“There’s no way someone would’ve noticed them in this crowd.” Amun muttered, his voice low and irritated as he scanned the packed cobblestone street.

Stone buildings loomed on either side, casting long shadows over the rows of market stalls crammed beneath them.

“They could have helped us carry—”

“They absolutely could not,” Tal cut in sharply. “There’s a reason the Surelians are the only sifting company in Aldarath—they’re not just sifters, they’re practically Aldarath’s second army. More eyes than the crown, more reach than any merchant guild or healers.

Amun frowned, sweeping his hand toward the bustling street where bodies swerved past them. “But on a street like this?”

“And on the Loradun side of the city? Hell, I’d have trouble spotting Rin in a crowd like this,” said Amun, lowering his voice a notch.

“Still not worth the gamble, Moons. Besides, we’ve got all the muscle we need here.” Tal reached out and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

Amun glanced at Erith, who was silently scanning the passing market stalls. “Shouldn’t he be staying inside too?”

“Didn’t know you were volunteering to carry everything,” Erith said, eyes still on the stalls. “But I think you’ll need to grow just a bit more before you try hauling five packs of supplies.”

He finally pulled his gaze away, looking toward Amun and Tal. “Until we hear anything, it’s probably the safest move. Without word from your mum, we stick to Rin’s plan—keep low and be ready to head deeper into Loradun without warning.”

Amun hesitated, but couldn’t keep his thoughts from slipping out. “You think they’ll hang you if they find you?”

“No,” Erith said flatly. “But I expect they’ll hang you first and turn me into an experiment after—so keep your hood up.” He tugged Amun’s hood forward over his blond hair.

The group descended a set of worn steps toward the docks, where the towering stone bridges arched above the river, linking both sides of Velmoran.

“Then… there’s no way he thinks that he can actually stop this war.” Amun’s words tumbled out faster and faster.

“He can’t be that thick-headed, right? I mean, maybe he’d feel a little bad if his best friend’s little brother ended up swinging from the gallows, but there’s no way he’d let his love–”

Erith turned toward Amun, mouth agape and a flustered look crossing his face.

“No ones swinging from gallows, Moons,” Tal interrupted, sharp enough to slice through his flurried rant.

“We’re not here to entertain that,” she added, then pointed toward a nearby stall where several sheets of tent canvas were draped across the table. “Rin and I spoke with Maeric. We all agree—the risk outweighs the benefit.

The group stepped toward the stall, but the smell of cooked herbs drew their attention. A fire blazed from a corner stall, with skewered meats roasted behind the counter.

“Maybe there first… C’mon,” Tal called out over her shoulder, already drifting in that direction.

Perched against the stone wall, the three quietly dug into the skewers before purchasing three tents.

As they turned toward the dock stairs, Tal threw an arm in front of Erith.

A patrol of Velmoran guards, each clad in the sigils of the Kingdom of Aldarath, descended the same stairs.

The bustle of the docks didn’t stop, but something in the air had changed—quiet, tense, like a collective breath held in.

“Let’s see if we can find supplies in the upper markets.” Tal said over her shoulder, eyes on the guards as they began their sweep down the docks.

By the time their packs were full, the sun was already dipping low behind the rooftops. The market was thinning, but patrols still lingered.

The three slipped back into the upper floors of the Soliri, shoulders heavy and voices low, into the lecture hall where Rin sat in one of the front pews, his gaze fixed on the cracked stained-glass windows.

“A good haul for the day?” He called across the room as the group stepped down the worn steps.

“A few more and we’ll be set,” Tal replied, placing her pack on the weathered wooden table in the center.

“Saryn says we’ve got about a few weeks before she can secure us passage through the Dead Plains. They’ve sent riders to get the word out  of what’s to come. Aldarath would hunt us down the entire Caelor river if we tried that route, but if it comes to it—that’s our option.”

Rin pulled his eyes from the glass, glancing over the supplies as Tal sorted through them, then to Erith and Amun’s exhausted figures.

