Kael remains standing before the counter, his expression unchanged despite the answer.
The dry scent of soot and burnt timber lingers heavily inside the shop while the hanging lamps sway faintly overhead, their dim yellow glow reflecting against rows of glass jars filled with countless shades of ash.
For a brief moment, neither of them speaks.
Then Kael asks quietly,
"Where can I find that ash?"
The shopkeeper studies him carefully this time.
Not with the casual attention of a merchant speaking to a customer, but with the look of someone deciding whether a question should truly be answered.
Outside, the distant sound of carriage wheels passes along the street.
At last, the man exhales through his nose and leans one elbow against the wooden counter.
"Yesterday's storm struck several lightning bolts into Devil's Forest," he says.
The name alone changes the atmosphere slightly.
Even inside the dusty little shop, it seems to settle heavier than the air around it.
The shopkeeper continues,
"Wood ash from Devil's Forest is considered extremely valuable. Especially trees struck directly by lightning."
His rough fingers tap once against the counter surface.
"But nobody here sells it."
Kael listens silently.
The man's voice lowers a little further now.
"Because nobody enters the forest."
The words come plainly.
Without exaggeration.
Without dramatic pause.
Yet they carry enough weight on their own.
The hanging lamps creak softly overhead.
"If someone goes there…" the shopkeeper says slowly, "they usually do not come back."
Silence follows immediately after.
No sound except the faint ticking of a wall clock somewhere deeper inside the shop.
Kael's gaze does not shift.
But the name remains quietly in the air between them.
Devil's Forest.
Like a door that has just been pointed out.
A door most people spend their entire lives avoiding.
Kael gives a small nod toward the shopkeeper.
"Thank you," he says quietly.
The man simply grunts in response, still watching him with the same unreadable expression as Kael turns and walks toward the door.
The bell above it rattles softly once more.
Cold afternoon air greets him the moment he steps outside.
The street feels quieter here compared to the central market. Narrow stone roads stretch between old buildings darkened by soot and winter moisture, while thin trails of smoke drift lazily upward from distant chimneys into the pale gray sky overhead.
Kael stops beside his motorcar.
For a moment, he does not move.
His gloved fingers rest lightly against the roof of the vehicle while his thoughts remain elsewhere.
Devil's Forest.
The words circle slowly in his mind.
Yesterday's storm.
Lightning struck wood.
Nobody returns.
The requirements of the ritual surface one after another inside his memory like pages turning on their own.
Ash from wood struck by lightning.
His gaze lowers slightly toward the cobblestone road beneath him.
Should he go?
The question lingers heavily.
Not because of the forest alone.
But because taking even one more step toward gathering the ritual materials makes everything feel far more real than before.
Until now, it has remained words inside an old book.
A strange possibility.
An idea.
But now?
He already has the lens.
The lotus.
And the final requirement has just been placed before him like a road waiting to be chosen.
Kael remains still beneath the cold wind, lost briefly in thought.
Then suddenly—
A sharp sound cuts through the street.
SCREECH.
The violent grinding of wheels against stone tears through the quiet.
Kael's head snaps toward the road instantly.
A black motorcar rushes past the intersection too quickly before jerking sideways near the edge of the street.
THUD.
An elderly woman stumbles backward from the impact.
Not thrown violently.
But struck enough to lose balance.
Her walking stick slips from her hand and clatters loudly across the cobblestones as she collapses onto one knee with a startled cry.
People nearby freeze immediately.
A few pedestrians gasp.
The black motorcar comes to a halt several feet ahead, steam hissing faintly from its front grille.
On the side of the vehicle gleams a silver emblem.
A lion holding a sword.
The symbol of the police.
The old woman appears to be somewhere in her eighties, dressed in a pale gown layered beneath a heavy shawl to protect against the winter cold. Her silver hair trembles slightly as she struggles to steady herself, one frail hand pressing against the ground.
For a split second, the entire street falls into stunned silence.
Kael moves immediately.
