In the rowdy trade town of Erui, situated at the base of Mount Serto, the velvet hour settled like a gentle veil over its clamor. Merchants drew their stalls closed with the clatter of wood and iron, while the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat lingered in the air. The mountain's shadow stretched long across the cobbled streets, and the cries of bargaining voices gave way to the softer murmur of taverns filled with laughter and song. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, chasing away the dimming light, as though the town itself refused to surrender entirely to the night.
During all this hustling and bustling, a figure emerged from one of the shops closing down. She wore a simple gown that covered her ankles, and walked with a measured stride—almost gracefully, but not quite the same. Her onyx-colored hair fell neatly to her shoulders, and her eyes, a deep shade of purple, held a cool businesslike sharpness. A plastered smile rested on her lips, giving her the air of someone accustomed to bargaining. She cut across the streets, passing the town hall and the mayor's home, before heading down the slabbed street toward a crossroads.
She stood at the road patiently, waiting for a wagon to pass by. It was quite late, and it was rare to see any signs of life around here at this hour, but she needed to see her children, so she carefully waited.
Ten minutes, then thirty, then an hour—yet there was still no sign of a cart or wagon in sight.
The woman sighed deeply and decided to walk farther down the road until she found herself at another intersection. At that moment, a commercial cart pulled alongside her. The cart itself was looking rather worse for wear, and its driver closely resembled his vehicle. Even the horses looked ugly and weak—it seemed like one well put together family—but it would do. She couldn't waste any more time, or she'd risk worrying her little ones. She quickly entered the cart and handed the driver two silver soul stones.
"Where to, woman?" the driver said boorishly.
The woman, unfazed by his attitude, simply replied,
"At the rear side of Mount Serto. When you get to Mr. Erik's home, turn right and head towards Éclair Street. Drop me off there."
The driver nodded quietly, snapping his whip against the horses' heads to get them moving.
The journey was quiet and uneventful, except for the fact that the driver kept taking shortcuts the woman didn't know about. Occasionally, he would pick up other passengers, all of whom had to cram themselves into the tight and uncomfortable cart.
Eventually, the cart reached its destination after five hours. The woman leapt off and began heading toward a narrow path without looking back or offering a 'thank you' to the driver.
She took quick turns down the path and arrived at a shabby hut, dim lanterns flickering on its outer walls. The roof looked like better days might once have seen it—though one couldn't be sure if even days cared much for it. The ground was muddy from the terrible weather, and the air hung heavy with dampness. The woman went straight to extinguishing the lanterns, gathering them carefully in her hands.
At the porch, she nudged the door open with her foot and slipped inside. She dropped the lanterns by the door, then smacked her forehead with her palm. The house was dark, and she needed to see—she wasn't a bat, for soul's sake. Holding up her hand, she manipulated a small portion of her soul and turned it into a wisp of red flame at her fingertips. Opening the latch of one lantern, she dipped her hand into the oil reservoir and lit the wick. Closing the latch carefully, she hung the lantern on the wall.
As the darkness fled the room, she finally saw two small figures curled up on the floor, their faces serene with contentment. Here she was, thinking her children would be worried—yet it seemed they hadn't missed her at all. Smiling softly, she strode to them and lifted them onto her shoulders, carrying them to their shared room and laying them gently on the hay mat.
She undressed, slipped into her chemise, and nestled down between them, pulling them close.
Oh, how she loved them.
She fell into a deep slumber, making sure her children were safely within cuddling reach.
—-----
"Mother, wake up—the sun is already shining brightly!" Anna said, rocking her mother's body gently.
"Isn't it best to leave her alone, Anna? She looks extremely tired," came Roy's voice from the living room. "Go sweep the front yard first before you try waking her."
Anna left the room with a pout and glared at her brother.
"Gimme your broom. Mine's useless—it hardly sweeps the dirt, and it'll be worse today because of that Deron-forsaken rain."
"You moron, it's always useless because you refuse to manipulate its form using your soul" Roy shot back.
Anna, not ready for morning banter, snatched up her broom and went outside, rigorously sweeping at the muddy ground.
Unlike Roy and Mother, I can't even channel my soul into anything to make things easier to do my bidding. Life is so unfair, she thought bitterly.
I should probably leave this until it dries up a little.
She trudged back to where her brother was setting up the firewood for breakfast.
"Life's hard!!" Anna complained.
Roy chuckled. "An eight-year-old isn't supposed to say such things."
"Ooooh, before I forget, Mother asked me to tell you—take ten copper declans from her bag and head to Éclair Street, to the seamstress's house. Pick up the dresses you'll both wear to the festival tonight."
Anna sighed and leaned her head against Roy's shoulder.
"Get the firewood going and boil water for me. It's freezing this morning."
Ruffling Anna's onyx hair, Roy broke kindling into a pile, encircled it with logs, then set two sturdy wooden poles on either side. Balancing a crossbeam, he hung a pot of water over the setup.
"It'll be ready soon. Go wake Momma—it's really late now."