The night air smelled exactly like rain after it kissed ancient stone—sharp, fresh, and just metallic enough to make your tongue tingle. Behind me, Marcelion Empire's capital still thumped and drummed with festival sounds, but out here, beyond the city lights, those noises turned into faint echoes, murmurs of music, and laughter that had long since given up trying to reach this quiet place.
Everyone else was polishing armor, swords, and their carefully crafted reputations for tomorrow's Grand-Festival tournament. They had banners, titles, and nerves they hid behind smiles, and bravado. Me? I walked alone down a moss-covered path with lightning buzzing impatiently under my skin like it was tired of waiting.
Under my heavy cloak, the jagged scars that crawled across my ribs and arms glowed softly, flickering in shades of electric golden lights.
On gentler nights, I pretended they were like stained-glass windows in a cathedral—beautiful, mysterious. Tonight, they felt more like neon signs that screamed "freak" to anyone who caught a glimpse. Miracles, my foot. Let people see a girl glowing like a human lightning bug, and you'd still have them fainting or reaching for pitchforks.
I tugged my hood lower and let the cool night air loosen the tightness in my jaw. An owl above twisted its neck around, staring judgmentally, probably wondering what sort of mess I was getting into now. Soon, moonlight stretched ahead, wide and inviting. And there, before me, was my secret spot:
The Saint's Drape Falls.
A thin sheet of silver water spilled gracefully over dark rocks. The pool beneath lay still and glassy, reflecting the stars like tiny diamonds. Legend claimed that bathing here before sunset brought the Saint's blessing. Typical me, showing up hours late and expecting miracles to wait around.
My cloak slipped off first, then gloves, tunic, and the layers of leather and linen I'd worn all day. Cold air bit my skin, but steam rose gently from my bare shoulders, curling into the darkness. The first touch of water felt like stepping onto knives, but by the time it reached my chest, the pool had wrapped itself around me like a soothing hug. At last, my lightning scars quieted, easing into calm pulses.
I floated on my back, hair spread like ink around my head, ears underwater. The waterfall faded into a low hum, the moon blurred into a gentle smudge—
A scream sliced through my quiet moment.
"F-F-FLOATING CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!"
It wasn't just a scream. It was a full-blown shriek, the sort you'd hear if someone stepped barefoot on a slug. Oddly familiar, though—like an old song that makes your heart ache, or the ghost of laughter echoing in some distant winter memory.
Floating Christmas lights. The words teased at something long-forgotten—a cold hallway, shiny decorations spinning gently in candlelight, a boy's voice bright with laughter. Then the memory vanished, slippery and elusive as wet soap.
I jerked upright, the water splashing around me. On the shore, a tall, hooded figure stood frozen in panic, cloak tangled hopelessly in some reeds, eyes wide enough to rival dinner plates. My glowing skin reflected off his startled face like he'd just spotted a particularly spooky ghost.
"Evening," I drawled, my tone dripping dry amusement. "You're scaring the fish, Peacock."
"Are you—a siren? A spirit? A cursed monster?" He squealed again—unbelievable—and flailed his arms around dramatically.
"If I were a siren, you'd already be dancing naked and sobbing your life regrets to the moon. Since you're fully dressed, logic says I'm not a siren. Now, for heaven's sake, stop screeching. You'll attract every creature from here to the next kingdom." I rolled my eyes, wading casually toward the shore.
I reached the shore, grabbed a towel, and began drying off, completely ignoring his frantic stuttering. Up close, he smelled annoyingly nice—like cedar and some fancy ink reserved for royal letters. More concerning, magic leaked from him in uncontrolled bursts, hot and messy like a spilled pot of stew. No wonder he'd startled himself silly.
"The glow—on your skin," he finally managed, voice trembling. "It looks…"
"Magical? I'm actually a fairy named Overthinkerbell..." I suggested helpfully. Not sure where I recalled that fairy name, but I still used it anyways.
"Over what? Well, I think it's rather cursed," he whispered.
"Semantics." I shrugged, pulling on my tunic. "Cursed things generally scream back."
