By noon, the heat of Port Centera had softened into a warm breeze from the harbor, carrying the scent of ocean minerals and roasted spices. The market’s loudness faded behind them as Sorrow led Althea, Keal, and Lyssa down a narrow lane lined with drifting lanterns.
“Best food in Centera is right here,” Sorrow announced, pointing to a small wooden eatery wedged between two tall buildings. The sign above it flickered: THE LANTERN BOWL.
Inside, the air was warm and filled with the comforting smell of simmering broth. They found a booth near the window, and steaming bowls were placed before them — glowing noodles, soft dumplings, and floating herb-crystals that popped gently with flavor.
Keal dove in immediately.
Lyssa ate quietly.
Althea watched Sorrow instead.
Sorrow wasn’t loud now. She stirred her noodles with an unfocused look, the usual spark in her eyes dimmer.
“You okay?” Althea asked softly.
Sorrow exhaled. “Yeah. Just… figuring things out.”
Keal raised a brow. “Like what?”
Sorrow leaned back and crossed her arms. “The real reason I’m in Port Centera.”
Her voice dropped lower. “I’m gathering materials. Supplies. Tools my crew needs.”
“Crew?” Althea repeated.
“Mm-hmm. They’re waiting just outside the eastern sector. We’re preparing to descend deeper into Centera and then move on to Sherbian.”
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Lyssa stiffened. “Sherbian… that’s the Semi-lon homeland.”
Sorrow nodded. “Yeah. Because I’m a Semi-lon. Thought that was obvious?”
Keal choked on his drink.
Althea blinked in surprise.
Lyssa just gave Sorrow a flat look.
Sorrow smirked. “We don’t all look the same. But Sherbian is where we keep our roots. My crew wants to return, but we need supplies to survive the journey.”
There was a quiet weight in her words — not sorrow, but duty.
After a moment, Keal’s gaze shifted to Althea.
“So… about the Milons back in Roland. Are you sure it was okay leaving them? They were your first group.”
Althea looked down at her bowl. Her heart squeezed a little. Those Milons — scared, silver-haired, hopeful — felt like her first real responsibility in this world.
But she lifted her head steadily.
“Yes,” she said. “They’re safer with the resistance Keal connected them to. If we stayed… we would’ve put them in even more danger.”
Keal nodded, relieved.
Then Althea turned to him.
“And is it okay… if we follow Sorrow? Join her for a while?”
Before Keal could answer, Sorrow’s eyes widened. “Wait—follow me?”
Althea smiled. “You’re heading into unknown territory. We’re doing the same. Maybe we can help each other.”
Keal shrugged casually. “I’m good with it.”
Lyssa’s spoon froze mid-air.
Her eyes narrowed—not harshly, but sharply.
“Are we sure about this?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral. “We don’t know her. We don’t know her crew. We don’t know her mission beyond a few words.”
Sorrow scowled. “I’m not dragging you into danger.”
Lyssa replied softly, “Sometimes danger doesn’t drag. It walks beside you.”
Althea touched Lyssa’s arm gently.
“It’ll be fine. And if anything feels wrong… we leave.”
Lyssa didn’t answer but lowered her gaze, lips tightening. She wasn’t convinced — not yet.
But somewhere far above them… unseen eyes watched.
High above Port Centera…
A shimmer in the sky flickered, as though the light bent strangely. From a vantage point no ordinary person could see, a cloaked figure crouched on a rooftop, glyphs glowing faintly across their mask.
Another watcher, hidden, whispered through a comm-crystal:
“Subject Althea has made contact with new individual: Sorrow. Unknown alignment. Potential influence — moderate to high.”
Static crackled.
“Continue following?” a second voice asked.
The first watcher replied calmly, “We do not interfere. We observe. As instructed.”
Below them, Althea laughed at something Keal said.
Lyssa watched Sorrow with quiet mistrust.
Sorrow twirled a lantern string absently, unaware of the weight settling around her.
The watchers melted into the shifting light, unseen by all.
