The Good's Selling festival is still going strong, even without my primary source of entertainment—His Royal Sneakiness, Prince Bastien. Yeah, at this point, I've fully accepted that I was casually chatting up royalty.
I just really hope he doesn't return to the Capital and suddenly decide to report my ass. That'd be a pretty anticlimactic end to my story.
And then, there's the lizard. The weird, unsettlingly intelligent reptile that somehow makes me feel things not even a glass of Malibu and pineapple juice could. Those deep jade eyes stare at me like they know something.
By all logic, this should be unsettling. But instead, it feels… comforting. Like this little thing understands me in a way no one else does. And from the moment I pried it from Jerry's slimy hands, I knew one thing for certain—I was never letting it go.
The problem now? Nero.
He's been acting like his internal wiring got fried, and I'm genuinely concerned that the moment I tell him, he'll toss my poor lizard out the nearest window. Nero doesn't hate animals, but with all the stress from this festival season, he's been unpredictable.
For now, I've been sneaking the lizard into my room and praying to the Sky that Nero doesn't suddenly decide to conduct a random room inspection. But I can't keep this up forever—I need to tell him.
The dining table is set, and Nero is drinking his morning coffee. He looks well-rested. Relaxed.
"Nero," I start carefully. "Can I keep a lizard I bought yesterday?"
Instant regret.
He spits out his coffee, nearly choking as he slams a fist against his chest. "A—what?! A lizard?!"
I sigh, wiping coffee spray from my face. Ew. Rude.
"Yes. A lizard," I repeat, unfazed. "You're still young, Nero. I believe your hearing works just fine."
He groans, running a hand down his face. "That's not the problem! Why the hell did you waste money on a reptile?! And why a lizard of all things?!"
I shrug. No way he'd believe me if I told him the real reason. It's a better story than Twilight, but still.
"Who the hell even sold it to you?" he demands.
I hesitate before muttering, "…Jerry."
Nero's face gives a remarkable impression of an active volcano.
"From fucking Jerry?!" He slams his hand on the table, looking personally offended. "You fell for that bastard's tricks?!"
I roll my eyes. "I didn't fall for his tricks. He was selling it like some shady back-alley black market dealer, and I wanted to free it." I conveniently leave out the part where the Fourth Prince actually paid for it.
Nero sighs the way a disappointed parent would. He looks eerily similar to my father when I inevitably let him down. (Which, by his words, was often.)
"I assume you want to keep it?"
"You assume correctly."
A long silence. Tension thickens. Then finally—
"…Fine."
I blink. That was way too easy.
"But," he continues, fixing me with a hard stare, "you're fully responsible for it. And I don't want to see it anywhere near the workshop. Understood?"
I grin and mock-salute him. "Sir, yes sir!"
Nero shakes his head, but I catch the ghost of a smile. Maybe I've softened him up just a bit.
Or… maybe not.
The moment he gets to the booth, he switches into full-on business mode, and I take my chance to flee before he starts yelling at me for slacking.
With my new scaly companion lounging on my shoulder, I stroll through the streets, watching the festival unfold around me.
"What do you think?" I ask the lizard, gesturing at the lively town. "Pretty nice place, huh?"
It stares at me, unblinking.
I sigh. Still no talking. I've tried everything—asking questions, staring into its eyes like some telepathic mind-reader, even whispering, 'If you can understand me, blink twice.' Nothing.
But sometimes, the way it looks at me… I swear it understands.
It even nodded once. Or maybe I'm just going crazy.
"How about I get you a snack?" I suggest. "You must want something besides lettuce—"
BAM!
A figure rushes past me, bumping into me so hard I almost drop my lizard.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" I snap, steadying myself.
The man stumbles, and his hood falls for a brief second. Brown hair. Sharp eyes. He yanks his hood back up and disappears into the crowd without so much as an apology.
I narrow my eyes. I just registered your face, you little shit.
Just as I'm about to let it go, I feel a tug on my hair. I glance down.
The lizard is pulling at it, eyes locked on the direction the man ran.
"What?" I frown. "My hair isn't edible, you know—"
Quick. Follow.
I freeze.
That voice.
I whip my head to stare at the lizard. "What…?"
It tugs my hair again, more insistently.
I look back toward the man's disappearing figure. Then back at the lizard.
I point. "Him?"
The lizard nods.
Dangerous.
Ah. Great. A cryptic, magical lizard telling me to follow a suspicious hooded man.
"…Right. I didn't like his face either."
And just like that, I push up my sleeves and march into the crowd.
The chase leads me past the last of the festival-goers, through the quiet outskirts of town, until I find myself at the edge of Flushed Greens.
The name is deceptive. This isn't some gentle, sunlit meadow. No, this is the kind of forest that swallows the light, where the trees twist unnaturally high, their gnarled roots breaking through the earth like skeletal fingers. Thick vines coil around tree trunks like strangling hands, and the air is dense with the scent of damp moss, wood, and something… deeper. Older.
