We arrived in Perlshaw on the first day of the festival, passing through a separate priority entrance into one of the city’s more affluent districts. Our carriage, flanked by guards and bearing the Ellis household's noble heraldry, drew plenty of attention from the locals as we made our way to yet another of Julius’ manors. He had one in every major city in Ekrethia, as well as in places with a significant following of Thorvek—like Perlshaw.

Although smaller than the one in Eryndrel, the manor was quite grand. Constructed from polished limestone and dark oak, it bore the weight of wealth, its multiple spires and high-arched windows designed to impress. Servants greeted us the moment we stepped inside, whisking away luggage and offering refreshments before we’d even had the chance to settle. I barely had time to take in the interior before we were ushered into our rooms to freshen up.

Not long after, we set out to explore the festival, accompanied by four guards as escorts. The streets were packed with people, the air thick with the scent of sizzling meats, honeyed pastries, and fragrant spices.

We wandered between vendor stalls, sampling an array of foods, many of which I had never even heard of before—things like tamales and takoyaki. There were also plenty of sweet treats my family enjoyed, like churros and brownies, though I passed on them. Out of everything I tried, a pepper called the red reaper ended up being my favourite. Ronan had found the stall and handed me one with a poorly concealed grin, no doubt expecting some dramatic reaction. When I asked for another after eating it, his expression shifted to one of complete shock, but he still bought me another as I’d asked.

Festival games were scattered throughout the city, most of them focused on tests of strength. We only participated in a few, including an arm-wrestling contest near the cathedral that Ronan decided to join. Under normal circumstances, I was certain he wouldn’t lose in a test of raw power, but with enforcement forbidden, I couldn’t be sure. 

Cheered on by Haela, Freya, and—somewhat—Julius, who mostly just shouted at his son-in-law to try harder, Ronan won his first few rounds with little struggle. But in the final round, he lost to a priest from the cathedral.

Honour and power are everything to the church, but I never expected even their clergy to be filled with muscle-headed brutes, I sighed inwardly.

As night fell, we stopped by a fine restaurant for dinner before heading back out to watch the grand parade marking the end of the first day of the festival. The procession wound its way down one of the main streets, from the cathedral to the river. 

It was a spectacle of sheer scale and vibrancy. Cloaked priests led the way, followed by a cavalcade of decorated floats, banners, and massive effigies of dragons. Dancers in bright, hypnotic patterns twirled through the streets, their movements enchanting the crowd. Dozens of soldiers marched in perfect unison to the pounding of war drums and the blare of horns. The entire city seemed bewitched by the display, but to me, it just looked like an elaborate attempt to flaunt Perlshaw’s martial prowess and wealth—a perfect example of how Thorvek’s followers embodied the belief that bigger meant better.

Next to me, Haela and Ronan stared up in awe as a massive float passed by. It took the form of a dragon, its large frame levitating a few feet off the ground as though held aloft by wind magic. Every so often, it spewed real flames into the sky, sending waves of heat rolling over the crowd.

Atop the dragon stood a lone figure—one I quickly recognised as an archbishop of the Church of Power. He was clad in a long black robe, embroidered with intricate golden lightning patterns that flickered across the fabric like real, storm-born energy. A dark mantle, reinforced with blackened steel shaped into jagged bolts, draped over his shoulders, making him look more like a war priest than a mere cleric. His ceremonial armour—an obsidian breastplate, gauntlets, and boots, all inlaid with glowing yellow sigils—only added to his imposing presence.

His headpiece curved into twin, sharp points resembling horns, and in his right hand, he wielded a jagged greatsword so massive that an ordinary person wouldn’t have been able to lift it—yet he held it effortlessly in a single hand. I couldn’t sense his mana signature. He had it concealed, of course.

His gaze swept across the crowd, his eyes commanding immediate respect as waves of applause and cheers erupted around us. Then, his eyes landed on Julius, lingering just long enough to offer a subtle tilt of his head. Julius responded with a cocky smile and the same motion in return, as though he had close ties with the archbishop, or maybe the church as a whole.

Then the archbishop’s gaze found me.

He paused, staring longer than he had at anyone else. A chill ran down my spine as my body tensed on instinct, as though preparing for a fight. His stare was heavy—assessing, prying. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.

Lifting his greatsword, he pointed its tip skyward.

