The room was warm.
Lanterns flickered softly, casting golden pools of light across the griefstone table. The shelves hummed faintly, their scrolls whispering in the silence. The air smelled of parchment, herbs, and tea brewing somewhere nearby. Cushioned chairs creaked as Ivy, Tieran, and Annel settled in, their cloaks trailing across the polished wood floor.
Illan couldn't sit still.
His seal pulsed erratically, his fingers drummed against the table, his eyes darted between Ivy and Tieran. His voice burst out, sharp, restless.
"What happened? Did you find any mysterious or secret forbidden medical books? What was in it? Was it dangerous? Was it hidden? Was it—"
The questions tumbled out, one after another, his words tripping over themselves in a rush of curiosity and frustration. His ears flushed red, his cloak bunched awkwardly around his shoulders.
Annel's brow furrowed.
His seal pulsed low, steady, unimpressed.
He sighed.
Then stood.
"Enough."
He kicked Illan lightly toward the door, his broad shoulders casting long shadows across the room. Illan stumbled, cloak flapping, eyes wide.
"Why is this restless fool my son?" Annel muttered. "Gods should have given me a sensible daughter."
He sighed again, heavy, tired, but tinged with humor.
Tieran leaned back in his chair, cloak brushing Ivy's, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"Uncle," he said, voice steady. "He takes after you."
Annel turned sharply.
"No. I don't think so. I wasn't this restless."
Tieran smiled.
"Yes, you were."
Ivy giggled.
Her braid slipped over her shoulder, her seal pulsed faintly, her laughter soft and musical. The sound carried across the room like a bell, easing the tension.
Annel shook his head, cloak trailing, seal glowing faintly.
"Let's get to the point. What was the cure? Is it some recipe? Some herb? Some—"
Tieran interrupted.
His voice was firm.
"No. It's not."
Ivy leaned forward.
Her braid swung, her eyes bright, her seal pulsed.
"It's Mystic Mellow."
Annel stilled.
His brows furrowed.
"Mystic Mellow?"
He leaned back, cloak rustling, seal dimming.
"I'm afraid I don't know much. The only person who knows it is…"
Tieran's voice cut in.
"My mom."
Annel nodded slowly.
"Orie. She must know everything about Mystic Mellow. A magic array. Ancient. Left by Orie's ancestors. It doesn't cast spells—it commands minds. Whoever masters it can rewrite thought."
The lanterns flickered.
The shelves hummed.
The air thickened.
Tieran's eyes softened.
"My mom… she gave it to Aunt Nia. Twelve years ago."
Ivy's breath caught.
Her seal pulsed erratically.
"And she planted it on me."
Silence.
Annel's eyes widened.
His seal flared.
"Then you should hurry back."
Tieran nodded.
"Yes."
But Ivy leaned forward.
Her braid slipped, her eyes steady, her seal glowing faintly.
"But we came here to gather herbs. To heal them. They are weak. Their powers are fading."
Annel's seal pulsed.
His voice was low.
Steady.
"Don't worry. I'll help in any way I can."
The room settled.
The lanterns flickered.
The seals pulsed.
Ivy leaned back, cloak pooling around her, her half-eaten pancake still resting on the table. Tieran sat close, the sealed book tucked inside his coat, his eyes steady, his breath calm. Annel's broad shoulders filled the room, his presence grounding, his seal glowing faintly. Illan sulked outside the door, muttering to himself, his restless energy echoing faintly through the walls.
The air was warm.
The bond pulsed steady.
The cure waited.
The day in Iris Valley was gentle.
Annel moved with practiced ease, his broad shoulders bent as he guided Ivy and Tieran through the herb fields. His hands brushed over stalks of lavender, sage, and rare blossoms that only bloomed in the valley's soil. His voice was calm, steady, carrying the weight of years spent healing.
Aldi walked beside them, her cloak catching the sunlight, her braid swaying with determination. She nudged Ivy's arm, her eyes gleaming with resolve. "I'm coming with you," she said firmly, her voice warm but resolute. "To see Orie and Nia."
Ivy smiled, braid bouncing as she nodded. "Yes, you can."
Thimble darted forward, cloak flapping, ears twitching. "Can I? Can I come too?"