The moment the old woman falls, he steps away from his motorcar and walks quickly toward her through the growing crowd. Nearby pedestrians begin gathering as well, voices rising in alarm and confusion while several people stop in the middle of the street to watch.
The elderly woman trembles slightly where she has fallen, one hand pressed weakly against the cobblestones while the other searches blindly for the walking stick that rolled several feet away.
Kael bends slightly, reaching down first to pick up the stick before offering it back toward her.
Around them, murmurs spread rapidly through the street.
"She was hit…"
"That was a police motorcar…"
"Were they driving too fast?"
The black police vehicle stands motionless nearby, its dark metal surface reflecting the pale winter light. The silver lion holding a sword remains fixed proudly upon the door like a declaration of authority.
Then the motorcar doors open.
Two officers step out.
The first is broad shouldered and tall, his heavy boots striking the ground sharply as he approaches. Pinned onto his dark uniform shirt is a badge bearing three silver stars.
Beside him walks another officer with only a single silver star upon his chest, younger and quieter, though his expression remains tense as the crowd watches them.
The three star officer looks irritated rather than concerned.
His brows tighten the moment he reaches the old woman.
"You should walk carefully," he snaps harshly. "Do you want to throw yourself beneath moving vehicles?"
His voice cuts through the street with open annoyance.
The old woman lowers her head slightly, visibly shaken.
And then—
Kael speaks.
Coldly.
Clearly.
"Officer."
The word alone stops the murmuring nearby.
The three star officer turns sharply toward him.
Kael stands beside the elderly woman now, his posture straight beneath the winter light, one hand still holding her walking stick.
"You should drive properly," he says evenly.
The officer's face hardens immediately.
But Kael continues before the man can interrupt.
"You are the protector of this town," he says. "You are responsible for ensuring no crimes occur within this city."
His voice remains calm.
Which somehow makes the words strike harder.
"And yet," Kael says, his eyes fixed directly upon the officer, "you are the one committing them."
A faint silence spreads through the crowd.
Even the nearby murmurs begin fading.
Then Kael delivers the final words without hesitation.
"Shame on you."
The air itself suddenly feels heavier after that.
The moment the words leave Kael's mouth, the atmosphere on the street changes completely.
The murmuring crowd falls silent.
Even the distant sounds of carriage wheels and merchants seem strangely muted for a brief second beneath the tension now pressing into the air.
The three star officer's face darkens immediately.
His jaw tightens.
A vein rises faintly along the side of his neck as anger flashes openly across his expression.
"How dare you…" he begins.
Then he steps forward.
Heavy boots strike sharply against the cobblestones as he closes the distance between himself and Kael with visible aggression. The crowd instinctively shifts backward, people moving aside to avoid being caught between them.
The old woman grips her walking stick nervously.
Kael does not move.
He simply stands there calmly, his gaze fixed steadily on the approaching officer.
The three star officer raises his hand slightly as though prepared to grab him by the collar.
But before he can reach him—
The younger officer suddenly steps in front of him.
"Sir!"
The one star officer catches his superior lightly by the arm, stopping his advance.
"Move aside," the senior officer growls furiously.
But the younger man does not move.
Instead, his eyes flick briefly toward Kael.
Then toward the growing crowd surrounding them.
Several people are watching very carefully now.
Too carefully.
The younger officer lowers his voice urgently.
"Sir… please."
The three star officer glares at him.
The younger man swallows once before continuing more quietly,
"Please say sorry and leave the place."
The older officer's expression twists with disbelief.
"What?"
"If this situation escalates…" the younger officer says carefully, "we might lose our jobs."
The words land heavily.
The senior officer looks at him as though he cannot believe what he is hearing.
"You expect me to apologize to him?" he snaps.
The younger officer hesitates for a second before nodding faintly.
But the senior officer immediately jerks his arm free.
"No."
The refusal comes instantly.
Firm.
Prideful.
Angry.
Yet the younger officer steps closer again, lowering his voice even further now, almost pleading.
"Please, sir."