In that instant, I felt his mana signature surge into existence—only for a moment, but long enough for a tremendous force to ripple outward from him. The pressure crashed into the crowd, sending tremors through every person it touched.

For a heartbeat, the entire street stood frozen in stunned stillness.

Then, as if something inside them had ignited, the crowd erupted into ecstatic cheers and fevered shouts. The air thrummed with renewed energy, the people utterly enraptured by his display of power.

But the archbishop ignored them.

Instead, he turned back to me, and—so quickly I almost doubted it had happened—he winked.

And then he was gone, disappearing with the float as the parade carried on.

I watched him go warily, half-expecting him to turn back and cut me down in front of everyone. That force just now… My hands curled into fists. He’s definitely the strongest person I’ve seen. Not even my parents could kill him if they tried.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away. It was useless to dwell on.

The crowd surged forward, moving towards the river for the magic display that was said to follow. There was already a sectioned-off area waiting for us at the riverbank, guarded and prepared ahead of time.

When we arrived, some of the guards led Julius and Freya to a temporary seating setup, while Ronan, Haela, Chione, and I settled on the grass closer to the riverbank. We were far enough away that we couldn’t hear the pair of them—just the soft lapping of the water and the distant hum of the crowd's anticipation.

By now, the parade had reached one of the main bridges spanning the river. From there, mages began launching dazzling bursts of magic into the night sky.

People had gathered on both sides of the riverbank, with some watching from boats drifting on the water. Naiads, their faces illuminated by reflected light, watched in silent wonder from within the river itself as the sky came alive.

Dozens of mages worked in synchrony, weaving their different elements together into breathtaking shapes—mythical beasts appeared overhead, phantom battles playing out in shimmering light, and ancient legends were reenacted in shifting, ethereal images. All the while, explosions of elemental energy burst into streams of glittering radiance, cascading down like falling stars.

A warm breeze drifted along the riverbank, carrying the damp scent of wet earth and tugging softly at my clothes. The gentle lapping of water against the shore mingled with the whooshing and popping of magic bursting in the sky. My family sat on the grass beside me, gazing up in awe at the spectacle of colours and shifting images. Absently twisting a blade of grass between my fingers, I scanned the bridge, searching for the archbishop to no avail.

Where did he go? Why did he wink at me before? I quickly lost myself in thought, unable to focus on the display.

Some streams of magic drifted close to the ground, making Haela jump up and dart around, chasing the shimmering remnants before they vanished. Ronan ran after her, trying to keep her from tumbling into the river. I sighed and settled into meditation, crossing my legs and closing my eyes in an attempt to organise my thoughts. The light show passed in a blur—until Chione’s voice broke my focus.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice serene.

“Mmm.” I opened my eyes, my concentration slipping away, only to see her turn to me and scowl.

“Are you even paying attention? You haven’t looked at it properly once.”

I straightened my clothes, trying to regain my focus as I grumbled, “I am, I am.”

Chione suddenly stood, fists clenched. “No, you’re not! Why are you always so… so…” She faltered, her shoulders sagging.

I waved her off. “Calm down, it’s just a light show.”

She turned away, gritting her teeth. “Elian would’ve loved this,” she muttered before storming off to join Freya and Julius, leaving me alone.

I let out a huff, hugging my knees to my chest as another warm breeze ruffled my hair. Why is she so mad?

I gave up on meditating and instead turned my attention to my surroundings. Haela lunged for a falling mote of light, only for Ronan to catch her before she could fall into the river. The water rippled with a thousand reflected colours—until suddenly, the sky fell dark, the popping sounds ceasing in an instant. Only the gentle murmur of the river remained.

The sudden absence of light drew my gaze upward. On the bridge, the archbishop stood with a group of mages, their hands raised toward the sky. Small flames spread from their hands, swirling on the wind like playful spirits and spreading throughout the city.

They wove through the streets and skimmed past me, barely warm as they brushed my skin. Slowly, they gathered above the river, merging and rising higher and higher.

The flames took shape—a colossal dragon of fire soaring over the city, its flickering scales shifting through a myriad of colours. It beat its enormous wings, lifting its head high, and from its open jaws erupted a stream of swirling elements, bursting into the sky in a radiant cascade. A shimmering aurora unfurled across the night, blanketing the heavens in a glittering light.

I couldn’t look away.

It’s… beautiful.