After a light supper—light for a reason—my mother watched as Kaelith and I pulled our jackets on once more.
"We'll be back eventually, I promise," I said.
She waved us off with a warm smile. "Enjoy yourselves, you two."
Kaelith glanced at me, confusion flickering across his face, but I simply took his arm and led him out into the streets.
My parents' home sat on the thin line between the slums and the shopping district. Normally, we never passed through this way—but tonight, that worked perfectly. I wanted this to be a surprise.
As we turned the corner, the noise hit us all at once.
Vendors shouted over one another, hawking goods from colorful stalls. The scent of roasted meat, sweet pastries, and spiced wine flooded the air, mixing into something dizzying and warm laughter echoed between lantern-lit streets.
"Welcome to the New Year Market," I said.
Kaelith took it in quietly, as he always did—eyes darting, absorbing everything without a word.
"There are… a lot of people here," he said finally.
"Of course," I replied. "I need a new dress, and you need something to wear tomorrow. The ball only accepts the best—and the newest trends."
Not that I cared about fashion. But appearances mattered. My parents' image mattered.
So our little shopping spree began.
We started with dresses. One after another—silks, satins, colors I rarely wore. Each time I stepped out to ask Kaelith's opinion, he gave the same answer.
"You look great."
Every time.
Then I stepped out in that dress.
Kaelith froze.
His mouth fell open.
"Is it that bad?" I asked, suddenly nervous.
He shook his head immediately. "No—no, not at all. It's just…" He paused, searching for words. "You look bold in that. It really suits you, Nyra. Out of all of them… this one is the one."
Heat rushed to my face. I disappeared behind the curtain before he could say anything else.
"O-okay," I said from inside. "I'll get this one."
The stall had small booths nearby, and when I stepped out again—dress folded carefully in my arms—I reached for my coin pouch.
Only to find it was already paid.
"Why did you pay for it?" I asked.
Kaelith smiled. "Consider it my treat."
"…Thank you."
It wasn't cheap. Not even close.
We walked hand in hand through the market again, until I squeezed his fingers. "Now it's your turn."
"I don't need anything fancy," he said with a shrug.
I gave him a look.
And so began his shopping spree.
After far too long, he settled on simply renting a suit. "I'm a traveler," he reminded me. "I don't hold onto things like this. I don't really need them."
"True," I said quietly. "I guess The 25 want you focused on your… mission."
He shot me a sharp look.
"So," he said carefully, "since you've read it… I imagine you have questions."
I nodded. "It's not real, is it? The goddess. The god."
My voice shook despite myself.
He shrugged. "Who knows. It doesn't really matter."
That answer caught me off guard. "Why not?"
"It doesn't matter whether gods exist," he said. "What matters is what we do. Who we help."
His hand clenched at his side. "And besides—if a good god truly existed, they wouldn't allow cruelty. That's why I fight."
There was distance in his eyes now.
"I'm sorry," I said softly. "It was just… a lot to take in."
"It's okay."
We lined up at a food stall, steam curling into the cold night air.
"Then… if the Twenty-Five are real," I asked, "why me?"
He shrugged again. "I don't know. Not even I know."
That didn't help. If anything, it only raised more questions.
"I'm not hiding anything from you," he added quietly. "Even I don't know the finer details. Our organization keeps its mysteries—even from us."
That, at least, reassured me.
We took our food to a nearby table.
"Do you believe in what you're fighting for?" I asked.
"Yes," he said instantly. "I fight for those who can't fight for themselves."
His eyes flicked around the crowd, checking who might be listening.
"Sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to ruin the mood."
"You're fine. It's natural to ask."
After a moment, he smiled faintly. "The food's getting cold. Enjoy some local Elos cuisine."
And we did—laughing softly, sharing warmth, enjoying each other's company.
Midway through the meal, he asked, "Why is there a festival—and a ball—tomorrow?"
"To celebrate the new year."
"It seems… extravagant."
"It is," I said. "But it's expected of the royal family."
Money grubbers. Caring only for what touches them directly.
"For the rest of us," I added, "it's a time to reflect on the year."
I hesitated. "Kaelith… will you come with me somewhere?"
He nodded.
After finishing our meal, he stayed close as the crowd thickened. I led him away from the noise, toward a quiet corner of the city—the shrine of the dead.
A small grassy space. A statue of the god of fertility stood at its center.
But that wasn't where I went.
I knelt before a concrete slab to the left, bowing my head. The slab to pray to the fallen.
"Please keep watching over me," I whispered.
My parents. If they could hear me.
"For your parents?" Kaelith asked.
I nodded. "I always try to visit any time I visit. I also wanted them to meet you."
He stepped forward and murmured a brief prayer of his own. "It never hurts—if they can hear you."
"Thank you," I said.
He shook his head. "Don't thank me."
Every joint in his body went rigid.
"I don't deserve it."
I closed the distance between us, ignoring the chill that had settled over him. "You've helped me more than you realize."
He didn't respond—only asked quietly, "Shall we go?"
So we returned to my parents' home, the warmth of the market fading behind us.
Tomorrow was the ball.
And something told me this peace wouldn't last.