Mai's eyes fluttered open to the gentle rocking of the cart. Sunlight filtered through the canvas covering, casting patterns across the wooden floor. He winced as he pushed himself up, his body still aching from their encounter with the Veil Hound days ago.

"How are you feeling?" Myla asked from her seat across the cart, not looking up from the book in her hands.

"Better," Mai replied, his voice still rough with sleep. "How long was I out?"

"Just a few hours this time," she said with a small smile.

Mai's eyes drifted to Iruminai's still form beside him. His friend hadn't woken since the attack, his breathing steady but shallow. Golden threads—remnants of Lira's healing magic—still glimmered across his shoulder, holding the wound together as it healed. The sight made Mai's chest tighten.

"Has he shown any signs of waking?" Mai asked, leaning closer to examine Iruminai's condition.

Lira, who sat nearby sorting through her herbs, shook her head. "Not yet. But his aura is getting stronger. The sleep is helping him heal."

"You said that three days ago," Mai couldn't keep the worry from his voice.

"And it was true then as it is now," Lira replied calmly. "Some wounds run deeper than flesh. His body knows what it needs."

"The healing magic," Mai nodded toward the golden threads. "I've never seen anything like it before. It's quite amazing."

Mai feels a wave of nausea wash over him as Lira begins speaking. The explanation of the golden threads—how they guide and strengthen the healing process—echoes in his mind, but the words become distant and hollow.

Mai took a deep breath, pushing away the sudden queasiness. The sensation vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him wondering if he'd imagined it.

"We're making good time," Deru called from outside. "Should reach the port crossing by sunset."

Mai leaned toward the cart opening, peering at the lush countryside rolling past. The thought of reaching the port crossing—one step closer to Arcury—stirred a mix of anticipation and anxiety in his chest as he glanced back at Iruminai's still form.

The hours blurred beneath the creak of wheels and the low murmur of wind through canvas. Shadows stretched long across the fields, golden light spilling over the trees like something sacred.

A soft groan broke through Mai's thoughts. His ears perked up as he whipped around to see Iruminai's eyelids fluttering.

"Iru!" Mai scrambled to his friend's side, nearly tripping over his own feet. "He's waking up!"

Iruminai's glowing blue eyes opened slowly, unfocused and clouded with confusion. He tried to sit up but winced, falling back with a sharp intake of breath.

"Where—" Iruminai's voice cracked. His gaze darted around the swaying cart, panic rising in his expression. "What happened? Where are we?"

"Easy," Mai placed a gentle hand on his friend's uninjured shoulder. "We're still on the road to Arcury. You've been unconscious for three days."

Lira moved beside them, her hands already glowing with soft golden light. "Try not to move too much. Your wound is still healing."

Recognition flickered across Iruminai's face as he registered Mai and Lira. The tension in his body eased slightly, though confusion still lined his features.

"Three days?" Iruminai's voice was barely above a whisper, his glowing blue eyes widening with shock. "The last thing I remember was that... thing. The shadow with the white mask."

He tried to focus, to pull the memory into clarity, but his mind felt like it was wading through fog. Fragments came to him, but the complete picture remained frustratingly elusive.

"A Veil Hound," Mai reminded, relief washing through him at hearing his friend's voice again. "It attacked us on the road. You got the worst of it."

Lira's hands hovered over Iruminai's shoulder, the golden threads brightening under her touch. “It went deep—clean through. I’ve closed it for now. My threads will take a little time to finish the job, but when it’s done, you’ll be good as new.”

Iruminai's eyes met Lira's, gratitude softening his features. "Thank you for saving my life."

Lira's lips curved into a gentle smile as she nodded. "Just doing what I can." She rose gracefully, returning to her collection of herbs at the far end of the cart.

Mai watched her go, relief washing through him.

"You scared the hell out of me," Mai admitted, his multi-colored eyes searching Iruminai's face for discomfort. "We weren't sure when you'd wake up."

Iruminai attempted a weak smile. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

"How does it feel?" Mai asked, leaning forward slightly as concern flickered across his features.

Iruminai grimaced. "Like I've been run through with a spear and thrown against a tree."

Mai couldn't help but laugh, the sound tinged with relief.

"What about everyone else?" Iruminai asked, his eyes growing serious. "Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Everyone made it," Mai assured him. "I got roughed up a bit, but nothing serious. Deru finished the creature off—you should have seen it. When the mask shattered, it was like watching a star explode."

Iruminai's face suddenly tensed with alarm. "My father's sword—is it—?"

Mai reached behind himself and pulled out the sheathed blade that had been propped against their supplies. "It's fine. Barely a scratch on it."

Relief flooded Iruminai's features as Mai placed the weapon in his hands. Iruminai's fingers traced the ornate sheath reverently, checking for damage before partially drawing the blade to examine its edge.

"Thank you," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "I couldn't imagine losing it so soon."

Something unspoken passed between them as Iruminai carefully resheathed the blade. Mai noticed how his friend's shoulders relaxed once he confirmed the sword was intact—as if part of his strength had returned with it.

"So," Iruminai said, attempting to shift to a more comfortable position, "how much longer until we reach Arcury?"

"We should be at the port town any—" Mai started to say, but a loud whistle cut through the air as the cart lurched to a stop. The sudden movement sent him scrambling to brace himself against the wooden side.