Ivy nodded again, her seal pulsing faintly. Thimble squealed with joy, running in circles through the grass, his laughter carrying across the valley like bells.
Annel straightened, his robes stitched with silver thread and dried herbs catching the breeze. His seal pulsed faintly as he spoke.
"Take Illan with you," he said. "He's restless and messy, but he has medical skills. Passed by me. It's good to have a healer around."
Tieran nodded, cloak brushing Ivy's, his eyes steady.
Annel sighed, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "I want to go too. But I can't leave the Healers' Hall in the absence of elders. And if I enter the capital, villains will try to capture me. It will only bring more trouble."
Tieran's voice was low, respectful. "I understand."
He turned then, his eyes catching Ivy in the field.
She was laughing, her braid swinging, her cloak trailing as she chased Thimble through the grass. Her seal pulsed brightly, syncing with the joy around her. Tieran's chest tightened, his heart fluttering.
Through the bond, Ivy felt it.
She stopped, turned, her cheeks flushed. She smiled softly, her seal glowing brighter.
The valley was abundant.
Every herb they needed for Orie and Nia's healing grew here—lavender for calming, sage for strength, blossoms rare enough to be whispered about in old texts. The baskets filled quickly, their scents mingling in the air, weaving comfort into the day.
But when the sun fell, the valley changed.
The sky deepened into indigo, the stars scattered like silver threads across the heavens. The moon rose, pale and watchful, casting its glow across the fields. The herbs shimmered faintly in its light, their petals trembling in the night breeze
Tieran sat outside.
His cloak draped loosely, his boots pressed into the grass. He swallowed another pain-suppressing pill, jaw tightening as the dull ache threaded through his veins. His eyes lifted to the moon, steady, restless. He couldn't sleep.
Inside, Ivy stood by the window.
Her cloak pooled around her, her braid slipping over her shoulder. She leaned against the frame, her fingers brushing the wood, her eyes fixed on Tieran outside. The moonlight painted her in silver, softening her features.
She felt him.
Through the bond. His ache. His restlessness. His quiet longing.
Her cheeks flushed, her breath caught. She didn't speak. She didn't move. She just watched him, her seal glowing faintly, syncing with his.
The valley was silent.
No voices. No footsteps. Only the whisper of wind through grass, the hum of herbs, the distant call of night birds.
It wasn't empty silence. It was waiting. A hush before something. A pause before discovery. A breath before battle.
Nearby, Aldi sat with Thimble curled against her side. Her cloak shimmered faintly in the moonlight, the fabric pooling around them like a blanket. She had wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him close with sisterly warmth.
Thimble wriggled, ears flicking, cloak flapping as he protested. "I'm not a pillow," he muttered sleepily. "I'm a rabbit fairy…"
But his voice trailed off. His eyelids drooped, his breath steadied, and soon he was asleep—his small frame tucked safely against Aldi's embrace, her presence wrapping him in comfort.
Inside, the lanterns flickered softly, their golden glow spilling across shelves lined with scrolls and herbs. The griefstone table pulsed faintly with runes, steady and alive, as if listening.
Outside, Ivy and Tieran sat beneath the moon. Their cloaks brushed together, their shoulders lightly touching. They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
Breath steady. Seals glowing. Bond alive.
The valley exhaled. The stars pulsed. The moon watched.
The sun rose slowly over Iris Valley.
Its light spilled across the hills in soft waves, painting the grass in gold and silver. Dew shimmered on every blade, trembling as the breeze passed through. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of herbs they had gathered the day before—lavender, sage, and blossoms rare enough to be whispered about in old texts.
The valley was alive with morning.
Thimble darted across the field, cloak flapping behind him like a banner. His laughter rang out, high and unrestrained, echoing against the hills. He leapt over stones, twirled in circles, and shouted nonsense to the sky, his ears twitching with every movement.
Nearby, Illan argued with his father.
His voice was sharp, restless, tumbling over itself as he insisted on taking more supplies back. His hands gestured wildly, his seal pulsing erratically. Annel stood tall, broad-shouldered, his robes stitched with silver thread and dried herbs swaying in the breeze. His voice was calm but firm, his seal steady, his patience thinning as Illan pressed on.
"You don't need all of it," Annel said, sighing. "Daily rations are enough."
Illan groaned, throwing his hands up. "But I need more! You don't understand!"
