Xeris sat at a table in a small tavern near the edge of the village. His gaze rested on the door, his hood casting a familiar darkness over his face, concealing any expression.
For a time, nothing changed.
Then the door swung open. A rush of cold air swept inside along with a man.
Slightly flustered, he turned at once to shut the door, offering a brief, apologetic bow to those inside. A moment later, he spotted Xeris and hurried over.
"Night!" Ormin called out. "It's good to see you again! You won't believe it – over these past two weeks, I–"
Xeris raised a hand, silencing him.
"Please, contain yourself, Ormin," he said gently. After a brief pause, he added, "This isn't the place."
Ormin's expression dipped, a hint of disappointment surfacing before it quickly faded.
Xeris rose to his feet.
"Shall we?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He had already turned and begun walking toward the door.
A few patrons glanced over as Ormin hurried after him.
The two walked on, slipping into the quiet darkness of the night. The air had grown colder, a clear sign that winter had started its approach.
Only as they neared the outskirts of the village did Xeris speak.
"My apologies for earlier. You may continue."
Ormin hesitated for a moment, then realized what he meant.
"Oh – right. It's nothing much," he said with a sheepish laugh. "I was just excited to tell you… I managed to sell a few more items than expected. I have 13,300 Crescents now."
Xeris's expression didn't change.
"That's impressive," he said evenly. "Gaining 100 Crescents in such a short time is no small feat." He paused. "I've secured the remaining amount needed for the original sum. Keep the extra 100 Crescents for your family."
Ormin stopped.
Xeris took a few more steps before noticing, then turned back to face him.
A single tear had formed in Ormin's right eye; it started its journey sliding down his cheek before it was wiped away with the back of his hand.
"Your kindness will not be forgotten," Ormin said, his voice low with sincerity.
Xeris nodded.
A brief silence followed as Ormin continued to process what had just been said. After a moment, he glanced around before pointing toward a nearby mountain.
"That's where we're headed," he said evenly.
For the first time, something shifted beneath Xeris's hood. His eyes brightened – subtle, but unmistakable.
The reason was simple. This was new.
Until now, his world had been confined. The Institution of Halcyon had defined the limits of what could be seen, learned, and reached. For him – and for the others who had been brought into this world – those boundaries had been absolute.
It served as both protection and restraint.
But beyond it lay something else entirely.
Unknown paths. Unclaimed opportunities.
Strength that could not be gained within walls.
Exploration was the first step toward true freedom.
Xeris watched as Ormin took the lead and followed.
–
At the same time, within the Institution of Halcyon –
"Saela Veyne. I, Instructor Dorian, recognize your awakening as a Night-aligned cultivator."
He withdrew his hand from her upper back, opening his eyes as he did so.
His inspection of her Aris was complete.
The Aris was a basin of energy – both present and intangible at once. It existed through the connection between a person's soul and one of the Two Great Currents: Day or Night.
It manifested in the upper torso and, once formed, could be accessed by both the cultivator and others. To reach one's own Aris required nothing more than turning inward – it was as natural as breathing. To look into another's, however, demanded focus and skill, especially if the other cultivator resisted.
To a cultivator, the Aris was much like a heart. It was a source of strength, but also a point of vulnerability. Few would willingly allow another to peer into it.
In this case, however, it was required to confirm that the awakening had truly occurred.
Saela stepped back, turning to face Instructor Dorian. Her expression had already settled – calm, composed, her eyes steady.
Dorian studied her for a moment longer before a faint smile formed.
"Come," he said. "I'll take you to the Institution's Myr Repository."
Saela's eyes brightened.
–
Back on the northwest mountain outside the village –
After nearly an hour of walking beneath the night sky, a faint light appeared in the distance. The two paused briefly before continuing on.
During the climb, Xeris had outlined several details Ormin needed to follow – small instructions meant to ensure the transaction proceeded without issue.
Ormin listened carefully. Believing Xeris to be both a noble and a cultivator, he treated each word with weight, agreeing without hesitation to everything asked of him.
The light grew stronger, concentrating ahead of them. Before long, they stepped into a small, flattened clearing.
