The nights in Drakamor did not end just because the parade of ghosts had passed.
Until the first light of morning touched the roofs and fields, the city remained a place of shadows and restless things.
From narrow alleys and forgotten courtyards came low growls and strange cries, sometimes barely a breath, sometimes rising into full, ugly roars that made the air feel heavy.
Here and there, in the distance, brief flashes of light flared and died, like sparks of hidden battles that ordinary people would never know about.
The monsters that followed the grand procession were not the only threats.
Many others still lurked in gutters, fields, abandoned corners, hunting whatever human wandered close, while warriors like the silver-haired warrior from before moved silently through the dark, tracking them down one by one.
Darius watched the last of the fog slide away from the street, then turned to Nova with a more composed expression. "Miss Mirror," he said, lantern light catching along his jaw, "in a night like this, I doubt I will encounter anything more important than finding someone from the Mirror family. Allow me to escort you home. Where are you staying? A lodging house in the city? Or a manor belonging to some lord?"
The question made Nova's stomach knot.
Home, for her, meant train lines, apartments, classrooms, and city streets lit by neon and streetlamps.
There was no place in this world she could truthfully point to. She touched her temple lightly, brow furrowing as if she were trying to pull a memory back from very far away. No answer came that she could give him.
Darius watched her struggle, and something softened in his eyes. He stepped back and bowed his head slightly, his voice lowering. "I see," he murmured, "so Miss Mirror has lost her memory."
She blinked at him, caught between confusion and relief.
"In this Elysia Empire, with the land drowned in darkness and chaos," he went on, speaking more to explain than to dramatize, "misfortune comes in many forms. Travelers fall victim to monsters on the road. Villages are attacked. Families scattered. It is not rare for girls to survive an attack only to find their memories broken. I have met such people before." His expression clouded briefly. "Forgive me. I was careless to press you on such painful matters."
Nova stared at him for a moment, taken aback.
She had offered him nothing, and yet he had woven a story around her that fit his world neatly. A missing past, a journey gone wrong, a noble girl stripped of memory by misfortune. It slipped over her like a ready-made cloak.
"No," she said quietly, playing along because she had no better choice, "I should be the one apologizing. I made myself look suspicious. But it's true there are many things I can't remember clearly." She lifted a hand and touched her cheek, turning her head slightly, her hair sliding forward over her shoulder as if to hide part of her expression.
To her own ears, the gesture sounded terribly affected.
It made her skin crawl faintly with embarrassment.
Yet she needed these small performances now. In a place where power mattered more than truth, acting weak and pitiful was sometimes safer than standing bare, especially against noble and righteous-seeming warriors like Darius.
"Absolutely not," Darius said quickly, his voice firm. "Miss Mirror is not suspicious at all. Please do not force yourself to recall what is lost. In times like these, some memories are kinder left behind. The world is cruel enough without dragging every wound back to the surface."
She let the silence sit between them a moment, then he seemed to decide on something.
"Stormspire City lies very, very far from here," he said, looking past her to the unseen west as if he could measure the distance with his eyes. "Seven or eight thousand miles at least. The roads between are overrun with monsters, and warriors vie for territory and power all year round. To send you back there safely, we would need far more strength than I can command. Even our Fireheart House could not guarantee safe passage. And even if we reached Stormspire City, our influence would mean little outside our own lands." His shoulders drew back faintly. "I truly wish I could escort you home, Miss Mirror, but at present, it is beyond my ability."
"I understand…" Nova said, though she trailed off before finishing the thought. In truth, she did not feel any pull toward some distant Mirror estate.
That home did not exist. Her real ties lay in another world entirely, and that path had been severed behind her.
Darius seemed to think for a few heartbeats, then nodded as if settling a plan in his mind. "I still bear duties as a night patrol and cannot abandon my post," he continued. "However, on the outskirts of Drakamor, there is land held by one of our vassal families, the Cray House. Aurelius Cray serves as the sword instructor for the Fireheart army. If you would permit it, I can send you to the Cray household for now. Once I report to my father and uncle, we can decide on your future arrangements properly."
The names and ranks meant little to Nova, but two words rose cleanly above the rest: sword instructor. In a world like this, there could hardly be a more useful person to be near. Something in her chest stirred.
She kept her expression controlled, her tone soft and restrained. "Then… I will have to trouble you, Mister Fireheart," she replied, lifting her sleeve slightly as if to hide a reluctant sigh.
"No trouble at all," he said at once, looking almost relieved. "If anything, I am ashamed I cannot do more. Please be at ease. I will inform my father and uncle as soon as possible."
They set off along the main road, heading toward the open land beyond the city's worn streets.
Darius adjusted his pace so that it matched what he thought she could manage, but even as he slowed, his stride had a natural efficiency that left her working harder than she wanted to admit.
Every few steps, she felt the pull in her legs and lungs.
This body was far fitter than the one she remembered, yet even so, keeping up with a trained warrior was not as simple as walking beside a classmate back in his homeworld.
The gap in strength between everyday people and those who bore swords was wider here than she had ever felt back home.
Drakamor, at least this part of it, had no high walls or impressive city gates, as medieval cities usually have.
The streets simply grew sparser. Houses stood farther apart. Lanterns thinned out until there were only a few scattered points of light behind paper screens.
They walked on, and the buildings sank into darkness behind them. In their place rose trees, thickets, and tall grasses whispering in the night air.
Strange cries echoed now and then from the darkness under the branches, sounds that could have belonged to birds, or beasts, or something else entirely.
Even without seeing a single ghost, Nova felt the unease seep in through her skin.
Under one of the larger trees at the roadside, a horse stood tied to a low branch, its head drooping as it dozed.
Darius stepped ahead, untied the reins, and stroked its neck briefly. "Riding during the parade would have drawn too much attention," he explained. "So I left him here."
Nova looked at the horse and couldn't help thinking that leaving an animal alone in demon-haunted woods seemed almost cruel. The fact that it was still alive spoke more about luck than safety.
"Miss Mirror," Darius said, turning back to her, "please mount. I will walk ahead and lead the horse."
Her heart skipped once.