The sunlight outside was warm and golden, spilling through the office's tall windows. Forsythia turned toward the door, Aldric perched lightly on her shoulder, his feathers catching the light in soft bronze shimmers.
Heather rose from his chair without a word and walked them to the threshold. The air seemed to grow heavier around him, as if he were silently imprinting this moment into memory.
"I'll be waiting," he said quietly, his voice low enough that it carried only to her ears.
Forsythia gave him a small, confident smile. "You won't have to wait long."
They stepped into the hallway, the sound of her shoes taping against the polished floor, Aldric's small claws gripping her shoulder for balance. The secretary was already waiting by the elevator, but Aldric gave a single sharp shake of his head. "No driver. We'll make our own way."
Forsythia nodded in agreement, and together they exited into the bright, pleasant afternoon. The city stretched out before them, alive with light and motion. A gentle breeze stirred her hair, and Aldric tilted his head toward the horizon as though it were calling him.
From the office window above, Heather stood watching. His hands were clasped behind his back, his reflection ghosted over the glass. Pride swelled in his chest, but so did a gnawing worry. He had no choice but to trust her—and to trust that the strange little bird at her side truly had the power to guide her safely.
Below, Forsythia didn't look back. The path ahead was waiting. And somewhere out there, the first piece of her awakening was calling.
Forsythia and Aldric made their way down the sunlit street, the city's hum wrapping around them. The pleasant weather almost made their errand feel less urgent—but Aldric's sharp gaze and restless wingbeats told another story.
"Which way?" Forsythia asked as they paused at a crosswalk.
Aldric closed his eyes briefly, tilting his head as though listening to something only he could hear. "Southeast," he murmured. "The pull is faint but steady. We'll need to be quick before it fades."
She adjusted her bag and followed his lead, weaving through the city with purpose. Despite his small size, Aldric moved with an old warrior's certainty—one that reminded her he had once been far more than a bird.
—
Back in the glass-walled office, Heather remained by the window long after they were gone. When the door finally clicked shut behind the secretary, he reached into a drawer and withdrew a sleek communicator.
"Activate the shadow unit," he said into it, his tone calm but carrying a quiet steel. "Track them—unseen, unheard. Report directly to me."
There was a brief pause before the voice on the other end replied, "Understood, sir."
Heather set the device down, exhaling slowly. He had agreed to let Forsythia go, but that didn't mean he would let her walk into danger blindly. No—this time, he would ensure she was protected, even if she never knew it.
The sunlight shifted across the office floor, and Heather finally turned back to his desk. There were meetings to attend, deals to close… and a silent vow to keep.
—
Down on the street, Aldric gave a sudden flap of his wings and took off from Forsythia's shoulder, circling above her. "Faster," he called down, "we're getting closer."
Forsythia smiled faintly, her steps quickening. She didn't know what lay ahead—but for the first time in years, she felt the path she was walking might finally be hers.
The narrow alley seemed unremarkable—until Forsythia followed Aldric down its winding path and reached a flight of old stone steps leading underground. The moment she descended, a different world unfolded before her eyes.
Lanterns hung from low ceilings, casting warm, flickering light over rows of stalls and shopfronts that stretched into the shadows. The air was thick with scents—burnt incense, strange herbs, old parchment—and the low murmur of countless voices bargaining in languages she couldn't quite place.
Everywhere she looked, people carried strange objects: a man cradling a sword that shimmered faintly with frost; a woman with a lacquered box that whispered faint, haunting notes; a youth balancing a jar filled with something glowing like captured starlight.
Forsythia felt a prickle along her skin. "What… is this place?"
Aldric's eyes gleamed. "An underground cultivators' market. These aren't ordinary antiques—each of these items carries some trace of spiritual power."
She glanced around again, this time noticing it: threads of aura curling faintly from trinkets, talismans, and even the people themselves. The market seemed alive with it.
They turned into a quieter side passage where the air smelled of polished wood and old paper. The shop they entered was a cozy space cluttered with glass cabinets and towering shelves, every surface crowded with curios.
Aldric hopped onto the counter and pointed a wingtip toward a corner shelf. "There. That's it."
Forsythia followed his gaze—and saw a squat, rust-colored stone sitting between two cracked vases. It looked dull, almost ugly.
She frowned. "You can't be serious. That's the great treasure we've been looking for?"
Aldric gave her a flat look. "It's emanating the aura I've been tracking since this morning. You think I flew around all day for a rock that just looks interesting?"
"It looks like something from my neighbor's garden," she muttered.
"It could be wrapped in gold leaf and it still wouldn't be half as valuable as what it holds inside," he retorted, puffing up his feathers.
After several rounds of back-and-forth, Forsythia finally gave in. She approached the shopkeeper, handed over her father's black card, and purchased the stone, still unconvinced but trusting Aldric's instincts.
She had just tucked the wrapped package into her bag when the bell above the door gave a soft chime.
A man stepped inside. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his dark suit coat tailored with precision, and his presence seemed to push the air aside as he moved. His eyes, cool and sharp, swept the shop in an instant before settling on the counter.
"I'm looking for a rough reddish stone," he said to the shopkeeper, his voice even but carrying weight.
The shopkeeper gave an apologetic smile. "Ah… that item was sold just a moment ago."