Items were scattered about in a careless arrangement, as if left where they had last been used. The two slowed, taking in their surroundings.
It was clear the seller was not present.
Xeris turned, noticing Ormin had already moved toward a cluster of jars resting along the ground. Inside them, small creatures drifted quietly, each giving off a faint bluish glow. Some moved with slow, fin-like motions through the confined space, while others lay still at the bottom, undisturbed.
Ormin looked back at Xeris, astonishment filling his gaze.
"These… these are Myr!" he said, reaching toward the nearest jar.
"Stop."
Ormin froze mid-motion.
He turned back toward Xeris, confusion written plainly across his face.
Xeris explained that it would be unwise to touch anything. From an outsider's perspective, it could easily be seen as theft – and the consequences would not be minor.
Ormin scratched the back of his head, letting out an awkward laugh.
"Right…" he muttered, stepping back.
They waited in silence for a time. Eventually, Ormin lowered himself to the ground, exhaling slowly.
"Night?" he said after a moment.
"Yes?"
Ormin hesitated.
"After we obtain the Twin Hearts Myr… and you use it on my daughter, Talen… I'd like to give you something."
"Oh?" Xeris replied. "What did you have in mind?"
Ormin gave a small, genuine laugh.
"Something from my shop. Anything you want – on me."
Xeris didn't respond.
Ormin continued, "You've helped me more than I can repay. I won't forget that. I'd like to give you something – so when you become a great cultivator, you'll have something to remember us by." He let out a soft laugh.
Xeris reached into his robe.
"But I already do."
He brought a long, black knife into view.
Ormin's eyes narrowed slightly in focus – then widened in recognition.
"Ah… I see," he said, a grin forming. "So it was you who bought that piece."
His smile deepened.
"My daughters and I put a lot of work into that one. It'll serve you well."
Xeris returned the knife to his robe.
Ormin leaned back, glancing up at the sky.
"No matter how I try to repay you," he said lightly, "you always seem to be a step ahead."
The two waited in silence.
After a time, a sound reached them – faint at first.
Singing.
It carried unevenly through the night, rough and unsteady, the pitch wavering from note to note. As it drew closer, the volume rose with it.
Then, without warning, a man dropped lightly into the clearing.
His arms were filled with bundles of herbs and leaves, gathered in uneven stacks. His expression was loose, almost absent – until his eyes landed on Xeris and Ormin.
The singing stopped.
In its place, a cold, sharp gaze settled over them.
He let the bundles fall to the ground and stepped forward.
"State your business," he said flatly.
Xeris reacted at once, bowing deeply in respect.
Ormin followed a heartbeat later, scrambling to his feet before lowering himself into a bow of his own.
Xeris remained bowed, unmoving, as Ormin straightened, his composure gradually returning.
The cultivator's gaze softened slightly as he took them in. Their posture, their restraint – it was enough. He already had a sense of why they were here, and the old man's face stirred a faint recognition.
Ormin spoke.
"Torren the Unbent, I have returned with the amount you requested for the Twin Hearts Myr."
Torren's brows lifted just a fraction.
"I see," he said.
He turned away without another word and began inspecting his belongings.
Ormin hesitated, confusion flickering across his face as he glanced toward Xeris – who was only now rising from his bow.
Torren did not say anything else until he had completely calculated that nothing had been taken from his inventory.
Torren turned lightly on his heel to face them again, a warm smile now resting on his face.
"Yes… Yes, I remember you." He pointed toward Ormin. "Remind me – your name?"
Ormin bowed once more, this time briefly.
"Ormin," he said. He gestured toward Xeris. "And this is my companion… and friend, Night."
Torren's gaze shifted, settling on Xeris. It lingered there, measuring.
"Friend, Night," he said slowly. "Why do you hide your face?"
Xeris did not respond.
Ormin shifted slightly, unease creeping into his posture.
"You see… Night works as hired protection," he said, forcing a small smile. "That means he's sometimes involved in matters he'd rather not be associated with. While he is my friend, you can consider him… on the job."
A thin layer of sweat had begun to form along his brow.