Through the canvas opening, salt-tinged air rushed in, carrying the distant calls of seagulls and the low murmur of a busy harbor.

"We're here," Deru shouted from the front, his voice carrying a note of relief. "Seabreeze Harbor!"

Mai exchanged a quick glance with Iruminai, whose eyes had brightened despite his weakened state. The next leg of their journey to Arcury—and their future at Edgewater—was about to begin.

“Help me up,” Iruminai muttered, extending his good arm without meeting Mai’s eyes.

Mai hesitated. “…You sure? Lira said—”

“I’ve been laying here for three days,” Iruminai said, voice low, almost annoyed. “Just give me a hand.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Mai exhaled, barely audible, and stepped forward. He eased under Iruminai’s arm, careful not to jostle the injured side. Iruminai’s jaw clenched as he rose, breath catching—then settling.

They shuffled toward the back of the cart, Iruminai's breathing labored but steady.

"Ready?" Mai asked.

Iruminai nodded, and Mai pulled back the canvas flap.

Golden light flooded in, momentarily blinding them both. As Iruminai's eyes adjusted, he inhaled sharply at the sight before them. The setting sun hung low over the distant horizon, painting the sky in brilliant strokes of amber and crimson. Its light shimmered across the water's surface, transforming the modest harbor into something from a painting.

They hopped down from the cart, Iruminai leaning heavily against Mai as his feet touched the ground. The air smelled of salt, fish, and wood smoke—so different from Phasbar’s scent of stone and soot.

Seabreeze Harbor sprawled before them, a collection of weathered wooden buildings with thatched roofs clustering around a small natural bay. Fishing boats bobbed gently at simple wooden docks. None of the cobbled walls and stained glass fixtures of Phasbar existed here—just humble structures that had clearly stood for generations, worn smooth by sea winds and time.

Villagers moved about their evening routines, hanging nets to dry or carrying baskets of the day's catch. Children chased each other between houses, their laughter carrying on the breeze. No rushing crowds, no humming electrical lines, no street vendors shouting over one another—just the natural rhythm of a community moving with the tides.

Mai glanced at Iruminai and found his friend's face transformed with wonder. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide as they darted from one unfamiliar sight to the next.

"It's so..." Iruminai trailed off, seemingly unable to find words.

"Small?" Mai offered.

Iruminai huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. And weirdly organized.”

Mai adjusted his grip on his friend's waist as they stepped onto the main path. Dirt crunched beneath their shoes—no paved streets here, just well-worn trails connecting the scattered buildings.

"Watch your step," Mai warned, steering them around a deep groove carved by cart wheels.

Iruminai gave a short laugh that twisted into a wince. “We graduate, survive a Lunox Beast, make it all the way to our destination… and we nearly get taken out by a dirt road.”

"Speak for yourself," Mai replied, though he smiled. "I’m walking just fine."

The path sloped gently downward toward the shore, where weathered wooden piers extended into the calm harbor. Villagers nodded politely as they passed, curious glances following the two strangers.

They reached the water's edge, the evening sun casting long shadows across the worn planks. Waves lapped gently against the pilings below. A fog clung low to the lake, thin and uneven, curling in ghost-trails across the still surface.

From the dock, the city sat like a crown on the water.

The outer ring curved in a near-perfect circle, its silhouette dark against the pale mist. Even from this distance, its size was clear—solid walls and clustered shapes hinting at streets that followed the curve of the shore. The lake pressed up against it on every side.

From that ring, the bridges stretched inward. Wide, steady things, built for more than crossing—lined with rows of buildings that stood shoulder to shoulder along their length. They ran straight toward the center, each one drawing the eye to the island that rose just above the lake’s surface.

That island was the heart of the city.

And at its center stood the Silent Spire—a giant sword driven deep into the earth, its blade rising so straight it seemed to cut the sky in two.

Mai had grown up beneath it—in it's shadow. He thought familiarity would dull the sight. But distance only made it starker—clean lines against the haze, unmoving above the city that clung to its base.

The wind came cold off the water. The dock shifted under his boots. Behind him, ropes creaked.

“It’s unbelievable,” Iruminai said quietly, gaze fixed on the city’s heart. “That sword… I’ve heard about it my whole life. Seeing it’s—” He let the rest hang, eyes still tracing the silhouette of the city.

Mai nodded, unable to find words. His gaze lingered on the Silent Spire, its impossible scale bending perspective itself. Every detail of Arcury stirred something deep inside him—memories half-forgotten, emotions long buried.

"HEY! You two!"

Mai turned to see Jori waving frantically from the end of the dock, her short frame leaning forward with urgency.

"Final boat's casting off!" Jori shouted, pointing toward a small passenger vessel where their companions were already boarding. "Captain says he's not waiting! Move it!"

"We should go," Mai said, gripping Iruminai's good arm a little tighter as they turned away from the vista.

Iruminai glanced back once more. "I can see why you missed it."

They made their way along the weathered planks, careful of Iruminai's steps. The wood creaked beneath them, salt-worn and silvered with age. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries piercing the evening air.

I'm almost home, Mai thought, the words surfacing with unexpected clarity. After six years, countless sleepless nights, and dreams that always ended before he could find his way back—he was finally crossing the threshold.