The day was dipping into that golden-orange haze when the group finally gathered near the village fountain. Its waters shimmered softly under the dimming light, casting dancing reflections on the cobbled square.
Ari sat on the edge, pulling out a couple of shiny trinkets from her pouch. "Don't judge me," she said, smirking at Leo, "I had to grab these. They sparkle and jingle. I'm weak."
Elaria turned, brushing her hair aside. "I found this," she said, pointing at the eyeshadow gently dusting her lids. It glinted in a deep lavender hue. "From the market — some local pigment. Pretty, no?"
Leo nodded, distracted, still looking around. "Yeah, the whole market was… something."
And then there was Vellum. Stuffed. Quite literally. His tunic bulged in the most unnatural places.
"Vellum," Ari groaned, eyes narrowing. "You didn't…"
He blinked innocently. "They were giving it for free! How rude would it be to refuse kindness?"
"You were carrying pickled radishes in your hood, Vellum!"
With a smack to the back of his head and a very public forced return session involving apologetic bows and awkward giggles, most of Vellum's 'collections' were handed back to their generous owners. Most of them.
"I'm still full," he mumbled, rubbing his stomach. "My stomach has betrayal issues now."
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the ancient scroll Rayleigh had left behind buzzed faintly from Leo's pocket. He unrolled it quickly.
> "Be wary of the night in places that smile too much. Stay indoors before moonrise."
A strange thing to note. But they'd already been feeling that off-kilter vibe all day.
And then, from behind the fountain, a familiar voice chimed in. "You shouldn't stay outside tonight."
Nyaira — the girl they'd seen earlier — stepped closer, carrying a basket of what looked like folded cloth.
"I live close by," she said, brushing her curly bangs aside. "You can rest at my house. I'll sponsor dinner… and maybe show you what real village hospitality looks like."
They hesitated. Ari exchanged a glance with Leo. "We don't want to impose…"
"You won't be," Nyaira assured. "I insist. Our culture deserves guests."
After a bit more fussing and polite refusals, they finally agreed.
Nyaira's home wasn't far. It stood nestled at the edge of the village — painted in calming shades of ochre and blue. It wasn't grand, but it felt... balanced. Clean, welcoming. The scent of lemongrass greeted them before the door even opened.
Her mother, a woman with soft eyes and a quiet laugh, welcomed them in.
"Where's your father?" Ari asked casually.
"In the capital," Nyaira answered, helping set plates. "He's working with the repair council after the recent attacks."
Leo blinked. Funny. Wonder if she knew the guy who stopped the city from being erased off the map was standing right in her kitchen, awkwardly holding a glass of buttermilk.
Dinner was lively. Jokes flew across the table. Vellum tried to impress Nyaira's mother by slicing vegetables mid-air — and almost took down a curtain. Ari kept grinning as Elaria and Vellum bickered over soup flavor. Leo quietly watched.
Watched the overly warm smiles.
The too-perfect dinner.
The generous laughter.
Something… off.
Later that night, they settled into their sleeping arrangements. Nyaira had laid out extra mattresses. The stars outside were visible through the little circular window. It was peaceful.
Leo lay there, hands behind his head, eyes on the wooden ceiling.
Too peaceful.
Too kind.
Too smiley.
And then his memory ticked.
"Don't trust those who smile too much…"
The scroll had said that.
He turned his head. The others were sleeping soundly.
But something about the stillness made his skin prickle.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax — but the last thing on his mind wasn't the warmth of their meal…
…it was the smile Nyaira gave before she turned off the lights.
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