Rain fell like shattered starlight, each droplet sizzling against cobblestones charged with lingering magic. The lanterns of Emberfall glowed around Kieran and Eira as if the town itself held its breath.
Kieran Vale stood beside the fountain, water still pooling around the toppled chimera. His motley was streaked with soot and rain; his grin, usually wide, flickered on the verge of breaking. Across from him, Eira Wynn—Scarlet Quill of the Royal Archives—watched the sky as thunder rumbled.
"Is this… normal?" she asked, voice low.
He shrugged, eyes fixed on a drifting feather from the chimera's burned wing. "Emberfall's nightlife tends toward dramatic."
Her gaze sharpened. "No—this. The sky. I've never seen storms summoned without a caster's sigil."
Kieran's throat tightened. "I didn't summon it."
She stepped closer, boots splashing in the fountain's edge. "Then who did?"
He swallowed. The world seemed to tilt. Somewhere in his chest, a memory flickered—bright, distant, and jagged as lightning. He blinked it away. "I don't know," he said, voice rougher than intended. "I only feel it."
Eira's eyes softened. "I saw the mark on your palm when you reached for your staff." She lifted slender fingers. "Is this…"
He clenched his fist, hiding the faint, star-shaped burn. "Nothing."
Rain drummed harder; torches guttered. From beyond the alley came hurried footsteps—Captain Marspin and her watch, faces pale in torchlight. They formed a semi-circle around Kieran, Eira at his side.
Marspin's gauntleted hand tapped the pommel of her sword. "Vale, you best explain yourself. That storm nearly flattened the eastern wall."
Kieran forced a bow. "Captain, permit me to apologize for the property damage. I assure you, next time I'll schedule the apocalypse on off-hours." He brushed water from his tunic. "You caught me in a… passionate improv."
A lantern flickered out behind Marspin. She flinched. "Cut the jests. You're under King's protection, but you're still bound by law."
He shrugged. "I've always fancied my brand of law."
Marspin exhaled. The storm diminished to distant growls. Rain slowed to a gentle hiss. "Archivist, you witnessed this. Tell me—was he at fault?"
Eira stepped forward, pale parchment clutched in one hand. "He saved us."
Marspin's stern mask cracked for a second. "True enough." She turned back to Kieran. "But I'll be filing a full report."
"My illustrious career awaits your scathing critique," he sighed. "May I at least keep the knives?"
Marspin grunted. "Clean them and return them by dawn." She swept away with her watch. The alley grew silent again, save for dripping roof tiles.
Eira closed her eyes, releasing a long breath. "I wanted to trust you."
Kieran's grin wavered. "I trust me."
She opened her eyes, emerald depths testing him. "No—not that. I wanted to trust this," she said, tapping his chest. "Tell me the truth, Kicks."
He let the silence stretch, rain pooling around his boots. Finally, he lifted his head and met her gaze. "All my life, I've run from shadows. But… shadows are part of me."
Eira's brow furrowed. "Shadows?"
He turned away, as if watching the town awaken in the storm's wake. "When I was a child, I learned two things: how laughter can banish fear… and how fear can swallow light." He swallowed, voice low. "I was born inside a ruin—not this charming square, but a place of smoke and screaming."
Eira's hand hovered, then settled on his arm. "Go on."
He closed his eyes, speaking as if conjuring ghosts. "The Chimera Plains—far beyond the Western Hills. My village… it was destroyed by beasts twisted by rogue magic. No soldier could hold them back. So I enchanted a toy—an automaton jester—to fight. It chased the beasts with pyrotechnics and laughter. When it fell… I fell with it. But the magic transferred. I warped it through my veins."
A far-off thunderclap punctuated his confession. Eira's hand tightened. "You're saying… you can wield the same power that made those horrors?"
He nodded. "By accident, at first. Every burst of mirth was also a spark of ruin."
Eira's gaze drifted upward to the half-moon. "You carry creation and destruction in one heart."
Kieran's breath caught. "Exactly."
She pulled parchment from her satchel—pages marked with field notes. "I found this in the Archives. Reports of a jester's miracles and massacres—villages saved one night, razed the next. I thought it folklore… until now."
He blinked. "You kept that?"
She nodded. "I was afraid someone else would seize the power." Her brows drew together. "But you… I think you can control it."
He laughed—short, bitter. "Control? You've seen me trip over my own feet."
Eira offered him a steady look. "You control chaos with a joke. You terrify beasts with fireworks. There is purpose in your madness."
Moonlight glinted off her scroll case. "I want to help you master it."
He stared at her. Silence hung between them like a drawn veil. Finally, he let out a breath. "Why?"
Her fingers found his coat lapel. "Because the mark on your palm is not alone. Others bear it—only they have embraced its darkness." She unfolded a map pinned with crimson droplets. "Look here: Priesthood of the Black Star. They hunt those gifted—and twisted—by the same magic. They seek to unleash a cataclysm."
His heart thundered. "A cataclysm?"
She traced a path from Emberfall to the capital, then beyond to the Plains. "They gather power. If they synchronize their rites, they could shroud the world in a single, eternal storm."
Kieran swallowed. His own lightning rippled behind his ribs. "And you want me to stop them."
Eira folded the map. "I want you alive."
For a moment, the square held its breath. Then rain ceased. Lanterns glowed brighter. A stray cat padded past, unfazed by the chimera's carcass. Emberfall resumed breathing.
Kieran straightened, rolling his shoulders as if shrugging off an invisible weight. "Well. That's… delightful."
Eira arched an eyebrow. "Delightful?"
He forced a grin. "Look, archivist, I don't even like paperwork. But I do like preventing apocalypses." He cast one last glance at the ruined chimera. "And I owe that beast a proper apology. It looked cute before I burned half of it."
She allowed a small smile. "We'll start at dawn—Archive Tower. I have texts on elemental binding and mind forges."
Kieran groaned theatrically. "Sounds like a snooze-fest. But for you… I'll awake early."
She laughed, the sound as rare and precious as starlight. "Good."
He extended a hand—gloves soaked, coat stained, but steady. "Partners?"
Eira placed her parchment in his hand. "Partners."
He tucked the papers into his coat and scanned the quiet square. "You know, Eira—if we're teaming up, you should at least learn my official jester's motto."
She tilted her head. "Do tell."
He spun on one heel, staff tapping the stone. "In laughter, we find courage; in tears, we find truth; and in chaos… we find our friends." He snapped his fingers. "Remember it."
Eira's eyes glinted with unspoken promise. "I will."
Together, they walked toward the Archives, past drifts of broken pottery and puddles shimmering with starlight. Behind them, Emberfall settled back into sleep—unaware that, come sunrise, a jester and an archivist would forge an unlikely alliance to stave off a darkness older than memory.
And even the darkest night must yield to the dawn.