The city was alive.
Even with a week left until the Festival of the New Year, the air buzzed with excitement. Lanterns hung from rooftops, their warm glow flickering like little stars against the encroaching twilight. Street vendors lined the main roads, shouting over one another to advertise roasted nuts, spiced meats, and sugared pastries. Musicians played lively tunes on every corner, their melodies weaving through the laughter and chatter of the crowd.
Char had almost forgotten what a night like this felt like.
The past weeks had been nothing but blood and tension, battles fought in mist-shrouded alleys and schemes unfolding behind closed doors. The Syndicate was rising, the city teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and yet—
He was here.
Because Mira had asked him to be.
He exhaled slowly, tugging the edges of his new cloak closer. The material was smooth beneath his fingers, all-white with silver-threaded embroidery along the hem. It fit comfortably over his usual attire, the hood deep enough to shield his features if needed. More importantly, it wasn't just for looks—the weave was reinforced with protective magic, offering a subtle barrier against attacks.
A small precaution, in case the night took a turn.
Even with all that was happening, everyone had urged him to go.
"You're no good to us running yourself into the ground," Marin had said, waving him off like an annoying younger brother.
"It's just a few hours, Char. Go have fun, touch some grass—oh wait, it's winter." That had been Callen, laughing as he shoved a few coins into Char's hand for the market.
Even Ishmael, who was usually all business, had smirked. "Don't keep a lady waiting, Char."
So here he was, walking through the festival-lit streets, about to meet Mira.
He spotted her before she saw him.
She stood near a stall lined with delicate glass trinkets, turning a small figurine over in her hands. The glow of hanging lanterns cast a soft light over her, bringing out the warmth in her dark hair. She was bundled up against the cold, a deep green cloak draped over her shoulders, and when she finally looked up and caught sight of him—
Her whole face lit up.
"Char!"
He barely had time to react before she closed the distance, wrapping her arms around him in a quick but firm hug.
He stiffened, caught off guard, then slowly let himself relax. "...Hey."
She stepped back, eyes trailing over him. Then, with an amused tilt of her head, she reached up and flicked the edge of his hood.
"White, huh?" she teased. "Trying to look like some noble's lost heir?"
He scoffed, pulling the hood down properly. "It's practical."
"It's dramatic," she corrected with a grin. "But I like it."
He rolled his eyes but didn't fight the smile tugging at his lips.
The tension that had been following him like a shadow these past weeks—wariness, the ever-present weight of responsibility—seemed to lessen in her presence.
"So," he said, nodding toward the markets. "You wanted to look around?"
Mira nodded eagerly. "There's so much here, Char. You have to see it. There's this bakery selling these cinnamon rolls the size of my head, and a blacksmith offering small enchanted trinkets, and—oh! Follow me, I saw this one stall earlier that—"
She grabbed his wrist without waiting for a response and pulled him along.
Char let himself be dragged through the busy streets, watching as Mira's excitement bubbled over with every new sight. She was like a storm of energy, stopping to admire intricate jewelry, testing out spiced drinks, bargaining with vendors like a seasoned professional.
He followed at her pace, occasionally commenting when she shoved an item into his hands for approval.
At one point, she pressed a warm pastry into his palm. "Try this," she said, taking a bite of her own.
He eyed it skeptically. "What is it?"
"Good." She grinned, chewing happily. "Just trust me."
He sighed but took a bite—and immediately regretted his hesitation. The rich, buttery dough practically melted on his tongue, the filling a perfect balance of honey and nuts.
Mira laughed at the look on his face. "See? I do know what I'm talking about."
They wandered for what felt like hours, drifting from one stall to another, letting the festival atmosphere pull them along. For the first time in weeks, Char wasn't thinking about battle formations, Syndicate movements, or the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
He was just here.
With her.
Eventually, they stopped near a bridge overlooking one of the city's canals. The water reflected the lantern-lit streets, golden ripples stretching toward the horizon. Mira leaned against the railing, exhaling in content.
"You've been busy," she said after a moment. "I wasn't sure if you'd actually come."
Char hesitated, then leaned beside her. "Neither was I."
