Elshua's chambers were a sanctuary of quiet in the Holy Palace, their marble floors bathed in the soft glow of dawn filtering through arched windows.
The frescoed ceilings, depicting Aeloria's miracles, shimmered faintly, and silken tapestries adorned with silver stars swayed in the morning breeze.
His canopied bed, draped in translucent gauze, stood untouched, his restlessness keeping him awake.
At fourteen and a half, Elshua's golden hair, caught the light, his golden eyes reflective as he sat at his desk, his pale gold robe folded neatly beside him, replaced by a simple tunic of dark green.
The weight of his research on Veltharia, Kael's unexpected presence, and the envoy's shadowed purpose lingered, but today, his training with Pope Seraphius IV was postponed, the Pope occupied with the Veltharian delegation.
Elshua exhaled, his fingers brushing the woven cord and wooden lion from Caelan, a faint smile tugging his lips.
'A rare day off,' he thought, his voice soft. 'No drills, no duties—just me and Lumora. I need this.'
His mind, usually a storm of Jun's calculations, felt lighter, though Kael's laughter in the gardens and the library's scrolls still tugged at him.
'I've done what I can for now,' he murmured, standing, his sandals soft on the marble.
'Veltharia's up to something, but the Pope's handling it. Kael's safe, I think—hope. Today, I'll breathe, see the city, clear my head.'
He stretched, his lean frame casting a shadow, and glanced at the rosebud charm beside Caelan's gifts, a reminder of Aeloria's faith.
'Maybe I'll find something out there, a clue, a spark. Or just… rest.'
His golden eyes gleamed, a mix of resolve and curiosity, and he decided to venture beyond the palace, to Lumora's bustling heart.
A letter arrived as he prepared to leave, its parchment sealed with the World Academy's crest, Caelan's familiar scrawl unmistakable. Elshua broke the seal, his smile widening as he read.
Caelan, his paladin friend, had earned a week's vacation, a reward for his excellence in combat drills and strategy classes.
"Topped the sparring ranks again," Caelan wrote, his tone brash but warm.
["They're giving me seven days to roam—might visit Lumora if I can swing it. Miss your saintly glow, you know. Write back, or I'll assume you're buried in books."]
Elshua laughed softly, his golden eyes bright, a pang of longing sharp but brief.
'Caelan, free for a week,' he thought, folding the letter. 'If he comes, it'll be good to see him. But he's thriving, and I've got work here.'
He tucked the letter into his tunic, his heart lighter, and resolved to reply later.
With his duties paused, Elshua slipped out of the palace, donning a plain gray robe with a hood to blend into Lumora's crowds.
The palace gates, carved with radiant suns, loomed behind him as he stepped into the city's vibrant streets, their cobblestones polished by centuries of pilgrims' feet.
The market district was a kaleidoscope of color and sound, its stalls draped in crimson and gold fabrics, their tables piled with goods—spiced breads, glistening fruits, shimmering divine trinkets, and bolts of silk dyed in hues of dawn.
Merchants called out, their voices a lively chorus, while pilgrims in white robes and traders in leather vests haggled, their laughter mingling with the clang of a blacksmith's hammer and the sizzle of grilling meats.
The air was rich with scents—cinnamon, roasted nuts, and the faint tang of rosewine—stirring Elshua's senses, his golden eyes wide beneath his hood.
He wandered, his sandals scuffing the cobblestones, his thoughts drifting.
'This is Lumora's heart,' he thought, his voice silent, his gaze sweeping the stalls.
'Not just faith, but life—people, food, stories. It's… alive.'
He paused at a stall selling crystal charms, their facets catching the sun, and ran a finger over one, its glow faint but warm.
'No arcane wards like Veltharia's, but these feel… pure. Could Kael's envoy want these? Or something bigger?' He moved on, his hood low, blending with the crowd, though his golden hair peeked out, a subtle glint.
His steps slowed near an old vendor, a wiry man with a weathered face and silver hair, grilling skewers of meat over a small brazier, their smoky aroma curling through the air.
The meat, threaded with herbs and glistening with oil, sizzled enticingly, and Elshua found himself staring, his hood slipping slightly, his golden eyes fixed without realizing he'd stopped directly in front of the stall.