Their voices rose and fell, weaving into the morning air like a familiar rhythm—father and son locked in their endless dance of stubbornness.
Aldi stood quietly beside Tieran.
Her cloak caught the sunlight, her braid swaying gently in the breeze. She watched the chaos unfold—Thimble's laughter, Illan's protests, Annel's sighs—with calm eyes. Then she turned to Tieran, her voice soft, steady.
"Should I wake Ivy up?"
Tieran's gaze lingered on the horizon, his cloak brushing against Aldi's. His voice was low, thoughtful.
"No. She must be tired. After everything that happened in the last few days."
Aldi tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, a smile tugging at her lips.
"You care a lot for her, don't you?"
Tieran's breath caught. He turned away, his seal pulsing faintly, his jaw tightening. He didn't answer.
The door creaked softly.
Ivy stepped out.
Her hair was loose, falling in soft curls around her shoulders, catching the sunlight in strands of gold and brown. She lifted her hand, blocking the light from her eyes, her fingers trembling slightly. Her cloak trailed behind her, brushing against the polished wood floor.
Tieran looked at her.
And for a moment, the world stilled.
His heart skipped. His breath caught. His chest tightened. His heartbeat quickened, pulsing faster, louder, until he thought she might hear it. His seal glowed faintly, syncing with the rhythm of his heart.
Ivy felt it.
Through the bond.
The sudden flutter, the ache, the warmth.
Her brows furrowed, her breath quickened. She stepped closer, her cloak brushing against the grass, her eyes wide with panic.
"Are you okay?" she asked, voice trembling.
Tieran swallowed, his gaze steady but his voice low.
"I'm fine."
Ivy shook her head, her hair slipping over her shoulder, her seal pulsing erratically.
"I don't think so."
Tieran repeated, firmer this time.
"I'm fine."
Ivy's eyes narrowed, her voice sharper now.
"Then why… should I ask Uncle Annel for more medicine for you?"
She turned, cloak swishing, ready to leave.
Tieran's hand shot out.
He caught her wrist gently, his touch hesitant, his seal glowing faintly. His voice was shy, halting, almost whispered.
"It's just… you look pretty today."
Ivy froze.
Her cheeks flushed, her breath caught, her seal pulsed brightly. She turned quickly, braid swinging, cloak trailing.
"I'm hungry," she blurted, voice high, flustered. "I'm finding something to eat."
She ran toward the house, her steps quick, her laughter trailing faintly behind her.
From a distance, Aldi giggled.
Her eyes sparkled, her seal pulsed softly, her laughter carrying across the field like a bell. She shook her head, watching Tieran's face—his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide, his breath uneven.
The valley exhaled.
The sun rose higher, spilling gold across the fields. The herbs shimmered faintly, their petals trembling in the breeze. The air was warm, alive, filled with laughter, arguments, and quiet confessions.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint sweetness of wild irises and the earthy scent of dew-soaked grass. The sun had risen fully now, spilling gold across the valley, painting the hills in soft light. The path ahead curved gently, lined with herbs and wildflowers that trembled in the breeze.
They had bid farewell to Annel. His broad shoulders had filled the doorway of the healer's hall, his seal glowing faintly as he watched them leave. His voice had been steady, but his eyes lingered with quiet worry.
Illan walked reluctantly.
His face was flushed red, his seal pulsing erratically, his jaw tight. He rubbed his cheek where Annel's hand had landed earlier, muttering under his breath. A heavy bag was slung over his shoulder, stuffed with supplies he had insisted on taking—though his father had scolded him for being restless and greedy. His steps were uneven, his cloak bunched awkwardly, his frustration trailing behind him like smoke.
Tieran walked steadily.
His cloak brushed against the grass, his boots pressed firmly into the earth. In his hands, he carried a bag filled with herbs Annel had given them—lavender, sage, blossoms rare enough to heal even the weakest seals. His movements were calm, deliberate, his seal pulsing faintly, steady. His eyes flicked often toward Ivy, though he tried to hide it.
Ivy walked lightly.
Her pouch was stuffed with wildberries she had gathered from the valley, their scent sweet, their skins glistening in the morning light. Her hair swayed gently, her cloak trailing behind her. She hummed softly under her breath, her seal glowing faintly at her collarbone. Her steps were playful, her eyes bright, her laughter carrying faintly across the path.
