Morning arrived in Eboren Concord like a promise kept.
The sky above Virelux was a clean, endless blue, the kind that made the city feel taller than it already was. Cool air threaded through the avenues, carrying the scent of roasted beans, fresh bread, and ozone from rune-powered transit lines humming awake. Towers of glass and stone caught the sun and fractured it into a thousand reflections, scattering light down onto the streets where the city stretched, yawned, and resumed its rhythm.
Below, Virelux woke with intention.
Shopkeepers lifted steel shutters and polished glass displays. Office workers streamed from apartment blocks, coats slung over shoulders, cups of steaming coffee already in hand. Tour guides gathered near transit hubs, voices bright and practiced, rehearsing stories they had told a hundred times but never tired of telling again. Rune-Tech power trams glided silently along their rails, blue sigils pulsing beneath translucent floors, carrying the city forward on invisible currents.
Life moved here not in a rush, but with confidence.
In a modest hotel tucked into the lower district, sunlight slipped through a narrow gap in the curtains like a blade and struck Oscar directly in the face.
He groaned, rolling his head away before sitting up on the couch with a yawn that cracked his jaw. He rubbed his eyes, scratched absently at his side, and glanced toward the bed where Stephanie slept, cocooned in blankets, her breathing slow and even. The morning softened her features, the tension she carried even in sleep loosening its grip.
Oscar stretched, bones popping quietly, then padded toward the bathroom.
The small room filled with the sound of the call of nature, the kind that royal chambers usually spared their occupants from. The sound of a flowing stream followed, then by a flush, then more water as he washed his hands and splashed his face. He brushed his teeth with quick efficiency, checking the healing stitches on his shoulder in the mirror, rolling it carefully and nodding in approval.
Behind him, a muffled groan drifted from the bedroom.
Stephanie sat up abruptly, eyes half-lidded and bleary, her nose wrinkling in immediate disgust. "Oscar," she muttered, voice thick with sleep. "Could you not announce your presence to the entire room first thing in the morning."
He grinned at his reflection. "Good morning to you too, Your Highness."
She threw a pillow at the bathroom door, missing entirely.
By the time Oscar emerged, towel slung over his shoulder, Stephanie was already out of bed, hair falling loose around her shoulders, irritation fading into reluctant amusement. They exchanged a look, one that said more than words ever could, and shared a quiet laugh that belonged only to them.
Morning routines followed, simple and unceremonious.
Stephanie changed into comfortable clothes, soft fabric instead of structured gowns, her movements unhurried as she adjusted to the novelty of choosing what to wear without anyone's approval. She glanced at her reflection, fingers brushing the short edges of her hime-cut hair, still marveling at how different she looked, how free.
They sat by the window and sparked their first blunt of the day, smoke curling lazily toward the open air as the city moved beneath them. Oscar spread tourist brochures across the small table, glossy pages advertising everything from museums and rooftop gardens to hole-in-the-wall eateries praised in cramped handwritten notes.
Stephanie leaned over them, eyes shining. "I want to do all of it," she said. "Everything. Even the boring things."
Oscar chuckled. "Trust me, nothing's boring when you're not supposed to be doing it."
She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, and tapped one brochure in particular. "Coffee first."
They left the hotel soon after, blending seamlessly into the morning crowd. No guards. No fanfare. Just two people walking shoulder to shoulder, indistinguishable from anyone else commuting through the streets.
The Rune-Tech power transit carried them upward toward the upper district, the city unfolding below through transparent panels as the tram climbed. Stephanie pressed her face close to the glass, watching rooftops give way to terraces, parks suspended between buildings, and cafés perched high above the streets like nests.
Their first stop was a popular coffee shop nestled on a corner where three avenues converged, its windows thrown open to the breeze. The sign above the door read Sunrise Sigil, etched in warm copper lettering that glowed faintly with enchantment.
