Talia woke before the bell rang and knew immediately that something was different.
Not danger, and not the sharp edge of urgency that had lived in her chest since arriving in Vaelterra.
Excitement.
It crackled through the citadel like static before a storm—not the violent kind, but the kind that made skin prickle and nerves buzz.
Voices carried down the stone corridors earlier than usual. Laughter echoed. Someone ran past her door and didn't get yelled at for it.
The Valley Hunt Festival.
She lay still for a moment, listening.
Outside, the air carried a different sound; it was brighter, lighter. The usual rhythm of guards changing shifts and early workers heading to stations had been overlaid with anticipation—faster footsteps, and the faint clatter of temporary structures being set into place.
Joel's injury was only a few days past. The memory of blood and fear still lingered in the corners of the citadel, but today… today it was pushed aside for the kind of relief only a festival could bring.
Talia dressed quickly and stepped out into the morning light.
The meadow in front of the citadel had transformed.
Quick-raise marquees dotted the grass in loose arcs, canvas fluttering gently in the breeze. Racks of cured hides and fresh furs were hung as decoration as much as display, their earthy scent mixing with smoke from early cooking fires. Beast horns had been lashed into frames—not as trophies, but as markers—reminders of what the hunt meant, and why it mattered.
People were everywhere, setting up stalls and placing last-minute decorations.
Children darted between adults, faces already smudged with paint or charcoal. Elders claimed shaded spots early, settling with the air of people who intended to stay all day. Guards off-duty leaned against posts with mugs in hand, armour stripped down to comfort rather than readiness.
Talia smiled before she realised she was doing it.
She made her way toward the organisers' tent, where she spotted Auntie Junia and Theo deep in conversation with a young woman who radiated the kind of focused chaos only an event coordinator could manage.
"…if the sling toss finals overlap with Ring the Valley again, I will personally start throwing clay pellets at people," the woman was saying.
Theo laughed. "Duly noted."
Junia turned as Talia approached, her expression softening immediately. "You're up early."
"I couldn't sleep," Talia admitted. "It felt like the citadel was vibrating."
The coordinator glanced over, eyes widening slightly. "Oh—Lord Talia. Sorry, I didn't—"
"Please," Talia said gently. "Only during formal functions, if you bow now, I'll assign you extra work."
The woman grinned, tension easing. "Then I won't. I'm Jay, I'm coordinating the festival flow."
"Doing a good job," Talia said sincerely.
The woman gestured toward a massive slate propped beside the tent. "Schedule's there if you want to check it. We're almost ready to start."
Talia stepped closer, scanning the slate.
Sixth bell. Festival opening, Ritual hunting blessing and Hunters depart.
She felt the weight of that—not solemn, but grounding.
Seventh bell. Morning feature events, Child-minding tent open, Mask making, Beast weaving and Bush-chicken portraits.
Her lips twitched at that.
During the Valley Hunt Festival, anyone could draw a portrait of the bush chicken. The winner is announced at seventeenth bell. Trophy and artwork are displayed in the school hall.
Talia made a mental note to check those later.
Further down, the main events were listed: Herdbreak, Ring the Valley, Sling toss finals, Quiet games for elders, Midday enforced rest and a Communal meal.
It wasn't just a festival.
When the sixth bell rang, the sound carried clear and bright across the meadow. Conversations quieted organically, people turning toward the central space where the hunters had gathered.
Auntie Junia and her ritual team walked over to the performance stage where the hunters had assembled and placed their weapons on a covered table before a small statue of Gaia.
Auntie Junia stepped forward, hands raised—not dramatically, just enough to draw attention.
"Today," she said, voice carrying without strain, "we hunt not just for meat, but for memory. For skill. For trust. Gaia walks with those who respect the land and return what they take."
There was no grand invocation. No spectacle.
The hunters bowed their heads briefly. Auntie Junia walked along the table and blessed each weapon—then staggered slightly at the end.
With a final grateful word to Gaia, the hunters gathered their weapons. Then they turned and left, slipping into the forest with purposeful calm as the clan erupted into cheers that followed them like wind at their backs.
At the seventh bell, Talia found herself on the stage facing a crowd of excited Deepway clan.
"Our first festival of Deepway—let's make it a memorable one!" she said, to loud cheers and applause.
She wandered through the meadow, slowly letting herself be part of the crowd instead of above it.
At the archery range, someone had set up a line of wooden targets hanging from cords. A man loosed an arrow that pierced one cleanly, sending cheers rippling outward.
"Target hit! First try!" someone yelled.
"Beginner's luck," another voice called back.
Nearby, a group of kids clustered around a pen where a round, moss-coloured hearthlop blinked placidly while small hands stroked its fur. The animal twitched once, then settled, clearly resigned to its fate.
At another stall, Kass stood beside a stone hare just close enough to control it, should it retaliate unexpectedly when someone tried to lasso it.
"That thing cheated," a teenager protested, laughing as the stone hare headbutted the rope away.
"It's a beast," Kass replied smugly. "You think they stand still for you?"