Thimble darted ahead.
His small frame leapt over stones, cloak flapping like a banner, ears twitching with every movement. He shouted nonsense to the sky, twirled in circles, and ran back and forth across the path, his joy unrestrained. His seal pulsed erratically, glowing faintly with excitement.
Aldi walked gracefully behind.
Her cloak shimmered faintly in the sunlight, her braid swaying with each step. Her eyes were calm, steady, watching everything—the path, the herbs, the group. She moved with quiet purpose, her seal glowing softly.
She drifted closer to Illan, her hand brushing his arm, pulling him slightly aside. Her voice was low, teasing.
"Let them have quiet time," she said, nodding toward Ivy and Tieran walking side by side.
Illan blinked.
His brows furrowed, his seal pulsed erratically. He scratched his head, his hair sticking up awkwardly.
"You're playing matchmaker, aren't you?" he muttered, voice sharp but tinged with curiosity.
Aldi smiled.
Her eyes sparkled, her seal pulsed warmly.
"Hey," she said softly. "They were already matchmade as children by their mothers. I'm just putting oil in the fire."
Illan groaned, scratching his hair harder, his cloak bunching awkwardly. His seal flickered, restless. He muttered something incoherent, then his eyes caught a patch of herbs growing wild along the path.
His frustration vanished instantly.
He darted forward, crouched low, his fingers brushing the leaves. His seal pulsed faintly, his eyes wide with curiosity. He muttered to himself about their properties, their uses, their rarity. His restless energy shifted into focus, his frustration forgotten.
Meanwhile, Ivy and Tieran walked quietly together.
Their cloaks brushed, their steps synced. Ivy's pouch of wildberries swung at her side, her hair slipping over her shoulder. Tieran's bag of herbs weighed heavy in his hands, his seal pulsing faintly.
The air between them was warm, alive, filled with unspoken words.
Tieran's eyes flicked toward her often, his breath uneven, his heart fluttering. Ivy felt it through the bond, her cheeks flushed, her seal glowing brighter. She smiled softly, her laughter carrying faintly across the path.
The group moved steadily forward.
The sun rose higher, spilling gold across the fields. The herbs shimmered faintly, their petals trembling in the breeze. The air was warm, alive, filled with laughter, arguments, and quiet confessions.
The path stretched ahead, winding gently toward the horizon.
The barrier shimmered faintly behind them as they stepped out together, its silver threads dissolving into the air like mist. The forest opened wide, sunlight pouring through the canopy in golden shafts. The air was warm, thick with the scent of wild herbs and blossoms, and the hum of insects filled the silence with a steady rhythm.
The sun was at its brightest—midday, blazing overhead, painting the path in sharp light and shadow. The leaves glowed green, the earth shimmered with heat, and every step felt alive with energy.
Ivy walked lightly, her cloak trailing, her hair bouncing against her back. Her pouch, once stuffed with wildberries, now hung empty at her side. She sighed dramatically, her seal pulsing faintly, her eyes scanning the trees.
Then she saw it.
A wild fruit tree, branches heavy with ripe, glistening fruit. The sunlight caught the skins, painting them in shades of gold and crimson. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, her breath quickened. She reached up, stretching her fingers, but the branches were too high.
She turned to Tieran.
Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed, her seal glowing faintly.
Tieran frowned.
His cloak brushed against the grass, his boots pressed firmly into the earth. His seal pulsed steady, his jaw tightened.
"No," he said firmly. "Eating too many wild berries and fruits will give you a stomachache."
Ivy gasped.
Her hair swung, her cloak flared, her seal pulsed brightly. She clasped her hands together, tilted her head, and looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. Her voice was soft, dramatic.
"But… they're so shiny."
Thimble darted forward.
His cloak flapped, his ears twitched, his seal pulsed erratically. He stood beside Ivy, his eyes wide, his grin mischievous.
"She's right!" he shouted. "I want them too!"
Together, Ivy and Thimble turned to Tieran.
Their eyes widened. Their lips pouted. Their seals pulsed brightly.
They looked at him with the cutest, most exaggerated puppy eyes imaginable.
Tieran froze.
