The sun had barely dipped beyond the hills when the streets of Xander bloomed to life. Music rippled through the empire like a spell, stirring every corner of the capital with celebration. It was Emberlight—the festival of warmth, dance, and forgotten worries.
Riella leaned over the palace railing, eyes wide at the sight below. Lanterns, hundreds of them, floated into the sky like fireflies set free. Laughter and drumbeats pulsed together, each more contagious than the last.
Inside their shared chamber, Amelia twirled in front of the mirror. Her gown was a seafoam dream, stitched with gold vines and layered in gentle waves. "This place knows how to throw a festival," she said, her voice breathless with excitement.
Riella stepped beside her, her red dress cinched perfectly at the waist and draping down in petal-like folds. Gold threads wove into the fabric like sunlight dancing over wine. "You look beautiful," she said, tying her dark hair up with her favorite beaded hair tie. "They might mistake us for royal guests."
Amelia grinned. "Let them."
The streets were alive. Dancers in feathered cloaks twirled and stomped in synchronized rhythm, jugglers tossed blazing torches high into the air, and food stalls overflowed with grilled meat, sweet rolls soaked in syrup, and wines as red as Riella's dress.
The girls wove through the crowds, awed by everything.
"Look!" Amelia gasped. "That child just juggled with knives!"
Riella laughed, breathless. "He's braver than Kaien."
They sampled everything—honey pastries, spiced lamb skewers, and a syrupy fruit drink served in carved wooden cups. The smells, the colors, the warmth of the people—it felt like stepping into another world.
Then—
"Wait a second…" Amelia froze, her eyes wide. "Is that—?"
"No way," Riella whispered, leaning forward.
Standing at a roasted corn stall was a familiar figure—brown curls as unruly as ever, holding a wooden cup, munching carelessly.
"JOHN!" Amelia shrieked before Riella could stop her.
The boy jolted, almost dropping his cup. His eyes searched the crowd, confused, then locked on them.
He blinked.
Then he screamed.
"NO WAY!" he shouted, and barreled toward them.
Amelia and Riella rushed forward at the same time, and the three collided in a tangle of limbs and laughter. John swept them both into a hug, lifting Amelia slightly off the ground and spinning her.
"Is this real? Are you real? What in the world?!"
"You grew taller!" Riella exclaimed, cupping his face like an overdramatic aunt.
"You disappeared like ghosts!" he accused, ruffling her hair.
"You missed us?" Amelia asked playfully.
"Missed you? I thought you both got married off or got taken by forest elves!"
They laughed until their sides ached.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you," Riella said, suddenly a little choked up.
"I can't believe we found him here," Amelia whispered later as they walked through the light-filled square. "Of all days…"
"I know," Riella replied, smiling softly. "Maybe Emberlight really is magical."
---
Elsewhere, in the shadows of the palace walls, Dimitri stood watching from a distance. Kael his twin stood beside him, arms crossed.
"Why don't you go down there?" Kael. asked, his gaze flicking to the glowing lanterns.
"I prefer the view from here," Dimitri replied quietly, eyes focused not on the lights—but on her. The girl in red whose laughter momentarily drowned out the weight of truth.
Kael smirked. "Strange, isn't it? How quickly joy can silence pain."
Dimitri said nothing, but his heart agreed.
---
The night deepened, but the celebration never slowed. The heart of the city pulsed with the beat of drums, tambourines, and wooden flutes. Dancers filled the open square—men in embroidered vests, women in swirling skirts that caught the firelight like petals in wind.
"Let's dance," Amelia said, grabbing Riella's hand before she could object.
"I can't dance!"
"Neither can I. That's why we must."
They joined a ring of dancers spinning in time to the music. Riella's laughter was half embarrassment, half joy as she stumbled through the steps, her red dress flaring with each turn. A man beside them clapped in rhythm, and a little girl passed by, handing them each a flower crown.
Riella placed it on her head, grinning. Amelia adjusted hers and winked. "Now we look like we belong here."
A circle dance began, faster, tighter. The crowd clapped along, cheering.
Then Riella stepped back from the spinning crowd to catch her breath. She turned—and froze.
Standing just beyond the torchlight, arms folded, was Kaien.
His dark cloak shimmered slightly under the lanterns, and a slight breeze ruffled his near-black hair. The usual sternness on his face had given way to something unreadable—amusement? Curiosity?
Riella's heart gave a small, traitorous jolt.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping toward him.
He raised a brow. "Keeping an eye on a certain General's guests who seem very determined to disappear into crowds."
She smirked. "We were invited."
"You were warned to stay within bounds."
"Festival boundaries are blurry," she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Kaien's gaze flicked upward to the flower crown on her head, then back to her eyes.
"You look… different," he said. He didn't mean it unkindly. It just seemed to surprise him.
Riella tilted her head. "Less imprisoned, perhaps?"
Kaien actually smiled. A real one.
Amelia popped in between them, out of breath. "Riella! You left me in the circle—oh—hello, Commander Kaien." She gave a mock-curtsy. "Are you here to arrest us for dancing?"
"Tempting," he muttered, glancing sideways.
A trumpet sounded in the distance. Then fireworks bloomed across the sky—spirals of gold and violet that lit the square like daylight. The crowd gasped in wonder. Amelia reached for Riella's hand again, her eyes wide with delight.
Kaien, still watching them, murmured something under his breath—but the wind carried it away.
Riella turned to face the sky, her hand tight in Amelia's. The moment, the noise, the color—it all overwhelmed the gnawing thoughts she'd carried for days.
For once, she let herself forget.
And Kaien watched her like someone seeing something rare. Something almost sacred.