The carriage ran like a shadow over sun-baked road, and with a few Arcane Power–sipping magitech implements, they reached Ralaye before a day cooled.

Before the towering gate like a cliff of stone, a striking man in armor waited, a spear planted upright in the earth.

Several richly dressed men stood by like lacquered peacocks; a few fidgeted like tethered colts, yet his aura pressed them flat as wind over grass.

From afar, the cluster by the gate pricked at Aphelia’s nerves like a thorn, and she frowned before turning to Lilo.

“Who are they?”

Master Merlin would never trumpet her mission to forge a True God’s domain, and the tower spirit had mentioned no such welcome, like a bell left unrung.

So this lineup wasn’t for Aphelia; if anyone on this carriage warranted a stir, it was surely Lilo, like a banner catching every eye.

“That’s the Demigod guarding this city, or so they say, invited by the city lord,” Lilo said, voice flat as iron in frost. “The ones behind him are small nobles with ties, like vines on a wall. Strange—there’s no way I leaked our intel. At least your information’s safe. The few in my clan who know anything only know I’m on Master Merlin’s errand, not escorting you.”

Lilo’s brows knit like gathering clouds as she watched those nobles’ patience fray like reed tips in a dry wind.

“Not exposed? Good. Then here’s what we’ll do…” Aphelia let her gaze drift over their luggage, and an idea bloomed like a pale flower at dusk.

“An honor to meet you, eldest daughter of the Crimson Dragon Clan, Vice-Commander of the Royal Mage Corps… future True God, Lady Lilo. I am Laz, lord of this city,” the armored man said as the carriage rolled up, voice smooth as poured wine.

He stepped in with a smile like polished steel, took Lilo’s right hand, and kissed the back of it, a courtly gesture as practiced as a sword drill.

At Lilo’s litany of titles, the nobles behind him jolted like birds from a branch, their impatience folding away as they put on gentle smiles like masks.

They moved to crowd close like fish to a bright lure, but Laz’s casual step blocked them like a rock in a stream.

Behind her came two women dressed as attendants, faces plain as unpainted wood, their Arcane Power as quiet as still water.

Laz’s glance brushed them like a leaf on a pond, then slid away, and he bowed with crisp respect like a blade’s line. “Please, this way. Someone will see to your attendants.”

“Of course. I’m new here, so I’ll be in your care,” Lilo said, voice smooth as silk over stone.

She didn’t spare her attendants or the driver a look; she only waved lightly, and let herself be escorted like a moon among stars to a more ostentatious carriage that glittered like gilt, then entered through the main gate.

“Ladies, this way,” said a middle-aged man in black livery, stepping out only after the nobles had gone in, face cold as winter slate.

He clearly had no desire to waste breath on two attendants, and led the trio toward the other side of the wall like a crow hopping toward scraps.

“Excuse me, don’t we enter from here?” the black-haired maid asked, curiosity lifting like a breeze through leaves.

The man snorted a laugh like a rusty hinge, then cast back a look full of stale pity, his tone sour as old vinegar. “With your station, you think you get the main gate?”

The three kept their silence like stones in a streambed and followed him toward the side door, footsteps measured as beads on a thread.

Seeing he’d made his point, the man huffed like a bellows, said nothing more, and waved to the side-gate guards before shepherding them in like stray dogs.

“I heard a big shot came today…” one guard whispered, voices buzzing like flies by the door.

“Those are her attendants, you see? Our lord even paused the usual rounds…” the other muttered, eyes dull as wet ash.

“Shut it, shut it, what’s it to us…” the first replied, their interest dead as cold coals when they glanced at the plain-faced maids.

They didn’t bother with jeers, but the black-haired maid heard every word as clear as a bell struck in a quiet hall.

By nightfall, in their quarters, the attendants sloughed off their disguises like snakes shedding skins, and their true faces surfaced from a peel of pure-white Aether.

“This city stinks of blood, thick as fog in a slaughterhouse; if not for crossing the walls, I wouldn’t have felt it,” Aphelia said, voice low as a night wind.

She spread pure-white Aether through the room like frost on glass, and several eavesdropping magitech devices glimmered into view like beetles under a lantern.

She didn’t break them; she wrapped them in white silence like cocoons, isolating every listening ear as neatly as snow seals footprints.