His breath caught. His seal flickered. His jaw tightened. He looked away, then back, then sighed heavily.
He had no choice.
"Fine," he muttered. "But don't come to me when your stomach hurts."
He stepped forward, his cloak trailing, his boots pressing into the earth. He reached up, his fingers brushing the branches, pulling down the fruit. The sunlight caught his hair, his seal glowed faintly, his movements steady and deliberate.
He handed the fruit to Ivy and Thimble.
Ivy's eyes sparkled.
She clutched the fruit, her hair swinging, her cheeks flushed. She bit into it, juice dripping down her fingers, her laughter carrying across the forest like bells.
Thimble squealed.
He stuffed the fruit into his mouth, his cloak flapping, his seal pulsing erratically. He danced in circles, his joy unrestrained.
Illan trailed behind.
His cloak bunched awkwardly, his bag stuffed with herbs. His seal pulsed erratically as he crouched low, his fingers brushing every single wild herb he found along the path. He muttered to himself about their properties, their rarity, their uses. His frustration from earlier had vanished, replaced by focus and curiosity.
Aldi walked gracefully behind.
Her cloak shimmered in the sunlight, her braid swaying gently. Her eyes sparkled, her seal pulsed warmly. She watched Ivy and Thimble's antics, her lips curved into a smile. She shook her head softly, her laughter carrying faintly across the path.
The attic was close now.
Its roof shimmered faintly in the distance, veined with silver, hidden among the trees. The path curved gently toward it, lined with herbs and blossoms that trembled in the breeze. The air grew thicker, heavier, filled with the scent of earth and magic.
The group moved steadily forward.
Ivy laughed, her cloak trailing, her hair bouncing. Tieran sighed, his seal pulsing faintly, his eyes steady. Thimble danced, his cloak flapping, his joy unrestrained. Illan muttered, his fingers brushing herbs, his seal flickering. Aldi smiled, her eyes calm, her seal glowing warmly.
The sun blazed overhead. The forest shimmered. The attic waited.
The attic loomed ahead, its roof veined with silver, its walls weathered but humming faintly with old magic. The midday sun blazed overhead, spilling light across the forest path, painting the attic's doorway in sharp gold. The air was warm, thick with the scent of herbs and wild blossoms, and the hum of cicadas filled the silence with a steady rhythm.
They walked the last steps together, their cloaks trailing, their seals pulsing faintly. The wooden door creaked softly, its runes glowing faintly, as if aware of their arrival.
The attic door was closed, but voices spilled through the cracks. Sharp. Playful. Overlapping.
The midday sun blazed outside, painting the doorway in gold, while inside the air was thick with sarcasm and laughter.
Nia's voice rang out first, elegant but edged with mockery. "You always leave the scrolls scattered, Orie. Do you think the attic cleans itself?"
Orie's reply came instantly, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, forgive me, Lady Nia. Perhaps the attic spirits should rise from the dust and bow to your perfection."
Nia scoffed, her cloak rustling as she paced. "Perfection? At least I don't forget where I put the healing arrays. Last time you nearly burned the floorboards."
Orie laughed, leaning back against the wall, his seal pulsing faintly. "And yet, here we are, still standing. Admit it—you'd miss me if I weren't here to annoy you."
Nia's eyes narrowed, her lips curved into a sly smile. "Miss you? I'd throw a festival if you vanished for a week."
Orie clutched his chest dramatically, cloak flaring. "A festival? Ah, the betrayal! And here I thought you were my partner in chaos."
Their voices rose and fell, playful daggers thrown back and forth, filling the attic with energy. They bickered like teenagers, their sarcasm sharp but affectionate, their laughter echoing against the griefstone walls.
Outside, Aldi's eyes sparkled. She pushed everyone aside—Illan stumbling, Thimble squealing, Ivy and Tieran blinking in surprise. Her seal pulsed brightly, her braid swinging as she barged in.
"Look who's here!" she shouted, her voice cutting through their banter.
Orie and Nia turned sharply, their eyes widening, then narrowing, then sparkling with mischief.
Nia tilted her head, her voice elegant, dripping with sarcasm. "Isn't this the only nono ghosted ghost of Ghost City?"
Orie smirked, his tone sharp, mocking. "Yes. We did take pity on her. And took her as our godsister."