Before he could reply, the air changed, becoming heavy and rotten—a scent like rusty iron mixed with dying flowers. My stomach twisted. A rock demon, old and hungry, drawn to the reckless spilling of his magic.
"Oh, lovely," I muttered, then moved fast, grabbing his cloak and yanking him roughly behind a thick tree trunk. His surprised shout was muffled as my hand slammed firmly over his mouth.
His eyes, inches from mine, went comically wide. I could feel his cheeks burn red-hot beneath my palm, embarrassment turning him scarlet all the way to his ears. His expression—a blend of horror, shock, and indignant outrage—almost made me laugh aloud. Alm
I pressed a finger sharply to my own lips, signaling silence, before tracing a small rune in the air, instantly hiding both our presences. His heartbeat thundered against my hand, frantic and wild. I glared up at him as if to say, Can you quiet that heart down, please?
He tried, cheeks puffing with effort.
Then his eyes widened even more dramatically, breath hitching as something clearly crawled beneath his cloak. Panic flashed across his face, and he squirmed in horror. I tightened my grip and whispered sternly into his ear,
"Don't move. That thing senses your mana. My aura can overshadow yours, but if you dance around now, we're both demon food."
He froze obediently, eyes wide with panic, utterly helpless. I glanced back to where the demonic beast was.
The demon prowled at the pool's edge, sniffing suspiciously, red eyes gleaming. But it sensed my aura and slowly submerged again, unwilling to confront my controlled power.
As soon as it vanished, I chuckled softly, stepping back and dragging him further away into a safer clearing. "All clear now. You can dance freely, Peacock."
Instantly, he flailed wildly, shrieking as he tugged at his cloak helplessly. "Something's crawling on me! Get it off!"
I laughed openly at the sight. "Saints above—you look like an actual peacock performing a mating dance! How charming."
"It's biting me!" he wailed pitifully.
Still giggling, I caught his arms and turned him, inspecting his cloak. "Stand still, will you? Why not just wear something simpler—like your grandmother's nightgown? Easier access for insect removal."
"You—your voice… it sounds familiar." He stiffened indignantly, then paused, his voice quiet with sudden realization.
"Unlikely," I said dryly. "I rarely speak to anyone—unless ensuring my guild's targets are properly dead."
He swallowed nervously. "Comforting."
Ignoring his discomfort, I lifted the back of his cloak, flipping it forward over his head. He sputtered beneath the fabric as I tugged his tunic loose from his pants. Sure enough, a winged centipede-like insect—a Cretid—clung stubbornly to his skin, feeding hungrily on his mana.
Carefully, I used my index finger to gently pry its fangs free. As my finger brushed his skin, a faint, glowing fingerprint briefly appeared where the creature had bitten him, then faded. Surprised, I said nothing, quickly smoothing his tunic and cloak back into place.
Noticing how flushed he was, even in the moonlight, I reached out and pressed my palm to his forehead. His face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, his hazel eyes wide in shock.
"You feel warm," I teased softly, amused by his flustered expression. "Warmer than you should be."
Magic surged effortlessly, folding around me, and with a flicker of electric blue, I vanished completely from his view...
But just as the shadows wrapped around me, pulling me safely into their embrace, I heard him whisper softly—almost accidentally—into the emptiness I'd left behind:
"…My Sena?"
The name hit me like lightning, echoing painfully through the stillness. My heart skipped sharply, and my breath caught in my throat.
Nobody aside from Malchior and Liora knows my real name... How is it possible?
Instinct took over instantly. I locked eyes with him just long enough to let him glimpse the fierce storm within me, then stepped swiftly into the shadows. Magic surged effortlessly, folding around me, and with a flicker of electric blue, I vanished completely from his view.
From my perch hidden high above, I watched him stand dumbstruck, cloak fluttering in the breeze, staring into the space where I'd stood moments before.
Good. Let him puzzle over it.
Tomorrow, beneath banners and trumpets, he'd search desperately, haunted by glowing scars, teasing laughter, and the strange warmth still lingering on his forehead.
And as for me? I smiled to myself. I was already planning exactly how thoroughly I'd roast that panicked, insect-fearing peacock.
Oh, he definitely had it coming.
End of Chapter 26