Tharion remained silent. His gaze darkened, as if he were walking through a memory he would rather forget. He almost regretted his choice. Coming to the city… after what he had endured… might not have been a good idea. The streets, the noise, the voices… everything stirred something within him. Something he wanted buried. Yet, despite the weight in his chest… he slightly turned his head over his shoulder. Thalen literally glowed with wonder. His eyes followed every detail, every light, every movement. He seemed alive in a way Tharion had never seen before.

  And that… brought a faint, almost invisible smile to Tharion’s face. He didn’t like the city. He didn’t want to be there. But if Thalen was happy… maybe it was worth it. As they crossed the bridge, the noise behind them gradually faded. The city changed. The streets grew calmer. The lanterns cast a softer light. The air smelled of burning wood and warm bread. It felt cozier here. Tharion felt it immediately. His body relaxed slightly… but not completely. Doubts lingered. A thought kept returning in his mind:

  How long has it been… since I last set foot in a city? Too long.

  When they returned to the city, there weren’t even any guards. Their steps led them into the bustling alleys of the town. Not the main streets, nor the majestic fa?ades they had glimpsed from afar. No. Here, they were inside, at the heart of the alleys and houses, where the city truly lived.

  Everything was new, bright, alive. The cobblestones beneath their feet were smooth and clean, each step echoing softly. The air carried unfamiliar scents: fresh bread, smoked wood, newly planted flowers. Lanterns cast a golden glow on the walls of the houses, and silhouettes moved behind open windows. Thalen watched everything in awe. His eyes sparkled at every movement, every light, every sound. To him, the city was a treasure, a world to explore. But Tharion… Tharion felt his chest tighten with every step.

  Every street, every house, every light awakened a tension he could not control. The city was beautiful, yes, but it reminded him of everything he had fled. The screams, the chaos, the fear… all he had endured. He wanted to turn back. Leave. Never set foot here again. Even though this city was peaceful and new, even though Thalen seemed to adore it, he felt an invisible threat. As if the city knew… as if it could sense the fragility he hid behind his mask. His wings twitched behind him.

  He clenched his fists, trying not to show his anxiety. He wanted to disappear into Thalen’s shadow, make himself small, invisible. Thalen hadn’t yet noticed the weight pressing on his friend. To Thalen, everything radiated beauty and life. To Tharion, everything radiated danger and the past. And yet… he stayed. For Thalen. Because he knew Thalen’s happiness was worth more than his own fear.

  As they walked through the narrow streets, Thalen couldn’t help but look up. Lanterns floated in the air, softly, as if they had a life of their own. They glowed with warm, gentle light, moving slowly above the houses and passersby, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestones. Thalen blinked, astonished.

  “—Tharion… why are the lanterns… flying?” His voice betrayed his surprise and curiosity, a mix of wonder and innocent questioning.

  Tharion frowned. His heart tightened. The city was beautiful, fascinating, but he could not afford to be swept away. These lanterns… they were unnatural. They carried a magic he didn’t like, one he knew was dangerous. He remained silent, his hand tightening slightly on Thalen’s shoulder. He stayed quiet for a moment, weighing his words.

  “—It’s… complicated, but it’s just magic,” he finally murmured, his voice low, almost distant. He didn’t want to alarm Thalen, but he couldn’t explain the subtleties of this magical city either.

  Thalen raised an eyebrow and turned his head. He felt Tharion’s response, cold and distant. A small shiver ran down his spine.

  “—Maybe we shouldn’t have come here,” he thought, his eyes following the lanterns floating above the streets. But looking at Tharion, Thalen noticed something else. An effort. Restraint. Despite his unease, despite his fear, Tharion stayed by his side.

  —Too late now, Thalen thought with a small inward smile.

  He knew Tharion was making an effort for him, so he could enjoy the city, even if it was difficult for him. So Thalen inhaled deeply, trying to forget the coldness of Tharion’s reply, and let his wonder take over.