It's like stepping into another world.
A mist clings to the ground, pooling like ghostly tendrils, swirling around my boots as I step forward.
I swallow. "Nero is going to kill me."
And yet, I walk on.
The lizard is tense on my shoulder, its tail tightening slightly around my neck. It knows something I don't.
Ahead, an old wooden sign stands, its paint peeling. BARRIER.
The lizard tugs my hair again.
"Oh, you must be joking," I whisper sharply.
Then, I hear it.
A click. A shift. A faint hum of something powering down.
My blood runs cold.
"The barriers—"
I sprint forward, rage boiling in my veins.
And then I see him. That bastard.
He's tampering with the mechanisms, shutting them down with magic.
"HEY, FUCKER!" I roar, storming toward him. "You wanna get us all killed?!"
I barely have time to register what's happening.
One second, I'm charging at the bastard, fury in my veins, ready to deck him for messing with the town's barriers.
The next—
Pain.
I barely register the sensation of my body hitting the ground, the cold earth rising up to meet me as my limbs go limp. My ears ring, a shrill, piercing sound that drowns out everything else. Somewhere, distant and muffled, I hear the rustling of leaves, the faint shuffle of footsteps moving away. The weight of my body presses down like lead, my chest struggling to rise, my fingers twitching weakly against the soil.
Move.
I tell myself to get up, to open my eyes, to fight back—but I can't.
The world fades.
And then, there is nothing.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally feel my consciousness coming back to me.
Pain lingers in my ribs, a dull, pulsing ache that spreads through my entire body. I stir, blinking sluggishly as the world comes back into focus. The rough texture of dirt and fallen leaves presses against my skin, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. It's cold. Too cold. A stark contrast to the warmth of the festival, to the golden afternoon sun that had bathed Olfea just hours ago.
Or at least, I think it was hours ago.
The sky above is a deep, endless black, clouds drifting lazily across a pale moon. The trees loom above me, their twisted branches casting jagged shadows against the forest floor. For a long moment, I remain still, listening. But there's nothing—no rustling of small animals, no distant hum of insects, no whisper of wind between the trees.
It's too quiet.
A shiver crawls down my spine as I push myself upright, my fingers curling into the damp soil beneath me. My limbs feel heavy, sluggish, like I've been asleep for far too long. A sharp sting shoots through my abdomen as I shift, and I wince, sucking in a breath.
What the hell happened?
The last thing I remember—
The barriers. That man. The attack.
My pulse spikes.
The town.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I scramble to my feet, ignoring the protests of my sore body. The lizard—where is the—
A small weight shifts against my shoulder.
I exhale sharply. Still here.
I cradle the lizard instinctively, my fingers brushing against its cool, scaled skin. Its tail tightens around my wrist. It's trembling.
I have to get back.
I have to get to Olfea.
I take off running.
The forest stretches endlessly, the trees blurring past me as I push forward, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The path is familiar, but something about it feels… wrong. The usual sounds of the night—crickets chirping, the rustling of small creatures in the underbrush—are absent. The silence presses in, thick and suffocating, making every footstep sound unnaturally loud.
It sets my teeth on edge.
I won't stop.
I don't dare to.
The road back feels longer than it should. The night stretches endlessly, swallowing the familiar landmarks in a suffocating darkness. The trees eventually thin out, giving way to open space, and I expect relief to flood me when I finally see the town's entrance.
Instead—
I stop dead in my tracks.
My breath catches in my throat.
No.
This… this isn't right.
I step forward, my boots kicking up small clouds of dust. The town—my town—is barely recognizable. Buildings that once stood tall and sturdy are now broken, their roofs collapsed, their walls reduced to rubble. The marketplace is a graveyard of shattered wood and torn fabric, the festival booths overturned and broken like discarded toys. The scent of burning lingers in the air, faint but unmistakable.
The homes, the shops, the places I walked past every single day—all reduced to rubble. The scent of smoke still lingers faintly in the air, mingling with the dust kicked up by the wind.
A tight, suffocating pressure wraps around my chest.
I force myself forward, each step feeling heavier than the last.
There are no voices. No laughter. No distant chatter of shopkeepers preparing for another day.
There is nothing.
But that's not what makes my stomach twist in fear.
The town is destroyed—but there are no bodies.
Not a single soul.
No bloodstains. No signs of struggle.
No bodies.
It's as if everyone simply vanished. It's as if Olfea didn't fall—as if it was simply erased.
I turn sharply, my stomach twisting violently.
Nero.
My legs move before my mind catches up, my feet carrying me toward the alchemy shop—toward home.
I ignore the way my vision blurs, the way my lungs burn with every frantic breath. The roads I had walked for years now feel foreign, unfamiliar, stripped of everything that once made them real.
When I reach the shop, I nearly collapse.
It's gone.
The sturdy stone walls, the heavy wooden doors, the shelves stacked high with ingredients and carefully labeled bottles—reduced to a heap of shattered stone and splintered wood.