She glanced at him, searching his face. "Are you okay?"
"...I don't know."
She didn't press him, didn't ask for more. She just nudged his shoulder lightly. "Well. I'm glad you're here."
Char exhaled. "Yeah. Me too."
The city hummed around them—laughter, music, the distant chime of bells.
For now, that was enough.
*
As Char and Mira made their way back from the heart of the marketplace, the night air crisp against their skin, the festive atmosphere still lingered around them. The lanterns overhead swayed gently in the breeze, casting warm golden light over the stone streets. Mira was still chattering about one of the jewelry stalls they had passed when Char's eyes caught a familiar figure moving toward them.
Merrick.
And, as usual, he wasn't alone.
Beside him, walking with an air of quiet contentment, was Selka. The Valkar girl had her hood drawn over her head, keeping her more in shadow than most festival-goers, but even concealed, Char recognized her. She was happily chewing on an absolutely massive steak, tearing into it with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered the meaning of life.
Merrick, on the other hand, looked slightly… off.
The way he walked was just a little too loose, his usual sharp movements replaced with a relaxed sway. His coat was unbuttoned, his white shirt untucked, and his dark hair was messier than usual, a sure sign that he'd had a good night. His eyes were bright but unfocused, and when he finally spotted Char and Mira, a lopsided grin spread across his face.
"Well, if it isn't the couple of the evening," Merrick drawled, spreading his arms dramatically.
Mira raised an eyebrow. "You're drunk."
"Tipsy," he corrected, wagging a finger. "There's a difference."
"Barely."
Selka, still chewing, waved at them with her free hand before returning to devouring her steak.
Merrick sighed exaggeratedly. "You wound me, Mira. Here I am, merely enjoying the vibrance of the city, partaking in its fine drinks and wonderful company."
"You mean you got peer-pressured by Ishmael into drinking," Char deadpanned.
Merrick narrowed his eyes at him. "That is not what happened."
Selka, mouth still full, gave a thumbs-up. "It is exactly what happened."
Merrick threw his hands up. "And you, Selka?"
Mira snickered as Char shook his head. "And you," Char turned to Selka, eyeing the plate in her hands. "Where did you even get that?"
Selka paused mid-bite, then slowly glanced at the steak in her hand, as if only now registering it. "I found it."
"You found a perfectly cooked steak… on a plate?"
Selka nodded solemnly.
Merrick laughed. "She stole it."
"I did not!"
"Then where did it come from?"
Selka's lips pressed together tightly, her fangs barely hidden. Then, after a long pause—
"The gods provided."
Mira actually had to clutch her stomach from laughing too hard. Char just sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Selka, tell me you didn't—"
"I traded for it," she said quickly.
Char gave her a skeptical look. "Traded what?"
Selka took another bite and mumbled something under her breath.
Merrick grinned. "Oh, you'll love this—she gave them a single, very threatening look, and they just gave it to her."
Mira nearly choked on her laughter.
Selka swallowed. "That's not what happened."
"Oh? Then what did happen?"
Selka paused, then quietly mumbled, "…I might have growled."
Merrick let out a victorious laugh. "Exactly! You basically scared the poor vendor into feeding you."
Selka huffed. "It worked, didn't it?"
Char just stared at her, then exhaled, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."
She nodded proudly. "Thank you."
Mira wiped at her eyes. "I needed that. Gods, I wish I saw it."
Merrick smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I've got a very detailed retelling ready for Ishmael later."
Selka pointed her fork at him. "Snitches get stitches."
"You wound me," Merrick said again, placing a hand over his heart. "Is this any way to treat a dear friend?"
Mira chuckled, then looped her arm through Char's. "Well, we were actually heading back. Try not to get into too much trouble, you two."
"Can't make any promises," Merrick said with a wink.
Selka, still munching, just gave a little nod.
As Char and Mira walked off, Char sighed. "They're menaces."
Mira grinned. "And you love them."
"…That's debatable."
She laughed. "C'mon, let's head back before we run into more of our disaster friends."
And as they disappeared into the lantern-lit streets, the festival carried on, bright and alive as ever.