“That was worse than any day in the Spindle.” Amun muttered, dropping his pack onto the table, stretching his back. He turned to Erith. “Is that what sifting is like?”

“Actually… kind of,” Erith concluded, rubbing his shoulders before starting to empty his pack.

He caught Rin’s eye, who motioned for Erith.

“It’s taken a few conversations from Tal and me, but Maeric’s agreed to the plan.” Rin spoke low in a measured tone. “He’s back to practicing all day—so if you can, try to keep his mind away from all this.”

“Right,” Erith replied quietly.

“You could try pouring water on him again… he seemed to like that a little too much—” 

Amun flinched as Tal smacked his arm on her way past.

“I’ll check on him.”

The others didn’t stop him. Erith slipped through the door into the hall, dimly lit by a single flickering candle. He walked quietly toward the end, where the door to his and Maeric’s makeshift quarters sat slightly ajar.

Inside, Maeric sat beside the pile of old sheets they’d laid out on the floor, eyes closed, the glow of a nearby candle casting his shadow across the wall.

Erith watched him for a moment, unmoving, then stepped softly toward the crate near the wall where Maeric’s gem and the Murath Rhymera had given him rested.

He picked up the gem, placed it gently on the floor by the door, then crossed to the far side of the room.

Without opening his eyes, Maeric raised a hand and pointed directly toward where the gem now sat.

“It’s a divine feeling,” he said, his voice low and content. “In my mind, it’s like I can extend out my arms and hold the Kaida in my hands.”

Maeric opened his eyes, meeting Erith’s gaze.

“Rin mentioned Saryn is arranging plans for us to move. The world feels so fragile sometimes—yet so calm. Perhaps it’s the uncertainty of what’s coming that makes everything seem so still.”

He shifted back onto the folded sheets, resting his back against the stone wall.

“Perhaps we’ve lived in chaos for so long, we’ve grown accustomed to it all. The drought worsens, the world will naturally react.” A small sigh escaped Maeric, and he placed a hand on Erith’s. “I don’t know how long we’ll be allowed moments like this.”

Erith sat beside Maeric, leaning his head onto his shoulder. “Whatever the moment is,” he said softly, “I’d like it to be beside you.”

The candle flame danced on the wick, casting glimmering light over the ruby-red gem near the door.

For a moment, the two sat quietly, watching the candle burn. A thin wisp of smoke coiled upward, swirling through the dust hanging in the still air.

Maeric drew in a breath, and exhaled slowly. 

“There may not be another time for the Balance, Erith.”

Erith raised his head, turning toward him. Maeric’s gaze remained fixed on the flame.

“Ever since I was young, I’ve believed there’s more to this world—beyond Kaida and Mura. Life grows, fades, and reclaims what once stood proud. Whether I matter to that cycle or not, I don’t know.

“But our fates are here together, in the Soliri—a healing hall like no other. If this is the moment, I’m ready to see what this world asks of me, or if it never called for me at all.

“Maeric,” Erith started, a thread of caution slipping into his voice. His eyes darted around the room, to the gem, then the crate where the Murath was placed.

When had it been taken out of the pack?

His heart kicked into a faster rhythm, uneasy and heavy.

“Maeric, we don’t know—We can plan—” 

Maeric’s eyes slowly shut, his expression calm, resolute.

“Maeric, if this is about Rin’s decision—”

“No one can judge but myself when I am ready, Erith,” Maeric whispered.  “I hope to see what comes next for us.”

“Maeric, don’t—”

He didn’t think. His hand shot out, gripping Maeric’s shoulder—to pull him back. Back to him.

There was no mistake in what Erith felt. The raw current of Kaida poured from the gem, but a strand wasn’t flowing freely anymore. It was being pulled—drawn directly from the gem and into Maeric’s body.

Too much. It was too much Kaida.

The Balance for Maeric had begun.

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