? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  The forest gave way to a sight that left the group stunned. Before them sprawled a frontier settlement, surrounded by the stumps of titanic trees. Their moss-covered cross-sections resembled festering wounds upon the earth—the remnants of Elven giants, slaughtered by an Empire that despised anything capable of eclipsing its own reach. Life swarmed within the town: a traveling fair doused the clearing in light and clamor. Torches and magical lanterns swung from ropes, casting a warm, flickering glow over the stalls, while music—the chime of Elven harps intertwined with the shrill trill of human flutes—beckoned from within. The air hung heavy with the scent of roasted meat, spices, and pine resin. Above it all fluttered Imperial banners; their harsh, rigid heraldry clashed violently against the graceful Elven ornamentation.

  Violetta froze at the din of the fair, pulling her hood low to hide her ears, absorbing the kaleidoscope of festive colors. Her tail twitched involuntarily, keeping time with the rhythm of the songs. The settlement was a dissonance of past and present: buildings of living wood, with refined arches and leaf-motif carvings, stood pressed against crude human extensions—stone walls, thatched roofs, forged-iron gates. Everywhere, Imperial soldiers in dark armor patrolled the crowd, hands resting on the pommels of their swords. Their presence pricked at her heart with anxiety, but the fair hummed with such vibrant life that fear receded to the periphery.

  “These were once the lands of the Wood Elves,” Irellis said quietly, her gaze sweeping over the carved facades. “The trees used to sing here. And then… the Empire came.” She fell silent, pressing her lips together. The memory of ruined temples and scorched groves still burned within her.

  “Well, now it’s a fair,” Brenn grunted. “And I wouldn’t mind a flagon of ale, provided it isn’t poisoned.”

  Tillo giggled, consumed by the anticipation of adventure. “Ale? I’d steal a whole barrel if it weren’t for your constant grumbling, Brenn!”

  “A barrel? You, boy? You’d be flat on your back after one mug…” Brenn laughed.

  Odd merely looked around in silence, his hand, as always, resting on the hilt of his blade. Violetta smiled, feeling the tension of the last few days slowly drain away. Perhaps, for one night, they could forget they were being hunted.

  ? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  The fair roiled like a living sea. Merchants touted their wares: from Elven amulets promising luck, to venison pies that made mouths water. An illusionist in a motley cloak juggled fireballs, drawing gasps from the crowd. Dancers, their dresses shimmering with threads of pure magic, whirled on a wooden stage. Their movements mimicked the flight of falling leaves. Children darted between the stalls, clutching sugar-candy stars and the Imperial crest. Old Elves sat in the shadows, casting dice and muttering of "better times."

  Irellis joined the dance. Her movements were clumsy, her feet tangling in her long mantle, but she laughed, waving to Violetta.

  “Come here!” she called out, nearly tripping over a floorboard. “It’s not that hard!”

  Violetta shook her head. Her fox ears drooped in bashfulness, but the crowd was already chanting, and the lead dancer, laughing, reached out a hand. Violetta sighed, passed the Sphere to Odd, and stepped onto the stage. Her steps were cautious. The light, ringing music seemed to guide her. She began to spin, her tail swaying in time, and the crowd erupted in applause. Irellis tried to keep up, eventually collapsing onto the boards, laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “You said it wasn’t hard!” Violetta teased, helping her up.

  “I… I overestimated myself!” Irellis gasped, wiping her face with her sleeve.

  Meanwhile, Brenn found his place at an axe-throwing stall. The target was a wooden board painted with a boar, already shredded by blades. Furrowing his brows, Brenn hurled his axe with such force that it struck dead-center, splitting the board in two. The crowd roared, and the merchant, a gaunt man with a sly grin, handed him the prize—a cage containing five live piglets.

  “And what am I supposed to do with these?” Brenn grunted, scratching the back of his neck while the black-spotted piglets squealed loudly.