The senior officer stands rigidly in place, his expression strained with visible anger.
For several long seconds, he says nothing.
The winter wind moves faintly through the street, brushing against coats and shop banners while the gathered crowd watches in tense silence.
Beside him, the younger officer waits anxiously.
"Please, sir," he says once more, quieter this time.
The older man clenches his jaw.
His pride clearly fights against the words being forced toward his throat.
But eventually—
He exhales sharply through his nose.
Then, with obvious reluctance, he turns toward the elderly woman first.
"…Sorry."
The apology sounds stiff and unwilling, dragged out more by necessity than sincerity.
Then his eyes shift briefly toward Kael.
"And… you as well."
The words leave his mouth like stones.
Around them, the crowd finally begins speaking again.
One man near the back folds his arms and says loudly,
"Do not drive like that again!"
Another voice follows immediately.
"You wear the police symbol. Behave like officers!"
Several others nod in agreement, their frustration now openly visible after the tension breaks.
The senior officer's face grows darker with every word, but this time he says nothing back.
The younger officer quickly gives a short apologetic nod toward the crowd before opening the motorcar door again.
"Let us leave, sir," he says carefully.
The senior officer shoots one final irritated glance toward Kael before turning away sharply.
The two officers enter the black motorcar once again.
A moment later, the engine roars back to life.
The vehicle slowly pulls away from the street beneath the countless eyes watching it leave, the silver lion-and-sword emblem disappearing gradually into the busy roads beyond.
Only after the motorcar vanishes does the tension finally loosen from the crowd.
Inside the moving motorcar, silence hangs heavily between the two officers.
The engine rumbles beneath them as the black vehicle moves steadily through the winter streets, passing rows of crowded storefronts and slow moving carriages outside the windows.
The senior officer sits stiffly in his seat.
His irritation has not faded.
If anything, it has only deepened.
One gloved hand rests tightly against his knee while the other taps impatiently against the door beside him.
At last, he turns sharply toward the younger officer.
"Why did you tell me to apologize?" he asks coldly. "I am an officer."
The younger man remains quiet for a brief second before answering.
"Sir… you served in another kingdom before being transferred here."
The senior officer's brows tighten slightly.
The younger officer continues carefully,
"So you do not fully understand how the laws work here yet."
Outside the window, pedestrians continue moving through the streets without noticing the conversation taking place inside the dark police motorcar.
The younger officer lowers his voice slightly.
"The Kingdom of Eryndor is famous for strict rules and discipline."
He pauses briefly before adding,
"And it is not merely rumor."
The motorcar passes beneath a long shadow cast by one of the taller buildings lining the road.
Inside, the younger officer continues speaking.
"In many places, officers can silence civilians through authority alone. But not here."
His tone remains respectful, though serious.
"If word spreads that police officers injured an elderly citizen and then threatened witnesses in public…"
He hesitates slightly.
"The punishment would not be light."
The senior officer's expression slowly shifts from anger toward thoughtfulness, though traces of irritation still remain.
The younger officer glances ahead toward the road before speaking again.
"This kingdom protects its reputation fiercely, sir. Especially its laws."
The engine hums steadily between them.
For several moments, neither man speaks again as the motorcar continues through the crowded streets of Eryndor beneath the cold gray sky.
The junior officer exhales quietly before adding the more important part.
"And after all…"
He hesitates.
"You were about to start a public fight with a Ravenshade."
The moment the surname leaves his mouth, the senior officer's expression changes instantly.
"What?"
The word comes out louder than intended.
His eyes widen slightly in disbelief as he stares toward the younger man.
"A Ravenshade?"
The junior officer nods once.
"Yes, sir."
The senior officer leans back slowly into his seat, the earlier anger draining from his face with alarming speed.
For several seconds, only the sound of the engine fills the space between them.
Then he speaks again, this time with visible confusion.
"But…"
His brows pull together.
"I heard the Ravenshades are red-headed."
The junior officer blinks once before answering.
"They are."