The evening has already settled in when I return home. The village lanterns cast a soft glow on the cobblestones and stone walls. The cool night breeze brushes my face as I push open the door and leave the murmur of the streets behind me. My father's workshop is quiet, and the house is bathed in a warm light.
I head to my room and pull out the outfit I've prepared: a crisp white shirt, navy dress pants, a brown leather belt, and my polished black leather shoes. In front of the mirror, I adjust the collar of my shirt, straighten my tie, and take a deep breath. A mixture of nervousness and excitement runs through me.
"Frost, you look like a real gentleman," my sister comments from the doorway, a mischievous smile on her face.
"And who are you trying to impress with that outfit?" she adds with a laugh.
"That's none of your business," I reply with a slight smile.
My father steps up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"You're elegant, Frost. But remember, what matters most is your attitude. Politeness and consideration for others are more important than a perfect outfit."
Élekior appears, arms crossed, a mocking smile on his lips.
"So, Frost, who are you going to impress tonight?"
"Just some friends," I reply, shrugging.
After a few final adjustments, I leave the house. Lanterns light up the cobblestone streets, and the evening breeze carries the scents of fresh bread and night-blooming flowers. Zack joins me, already smiling.
"Do you think Clara has planned something crazy?" he asks.
"With Florian around? I doubt it," I answer, laughing.
We walk through the village, observing it bathed in evening lights. Patrick the baker, as always, uses his fire to brown his breads, while Wendy twirls her birds above her shop in perfect circles. The scene is familiar and comforting. I smile, but a persistent thought crosses my mind: I love this village, my family, my friends… yet I feel I'm meant for something more.
"Do you really think we'll stay here forever?" Zack says, glancing at the old houses.
"Maybe… or maybe not," I reply absentmindedly.
Finally, we arrive at Clara's house. It is spacious and welcoming, illuminated by lanterns and candles. Inside, the decorations are tasteful: soft rugs, old paintings, shelves filled with books and magical objects. The guests are already laughing and chatting, while Clara's parents move among them.
"Frost! Hi!" Florian calls as he spots us, holding a few drinks.
"Still as clumsy as ever, huh?" I say, amused.
"Yes! There has to be a little humor in this evening," he adds with a playful wink.
Zack and I settle near the buffet. Clara approaches, her face bright with a smile.
"So, do you like the party?"
"Yes, it's perfect. The atmosphere is great."
"And the decorations?" Florian asks, looking at the candles.
"Beautiful! We spent the afternoon setting everything up," Clara says proudly.
"You did a great job, it shows," Zack comments.
"Thanks! I had some help," Clara adds, nodding to her parents.
"Your parents are magicians, right?" Florian asks.
"Yes," Clara smiles. "My father can do incredible things with liquids, and my mother… well, she's very skilled in illusions and enchantments."
Florian leans toward me and whispers,
"I bet if I try something with them, it'll end in disaster."
"Want to give it a shot?" I ask, laughing.
"No way! I'd rather stay alive tonight," he says.
Clara laughs, and so does Zack. We go back and forth with small jokes and comments about the guests, food, and drinks. The conversation becomes natural, almost improvisational.
"And you, Frost?" Clara asks suddenly. "You're very quiet."
"I'm just enjoying the moment," I reply.
"Are you lost in thought?" she asks, concerned.
"Maybe a little," I murmur.
Florian suddenly exclaims,
"You know, I'd really like to leave one day. To Ettengrad. The city is huge, opportunities everywhere…"
His words hit me. Ettengrad. I freeze for a moment, letting my gaze wander across the glowing room. A mix of frustration and longing passes through me: will I spend my whole life here? Is this village really meant for me? Maybe it's time to take my future into my own hands, to decide what I really want.
I step away subtly from the conversation, leaving Clara and Florian laughing at a small joke between themselves. My thoughts weigh heavily as I move toward the center of the room, lost in contemplation. That's when someone bumps into me roughly.
"Frost, is that you?" Elton sneers, the son of Rich, his arrogant smile full of provocation.
I straighten up, fists slightly clenched, but my gaze remains calm.
"No need to shove me," I say firmly.
"You really think you can stand up to me?" he steps closer.
"I've never been afraid of someone just because they have money," I reply.
"Still as arrogant, huh?" he continues.
"And you're still insufferable. Watch out you don't get burned by your own fire," I answer.
Some guests watch, intrigued by the tension. Elton laughs, trying to unnerve me.
"Fine… we'll see about that later," he says, taking a step back.
His gaze stays fixed on me. I notice Zoé across the room, a small smile on her lips.
"Frost…" she murmurs. "You never change."
"Seems like it," I reply, slightly embarrassed but sincere.
The party continues, laughter and chatter filling the room. Florian tells his awkward jokes about women and alcohol, Zack and I trade amusing remarks, and Lara comments on the decorations. The atmosphere is lively and warm.
I hear a quiet conversation in a corner between Clara's father and Florian's uncle.
"These rumors about the Mortuary Sect… I don't think they should be taken lightly," Clara's father says.
"Yes, the recent incidents confirm it," Florian's uncle responds.
I listen casually, my attention split between their words and my own thoughts. The world is bigger than this village, and I feel my destiny cannot be limited to these familiar streets and houses.
Taking a deep breath, I step toward Zoé, ready to start the conversation. Around me, laughter and conversations continue, but I feel this moment is different, that this meeting could change many things.