The sun climbed through drifting banners, painting every roof tile gold. Serena stepped off the ferry onto Lantern Town's quay, boots thudding against worn cedar. Firecrackers snapped in the streets; paper carp floated on the canal, their candle hearts flickering like trapped stars.
Behind her, the river still rippled with the memory of last night's rooftop duel.
< 24 days remain >
---
The air smelled of sesame oil and gunpowder. Children darted between stalls waving sparklers; merchants hawked candied hawthorn and "lucky wind talismans" that looked suspiciously like raw silverleaf. Serena bought three—silverleaf was useful for refining beast cores—then moved on.
Aurora appeared at the far end of the lane, bells chiming above the crowd. She did not speak; she simply turned and walked. Serena followed.
They moved like twin ripples through the festival—never closer than thirty paces, never farther. Each time Serena closed the gap, Aurora vanished around a corner or across a bridge of floating lanterns.
---
The Alchemist's Lantern
Serena found the shop wedged between two paper-lantern makers. A wooden sign creaked above the door: Red Fox Elixir. Inside, jars of glowing powders lined shelves; a copper still bubbled with something that smelled like winter mint and lightning.
The old alchemist—fox mask pushed to his forehead—looked up. "You bleed too easily for a festival day."
Serena's left sleeve was shredded from last night's river clash. She laid three small beast cores on the counter, their inner light pulsing. "Blood-Pulse pills. Swiftshadow. And something for broken ribs."
He weighed the cores, nodded, and pushed across a lacquered box. Inside: six crimson pills, one black pellet that shimmered like spilled ink. "The black one buys you three heartbeats of nothingness. Use them well."
She paid, pocketed the box, and left to the sound of distant bells.
--
Aurora waited on the second floor of the Floating Lotus Tea House, seated at a window overlooking the canal. Steam rose between them in delicate curls. Outside, drums pounded the rhythm of dragon-boat races.
"You're bleeding again," Aurora observed, voice soft.
Serena sipped tea—sweet lotus, bitter aftertaste. "You're limping."
They moved at the same instant.
Aurora flicked her wrist; a glyph blossomed into a cage of light. Serena's scythe met it edge-first—metal screamed, paper screens shredded. Tables overturned; porcelain cups exploded into white rain. Patrons screamed, stampeding down the stairs.
Serena vaulted the railing, landed on a passing flower barge. Aurora followed, bells singing, robes streaming like comet tails.
---
The barge rocked beneath their weight. Lanterns toppled into water, hissing out. Serena used the black pellet—three heartbeats of blurred shadow—slipping beneath Aurora's guard. Scythe kissed silk, left a line of red across the saintess's hip.
Aurora answered with a glyph that turned the canal's surface to glass. Serena skated, scythe sparking, then shattered the glass with a stomp. Cold water erupted; both women plunged.
They surfaced twenty yards apart, dripping, breath fogging. Festival drummers never missed a beat, but every spectator on the banks stared wide-eyed.
---
Twilight painted the alley crimson. Rain began—gentle, then hard. Serena ducked beneath a balcony; Aurora landed beside her, boots splashing crimson puddles.
They fought in the narrow space, blades ringing against tile and gutter. Serena's scythe carved a crescent that shattered roof tiles like porcelain. Aurora's mandate spears ricocheted off walls, leaving molten sigils that cooled into glass.
A lightning crack split the sky; in the white flash, Serena saw fear flicker across Aurora's face—just once.
They broke apart again, breathing hard.
---
Rain turned to mist. Serena reached the last lantern bridge, turned, and waited. Aurora appeared on the opposite bank, bells chiming softly through the fog.
Neither spoke. They simply turned and walked—north, deeper into the forest.
< 23 days remain >