  “Show them off!” shouted Tillo, who was already pulling a jug of ale from a stall. “Or sell them. You’re a Dwarf; you’ll think of something!”

  Odd, standing apart, spoke unexpectedly:

  “Give them away.” His tone was quiet, but a shadow of warmth flickered in his eyes. “To children, for instance.”

  Violetta looked at him in surprise, but Odd had already turned away, as if ashamed of his own words. She smiled and nodded to Brenn, who sighed and carried the cage of piglets toward a group of children. The little ones shrieked with joy, hugging the Dwarf, who merely grunted, hiding a smile.

  Tillo, fueled by enthusiasm, decided to try his hand at a spell-casting accuracy contest hosted by Elven mages in the central plaza. Participants had to strike a series of tiny, moving targets with weak but focused spells. Proudly straightening his posture, the lad stepped into the circle.

  He gripped his staff, muttering the incantation Violetta had taught him on the road—a simple but concentration-heavy “Ray of Light.” His face glowed with hope. He whispered the first spell: instead of a sharp ray, the flow of light emerged blurred, like mist, and barely grazed the target. The second “shot” was worse: the magic erupted from the staff as a puff of smoke that burst with a loud crackle.

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  The crowd laughed, and Tillo turned red, lowering his head. He didn't win the prize, but he didn't retreat immediately, either.

  “Damn it all!” he cursed, striking the ground with his staff. “Back to the same old problem…”

  Violetta moved closer. “You tried,” she said, trying to encourage him. “And you’ve gotten better, Tillo. Remember how you were afraid to even try?”

  Tillo sighed, but his lips twitched into a smile. He remembered how he used to envy Violetta—this girl who was more adept than he, a youth who considered himself a mage. But her patient lessons, her belief in him, had changed everything. Before, he would have just run away, hiding his shame. Now, he stood here, among Elves and mages, and dared to try.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Tillo muttered, looking at Vio. “Next time, I’ll surprise them all. You’ll see!”

  Violetta smiled, and Irellis, standing nearby, patted his shoulder. “Just don’t burn down the fair, all right?” she joked.

  ? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  Noticing something of interest, Violetta separated from the group. In the plaza, several artists stood working, or rather, children and curious visitors trying to imitate a master’s strokes. An instructor sat before them, demonstrating each brushstroke on the canvas, while the rest diligently copied. Violetta smiled, watching their efforts.

  Nearby, she noticed an unusual figure—a red-haired artist sitting apart, as if she didn't belong to the bustle at all. She worked with a concentration suggesting that for her, the painting was not just a drawing, but something incredibly important.

  She wore a long cloak of thick fabric the color of the night sky, stitched along the edge with a thin silver thread that shimmered faintly. Beneath the cloak, a dark doublet with a high collar was visible, concealing part of her face. On her shoulders were matte metal plates devoid of crests or signs—smooth and ascetic. She looked as though she had come from a place where silence was deeper than human voices, and the night was longer than the day.

  Violetta approached, stopping a step away, hesitating to intrude.

  When the artist looked up, Violetta greeted her timidly:

  “Hello. You’re very talented, but what are you painting?” She leaned in. “Some kind of strange stone?”

  “The Blue Obelisk,” the artist replied, calmly drawing another line with her brush.

  “Is it an artifact?”

  “Almost. Legends say it can grant your deepest desire.”

  “Hmm… I suppose many would want to possess it.”

  “Yes. Some want glory. Some—power. And others—answers. But they say all who managed to reach it eventually vanished,” she said this casually, almost indifferently.

  “Creepy… Would you want to find this artifact?”

  “I paint pictures. And that is enough for me,” the master smiled lightly, but there was no warmth or sadness in her eyes—only deep focus.

  At that moment, the Sphere notified Violetta:

  [IRELLIS IS SEARCHING FOR YOU.]

  “Sorry, I must go, but it was nice to meet you,” Violetta said.