  The flying lanterns, the illuminated houses… everything remained new and fascinating, and for once, he allowed himself to feel truly alive.

  And in a corner of his mind, he hoped he could help Tharion feel a bit of this magic, despite everything.

  A little further away, a sign hanging on a wall caught his eye: “The city is recruiting knights — come protect the citizens and serve the realm.” His eyes lit up, but with hesitation.

  “—Knights?” he asked, already excited by the idea.

  He turned to Tharion, curious about his reaction, eager to understand what this city and its mysteries meant. Tharion felt a shiver run down his spine. He had never wanted to enter a city, and now there was talk of duty, service, combat… all the things he had fled. Yet, he remained beside Thalen.

  Thalen felt a small pang in his heart. But… wait… aren’t knights the ones who destroyed the city? And here I am complaining… while he’s making an effort for me. And that’s how I repay him… A mix of embarrassment and admiration rose in his throat. He averted his gaze, unable to articulate what he felt.

  Tharion’s hands clenched slightly, tightened by anger, but Thalen didn’t see. For Tharion… it was a reminder that peace could be fragile and that the past could strike at any moment. Tharion placed his hand on Thalen’s shoulder.

  “—Come on, let’s find an inn,” he said simply.

  Thalen nodded, part excited, part curious.

  They walked through the lively streets. Merchants called to passersby, displaying fruits, vegetables, jewelry, and strange objects. The smells of bread, grilled meat, and flowers mingled in the air. Thalen sometimes stopped to look at a stall, but Tharion gently pulled him forward, determined to find a safe place.

  After a few minutes, they finally came across an inn. A building of pale stone, with lanterns hanging at the entrance and a small sign swaying gently in the wind. Tharion pushed the door open. Inside, it was warm, filled with the scent of wood and the flames of the fireplace. Tables were already occupied, but there was enough space for them.

  “—Here we go,” Tharion murmured, sitting near the counter. Thalen marveled silently, admiring the ceiling, the beams, and the glow of the lanterns inside. For Thalen, every detail was fascinating. For Tharion… it was simply a place to set down their things and rest for a while.

  The innkeeper had finished speaking to a customer and approached them, warm smile on her lips.

  “—Hello, sir, welcome! Would you like to eat, sleep… or both?”

  Tharion took a deep breath, feeling his body relax slightly. For the first time since arriving in the city, he felt a little at ease.

  “—Sleep,” he answered simply, in a low but steadier voice than before.

  Thalen, meanwhile, continued scanning the room with his eyes, fascinated by every detail, the warm, lively atmosphere of the inn.

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  The innkeeper gestured for them to follow her upstairs. The room she showed them was simple but welcoming. A bed with clean, slightly lavender-scented sheets, a small wooden table, a chair, and a window overlooking the street. The light of the ceiling lanterns bathed the room in gentle warmth.

  Even the air seemed calmer here, less burdened by the bustle of the city. Tharion placed his belongings down calmly, feeling his body relax further. He remained wary, but for the first time in a long while, he could breathe a little.

  Thalen, for his part, continued to explore every detail with his eyes, fascinated by the cozy and lively ambiance of the inn.

  “—The city… it’s really beautiful,” he said, eyes shining.

  “—But… I find it a bit… geometric,” he added, frowning, intrigued. Tharion nodded gently.

  “—Yes… you know, when I told you about the judging water, I had a sense of what to expect thanks to a hero friend, but… the city, like this… I didn’t know.”

  Thalen looked surprised at this honesty.

  “—So even you… didn’t expect this?” he asked, slightly amused. Tharion remained silent for a moment, his gaze studying the lantern light on the ceiling.

  “—No… I didn’t imagine everything could be… so perfect,” he finally said, in a low voice. He slightly averted his eyes, as if to hide the effect the city had on him.

  Thalen smiled, a mix of wonder and mischief.

  “—Well… I find it fascinating!” he added, looking around, unable to contain his curiosity. Perched on Tharion’s shoulder, he blinked and tilted his head.