Aldi gasped dramatically, her cloak flaring, her seal pulsing brightly. "Ah, thank you for your grace! If you hadn't appeared, I'd still be the only manager of Ghost City!"
The three of them laughed, voices overlapping, sharp and playful. They stepped forward, arms outstretched, hugging tightly, their laughter carrying across the attic like bells.
They began to catch up, voices tumbling over each other, teasing, mocking, flirting sarcastically. Their seals pulsed brightly, their cloaks swayed, their eyes sparkled. The attic seemed to hum with their laughter, the griefstone walls alive with echoes of old days.
Nia leaned back against the shelf, her braid slipping over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming. "Do you remember when we finished the Unseen Realm Castle?" she said, her voice elegant but edged with mischief. "The masons thought we were mad—walls veined with silver, towers that touched the clouds. And yet, it stood."
Orie smirked, his cloak flaring as he crossed his arms. "Mad? Visionary, Nia. We didn't just build it—we ruled it. The council bowed to us, the halls echoed with our decrees. And you—" he pointed at her with mock accusation, "—you turned the throne room into your personal library."
Nia scoffed, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Better than your idea of turning the west wing into a wine cellar. Rulers, yes—but you were always half a jester."
Aldi gasped dramatically, her seal pulsing brightly. "Oh, so it's true! I always heard whispers that the castle was born from your hands. I thought it was legend. And here you are, rulers of the Unseen Realm, bickering like children."
Orie tilted his head, his eyes sparkling. "Legend? Please. We were chaos wrapped in crowns. Remember Ghost City, Nia?"
Nia laughed, her voice sharp. "How could I forget? You declared yourself 'High Manager of Mischief,' and half the city believed you. I had to clean up the mess when you convinced them the spirits were rising."
Aldi clapped her hands, her laughter ringing out. "Ah, Ghost City! If you hadn't appeared, I'd still be the only manager. Thank you for your grace!"
The three of them laughed again, voices overlapping, sharp and playful. Their seals pulsed brightly, their cloaks swayed, their eyes sparkled. They hugged tightly, their laughter carrying across the attic like bells.
At the doorway, Ivy and Tieran exchanged a look.
Ivy's hair slipped over her shoulder, her eyes wide, her lips parted. Tieran's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, his breath caught. Their bond pulsed faintly, syncing with their disbelief.
"Seriously," Ivy whispered. "I didn't know all of them were the same kind."
Tieran nodded, his lips curved into a small smile.
Illan scratched his head, his cloak bunched awkwardly, his seal flickering erratically. "Wait," he muttered. "It's fun. I didn't know they had this side."
Thimble squealed, his ears twitching, his grin wide. "I love it!"
The attic exhaled. The lanterns flickered softly, their golden glow spilling across the wooden floor. The shelves hummed faintly, their scrolls whispering in the silence. The griefstone walls pulsed with runes, steady, alive, listening.
The air was warm. The laughter was sharp. The bond was alive.
The attic was alive with laughter. Orie, Nia, and Aldi's voices overlapped, sharp and playful, their seals pulsing brightly as they teased and mocked each other. The air was warm, filled with nostalgia, sarcasm, and the hum of old bonds rekindled. Ivy and Tieran stood at the doorway, half amused, half bewildered, while Illan and Thimble whispered to each other about how strange it was to see rulers of the Unseen Realm bicker like children.
Then Tieran froze.
A strange sensation twisted in his stomach—not hunger, not fatigue, but something deeper, sharper. His brows furrowed, his breath caught, his seal flickered faintly. He pressed his hand against his abdomen, his jaw tightening. For a moment, he thought the poison was stirring again.
But then he realized.
It wasn't his pain. It was Ivy's.
He turned sharply.
Ivy was already squatting down, her cloak pooling around her, her hair slipping forward over her shoulder. Her face was pale, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands clutching her stomach. Her seal pulsed erratically, dimming and flaring in uneven rhythm.
"My belly hurts," she whispered, her voice trembling, her breath shallow.
Tieran's chest tightened.
He placed his hands on his waist, his brows furrowed, his voice sharp but tinged with worry.
"I told you not to eat too many wild fruits and berries," he said, his tone half scolding, half desperate.
Without hesitation, he bent down.
