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Bells tolled at sunrise.
The town of Brisden had awoken.
Mist had rolled in thicker than usual—a pale blue haze drifting low along the cobblestones, curling around fence posts, slipping beneath doors. It didn't flow like ordinary mist. It crept. It breathed. It retreated from sound, brushed forward again, as if curious. Testing the town's defences like invisible fingers.
Warm morning light pushed through it in thin, golden blades.
One such blade threaded through the shutters of a two-storey home in the Central District, cutting across polished wooden floors and glinting on a vanity mirror.
Lysara sat before it with her long grey hair cascading like silk down her back.
She'd beaten the sunrise today.
Sleep had no place when the Mayor demanded an early council meeting.
Rumours had infected the town these past days—blue mist at dawn, strange lights in the south, whispers of demons. Lysara had spent the last week stamping out panic, correcting hysterical guards, and enduring the Mayor's constant, needling demands.
She stood, stretching muscles that ached from too many restless nights.
Her morning routine resumed.
Discipline came before comfort. So she'd skipped her morning training and gone straight to bathing and preparation.
Warmth Glow
A flick of her wrist summoned gentle fire. Heat rippled across the bathwater, steam unfurling upward like a slow-rising veil. The surface shifted into the perfect temperature, shimmering with faint essence.
She added a measure of Luminary-infused bath salt—expensive, of course, but rank had its privileges. The water glowed faintly, threading warmth into her muscles and replenishing energy levels.
When finished, she dried off and dressed with practiced precision: fitted dark uniform, clean lines, nothing out of place.
Breakfast followed: cultivated fruit and fresh Royalisk steak, specifically a sub-species that inhabited the bordering forests of the surrounding land.
…
Then she approached a decorative shard box.
Inside, crystal facets gleamed.
They hummed softly—reacting to her presence.
She selected two shards: a diamond-shaped armour shard and a long, narrow weapon shard.
Tugging her uniform straight, she checked for creases.
She pressed the armour shard to her chest and fed it Vitalis.
It pulsed.
Vrthhmmmm.
Metal and leather materialised around her, forming piece by piece—breastplate shaping snug around ribs, pauldrons unfolding like layered petals, every joint engineered for movement rather than vanity. A gorget slid into place. Vambraces locked with a satisfying click.
The Aegis of Duskward.
Rare-tier. Reliable. Elegant. Functional.
Her best set, a blend of elegance and battlefield practicality, built for a captain who led from the front. It had served her faithfully for years.
The Verdict Edge, her greatsword—followed, blooming into shape from the second shard. She sheathed it across her back and exhaled once, grounding herself.
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Cold morning air kissed her skin, smelling of wet stone and something faintly metallic drifting beneath the mist.
It was quieter than usual, most townsfolk were still sleeping, but just like her, there were men and women here who also woke up before the sun's rise; smiths, market stall owners, Guild workers and other managers of the towns businesses.
She made her way through the central district, she heard the usual market stall owners setting up, the smell of fresh pastry and fish taking over her senses as she walked by. Workers and even Guild Freeblades with their cohorts making their way down to grab the best contracts available due to the first come first serve policy that the Guild has.
Lanterns along the street burned amber, but the mist between them caught and held the blue of morning, veins of cold running through warm light.
The mist again. That blue tint worries me… creeping up from the southern forests.
She frowned.
"Lysara!"
Two voices broke through her thoughts.
"Good morning!" They chimed together.
Lysara dipped her chin politely.
"Sarah, Ren. Good morning girls. You're heading to the Guildhall as usual?"
Sarah, with blonde hair tied in a bun, adorned the Guildhalls female uniform, professional but elegantly designed, bringing out her cute features but also her professionalism. Having to look the part of a contract manager.
Sarah smiled.
"Yup."
Ren on the other hand had a more tomboyish look, short messy dark brown hair, and a modified uniform, less cute but more movable and breathable, to suit her personal taste. She was the Guildhalls shop manager, a shard gear maniac.
"You're up early, what happened to that whole two hour beauty ritual of yours?" Ren questioned, snickering.
Lysara narrowed her eyes—a slow, unimpressed stare.
Young girls like these never understood the troubles of aging beauty.
She pushed her hair back, acting like a mature adult.
"Today's an exception, council calls for a meeting."
She sighed.
"Duty calls," Sarah said encouragingly.
Ren scoffed.
"Ugh, how do you stomach being in the same room as that waddling lech of a Mayor?"
"Ren!" Sarah hissed, scandalised.
"You'll get us in trouble!"
Ren only grinned.
"Relax. We've got the gallant Guard Captain protecting us!"
Lysara stared at her, deadpan.
These girls have too much energy so early in the morning.
"Well, if you excuse me, girls, I need to attend a meeting with the waddling lech you despise so much."
She spun on her heel and continued her walk.
Sarah waved.
"Good luck, Lysara!"
Ren cupped her hands around her mouth.
"Hope they finally approve your 'Get out of a five-year single streak' petition!"
Her eye twitched.
Just… just keep walking.
Don't get provoked by her teasing.
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Clanging of metal and hammers keeping in rhythmic timing like metal drums could be heard, the Craft District was noisier than most.
The blacksmiths breathed their fire and exhaled smoke, roaring of essence powered forges filled the area within the district. Sparks of essence trickled like electricity within the air, as if establishing their territory.
Craftsmen received supplies and resources ready for their own respectable crafts.
Workers hauled crates of scales, bones, metals, Luminary-infused gems.
The life line of the town, One of her favourite things about Brisden.
A young man, guard off patrol, came barrelling around the corner, surprised by the inch close collision with his high superior.
"Ly—Lysa—I mean—Captain!" Kalv stammered, saluting on instinct, fist to chest.
Why is she up so early? I wonder if there is something going on in the Mayors council.
"Kalv," Lysara said with a scolding tone.
"I've mentioned it before, even off duty, you can't be running around like a madman. At least keep some level of professionalism. Understood?"
"Yes, Captain!" he barked, head low.
"I'll do better to represent the Captain and her reputation!"
He straightened… then faltered, eyes briefly lost in the sight of her armour and hair.
He cleared his throat quickly and looked away.
Lysara sighed, shaking her head.
"You're dismissed, Kalv."
"Thanks, Captain!"
He jogged off toward Meadows Rise.
Young lads… cute yes, but they're too young and immature.
Lysara put her fingers to her forehead and temple, trying to shake the thoughts out of her mind
Not the time.
Duty first.
Romance very, very last.
She resumed her walk toward the Council District.
The mist followed behind her like a curious shadow.
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Warmth Glow
Tier 1 — School of Fire
Description:
A simple Vitalis manipulation that creates a field of gentle heat around a chosen object or within a small area. Common among civilians, it is often used to heat baths, forge coals, or ward off winter chill.
Essence Principle:
Essence holds the memory of warmth. When stirred through Vitalis, that memory awakens and radiates outward, sustaining warmth until the flow fades.
Practitioner's Note:
Control is the heart of comfort. Too much flow scalds the air; too little, and the glow falters. Maintain steady rhythm, and let Luminary breathe.
Maxim:
"With a steady hand, even the power of fire can be controlled."