  “—By the way… do you have money to pay?” he asked, his small voice hinting at curiosity.

  Tharion shrugged lightly.

  “—Thanks to my past as a hero,” he replied calmly.

  Thalen nodded vigorously, his head feathers twitching.

  “—Ah… right! That’s true!” he said, slightly embarrassed.

  “—But the currency here is different from mine,” Tharion added, taking out a few coins.

  “—It’s pretty much the same,” he added after a moment, watching Thalen examine the coins closely.

  Thalen tilted his head to the side, intrigued.

  “—So… there are multiple types of currency?” he asked, flapping his wings slightly to maintain balance on the shoulder.

  Tharion frowned slightly, remaining silent for a moment. How did he know how to pay normally? he wondered. He felt a mix of confirmation and doubt. Confirmation, because Thalen seemed to grasp some rules of the world. Doubt, because he remained unsure of what Thalen could handle alone.

  Tharion averted his gaze for a moment, keeping his calm exterior, while Thalen, eyes shining, continued observing the coins and the room with fascination.

  The room was soft and warm, bathed in the dim light of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled of burning wood and a faint scent of lavender from the clean sheets. Thalen had flopped onto the couch, eyes sparkling with wonder, head feathers twitching slightly with every movement. He stretched, enjoying the softness of the fabric, the comfort that contrasted with the hard, cold floors he had slept on for too long.

  Tharion, meanwhile, had chosen the bed. He lay down slowly, savoring the cool touch of the fresh sheets against his tired body. For the first time in months, his body seemed able to fully relax. The mattress supported every sore muscle, every tense joint, and an invisible weight seemed to lift from his chest. They stayed silent for a while, each enjoying this simple yet precious reprieve.

  Thalen played with the cushion, eyes fixed on the ceiling, admiring the light patterns from the lanterns that cast tiny dancing shadows on the walls. Tharion, eyes half-closed, breathing more steadily, let his mind drift, a rare feeling of security finally settling in. Even without speaking, simply being on a proper bed, feeling the comfort around them, seemed to soothe them both.

  For Thalen, it was a fascinating luxury. For Tharion, it was a rare moment of peace he promised himself to remember, even if concern for the outside world was never far away.

  The next morning, he woke with a start, eyes blinded by the sunlight streaming through the window. He immediately realized he had forgotten to draw the curtains the night before, and now the morning light flooded the room, making sleep impossible. The gentle warmth on his face and the bright glow on the walls forced him out of bed, muttering slightly at his own carelessness.

  Thalen sat up, grimacing, his hair a bit tousled from the blinding sunlight. He turned to Tharion with an ironic smile:

  “—Did you see that? We’re so… smart… forgetting to draw the curtains. Bravo us.” He let out a small dry laugh, both mocking and exasperated at their own carelessness.

  Thalen: “—Actually… we could go to the library I saw while walking. I want to learn more about soul magic… and external magic, I think… and… um… you, are you taking a shower?”

  He looked at Tharion, half-serious, half-sarcastic, as if testing his reaction.

  Tharion: “—Yes, for the shower.” He snapped his fingers, and a flow of pure water appeared around him, sparkling like crystal — his Clear magic at work. The water ran at the perfect temperature, without splashing, enveloping Tharion in a glittering bubble.

  Thalen: “…Okay, you really do everything your way, huh.” He shook his head with a small amused smile, while Tharion enjoyed his magical shower.

  Tharion: “If you want to go to the library, I also want to see something.” A slight smile appeared on his face, hinting at his own interests… but always tied to magic.

  When Tharion finished showering, they went down together to the inn’s hall. The innkeeper was talking with a customer, and Thalen and Tharion waited patiently, observing. When she turned to them, she gave a warm smile:

  “—Hello! Did you sleep well?”

  Tharion: “—Yes… but I’d like to stay a little longer. And I’d like a meal for today as well.”

  Innkeeper: “—No problem. That will be three silver coins.”