The workbenches are broken, their contents spilled across the debris. Glass glints in the moonlight, shards of vials and beakers catching the light like dying embers. The scent of burnt herbs and alchemical residue still lingers, faint but unmistakable.
My chest tightens as I stumble forward, dropping to my knees.
This place—this tiny, cluttered shop that I had called home—is nothing more than a graveyard of broken memories.
"Nero?" My voice is barely a whisper, shaking as it leaves my lips.
I dig through the debris, my fingers scraping against jagged wood, shoving aside pieces of collapsed shelves, overturned tables—anything.
My breathing comes in short, sharp gasps, my vision swimming as I claw desperately through the wreckage.
"Nero!"
My voice cracks, raw with panic.
I search for any sign of him. A hand buried beneath the rubble, a piece of his clothing caught on the broken wood, something. But there's nothing. No traces of him, no remnants of the man who had taken me in, who had given me a second chance at life.
My hands tremble.
And then, like a dam breaking, the tears come.
Hot, bitter, unstoppable.
I clutch at the debris, my fingers curling into the dust-covered stone as sobs wrack through my body.
Everything—everything—is gone.
Like sand slipping through my fingers.
All of it, wiped away in an instant.
I had held onto this life so tightly, convinced that it was mine to keep, that I had finally found a place to belong. But standing here, in the ruins of what was once my home, I realize how foolish that was.
Because nothing was ever truly mine.
And now, I am left with nothing.
The cold wind howls through the empty streets, carrying with it the ghost of a town that no longer exists.
I lift my head, staring out into the hollowed remains of Olfea, and I feel it again—that same, sinking emptiness.
A familiar ache.
A loneliness that stretches through time, that reaches deep into the very core of who I am.
For the first time in years, I don't feel like Celeste.
I feel like the person I was before.
The one who had always been alone.
And maybe—just maybe—this was always how it was meant to end.
A broken sob escapes me, raw and aching. The kind of sound that comes from a place too deep to name. My forehead presses against my arm, my body curling into itself as grief takes hold, violent and consuming. It is too much—too much to bear, too much to comprehend.
And then, warmth.
A small weight presses against my chest, firm yet gentle, a presence that is neither demanding nor impatient. The touch pulls me from the darkness, just enough for me to lift my head.
The lizard.
It sits nestled against me, its emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light, reflecting the shattered world around us. Its tail curls lightly around my wrist, anchoring me to something solid, something real. It does not flinch at my shaking breaths, nor recoil from the silent tears staining its smooth scales. Instead, it stays—unmoving, unwavering.
My fingers twitch before they move on their own, hesitantly brushing along its small body. The warmth of its skin seeps into my fingertips, grounding me in a way I did not expect. I wrap my arms around it, pressing it against me as if it alone can hold me together.
I cry.
I cry for Olfea, for the people that are gone without a trace. I cry for Nero, for his scolding, the home he gave me that now lies in ruins. I cry for the life I had so foolishly believed was safe, for the fleeting moments of happiness that have slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.
And through it all, the lizard stays.
Then, in the quiet between my sobs, I hear it.
A voice.
Soft and steady, not spoken aloud but resonating deep in my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like an echo of something ancient, something familiar.
Azryllith.
I freeze.
I pull away, my breath hitching as I stare at the lizard in wide-eyed disbelief. The name hums through my skull, vibrating against my very being, settling into the spaces between my ribs like it has always belonged there.
A name.
Her name.
Before I can even form the question, the voice speaks again, gentle and certain.
Friend.
My lips part, but no sound comes out.
I stare at the lizard—at Azryllith—in utter wonder, my grief momentarily forgotten.
She is still here. Still with me.
The realization settles in my chest, heavy but no longer suffocating. My fingers tighten slightly around her small body, and I swallow past the lump in my throat.
I am not entirely alone.
Not yet.
The ruins of Olfea stretch around me, a hollow shell of what was once my home. The loss still clings to me, curling in my gut like a storm that refuses to break. But as I take in the devastation, the shattered remains of the life I built, something shifts within me.
I feel it stirring—something colder, sharper, stronger than grief.
Resolve.
My fingers dig into the fabric of my clothes as I slowly push myself to my feet. My knees feel unsteady, my limbs weak from exhaustion, but I stand.
I stand because I must.
Because if I stay here, if I let myself sink into the wreckage of this place, I will become nothing more than another ghost haunting the ruins.
I lift my gaze toward the path leading away from Olfea, toward the dark horizon that stretches far beyond the broken town. Somewhere beyond those hills, beyond the quiet forest and winding roads, he is waiting.
The man who did this.
The one who tore everything from me.
I will find him.
I will hunt him down.
And I will make him answer for what he has done.
Azryllith's tail tightens around my wrist, her warmth a steady reminder that I am not walking into this fight alone.
I take one last look at the wreckage of my past.
Then, without another word, I turn and leave Olfea behind.