Amid the drifting crowds, the scattered colors of decorations, and the aroma of food filling the air in the mardion-controlled half of the city, the annual Festival of Liberation was underway.
Amy stopped in front of a meat vendor.
The smell was so delicious her mouth began to water.
She was a small, energetic girl—thin but full of life—who adored meat.
Her hair was brown with a streak of white along the side, and a tiny horn sprouted from her forehead.
Her eyes shone with a dusky hue as she stared at the roasting skewers.
She tugged on Lucas's cloak, silently begging him to stop.
Lucas let out a quiet sigh as he lowered his hood and looked at her before speaking.
"Happy Liberation Festival," the vendor greeted warmly.
Lucas nodded back. "Happy Liberation Festival."
The vendor glanced at Amy, who was completely mesmerized by the skewers roasting over the flames.
With a soft chuckle, he picked one up and handed it to her.
"Here you go, little one."
He was a plump man with a thick mustache and a ridiculous oversized hat that somehow suited him perfectly.
His wide smile carried a strange comfort.
Lucas reached for his coin pouch, but the vendor waved a hand.
"No need. It's on the house."
Lucas frowned. "I insist."
"If I took a coin from every hungry child, I'd be the richest man in Lethia," the vendor laughed. "Let them enjoy something sweet for once."
Lucas grabbed another skewer and placed money on the counter anyway.
The vendor tossed it back at him. "Now you owe me," he said with a wink.
"What's your name?" he added.
"Lucas. And this is Amy. She wanted to come to the festival—it's her first Liberation Festival."
"My name is Rod," the vendor said proudly. "Since it's her first time… here, take another one."
Amy accepted it eagerly.
Lucas lifted his gaze. The clouds were gathering—thick, heavy, and unsettling.
People were moving in one direction, their pace quickening.
Curiosity tugged at Lucas.
"What's happening, Rod?"
"It's the speech," Rod answered.
"The speech?"
"Garrior—the governor of the Western District—is delivering his address today. Right here, in Rokem. Can you believe it? Of all cities… he chose ours."
"Thank you for the hospitality," Lucas said. "We should get going."
"Come back anytime," Rod laughed. "But next time won't be free!"
Before Lucas could take a step, Amy—her mouth smeared brown from sauce—mumbled:
"I want to hear the speech."
Lucas sighed. "Amy… we need to go."
"I want to go where everyone's going!"
She pointed at the children sprinting toward the main square.
Lucas hesitated, then held out his hand.
"…Alright. Let's go."
Amy's eyes sparkled as they approached the square.
The buildings—ordinary at first glance—were covered with elegant, living patterns, as if the city itself breathed through its walls.
Humans and mardions mingled together, laughing, shouting, celebrating.
"Lucas!" Amy called excitedly. "I want to see!"
Not being a tall man, Lucas lifted her onto his shoulders.
From there, she saw everything—horned mardions whose crowns arched proudly above their heads.
"Lucas! So many horns! And people with markings… just like yours!"
Some mardions had white hair—rare as moonlight—though most only showed their horns.
Small horns, large horns, spiraled or straight.
Amy touched her tiny horn.
"Will mine grow too?"
Lucas smiled. "Of course it will, little one. When you grow into someone good."
As for the "marked people," Amy meant the humans with glowing tattoos—patterns resembling the city's own decorations, unique to each person.
Some looked like scattered leaves; others like cracks across stone.
They reached the square, enormous and breathtaking.
Ancient stone tiles—weathered by time—formed swirling white patterns resembling tree roots.
At the front stood a simple wooden stage, barely a meter high, with a red carpet stretching all the way back to the Hall of Wisdom, where city leaders obeyed orders set by those above them.
A sudden gust of wind sent Amy's hair flying.
She lost her balance and clung desperately to Lucas, accidentally poking his eye.
He lowered her, rubbing at the redness forming around his eyelid.
"I'm sorry, Lucas!" she said, voice trembling.
"It's fine," he muttered, hoisting her back up. "Just hold on tight this time… or I'll chase you."
"If you can catch me!" she giggled.
Then the drums began.
Not festival drums—
But something deeper.
Heavier.
Echoing through bone.
The trumpets followed, then a violin's soft and calming melody, then thunderous beats that shook the square.
A flutist danced across the stage, and the crowd danced with him in circles and spirals of joy.
Even Amy forced Lucas to sway along, though he clearly didn't know how.
After the laughter came silence.
A heavy, unnatural silence.
The drums struck again—this time as a salute.
"For him," someone whispered.
Amy leaned close. "Why did everyone stop talking?"
Lucas whispered back, "He's coming."
Footsteps echoed—sharp, crisp, and terrifyingly controlled.
Garrior appeared.
Hair black as night.
Eyes blue as ice.
A smile that calmed… yet warned.
A black cloak trimmed with gold, flowing behind him like a living shadow.
A white garment beneath, making his presence even more striking.
Two guards followed:
One was human—his face marked with tattoos, wearing the silver armor of Marthil, a metal brought from the mardions' former world.
Lucas thought: How did a human rise to such a rank?
The second guard was mardion, with horns curved backward, watching everything with predatory stillness.
Garrior raised both hands.
The crowd erupted—shouting, cheering, praising—
Lucas flinched and lowered Amy to protect her from being crushed.
Then—
Silence again.
All he did was raise a single hand.
And he spoke:
"People of Lethia,
the land reclaimed and reborn by the mardions and those who stood with them…
You gather here for its prosperity.
My friends…
my family…
I stand before you to remind you of what has been… and what will come.
To remind you of our purpose—
the world we strive to create.
Today, we celebrate our past…
and the brighter future ahead.
The earth is no longer what it once was.
Lethia is the new earth.
My family…
I will guide you toward the light,
be it through gentleness or force,
ease or hardship.
If it costs me myself…
so be it.
If I have been a loyal servant to you—
then be the best masters to me.
Now…
Shall we take our lives to the edge,
to see where fate will cast us?
Shall we fight for our past…
and for our dreams?
So tell me—
Who will celebrate with me today…
and fight beside me tomorrow?!"
He shouted the final words, revealing the massive black horns curling like an ancient dragon's crown.
Then he roared:
"FOR LETHIA… AND FOR US!"
The crowd repeated it—
again and again—
until the earth trembled from the force of their united voices.
Garrior scanned the crowd—
face by face—
until his gaze locked with Lucas.
A sharp stare.
A painful stare.
A stare that made Lucas grip Amy tightly.
Garrior's eyes were fierce.
Lucas's eyes were filled with something else—
hurt… directed at the mardion before him.