Under the vast, ink-black sky of Cadensia, the festival shimmered softly with flickering lantern light, each orb casting warm pools onto the cobblestone and illuminating the eager, curious faces gathered around the wooden stage.
The air was thick with the mingled scents of spiced breads, roasted chestnuts, and sweet fruits. From a distance came the lilting melodies of lute strings, low drumbeats, and the delicate ringing of chimes, music that teased the edges of ears and drawn the crowd closer.
At the center of the square, Lira stood clutching the worn edges of her threadbare shawl, the weight of nerves settling heavily in her chest.
The lantern light kissed her soot-streaked cheeks and shimmering violet eyes that fought to steady beneath their anxious flutter.
Her voice felt fragile, barely audible.
Ryn stood beside her, a spark of lively confidence. "You're going to do just fine, Lira," she whispered, her voice low but firm.
"Remember, I'm right here. I'm not letting anyone get under your skin. As long as I'm here."
Lira managed a weak nod, swallowing hard. "I hope… I hope I don't make a mess of it. Last time, those... nearly broke me."
Ryn's smile was wide and bright, brushing away doubt like a summer breeze. "Those sickers don't know what's coming. You've been working hard, even if they don't see it." She gave Lira's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And as long as I'm around, they won't hear a single mean word."
Lira's throat tightened, and she let the breath she'd been holding slip out slowly. Then, with a shaky exhale, she lifted her chin and began.
Her voice trembled in the quiet plaza as she sang:
"I once dreamed—," she sang, voice trembling but steady.
"To rise above... this quiet stone,
To find a stage beyond this home.
To lift my... voice and make it soar,
A song to stir... the hearts once more.
With every note, she'd chase the sky
Let my spirit leap and fly.
Though tone-deaf, my soul would sing,
And in that song, hope blossomed, spring."
The crowd caught the fragile beauty of her words.
Though her voice wavered, thin and hesitant like a candle caught in the night breeze, the song blossomed with heartfelt sincerity.
A few whispers layered the air with skeptical at first but Ryn's sharp tongue broke through.
"Ignore them! You got that spirit, and that's worth more than perfect pitch!"
The crowd's mood softened, eyes lifting to catch the melodies, their hearts nudged despite themselves.
Lira stumbled briefly on a phrase, notes bending unevenly, but found her footing again, voice gathering warmth and courage as she continued:
"Hush now, my little child...
Drift along this winding night,
Where stones remember dreams once lost,
Walk the path of borrowed light..."
By the final verse, the trembling strength that had nurtured her song transformed into a quiet flame, wrapping the plaza in a gentle embrace.
The final notes of Lira's song still lingered in the cool evening air, mingling with the whispered applause and murmurs that fluttered among the crowd. The weight she had borne during the song, the tension braided with fear, now seemed to loosen, though a nervous flutter remained deep inside.
Her heart pounded, ears still ringing softly, and her faint exhaustion was a dull ache beneath the too-bright festival lights.
Ryn was the first to break the fragile silence around her, stepping forward with bright eyes and a smile as steady as steel. "You did it," she said warmly, voice low enough so only Lira could hear but strong enough to cut through the lingering doubts.
Lira managed a shaky smile, the fatigue twisting with relief. She let out the breath she'd been holding, a small laugh bubbling free. "I thought I'd stumble, fall flat, or make a fool of myself... But it didn't feel like that. Not entirely."
Ryn's grin widened, radiating fierce pride. "None of them expected you to be perfect. But you showed them you belong here. Look at them. Even though they look like some random losers, you can see in their faces that they liked your song. Especially that last note~."
Lira smiled, tentative yet proud. "...yeah."
As the two of them stepped off the stage, Joren awaited them quietly, his pale face softening with surprise and quiet admiration. His dark eyes brightened to meet hers, a small but steady spark amid his usual weariness. "It was beautiful song... I really liked it."
Lira felt a warm bloom of affection for her brother, gratitude and protectiveness mixing with the ache of his sickness. "It means a lot coming from you," she whispered.
As they wove through the thinning crowd, the festival's pulse softened --- laughter faded, conversations dropped to murmurings, and the smell of roasting chestnuts mingled with smoky traces of the distant torches burning low.
Lanterns hung overhead like lanterns of fireflies, their gentle flicker casting uneven light across worn faces, some smiling encouragingly, others hiding uncertain expressions behind polite pleasantries.
Behind a cluster of tents, Ryn slowed the group, scanning the onlookers with sharp eyes. "Watch them," she warned quietly. "Some are just pretending to listen, others are surprised earlier. Down inside, they all heard your heart."
Lira's shoulders loosened. "Pretending or not…," she breathed, eyes reflecting the soft glow of lanterns, "it's the first time I felt truly heard."
Joren nodded, hands tucked deep into threadbare pockets. "Sometimes it's the quiet ones that matter most... as they're the hardest to reach."
Together, the three rounded a corner, away from the crowds and toward the heart of the plaza.