This wasn't improvised. Before arriving, Xeris had already instructed him on exactly what to say if the question came up.
Torren nodded slowly.
"I see…" he said. "Very well. Let us proceed."
He turned, taking a step–
Then stopped.
After a brief pause, he turned back to face them.
"One more thing."
The tension in Ormin's chest tightened at once, his breath catching as the pressure rose.
Torren smiled lightly.
"And your daughter, Ormin? Last time, you were nearly frantic about obtaining the Twin Hearts for her. How do you expect me to use it if she isn't here?"
Relief washed over Ormin. He had been prepared for this question.
Ormin raised his hands confidently.
"No need to worry. I've already made arrangements – someone else will handle that part of the process." He gave a small, apologetic smile. "At this hour, I couldn't very well bring my daughter this far from the village."
Torren nodded, accepting the explanation without resistance.
"That's reasonable," he said. "Saves me the trouble."
As he spoke, Torren extended his arm, palm open and facing upward. A faint red aura gathered within his hand, swirling briefly before settling.
When it faded, a Myr rested in his palm.
A light red aura… Rank 2, Day-aligned, Xeris noted.
The Myr took the form of a small box, a single eye set at its center. The eye turned toward Torren, then widened suddenly, darting away as if startled before vanishing from sight.
In the same instant, the top of the box split open.
A streak of white and red light shot outward – only to be caught cleanly in Torren's grasp.
Torren turned towards Xeris and Ormin, revealing it. It was the Twin Hearts Myr.
Its shape was that of two flowers which had been merged together at the stem, one a dark pure black, the other an elegant white. And binding them, a faint red hue glowed, almost resembling blood.
Xeris watched as Ormin completed the exchange. The full 15,000 Crescents were handed over, and in return, Torren passed the Twin Hearts Myr into Ormin's grasp.
A few brief words were exchanged before farewells were given, and the two departed from Torren's camp.
Once they had put enough distance between themselves and the clearing, Ormin leaped into the air, unable to contain himself – his shout breaking through the night as he pumped a fist forward in triumph.
For the next half hour, they walked together. Ormin spoke without pause, his excitement spilling over into every word, while Xeris listened in silence, taking in each detail.
Eventually, they reached the edge of the mountain. Jagged stone jutted outward, opening into a wide, unobstructed view beneath the night sky, the stars casting a quiet, steady light over the landscape below.
Ormin paused his thought, turning towards the view ahead of them. He stepped forward, closing his eyes, his head tilted slightly back as he inhaled the cold night air deeply. Exhaling, he opened his eyes again.
The world tilted. A sudden, searing cold blossomed in his spine and, an instant later, erupted from the center of his chest. He stared down, uncomprehending, at the four inches of stained black iron now protruding from his chest.
He tried to draw another breath, but it came only as a thin, wet whistle through the new hole in his lungs.
The blade slid free with a quiet, final sound.
For a moment, Ormin did not understand. However, his body did – the sudden weakness, the warmth spreading beneath his robes – but his mind lagged behind, clinging to the shape of trust that had existed only seconds before. Slowly, stiffly, he turned.
The figure behind him no longer hid beneath the hood.
The dark fabric had fallen back, black hair now hanging in uneven strands across Xeris's face. The concealment was gone, as if it had never truly been needed. He stood there without it, exposed – and yet, somehow, even more distant than before.
There was no movement to greet Ormin's gaze. No shift of weight, no tightening of grip. Xeris simply remained as he was, his shoulders loose, and the blade was hanging by his side, as though the act he had just committed had required nothing of him at all.
And Xeris's expression.
A faint curve rested on his lips, so natural it felt as though it had been there long before the blade found its mark. It did not grow nor falter. It simply existed, untouched by the moment it accompanied.
Xeris's eyes were nearly closed, shadowed beneath the fall of his hair. Whatever lay behind them was hidden completely.
Ormin stared, breath shallow, searching for something… anything that might anchor this moment in reason.
Regret. Anger. Even cruelty would have been easier to understand.
But there was only that stillness.
Success. Xeris thought to himself.