Inside, the place buzzed with energy. Baristas moved with practiced precision behind the counter, rune-etched machines hissing and steaming as they worked. The air smelled rich and inviting, a blend of roasted beans and sugar.
Stephanie ordered the house special, a layered coffee infused with citrus peel and a whisper of spice, paired with a flaky pastry dusted in powdered sugar. The first sip made her eyes widen, delight lighting her face as the flavors bloomed on her tongue.
"Oh," she breathed. "That's unfairly good."
She finished the pastry quickly and, without a hint of shame, ordered another. Oscar watched with amusement, content with his stack of breakfast sandwiches, greasy and satisfying, devoured with the enthusiasm of someone who had not eaten properly in days.
They lingered there longer than planned, soaking in the warmth and noise, listening to snippets of conversation from nearby tables. No one recognized her. No one bowed. The anonymity was intoxicating.
As noon approached, they wandered.
They walked through plazas where street performers practiced illusions for spare change, through markets filled with bright fabrics and laughing vendors, through galleries displaying art that ranged from breathtaking to baffling. Stephanie asked questions about everything, her curiosity boundless, her excitement infectious.
They bought clothes in a boutique that catered to travelers and creatives, garments chosen for comfort and movement rather than status. Oscar purchased a new bag of holding from an advanced general store, the shopkeeper proudly explaining its expanded capacity as though unveiling a masterpiece.
The bag looked like a simple backpack, matte black with reinforced stitching and subtle rune-lines woven into the fabric. Its internal space spanned nearly ten feet in diameter, swallowing weight without strain, a quiet marvel of modern enchantment. Oscar tested it with a grin, nodding appreciatively before handing over the coin.
He offered to buy Stephanie one of her own, but she shook her head, smiling softly. "I like traveling light," she said. He gave her his old bag instead, watching her accept it with gratitude that felt far more meaningful than any royal gift.
The afternoon slipped by unnoticed.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the city in gold, they found themselves at a bustling restaurant famous across Virelux for its indulgent comfort food. Smoke drifted from the open kitchen, the sizzle of meat and laughter blending into a soundtrack of shared hunger.
They ordered shamelessly.
Steak smash burgers dripping with juices, baskets of fried pickles seasoned to perfection, plates stacked high until the table barely held them. They smoked again, appetite sharpened, and ate like they had something to prove, drawing amused glances from nearby patrons.
Stephanie laughed between bites, grease on her fingers, utterly unconcerned with appearances. "If this is rebellion," she said, "I understand the appeal."
After dinner, they walked it off, strolling through streets now pulsing with nightlife. Neon signs flickered to life. Music spilled from open doors. The city shifted gears, day giving way to something wilder and less restrained.
Stephanie slowed, her attention caught by a group heading into a club, laughter loud, anticipation electric. The bass thumped through the pavement, vibrating up her legs, and she felt something stir inside her, a longing she no longer tried to suppress.
"I want to go," she said, turning to Oscar with barely contained excitement.
He raised an eyebrow. "In that?"
She looked down at her clothes, then back at him, incredulous. "You're joking."
They returned to the hotel in a hurry.
Stephanie emerged transformed, wearing a black silk mini wrap dress that hugged her just enough to be daring, the loose collar framing her shoulders, the fabric catching the light with every movement. Her makeup was subtle but sharp, eyes lined to emphasize their green brilliance, hair touched up neatly, framing her face with deliberate elegance.
Oscar stood and stared for a moment longer than necessary.
He dressed simply but confidently, black jacket over a green shirt, jeans worn just right, shoes polished enough to pass without trying too hard. The new bag of holding rested comfortably on his back, unassuming and powerful.
They stood together by the door, the city calling to them through the night air.
Stephanie's smile was radiant, unburdened, and entirely her own.
"Ready?" Oscar asked.
She nodded, heart racing, freedom humming in her veins.
They stepped out into the night, heading toward music and light, toward a world that did not know who she was and did not care.
For tonight, that was everything.