His cloak brushed against the floor, his arms slipped beneath her, lifting her gently. Her weight pressed against his chest, her hair trailing across his shoulder, her seal flickering faintly against his heartbeat. He carried her inside, his boots pressing firmly into the wooden floor, his jaw clenched, his eyes steady.
Orie, Nia, and Aldi turned instantly.
Their laughter cut off, their eyes widened, their seals pulsed brightly. But instead of immediate panic, their first reaction was teasing—sharp, playful, but laced with knowing glances.
Orie smirked, his cloak trailing, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The engagement is still valid, as long as they get along."
Nia tilted her head, her braid swaying, her voice elegant but edged. "Child marriage is banned, Orie."
Aldi giggled, her eyes sparkling, her seal pulsing warmly. "But you two decided their engagement when Ivy was just born."
Tieran's jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed. His seal pulsed faintly, steady but sharp. He ignored their teasing, his focus entirely on Ivy in his arms.
Thimble darted forward, his cloak flapping, his ears twitching, his voice high and panicked. "Ivy is sick!" he shouted, his eyes wide, his seal pulsing erratically.
The room shifted instantly.
Orie's smirk vanished, his brows furrowed, his seal dimmed. Nia's lips parted, her eyes widened, her seal flickered faintly. Aldi's laughter faded, her hand pressed against her chest, her seal pulsed brightly with concern.
Tieran's voice rang out, sharp, commanding.
"Illan!" he shouted. "Aren't you a physician? Come here fast!"
Illan froze, his cloak bunched awkwardly, his seal pulsed erratically. His eyes widened, his breath caught. Then he darted forward, his boots pressing into the wooden floor, his hands fumbling with his bag. He crouched beside Ivy, his fingers trembling as he pulled out vials and herbs.
"Hold her steady," Illan muttered, his voice sharp but shaky.
Tieran tightened his grip, his arms steady, his seal pulsing faintly. Ivy's breath was shallow, her eyes half-closed, her hands clutching his cloak.
Illan mixed quickly, his fingers brushing herbs, his seal glowing faintly as he whispered incantations. He pressed the vial to Ivy's lips, his voice low.
"Drink. Slowly."
Ivy's lips parted, her breath trembling. She swallowed, her seal flickering faintly. Her eyes closed, her body relaxed, her breath steadied.
She fell asleep.
The room exhaled.
Orie stepped back, her cloak trailing, her seal pulsing faintly. Her eyes softened, his jaw unclenched. Aldi folded her arms, her braid slipping forward, her seal glowing faintly. Her lips curved into a small, worried smile. Nia knelt beside Ivy, her hand brushing her braid, her seal pulsing warmly. Her eyes sparkled with concern, her breath steady.
Thimble crouched nearby, his ears drooping, his seal flickering faintly. His eyes were wide, his lips trembling.
Tieran sat down slowly, Ivy still resting against him, her cloak pooling around them, her seal glowing faintly in rhythm with his. His breath was steady now, his eyes soft, his jaw unclenched.
Illan sat back, his hands trembling, his seal flickering faintly. His eyes were wide, his breath uneven, but his voice was calm.
"She'll be fine," he whispered. "She just needs rest."
The attic was silent.
The lanterns flickered softly, their golden glow spilling across the wooden floor. The shelves hummed faintly, their scrolls whispering in the silence. The griefstone walls pulsed with runes, steady, alive, listening.
Everyone stayed beside her.
Orie, Nia, Aldi, Tieran, Illan, Thimble. Their cloaks brushed, their seals pulsed faintly, their eyes lingered. The air was warm, filled with concern, care, and quiet love.
Ivy woke slowly, her breath steady, her body wrapped in warmth. The faint smell of ginger drifted through the attic, sharp yet comforting, mingling with the scent of herbs stacked on the shelves. The lanterns flickered softly, their golden glow spilling across the wooden floor.
Beside her, Thimble was curled up, his cloak bunched awkwardly, his ears twitching faintly in sleep. His lips parted, his breath shallow, his seal pulsing faintly. He muttered something incoherent, then sighed, his body relaxing.
Ivy smiled softly.
She pulled the blanket higher, tucking it gently around him, careful not to wake him. Her hair slipped forward, brushing against his cheek, but he didn't stir. She stood slowly, her cloak trailing, her seal glowing faintly.