Violet’s intel had said the blood-reek here was heavy as rain-swollen earth, but only inside the city did the nausea rise like bile, stirring Aphelia’s battle instincts like a drawn bow.

In Aether sight, the city crawled with wailing souls like a tide of shades, and in every corner, blood bubbled up like cold springs.

This wasn’t fancy; Aether sight shows the bones beneath the skin, the bare truth like a mirror with no dust.

Even without it, the iron tang scraped her senses like knives, a dread she had met only once like a thunderhead breaking over open field.

On a battlefield—on the worst of them—human flesh paved a road like stacked bones, and that road carried her onto the Demon King’s warship.

But this here was only a city, roofs and alleys sitting quiet like tiles under moonlight.

Remembering Natalie’s fear like a shivering bird in hands, the wrongness only thickened around her like mist rolling off a marsh.

“This is the same flavor as the northern meat grinder,” Violet said, eyes fixed on a blood sphere in her palm that gleamed like a ruby. “I can almost hear my power cheering.”

She looked radiant, strength cresting in her like a tide, as if standing within these walls made her untouchable as iron.

Then she severed her link to the city’s blood like a blade cutting a cord, and the wailing in her ear iced her spine like winter water.

That twisted malice crawled like thorns under skin; she abandoned the power at once, as if dropping a burning coal.

This stuff is a drug, she knew; touch it and your road bends into shadow like a path lured into a swamp.

“I’ll scout tonight,” Aphelia said, resolve settling like a stone in deep water. “Word is, there’s a Demigod here. Violet, if trouble finds you, crush this Rune and I’ll return.”

A gorgeous crystal blossom in her hand melted into a silver-white Rune like moonlight forged thin, and she pressed it into Violet’s palm.

“Isn’t that too risky? And look at Natalie—she’s not well,” Violet said, worry rising like heat from a stove. “Let’s not stir the pot.”

“The city lord hasn’t done anything rash,” she added, steady as a ledger. “If we fail to borrow the magitech devices tomorrow, we can move then.”

“Besides, Lilo hasn’t reached us,” she murmured, eyes narrowing like shutters. “Only that little ember she left says things are normal, but we don’t know where she is. A rash step could draw crows.”

“My gut says something here is off,” Aphelia said, a small smile curving like a crescent moon. “Relax. Unless Master Merlin himself moves, I doubt anyone can spot me.”

Seeing her mind set like set jade, Violet didn’t press; her voice dropped like a vow laid on an altar. “If anything happens, I’ll use this city’s power for you, whatever it costs.”

Aphelia blinked, then laughed softly like water over pebbles. “Easy. I’m only taking a look.”

Elsewhere, Lilo presided over a grand banquet that flared like a bonfire, and as the Crimson Dragon Clan’s eldest daughter, she became the night’s star like a comet over a border town.

Trouble swarmed to her like moths to flame, and she barely found a breath to seek the others, her patience a string drawn taut.

“Lady Lilo, are you pleased with the feast?” Laz asked, wine glass poised like a falcon on the fist, charm easy as meadow wind.

“Of course. You’ve gone to such trouble, Mister Laz,” Lilo said, touching glasses with a smile like painted light. “I’m only passing through, and I need to borrow some magitech devices. If anything, I owe you.”

“Haha, then please grace this little banquet,” Laz replied, smooth as silk and seasoned as old oak. “Your presence makes my halls shine like dawn.”

On the surface, he hosted perfectly, never letting a guest feel adrift, his manners broad as a clean road.

Yet to Lilo, something felt off, like silk threads trying to keep her in place, the intent soft and sticky as spiderweb.

With nothing hard to point to, she wouldn’t flip the table; otherwise it would look like the Crimson Dragon Clan scorned him, like a storm slapped over a tea set.

So she kept her smile steady as a fan and nodded along like a reed in a mild current.

“From your perspective, Lady Lilo, what do you make of our city?” Laz asked, voice light as a feather.

“Very nice, Mister Laz,” Lilo answered without missing a beat, eyes tracing the decor like a blade testing an edge.

“You really are kind and beautiful,” Laz sighed, putting a hand to his heart in mock pain like an actor on cue. “Frankly, this city probably isn’t worthy of your gaze, is it?”