On their way, they stumbled an ice cream stall. It have three flavors: vanilla, chocolate, and avocado.
Joren get the vanilla flavored ice cream and Lira have the mixed vanilla and chocolate one or so what the vender called cookies and cream which confused her since its clear that there's no cookies in there; and Ryn got the avocado flavor after some contemplation.
***
Together, the three rounded a corner, away from the crowds and toward the heart of the plaza. The lively sounds dimmed to a distant hum, exchanged for the gentle drip and sparkle of water trickling in the city's centuries-old fountain.
They found an empty wooden bench, tucked beneath the golden glow of lanterns that flickered like stars. The fountain's centerpiece, a striking statue of the blindfolded goddess of symphony, stood sentinel above, her serene face carved with delicate detail. Ribbons of stone winded through her woven hair like musical notes frozen in eternity.
Lira sank onto the bench, the exhaustion warming into something softer, more companionable. Ryn plopped down beside her, lacing fingers with hers and offering a comforting squeeze.
Joren settled at her feet, carefully balancing a cone of the ice cream in his trembling hand.
"Here," Lira said softly, handing him a cone of her own.
The three ate slowly, savoring the rich flavors in the gentle hush of the night, breaths mingling with the delicate splash of fountain water near their feet.
Lira's gaze drifted over the stone goddess. "Do you think she hears us?" she asked quietly. "The music, the hopes, even the fears?"
Ryn smiled wistfully. "Maybe. Or maybe she listens to the silences between the notes."
Joren licked the melting ice cream from his fingers, eyes tracing a ripple across the watery surface illuminated faintly by the moonlight. "I like to think she does... so that nothing is ever truly lost."
"Yeah..but," Lira speaked hesitantly, "I… I need to find the comfort room," she whispered to them.
Ryn's gaze sharpened immediately, shifting into protective mode. "Okay. I'll take you. Joren, you coming?"
Joren nodded silently, gathering his cone carefully. "I'll come."
Ryn rose smoothly, brushing imaginary dust from patched sleeves, then offered her hand to Lira, who took it gratefully. The three prepared to leave the small sanctuary of the fountain where the night had held them gently.
As they stepped through the slowly thinning crowd, the rich smells and vibrant sounds of the festival began to fade, replaced by the cooler, quieter corners of the plaza.
The soft pounding of their footsteps echoed as they turned into a narrow alleyway lined with worn wooden stalls, the laughter and music now whispers far behind them.
Lira's hand tightened around Ryn's.
"Almost there," Ryn reassured quietly.
At the alley's end, a weathered door marked the entrance to the comfort room, a wooden refuge with faint tendrils of lavender scent drifting from within.
Ryn pushed it open with care, the creaking wood releasing a soft sigh as if welcoming wet souls within.
Inside, the air was cool, with the gentle aroma of lavender oil and the faint whisper of water dripping somewhere unseen.
Lira exhaled deeply, allowing exhaustion to seep through her bones as she sank onto a bench, fingers trembling slightly.
Joren settled beside her, exhausted and fragile, but comforted by the soft enclosure and familiar presence.
Ryn moved to the small wash basin, the sound of running water soothing in the quiet.
In this cocoon of calm, time pressed slower, filled with soft breaths and whispered reassurances.
Then, from nowhere... the night shattered in an instant.
A thunderous explosion ripped through the plaza like a cracked drum, shattering stone and sky alike.
The night erupted into chaos, the festival lights flickered madly, then snapped out in a sharp cascade of shadow.
Outside the shelter, a sweeping silence swallowed sound.
Lira yelped, gripping Ryn's arm. "What—what just happened?"
Ryn twisted toward the doorway, only to find the plaza emptied.
Confused but compelled, Lira, Joren, and Ryn stepped out cautiously into the night air, eyes darting across the familiar but eerily silent space.
Everywhere they looked, the festival was abandoned.
No musicians tuning their instruments. No vendors calling out their wares. No laughter or chatter.
The joyous crowd, just moments before surrounding them with warmth and light, had vanished as if whisked away by an unseen hand.
Joren's voice cracked, barely audible: "I… Where is everyone?"
Lira's heart thundered in her chest as she scanned every shadow, every corner, desperate for a sign of life.
Ryn clenched her jaw, eyes narrowing against the suffocating stillness.
The plaza was a ghost town, frozen in absence.
Then, without warning, the plaza suddenly shimmered with blue luminance, and from nowhere a holographic image flickered to life near the shattered fountain.
A hologram appeared—a smiling face framed by digital light, its eyes glittering with eerie cheer.
"WELCOME 😁 DEAR PLAYERS!" the voice chimed, unnervingly bright.
"THE GAME WILL START AT 11:59 PM. PLEASE PREPARE ACCORDINGLY AS PER INSTRUCTIONS."
Lira, Joren, and Ryn stared in stunned silence, the weight of those words settling like ice.
Their festival night had fractured, their world reshaped... not by magic or accident, but by a strange new reality:
They have become players in a game.