She descended the stairs quietly.
The wooden steps creaked beneath her boots, the air thick with the scent of ginger and porridge. The kitchen was warm, sunlight spilling through the window, painting the walls in gold.
Tieran stood at the counter, his cloak draped loosely, his sleeves rolled up. His seal pulsed faintly, steady, alive. He stirred a pot slowly, steam rising, the scent of porridge filling the room. His movements were calm, deliberate, his eyes focused.
Ivy wrinkled her nose, her hair swinging, her cloak trailing.
"Can't you cook anything besides porridge?" she complained, her voice sharp but playful, her lips curved into a pout.
Tieran didn't look up. His jaw tightened, his seal pulsed faintly.
"It's nutritious," he said simply, his voice steady.
Ivy sighed dramatically, her hair slipping over her shoulder, her eyes wide.
"I'm sick of warm sadness," she said, her voice trembling with mock despair. "I need lukewarm smiles."
Tieran paused, his hand tightening on the spoon. His eyes flicked toward her, his lips curved faintly.
"That only exists in dreams," he said softly, his voice low, his seal pulsing faintly.
Then the knife slipped.
A sharp sting. A tiny cut.
Tieran hissed softly, his hand jerking back.
Ivy gasped.
Her hair swung, her cloak flared, her seal pulsed erratically. She clutched her hand suddenly, her breath catching. The bond pulsed sharply, carrying his pain into her.
"Can't you be careful?" she shouted, her voice high, her eyes wide.
She looked at her hand—an identical cut, faint but sharp, pulsing with pain.
"Are you trying to ruin my beautiful fingers?" she demanded, her lips curved into a pout, her eyes narrowed.
Tieran sighed, his jaw tightening, his seal pulsing faintly.
"It's the tiniest cut ever," he said calmly. "It's not even bleeding."
The door creaked.
Nia and Orie entered, their cloaks trailing, their seals glowing faintly. Their eyes sparkled, their lips curved into sly smiles.
Ivy's eyes widened.
"Mom…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
She darted forward, her cloak trailing, her hair swinging. She hugged Nia tightly, her seal pulsing faintly, her breath steady.
She turned to Orie, her eyes wide, her lips curved into a pout.
"Auntie," she said dramatically. "He's trying to hurt me with scratches."
Orie's lips curved into a sly smile, his seal pulsed faintly. Nia's brows lifted, her eyes sparkled, her seal glowed warmly.
They tried to control their laughter, their lips trembling, their shoulders shaking.
Instead, they patted Ivy gently, their hands brushing her hair, their seals pulsing faintly.
From inside the room, Aldi muttered incoherently, her cloak bunched awkwardly, her seal flickering faintly. She snored softly, her breath steady, her body curled beneath the blanket.
Ivy smiled softly, her lips curved, her seal glowing faintly.
Tieran set the table slowly, his cloak trailing, his seal pulsing faintly. He placed bowls carefully, his movements deliberate, his eyes steady. He ladled porridge into each, steam rising, the scent of ginger filling the air.
He placed a bowl before Ivy, his eyes flicking toward her, his lips curved faintly.
Ivy lifted the spoon, her hair swinging, her cloak trailing. She sipped slowly, her lips curved into a pout.
"It's warm sadness," she said softly, her voice trembling.
Then she smiled faintly, her seal pulsing warmly."But I love it. I can eat it every single day."
Tieran's brows lifted, his lips curved faintly, his seal pulsed softly.
"Weren't you complaining earlier?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes steady.
Ivy tilted her head, her hair slipping forward, her lips curved into a sly smile.
She pretended not to hear, her eyes fixed on the bowl, her spoon dipping slowly. She went back to eating, her seal pulsing faintly.
Outside, Illan's voice rang out, sharp and excited.
"I found a semi-rare herb!" he shouted, his cloak flapping, his seal pulsing erratically. His voice carried across the attic, sharp and triumphant.
Nia and Orie exchanged a glance, their lips curved into soft smiles, their seals pulsing faintly.
They shook their heads gently, their eyes sparkling.
Illan was happy in his own world.
The attic exhaled. The lanterns flickered softly. The shelves hummed faintly. The griefstone walls pulsed with runes.
The air was warm. The laughter was soft. The bond was alive.