Night cloaked the city of Aeloria in a thick veil of deep violet shadows.
The inn where they were staying for the night lay silent, with only the occasional creak of aged floorboards or the whisper of a door nudged by the wind. In an upstairs room, the dim glow of an oil lamp lit a small part of the space—just enough to illuminate the pages of the open book in front of Clara.
She sat on a small wooden chair, her back facing the bunk bed where Leona was sleeping soundly. Leona's breathing rose and fell steadily, and a half-eaten loaf of bread still sat on the bedside table, a sign that she had been too tired to finish it. On her blanket-covered stomach, Lux lay on his back, occasionally twitching his little ears—perhaps caught in the dreams of magical creatures.
Clara did not disturb them. She was immersed in her reading—a basic spell training manual she had brought from the southern lands. Though the contents were nothing new, Clara knew that to face the uncertainties ahead, she couldn't afford to neglect even the most fundamental lessons. Her left hand traced a diagram of a circular energy circuit on the page, while her right hand held a pen, scribbling notes on the back cover of the book.
But the silence didn't last long.
A sudden commotion outside the inn caught her attention.
Clara stopped reading. She turned to the window and stood slowly, careful not to wake Leona and Lux. She gently pushed aside the wooden curtain. Through the misted glass, she saw several city guards hurrying toward a narrow alley near the old marketplace. Their lanterns swayed, casting golden light onto the stone walls of nearby buildings.
The atmosphere was tense. Some guards were speaking in urgent tones. Clara leaned in, trying to listen more closely.
"…suspicious movement in the western alley. Not just one—maybe two or three..." "…not locals. We couldn't recognize their faces…" "…strange clothing, like they're from another province…"
Clara's heartbeat quickened. She couldn't explain why, but unease began to coil in her chest.
Liorin.
He hadn't returned. The last time they saw him was earlier that evening, when he decided to explore the surrounding area alone. Liorin usually didn't stay out too long—especially not without letting anyone know.
Clara immediately shut the book and tucked it back into her bag. Her eyes scanned the street once more. The guards were now heading west—toward the very place Liorin had mentioned wanting to visit. Clara drew a short breath. She couldn't just wait.
She looked back at Leona and Lux. Leona still slept peacefully. Lux was curled up like a ball of fur. Clara walked silently toward her bag and slipped on her dark blue jacket. She didn't plan to go far—just far enough to check on Liorin or at least gather information.
Before leaving, she scribbled a short note and placed it on the table beside Leona:
> Stepping out for a while. Will return before midnight. — Clara
With quiet but determined steps, Clara opened the room door and closed it without a sound. She descended the creaky wooden stairs. The inn's lobby was still, with only the innkeeper counting small coins behind the desk. Clara nodded briefly before stepping out into the cold night air.
The chill outside was sharper than before. The wind carried a faint metallic scent—the usual smell of damp alleys and aged stone. Clara turned toward the city guards, now split into two groups heading down separate paths. Something was happening in Aeloria tonight. Something suspicious enough to shake the city's calm.
Clara quickened her pace, navigating the cobblestone alleys of Aeloria now shrouded in deeper night. The wind echoed with the footfalls of patrolling guards stationed at every corner. She had to be careful. Few travelers were allowed to wander without permission during heightened alerts like this.
One guard eyed her with suspicion. Clara quickly changed direction, pretending to browse the row of shops lining the alley. Once the guard turned away, she slipped past them quietly, veering toward the side of a building and sneaking into a narrow lane that led toward the old marketplace.
She stopped.
A dim, narrow alley stretched ahead, illuminated faintly by a loosely-hung lantern swaying from a wooden wall. The wind rustled a tattered flag hanging from a nearby window. As Clara stepped closer, she heard a low voice—an eerie whisper, like a chant being recited.
She turned toward the sound. In the middle of the alley stood a man in a dark leather cloak, hood covering his face. His back was to Clara, one arm raised in the air, fingers moving in a specific pattern. Around him, a powerful magical aura pulsed, pressing the air with a heavy, unfamiliar presence.
Something was wrong.
He was casting a summoning spell...
The whisper became clearer:
"Exsurge de umbris, spiritus ignotus. Aperi portam vetitam inter mundos. Per flamma et umbra, voco te. Per vincula fracta, accede. Custos silentii, surge. Quod latet reveletur. Exspecto signum divinum."
"-?!"
He hadn't finished the incantation, but Clara couldn't let him complete it. She knew what could happen if a summoning spell succeeded—especially in a densely populated city.
"Stop!" Clara shouted.
The man flinched, his chant abruptly cut off. He turned, eyes gleaming sharply under the hood, locking onto Clara without a word.
Without warning, he thrust his left hand forward. Flame ignited from his fingertips and—wuss!—a fireball flew straight at Clara.
She rolled to the side just in time, ducking behind a wooden barrel. The heat scorched her cheek.
Another fireball followed—larger and faster.
Clara stood and stepped forward, raising her right palm.
"Terra, murus, protectio!"
From beneath her feet, a low wall of earth rose instantly, absorbing the fireball that exploded with a soft boom. Dirt and embers scattered into the air, but Clara remained steady behind the shield.
The cloaked man looked stunned.
Yet his posture revealed he was ready to strike again. Both his hands now glowed with flickering orange fire, pulsing like embers.
Clara clenched her fist.
"Don't test me," she whispered—to herself more than to him.
The man began another chant, his tone deeper and more forceful:
"Voco flammam antiquae, per voluntatem meam, esto gladius meus!"
Instantly, fire coalesced into a spinning blade, which shot through the air toward Clara.
She moved aside and leapt behind a broken barrel, breath short.
Again she raised her hand.
"Terra, hasta acuta, impetus!"
The ground beneath the man's feet trembled and cracked. But the tremor faded before it could complete its surge. The man didn't hesitate—he unleashed wave after wave of fire magic.
The battle had truly begun.
Clara didn't have time to think. She knew she couldn't fight long in this narrow alley. The man was no ordinary mage. His aura felt… unstable. As though something beyond this world was trying to break through—using him as a vessel.
"Terra, prehensio, retentio!"
The earth surged from the walls and floor, lunging toward the cloaked figure.
But he spread his arms wide, and a vortex of flames erupted from his body, shattering the earthen chains before they could touch him.
Clara was thrown back by the force of the blast. She slammed against the alley wall but caught herself before collapsing. Her expression turned grim.
The man stared at her for a moment. Then suddenly—perhaps alerted by something—he leapt back and hurled another fireball at the ground, creating a burst of smoke that obscured everything.
"No!" Clara raised her hand, trying to clear the smoke—but the man was already... gone.
He just stood there, the sound of approaching guards growing louder. Clara clenched her fists tightly. That man… he wasn't just an ordinary magic user. And he had almost summoned something—something potentially dangerous, perhaps from another world.
Clara took a deep breath.
Liorin… I hope you're safe.