Hoops clattered against pegs shaped like animals. Someone cursed good-naturedly when a toss went wide. Ribbons fluttered from posts, already claimed by early winners.
The festival surged.
Children flooded the activity tents. Clay smeared faces. Masks took shape in bright, uneven colours. A young child cried when their beast weaving fell apart—only to laugh minutes later when it was re-tied crookedly and declared "better."
Talia drifted from stall to stall, stopping to talk, watch, and listen—cheering on challengers and laughing at the animal antics.
She paused at the Bush-Chicken Portrait area, where adults hunched with exaggerated seriousness over slates while children scribbled wildly beside them.
"That looks… ambitious," Talia said to a man shading a chicken's comb like it was a royal portrait.
"Art is truth," he replied gravely. "And this chicken has seen things."
Chuckles and laughter followed the banter and ribbing that the comment justly deserved.
At Herdbreak, teams gathered, tension sharp and playful. Coloured markers were handed out. Rules were shouted, and quiet bets were made on the sidelines.
Cael's team passed Talia, grinning."You're going down," he told her cheerfully.
"In your dreams," Talia replied. "I invented the rules."
"And yet," he said smugly, "you'll still lose."
Sadly, he was right. Talia's team was trounced. The young women and men tried to make a mad dash for the 'greener pasture', but the "hunters" were too accurate and broke her "herd" into pieces. She had the bruises to prove it.
When the roles reversed, her team couldn't hit the acrobatic beast herd opposite as they performed their way to the 'greener pasture' amid the laughter and applause of the audience.
Talia groaned theatrically as Cael strutted past her with Mirana in his arms, giggling.
"You cheated," she accused.
"All within the rules," Cael shot back.
By midday, the enforced rest bell rang and everyone—grudgingly—sat. Guards dropped into shade and water was passed around. Children and elders napped in the quiet tents placed in shady alcoves. Food appeared in the canteen, ready for the hungry, active crowd, the entertainers already providing soothing background music for the meal.
Talia and her family met up, exchanging stories while they ate and listened to the musicians' performance.
Afternoon brought sharper competition. Ring the Valley drew intense focus—strategies whispered, alliances broken mid-game.
Dav emerged victorious, arms raised briefly before being tackled by his competitors. Conspiracy theories about his team's tactics and the judges "closing their eyes" ran rife among the audience.
Finally, at the sixteenth bell of the day, the hunters began to return. The meadow atmosphere shifted again—energy tightening as attention moved toward the tunnel exit.
They came back tired, bloodied, but triumphant.
Piles of carcasses were placed in front of the stage under the curious eyes of the clan. Counts were taken and judgments made. The kitchen crew took away the night's fresh meat and started the communal meal preparations.
At seventeenth bell, winners were announced—to cheers, groans, and a smattering of applause.
Surprisingly, Joel's hunting team borrowed Dom and won the Valley Hunt trophy. They stood on the podium in tears.
It's a pity Joel couldn't witness this, Talia thought. He was still in the medical bay. He had too many injuries, both external and internal. Without modern machines, this was truly the first challenge their medical team was facing.
Hearing the cheers, Talia's attention was drawn back to the award ceremony. She watched as Cael stepped forward as the team representative and walked toward her, ready to claim the Herdbreak award. Talia wanted to revolt and slam his head with the stone trophy. Instead, she made the handshake a quiet hand-clench competition.
She congratulated them through clenched teeth.
Rubbing her hand, she happily hugged Dav when he arrived on stage to collect his reward, earning her a shouted—
"Double standard much?" from Cael.
The award ceremony continued as the smaller competition winners came to claim their prizes. Lira accepted her ribbon like a medal of honour. The winning bush-chicken portrait drew gasps of awe at the majesty it evoked. A royal bush chicken. The middle-aged artist stood proudly on the stage while his family cheered crazily—along with a surprisingly large bush-chicken fan club.
After the last award was collected, the collective prizes were passed to the teams. Nathan Calder's masks drew appreciative murmurs. Junia's blessing tokens were accepted with quiet reverence.
The official artists drew like mad—each winning team would have a group portrait, along with the official trophy, placed in the central government office for the clan to admire and stew over, ready for the following year's challenge.
With the festival drawing to a close, fires were lit. The last quiet evening events began: the communal Valley Hunt Festival dinner, along with a play that would, in future years, describe previous winners and their hunting stories.
After the meal, Talia and her family walked back toward the citadel with the crowd, laughter bubbling around them.
Lira bounced as she walked, eyes bright. "I won the sling toss competition."
"I watched you," Jace said, his eyes sparkling with amazement as he looked at his older sister.
"And I almost beat Dav," Cael added.
Dav snorted. "Almost counts for nothing."
Her niece tugged her sleeve. "Next year, I'm doing Ring the Valley."
Talia smiled down at her. "Dav can train us together."
The lights of Deepway glowed warm behind them.
It had been a long and joyful day.
Talia looked up at the sky and thought—
We needed this.
Tomorrow, the challenge would resume.
Tonight, they were allowed to rest.