The night in Luminalis was even more magical than the day.
As the sun dipped below the ocean horizon, the town didn't grow dark. Instead, the thousands of glass lanterns flared into a soft, bioluminescent glow, turning the white-stone streets into a river of light.
"Alhen, try this!" Lira laughed, shoving a skewer of Star-Fruit Glaze into his hand.
Alhen took a bite, the sweet, tingling syrup popping on his tongue like tiny edible sparks. "It's... it actually tastes like the mountain air back home, but sweet."
They wandered through the Grand Bazaar, where the carnival was at its peak. Quon was currently wearing a small, festive red ribbon around his neck, a gift from a flower girl who couldn't resist his wagging tail. The little dog trotted proudly between them, his nose twitching at the scent of honey-roasted nuts and sea-salt caramel.
For a few hours, they weren't warriors.
They played a game of "Ring the Bell" where Alhen, without using his Essence, still managed to strike the iron plate so hard the bell nearly cracked. Lira found a stall of Aura-Reading Mirrors, and when she stepped in front of it, the glass glowed such a vibrant, deep cobalt that the merchant gasped and dropped his crystal ball.
"A natural! A true Caster!" the man had whispered, but Lira just smiled and pulled Alhen away into the dancing crowds before too many eyes could settle on them.
As the clock struck midnight, the music shifted. The heavy drums of the afternoon were replaced by the haunting, ethereal melody of silver harps. This was the Dance of the Moon-Tide, the climax of the festival.
Suddenly, the crowd parted.
Standing near the edge of the fountain was a group of four figures. They didn't wear the colorful, feathered masks of the townsfolk. Instead, they wore identical, expressionless masks made of polished white porcelain, carved with a single, weeping eye in the center of the forehead.
Their robes were long and made of a fabric that seemed to shift between silver and shadow, fluttering even though there was no wind.
The laughter of the carnival died down in their immediate circle. A strange, heavy silence followed them, like a bubble of stillness in the middle of a storm.
Alhen's hand instinctively went to his sword hilt. He felt a hum in his bones—not the aggressive roar of a beast, but a high-frequency vibration that made his silver Essence stir beneath his skin.
Beside him, Lira stiffened. "Alhen... my Mana. It's... it's reacting."
One of the masked figures stepped forward. His movements were disturbingly fluid, as if he weren't walking on the cobblestones but gliding a fraction of an inch above them.
He didn't draw a weapon. Instead, he reached into his silver sleeve and pulled out a small, black parchment sealed with a wax stamp of a blooming blue lotus.
"Alhen of Eldervale," the figure said. His voice didn't sound like it came from his mouth; it echoed directly inside Alhen's head, cold and resonant. "And Lira of House Valencrest."
The figure bowed deeply, a gesture that felt more like a mockery than respect.
"The Master of the Silver Spire has been watching your progress. From the frost of the peaks to the rot of the fen... your 'potential' has become quite a loud noise in a very quiet world."
He held out the black parchment toward Alhen.
"The carnival is for children. If you truly wish to see the 'Whole World' as your book promises... then come to the Spire at dawn. The Master does not like to be kept waiting."
Before Alhen could ask a single question, the four figures turned. A sudden gust of wind, smelling of ozone and ancient parchment, swept through the plaza. When the dust cleared, the figures were gone.
The music of the harps resumed, and the crowd began to cheer again, unaware of the chilling encounter that had just taken place.
Alhen looked down at the black parchment in his hand. It felt cold—colder than the ice in the Frost-Bound Crypt.
"Alhen," Lira whispered, her hand trembling slightly as she touched his arm. "That man... he didn't have a heartbeat. I could feel it with my Mana. He wasn't human."
Quon let out a low, mournful howl, his red ribbon fluttering in the wind. The festive lights of Luminalis suddenly felt a lot dimmer.
Alhen looked toward the tallest white tower overlooking the bay. "The Master of the Silver Spire... I think we just found the person who sent the figure to the woods."
The carnival was over. The real test had arrived.