trouble; she only wanted the road to her son. She took out a cloth pouch from the basket, counted out a handful of coppers and some silvers, and handed them over.

The bearded man’s eyes lit up like coins. He cheerfully gave her a wooden tag, numbers etched by a twist of magic, and told her to wait on the bench by the harbor.

The granny took the tag, muttering, "Food’s provided—nice, that’s nice," as if the words were a quilt to warm the loss.

After a while, a man with half his head shaved walked over with a swagger, a blade of grass in his mouth, thuggish air hanging off him like smoke.

He looked like trouble, a spiky fellow.

Without a word, he slapped down twenty silvers and held out his hand. "Tag."

The bearded man frowned, but didn’t flare up. He forced a smile. "Heh, that’s not enough, sir. Like I said, the channel isn’t safe, so the ticket is—uh—forty silvers now! And the ship provides food."

He thought that pitch might work, but the spiky fellow pulled a face like thunder and snarled, "Food, my ass. Your mashed potatoes a pig wouldn’t eat. Don’t get greedy, old man. It’s always been twenty. Twenty it is. Don’t try to scam me. Don’t you know I’m a Tier Three mage? Careful, or I’ll kill you."

"Y-yes, yes—here’s your tag," the bearded man stammered, fear rising like cold mist. He fumbled out a tag and handed it over.

The spiky fellow spat, a dark fleck on the boards, then slouched to a bench to wait.

Rexi watched, then turned to Lucimia, her face stiff as frost.

Lucimia turned too and shrugged, shoulders light as reeds. "Now you know?"

"Y-yeah…"