The vendor's chuckle broke his trance, and Elshua flushed, his cheeks golden, stepping back.
'Stupid,' he thought, his heart quickening. 'Standing here like a hungry kid—move, Jun, before you make a scene.'
Before he could slip away, the vendor, his eyes crinkling with warmth, called out,
"Hey, lad, no need to run off!" He held out two skewers, their meat charred and fragrant, and gestured for Elshua to take them.
"You look like you need these more than my coin purse does. On the house."
His voice was gruff but kind, his hands steady despite his age, and Elshua froze, his golden eyes wide, his embarrassment deepening.
"I—uh—thank you," Elshua stammered, his voice soft, accepting the skewers with a hesitant nod.
"I didn't mean to stare, I just…" He trailed off, his hood slipping further, revealing his neatly trimmed golden hair.
He took a bite, the meat tender and bursting with flavor—savory, spiced, with a hint of sweetness—and his expression betrayed him, his golden eyes brightening, a small hum escaping his lips.
He ate the first skewer quickly, then the second, unable to hide his delight, his usual composure crumbling.
'T-this is… amazing,' he thought, his cheeks warm. 'Better than the palace feasts. How's street food this good?'
The vendor chuckled, his silver hair glinting, his hands busy with another skewer.
"You've got a face that doesn't hide much, lad," he said, his tone fond. "No charge for those—first time's always free when someone looks that hungry."
He waved off Elshua's attempt to dig coins from his tunic, his grin wide.
"Go on, enjoy the market. Plenty more to taste out there."
Elshua's flush deepened, but he smiled, his golden eyes warm.
"Thank you, really," he said, his voice earnest, bowing slightly before stepping back, the skewers' warmth lingering in his hands.
'Free food and a smile,' he thought, his heart light. 'Lumora's people are something else. I need to come here more.'
He adjusted his hood, his sandals soft on the cobblestones, and continued exploring, the market's energy wrapping around him like a cloak.
He wandered past stalls selling rosewine in etched bottles, their ruby glow tempting, and others offering woven baskets, their patterns intricate, or tiny statues of Aeloria's saints, their stone faces serene.
Pilgrims bartered, children darted through the crowd, and a bard's lute wove a melody through the chaos. Elshua paused to watch a juggler toss glowing orbs, their light pulsing like his own Mendlight, and smiled, his golden eyes soft.
'This is what I'm fighting for,' he thought, his resolve steadying. 'Not just Aeloria's faith, but its people, its life. Kael's envoy can't touch this—not if I stop them.'
As he turned down a quieter alley, the market's noise fading, his status window materialized unbidden, a golden panel shimmering before him, its runes pulsing with urgency.
Elshua stopped, his breath catching, his golden eyes narrowing. It was the first time the system had appeared since his energy drained three years ago, and its message was stark, lacking the usual mission directives.
⟪System Notification: Warning⟫
༺═════════════════༻
Imminent Event: In two days, a shadow stirs beyond Lumora's borders. The light of Aeloria will be tested. Prepare, Young Saint, for the threads of fate converge.
Details: Unavailable
༺═════════════════༻
⟪Recommendation: Strengthen your resolve, seek allies, guard the light.⟫
Elshua's heart pounded, his golden eyes wide, Jun's analytical mind racing.
'A warning, not a mission,' he thought, his voice silent, his fingers tightening on his tunic.
'Two days, something big, but no details? That's new—and bad.'
The cryptic message, its lack of clarity, sent a chill through him, visions of demonic rifts and something he didn't encounter since transmigration flashing in his mind.
'Is this tied to Kael? The envoy? Something else?'
He dismissed the panel, his hand trembling slightly, and leaned against a stone wall, the alley's cool air grounding him.
'Two days,' he thought, his golden eyes blazing.
'I need to move fast—talk to the Pope, check the library again, maybe find Kael. He's part of this, I know it.'
The market's hum felt distant now, the skewers' warmth forgotten, his mind on the warning, on Requiem's shifting arc.
'The novel's changing, and I'm the Spark. I'll protect Aeloria, Kael, all of it.'
He straightened, his hood low, and slipped back into the market, his steps purposeful, his heart a flame against the coming shadow.