The decision was made without ceremony.
It did not come from a council, nor from a strategic meeting layered with sigils and projections. It happened in the quiet aftermath of tension—after too many alarms, too many watchful eyes, too many moments where Lunaria's existence felt like a loaded question no one dared answer aloud.
Aurelion Rook was the one who finally broke it.
"We're leaving the city for the day," he said, fastening his coat with deliberate finality. "No missions. No training. No observers."
Seraphine blinked. "You're serious?"
Eidolon, seated near the window with a book he hadn't turned a page of in ten minutes, lifted his gaze slightly. "That would be… inefficient."
Aurelion glanced at him. "Exactly."
Silence followed.
Then, slowly, something unexpected happened.
Seraphine smiled.
"…A picnic?" she said, tone half-disbelieving, half-amused.
Aurelion shrugged. "Fresh air. Neutral zone. No mana saturation. It's been years."
Eidolon closed his book at last. "…I suppose," he said thoughtfully, "there is value in reminding oneself what we're protecting."
Aurelion's eyes shifted toward the doorway.
"And we're bringing Lunaria."
---
Lunaria was reading when they found him.
He sat near one of the quieter garden alcoves of the college, legs folded neatly beneath him, long moonlight hair tied back with his ribbon, pink fabric fluttering softly in the breeze. The book rested lightly in his hands, but his attention seemed distant, as though the words were merely an anchor for his thoughts.
When Aurelion approached, Lunaria sensed him before he spoke.
"…Good afternoon," Lunaria said gently, closing the book.
Aurelion paused, momentarily caught off guard.
"You always know," he muttered.
Lunaria smiled faintly. "You're loud in a very quiet way."
Seraphine laughed outright.
"That's the most accurate description of him I've ever heard."
Aurelion cleared his throat. "We're… going out. For the day."
Lunaria tilted his head slightly. "Out?"
"Beyond the city," Seraphine added. "Somewhere safe. Quiet."
"…You want me to come?" Lunaria asked, voice soft with genuine surprise.
Eidolon met his gaze evenly. "Yes."
A moment passed.
Then Lunaria nodded.
"…I'd like that."
---
They traveled without ceremony.
No escorts. No banners. No public announcements.
Just four figures moving through a spatial corridor Eidolon opened with a casual gesture, stepping out into a wide, open valley bathed in late-morning sunlight. Rolling hills stretched endlessly, wildflowers painting the land in soft pastels. A river curved lazily through the distance, its surface glittering like glass.
The mana here was thin, gentle.
Untouched.
Lunaria inhaled slowly.
"…It's beautiful," he whispered.
Seraphine stretched her arms, wings flickering briefly before settling. "I forgot how much I missed places like this."
Aurelion set down a large woven basket with a thud. "Alright. No strategizing. No rank talk. No destiny."
He glanced at Lunaria.
"…You too."
Lunaria blinked, then smiled. "I don't usually talk about destiny."
"That's because it keeps talking about you," Seraphine replied lightly.
They chose a spot beneath a broad tree whose leaves filtered the sunlight into dancing patterns. Aurelion spread out a cloth—surprisingly well-prepared—while Seraphine immediately began unpacking the basket.
Lunaria watched quietly, seated with perfect posture, hands folded in his lap.
"…Do I help?" he asked.
Seraphine paused, then softened. "You can relax."
Lunaria hesitated. "…I'm not very good at that."
Aurelion snorted. "We'll teach you."
---
Food appeared in abundance.
Simple things. Bread still warm. Fruit cut carefully. Meat seasoned and grilled earlier, its scent comforting rather than overpowering. No enchanted rations. No combat stimulants.
Just food.
They ate slowly.
At first, conversation was sparse—awkward, even. Years of command and consequence did not vanish easily. But something about the open sky, the absence of threat, loosened edges that had long been held too tight.
Seraphine was the first to truly relax.
She kicked off her boots and leaned back on her elbows, laughing as she recounted a disastrous early mission where Aurelion had mistaken a mana beast for a rock formation.
"I was young," Aurelion protested. "And it was foggy."
"You tried to sit on it," she said.
"It looked stable!"
Lunaria covered his mouth politely, eyes crinkling as a soft laugh escaped him.
That laugh—
It changed the atmosphere.
Aurelion froze mid-argument, staring.
Eidolon's gaze flickered, sharp and unreadable.
"…You should do that more often," Seraphine said quietly.
Lunaria blinked. "Do what?"
"…Laugh."
He considered that. "…I'll try."
Eidolon surprised them all by speaking next.
"When I was ranked S for the first time," he said calmly, "I thought it meant I had become something other than human."
Seraphine turned toward him. "And?"
"…I was wrong," he continued. "It meant the world would stop letting me forget."
Lunaria listened intently, eyes soft.
"…Is that why you watch so carefully?" he asked.
Eidolon met his gaze.
"Yes."
Aurelion leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. "We joke, but… this life eats things away. Slowly. You don't notice until there's nothing left to lose."
He looked at Lunaria.
"…You still have everything."
Lunaria lowered his gaze.
"…I'm not sure that's true," he said gently. "But I understand what you mean."
The wind stirred his hair, ribbon fluttering softly.
Seraphine watched him for a long moment.
"…You know," she said, smiling, "you're not fragile."
Lunaria looked up.
"You just refuse to harden."
---
They stayed longer than planned.
Time stretched lazily, unmeasured. Seraphine challenged Lunaria to a lighthearted contest of balance near the river—one he lost immediately, slipping into the shallow water with a soft gasp and a splash that sent all of them into laughter.
Aurelion laughed hardest.
Eidolon—astonishingly—smiled.
Lunaria emerged soaked, hair loose now, ribbon abandoned on the grass. Water clung to silver strands, sunlight catching in them like scattered stars.
"…I look dreadful," Lunaria said apologetically.
Seraphine shook her head. "You look alive."
For a brief, fragile span of time, there were no threats.
No demons.
No city-level disasters.
Just four people beneath an open sky.
As the sun dipped lower, casting the valley in gold, Lunaria sat quietly once more, watching the light change.
"…Thank you," he said softly.
Aurelion glanced at him. "For what?"
"…For letting me see this," Lunaria replied. "For reminding me that strength can laugh."
Eidolon closed his eyes briefly. "Remember it," he said. "There will be days when you need to."
Lunaria nodded.
[Memory archived.]
As twilight settled in, the world seemed to breathe easier.
Unaware that this fragile, peaceful moment—this laughter shared beneath a tree—would soon become something they would all fight desperately to protect.