The trail leading up to the cliff narrowed gently, framed on both sides by low shrubs and wildflowers that were just beginning to fold for the evening. The final stretch opened up like a secret being shared—the last trees parted, and suddenly, the sky was everywhere. The cliff's edge arched out over a sweeping valley below, where soft lights from distant farms flickered like stars waiting their turn. The edge itself was protected by an old fence, little more than chest-high and weathered to a gray-brown by time and sun. Despite its age, it stood steady.
As the group stepped up, there were already clusters of people dotting the open area. Some had laid down large woven mats or thick blankets and were chatting idly, their heads occasionally tilted up to the slowly darkening sky. Children zipped through the spaces between groups, tossing glow-fruits—small, translucent fruits that glowed faintly in the dark, a popular local toy this time of year.
Bral took a slow look around, then nodded as if approving the cliff itself. "This must be the viewing spot," he said, arms crossed like he had discovered it himself.
He turned to the nearest person who looked like they belonged—a wiry man in his forties, with a short beard and a woven sash that marked him as a local. "Hey," Bral called, "do you know when the meteor shower starts exactly?"
The man turned, looked up at the pink-orange hue spreading across the sky, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… Considering the sun's still above the mountains, I'd say an hour, maybe two. Not till full sunset, though."
Bral nodded. "Good. Gives us time to—"
"But," the man cut in, raising a finger, "if you want to keep a good spot like this, I wouldn't go wandering. These fill up quick once the sun drops. First come, first see."
Bao folded her arms with a frown. "Ugh… but we don't even have a blanket."
The man grinned like a fisherman reeling in a fat trout. "Lucky for you," he said, stepping aside and revealing a small two-wheeled cart he had tucked behind him, "I sell them. Blankets, snacks—everything a fancy adventuring group might need."
Bral's eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course…"
The man reached into the cart and pulled out a large, well-folded blanket—thick, soft, and clearly made with better materials than the kind found in most inns. Then he held up a basket full of festival snacks: sticks with candied berries dipped in colored sugar, bundles of dried meat tied with twine, and little paper bags filled with puffed grain coated in honey.
"How much?" Bral asked, already bracing himself.
"Two gold," the man said brightly. "That gets you the biggest blanket I have and a sampler of all the snacks."
Bral stared at him, blinking slowly. "Two gold? That's enough to feed five people for a week."
The man didn't flinch. "True. But will bread and soup give you a memory that'll last sixteen years?"
There was a silence. Bao gave Bral a flat look. "He's got you there."
"I hate when they have me there," Bral muttered, pulling out his coin pouch like a man about to hand over a kidney. He counted the coins slowly, grimacing the entire time.
The man took them with a delighted chuckle, handed over the goods, and with a wink, said, "Enjoy the view, my friends. You're sitting on the best seat in Elandria tonight." Then he wheeled his cart off to find his next target, whistling a merry tune as if he hadn't just committed daylight robbery.
Bral dropped the blanket with a sigh. "Well," he said, unfolding it and laying it out on a patch of grass, "at least he didn't skimp on us."
The blanket was huge. Easily big enough for all four of them to sit without bumping knees. The fabric was thick and plush, the kind of weave that didn't scratch even when pressed to the bare ground. The snacks smelled divine too—savory, sweet, salty—it was like a miniature feast.
Pao sat down first, smoothing out her dress as she nestled into the soft blanket. "It's perfect," she said, genuinely pleased. "It's worth it, Bral. Don't sulk."
"It's perfect for you," Bral said as he flopped down beside her. "I'm the one who paid for it."
The sky had deepened to a rich, burnt gold, and the sun hung low almost passing through the mountains. More and more people arrived as time passed. Children settled beside their parents, some on their own little woven mats, others sharing large family blankets that barely kept them contained. The cliffside meadow had turned into a living quilt of colors and soft laughter, murmured conversations, and the occasional whistle of someone pointing out an early star.
Even though the field was packed, there was an unspoken harmony. No pushing, no yelling—just quiet anticipation and the polite understanding that this was a moment to be shared. Everyone had space, but barely.
Amukelo and his friends lounged on their oversized blanket, the last bits of dried meat and sticky candied fruit sticks disappearing into idle, post-snack grazing. Bral lay on his back, arms behind his head, eyes half-shut in contentment. Bao chewed the end of a puffed grain stick, leaning her weight into one arm and quietly watching the sky.
Pao sat quietly beside Amukelo, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her foot tapped the blanket in a soft rhythm, her lips slightly pursed. Then, slowly, she leaned toward him and whispered, "Amu… what about the spot that old man talked about? The hidden one?"
Amukelo blinked, then tilted his head toward her with a slight wince. "Ah… I almost forgot," he whispered back. "If we want to get there before the shower starts, we should move now."
Pao immediately sat up straighter, her expression snapping into casual mischief. "Haha… I would like to eat something more," she said, standing as she brushed off her dress.
Bao frowned at her, tilting her head. "Something more? You just devoured an entire stick of caramel berries."
Bral nodded solemnly, tapping his stomach. "Yeah, yeah… you're gonna get fat if you keep this up. I'll have to start carrying you on quests." He gave a dramatic sigh.
Pao's face flushed red as she shot a look at him. "B-Brat!" she sputtered, and before she could form a proper rebuttal, Bao smacked Bral's shoulder with a well-practiced thump. "Don't mock my sister."
Amukelo got to his feet, scratching the back of his head. "Actually, I need to find a restroom," he said with his best awkward chuckle. "Might as well go now before the real crowd starts, right?"
Bral gave him a long look. "You too…?" He raised an eyebrow. "Fine, just don't take too long. The good part starts soon."
"We won't," Amukelo said with a strained smile.
"Yeah!" Pao added, waving over her shoulder with faux cheer. "We'll just get some snacks while we're at it. Haha…"
As the two walked off, disappearing into the maze of colorful robes and drifting conversations, Bral gave a low whistle. "They're definitely up to something weird."
Bao crossed her arms, still chewing on her snack. "Absolutely."
Bral smirked. "Think they're coming back?"
"Nope," Bao replied flatly, popping the last of her sweet into her mouth.
Back on the village path, once they had rounded a corner and left the crowd behind, Amukelo let out a long breath and wiped a hand down his face. "I can't believe both of us are this bad at lying," he muttered. "It's like we trained for years to be socially awkward."
Pao giggled beside him, her steps light and her expression more relaxed now that they were alone. "I don't know… I thought I was doing pretty well."
Amukelo gave her a sideways glance. "You said you were hungry again. It's literally been ten minutes."
She laughed. "I panicked!"
He couldn't help but laugh with her, though his expression shifted after a moment into something more serious. "But… do you think it's okay?" he asked quietly.
Pao turned her head toward him. "What?"
"You know," he said, gesturing vaguely behind them. "Isn't this a little… selfish? Lying to them just so we can have that spot to ourselves? I mean, we could've just told them and gone all together."
She considered his words as they kept walking, her steps slowing just slightly. The cool air stirred her light blue dress, and she looked up toward the hill they were headed to. The treeline whispered at its peak, a silhouette waiting to reveal its secret.
"Well," she said softly, "the old man did tell that to only us… and maybe it's okay to be a little selfish sometimes. We don't get a lot of quiet moments, Amu. Maybe this one is for us."
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze down on the dirt path. But then she grabbed his hand without hesitation and gave it a tug. "Come on," she said, her voice light. "If we want the best view, we can't dawdle."
He let her pull him, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah," he murmured. "Let's go."
And together, hand in hand, they hurried toward the hidden hilltop.