  Tharion took out the coins with a slight smile. The innkeeper frowned, slightly troubled. These coins were extremely rare — the country’s currency had nearly vanished, as most of its inhabitants had perished. She examined them carefully, surprise and caution in her gaze.

  Thalen, next to him, couldn’t help but murmur, a bit teasingly:

  “—You always have a knack for impressing people, huh…”

  Tharion sat at the table to eat, taking out his utensils with almost ceremonial precision. He arranged his napkin, adjusted his plate, and calmly observed his meal as if every movement was deliberate. Thalen perched on the edge of the table, wings slightly folded, head tilted with a playful air, scrutinizing every reaction in the room.

  The innkeeper, eyes slightly widened, one eyebrow raised, approached cautiously, her voice betraying curiosity and hesitation:

  “—Does… your owl eat too?”

  Tharion, impassive as always, replied calmly:

  “—Yes, prepare something for him.”

  The innkeeper, a bit surprised by this unusual request, nodded with a slight forced smile and headed to the kitchen. Her footsteps echoed lightly on the wooden floor as she disappeared behind the door, visibly intrigued by this strange duo and the unusual owl… Thalen.

  Thalen straightened up, stretching his wings with a small flap, and said to Tharion, half-sarcastic, half-amused:

  “—You know, you really know how to make me look like an exotic animal…”

  The meal was hot and comforting, filling the room with the aromas of fresh bread and spiced stew. The fireplace flames danced across the wooden walls, casting reassuring shadows.

  Thalen looked at Tharion and noticed something new: he was less anxious. His body seemed to relax, his shoulders less tense. For the first time in a long while, he seemed almost… at ease.

  Yet, when the dish arrived in front of Thalen, he felt a bit frustrated: the innkeeper had set before him a tiny portion, almost ridiculous, as if meant for a child. His eyes fixed on the food with a mix of desire and annoyance; his stomach growled painfully, reminding him how truly hungry he was.

  He inhaled the alluring aroma of the stew, but each bite felt too small to ease the hunger that had tormented him for hours. Tharion, sitting across from him, observed silently with a slight amused smile. He shook his head quietly, intrigued by how Thalen stared at the food, both desperate and frustrated. Are you really going to eat it all? he thought, laughing inwardly, savoring this small moment where his companion’s pride collided with reality.

  After leaving the inn, Thalen took flight. From above, the city spread out like a labyrinth of narrow streets and tightly packed roofs. Wet cobblestones reflected the light of oil lamps, while puddles left irregular orange reflections. Passersby hurried along the sidewalks, some slipping on the wet stones. Shops closed their wooden doors, which clattered in the wind, and wobbly signs swayed slightly.

  The scent of warm bread mingled with chimney smoke and a sharper odor of trash and poorly maintained streets.

  In the alleys, cats and rats moved stealthily, disappearing as soon as a human foot approached.

  Thalen maneuvered precisely among the rooftops, avoiding chimneys and ropes connecting buildings. His sharp eyes noted every detail: a loose shutter, a leaking gutter, a cat guarding its territory. The library appeared in the distance, larger than the surrounding houses, its windows lit. He hovered toward it, already plotting the exact path to land silently. After a few minutes of flight, Thalen arrived at the library.

  The building stood proudly at the center of the district, larger than the surrounding houses. It took them several hours to reach.

  The library rose like a small palace of knowledge amidst the neighborhood, imposing yet harmonious. Its outer walls, made of finely cut white stone, were punctuated by pilasters and modestly sculpted cornices, giving an impression of height and solidity. Each stone fit perfectly, and in some places, geometric motifs evoked ancient symbols, perhaps linked to magic or knowledge.

  The slightly sloped roof was covered with regular terracotta tiles, placed with almost maniacal care. At regular intervals, small square dormer windows pierced the roof, allowing soft, filtered natural light inside. Smooth, shiny metal gutters ran straight down the walls, draining into discreet channels along the stone steps leading