  The artist merely nodded and bent over her canvas again. But before the brush touched the paint, she added very quietly, almost in a whisper:

  “If you ever find it… think hard before you make a wish. Because it might not be what you’re counting on.”

  ? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  “Where have you been?” the Elf asked, furrowing her brow.

  “Sorry, I got a little distracted watching the painting.”

  “Let’s go. Something interesting is about to start. And don’t wander far from the group.”

  They returned to the central plaza, where Irellis pushed Violetta toward the next competition—a magical control trial where participants had to create something beautiful. Violetta, giving in to Irellis’s coaxing, reluctantly agreed.

  She stood in the circle. Her eyes shone nervously, and her fingers trembled as she summoned her magic. Her plan was simple—a small illusory flame. But the magic, as if sensing her mood, broke beyond control. A vortex of hundreds of illusory butterflies erupted from her palms, their wings shimmering with soft blue and gold light. They whirled over the fair, settling on stalls, lanterns, and people’s shoulders. The crowd gasped, stunned by the incredible beauty, and children ran to catch the butterflies, laughing.

  “Now that’s what I call flair!” Tillo shouted, clapping Violetta on the shoulder. “You put us all to shame!”

  Violetta blushed, her ears drooping, and warmth spread through her chest. She looked at Irellis, who winked, and at Odd, whose lips were barely touched by a smile. Even Brenn, holding a jug of ale, gave an approving nod.

  The fair brought a few more surprises. Tillo, tipsy on ale, tried to teach an Elven illusionist how to juggle an axe and nearly dismantled a stall, which drew roars from the crowd and the merchant’s wrath. Irellis bought a bracelet with tiny bells that tinkled softly with every step, proudly showing it to Violetta. Odd, to everyone’s surprise, joined a dice game with the old Elves and won a hawk figurine, which he hid in his pocket. Violetta, sitting by the fire, listened to a wandering bard whose tales of dragons nesting in these forests blended with legends of the "star roads." His words resonated in her heart, hinting at her own past.

  One of the warmest moments occurred when the children, having received the piglets from Brenn, invited the group to an impromptu game. They organized a "dragon hunt," where the dragon was Tillo, wrapped in an old blanket. The lad, laughing, chased the children, and they squealed with delight, pelting him with pinecones. Violetta and Irellis joined in, creating illusory sparks to imitate "dragon fire." Even Brenn, despite his grumbling, threw a few pinecones, and Odd, standing aside, smiled quietly.

  Suddenly, amidst the celebration, Violetta felt a chill run down her spine. She noticed movement in the crowd. It was a man in a dark cloak with a hood obscuring his face. He stood near the amulet stall. He didn't dance, didn't laugh—he merely stared intently in her direction. The Sphere, hovering in the air behind Violetta, hummed quietly.

  [WEAK SIGNAL DETECTED,] it spoke. The sound was barely audible amidst the din. [SOURCE UNIDENTIFIED. RECOMMEND EXTREME CAUTION.]

  Violetta instinctively clenched her fists and forced herself to look away. She didn't want to ruin this moment. The cloaked man didn't move, only watched, and his presence remained a shadow in her consciousness.

  As the moon rose above the canopy, the Sphere spoke again:

  [ATTENTION,] it said. [ASCARI TECHNOLOGY SIGNAL DETECTED TO THE NORTHEAST, OUTSIDE THE SETTLEMENT. ANALYSIS CONFIRMS WE ARE ON THE CORRECT PATH, VIOLETTA.]

  Violetta jerked her head up, ears twitching. Northeast—that was where they were heading, toward the Elven forest. She looked at her companions, who were laughing by the fire, feeling a mixed sensation: the joy of the moment and the anxiety of what lay ahead. The fair hummed, butterflies still swayed in the air, but an apprehension grew within her heart. The path to the answers was near, but with it came approaching danger.

  Vio sighed, joined her friends, and allowed herself to laugh a little longer, feeling that such nights would soon become nothing more than a sweet memory.