It was a cold night in the city of Raice.

  Despite the late hour, the streets were still alive—crowded with people, torches glowing, and vendors packing up their stalls. The city had been overflowing with refugees for more than two months now, ever since the great magical phenomenon. And even after all this time, almost no new information had emerged about its cause.

  Captain Philip stood at a crossroads overlooking one of the busy markets, two soldiers beside him as they waited for their shift to end. He watched the square in silence, his thoughts drifting back to that night—the night everything in his life changed.

  Reaching Lord Casper’s fortress had never been easy. Philip had spent fifteen years serving in the lord’s army. He had completed dozens of missions—many of them under his direct command. And yet… one simple comment had turned his entire career upside down.

  “He had told one of Lord Casper’s officers—and later one of his knights—that he hadn’t felt the magical wave.

  A lie.

  He had felt something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Those words eventually reached Sir Felix, and that was enough for Felix to send him back into field duty.”

  “Your senses have grown dull,” Felix had said.

  “Working inside the city will sharpen them again.”

  Philip had cursed that night a thousand times. If only he had told them everything… If only he had said the wave came from that damned forest…

  Then right now he would be sitting in his warm office inside the fortress—drinking tea, reviewing reports, giving orders.

  “Ah…” Philip exhaled, shaking his head. “No use regretting it now.”

  He looked toward the vendors as they finally began closing their stalls.

  “Good. Our shift is almost over.”

  He turned toward one of the soldiers beside him.

  “A quiet night,” Philip said.

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier replied. “And with the new orders allowing refugees from the outer villages to return home, the numbers in the city should drop soon.”

  Philip nodded.

  “Lord Casper must have received news of some kind… but why only the villages close to the major cities? And considering he ordered six full legions to gather near the Kingdom of Thalorien’s border… does he expect trouble?”

  He frowned.

  Thalorien wouldn’t dare… would they?

  But in the end, anything was possible.

  Though the mere thought of war would certainly brighten the heart of that old man—his father.

  Philip’s thoughts were abruptly cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. He recognized the rhythm instantly—the second shift.

  Moments later, a group of soldiers emerged between the closing market stalls. Their captain stepped forward.

  “Captain Philip,” he called. “It’s time for the shift change.”

  “Finally,” Philip muttered. “I’m freezing out here.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. “It’s going to be a cold night.”

  Philip nodded.

  “It already is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the tavern for a warm meal and a cup of something strong. If any of you want to join me…”

  One of the soldiers beside him quickly spoke up:

  “Not a bad idea, sir. I’ll join you.”

  His companion, not wanting to stay alone, added:

  “Me too. Do you have a tavern in mind, Captain?”

  Philip smiled.

  “Yes.

  The Morning Dew Tavern.”

  The tavern was packed, warm, and loud—just as it had been every night since the refugees arrived.

  Marilla moved quickly through the crowd, balancing a large tray as she made her way toward the kitchen window where Diane was pouring hot soup into bowls.

  “We’re almost done for the night,” Diane said as she passed another bowl over.

  Marilla gave a tired smile.

  “I still don’t understand how you handled all this before… just you, Mr. Keith, Rose, and Sai.”

  Diane chuckled softly.

  “Honestly? I don’t know either.”

  Customers started calling out:

  “Lady Marilla, is the food ready?”

  Marilla glanced at Diane, who placed the last few dishes on the tray.

  “Alright, I’ll go,” she said, exhaling before walking toward the tables—exhausted, but smiling.

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  Diane watched her go.

  Even in her fatigue, Marilla moved with warmth and grace… and beside her, little Talia was weaving effortlessly between customers, refilling cups with bright energy.

  For a moment, Diane stared.

  Talia reminds me so much of Rose… before everything changed.

  Just then, Emi approached the kitchen window.

  “Diane,” she said, “the table by the window wants a slice of apple pie. Do we still have any left? Diane? Are you listening?”

  Diane blinked and turned to her.

  “Apple pie… let me check.”

  Emi studied her quietly.

  It had been two months since Keith, Rick had left… and no message had come back.

  Who knows what Diane is feeling right now…

  Please, let them all return safely, Emi prayed silently.

  Diane finally found a plate.

  “This is the last one.”

  “Perfect. Thanks,” Emi replied.

  She walked to a table where three adventurers sat drinking. Emi set the pie down, hugged the empty plate to her chest, and leaned forward slightly.

  “Any news from the expedition?”

  One of the adventurers shook his head.

  “No. Communication with them is nearly impossible now.”

  Emi frowned.

  “What about the communication stones?”

  “They stopped working,” he said. “Something about the mana density near the forest interfering with them.”

  Emi narrowed her eyes.

  “And how exactly am I supposed to know why that happens? Do I look like a mage to you?”

  The adventurer blinked, then laughed as his companions burst out laughing too.

  “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Miss Emi.”

  She smirked.

  “Enjoy the pie.”

  As Emi walked away, she spotted Talia placing drinks on a table, smiling brightly.

  She approached, gently resting her hand on the girl’s head.

  Talia looked up. “Sister !”

  “And where do you get all this energy from?” Emi asked.

  Talia grinned, spinning playfully in her dress.

  “These clothes are so comfortable! And so easy to move in!”

  Emi laughed.

  “Yes, Rose’s old clothes do suit you.”

  A customer shouted across the hall:

  “A pitcher of ale here!”

  “Right away!” Talia replied, running off.

  Emi continued toward the kitchen window.

  “It seems someone really loves Rose’s old clothes,” she said.

  Diane chuckled.

  “She certainly does. Look at her.”

  Emi leaned closer.

  “Should we start closing? It’s almost midnight.”

  “Yes,” Diane replied. “And most of the food is nearly gone.”

  “Alright then,” Emi said.

  Philip walked down the dim street, passing shuttered shops and darkened stalls.

  Most merchants had already gone home, and only adventurers returning from taverns and lingering refugees remained outside.

  One of the soldiers beside him spoke:

  “Captain… it seems we’re late. Most of the taverns we passed are already closed. Maybe we should head to the ones near the gates—they stay open until dawn.”

  Philip shook his head.

  “No need. And besides… no tavern serves better food than the Morning Dew Tavern.”

  The soldier nodded, recalling the rumors he’d heard about the place.

  When they reached the tavern, it looked nearly shut—just a faint light slipping through the windows.

  “Captain… maybe we really are too late,” the soldier said.

  Philip ignored him and knocked on the door.

  No response.

  He knocked again.

  Behind him, the two soldiers whispered:

  “Maybe we should’ve gone to the Western Gate Tavern—”

  “I told the captain, but he refused—”

  The door swung open.

  A young woman with black hair and striking blue eyes glared at them.

  “What do you want?” Emi asked sharply.

  Philip smiled.

  “Miss Emi… if possible, I’d like a warm meal.”

  “We’re closed. Go somewhere else,” she snapped—but a voice called from behind her:

  “Emi? Did Captain Philip come?”

  Emi bit her lip.

  “Yes,” she answered reluctantly, opening the door wider.

  Philip entered with a grin. The soldiers exchanged looks until Emi raised an eyebrow.

  “Well? Are you coming in, or would you rather freeze?”

  “Of course, miss!” they said quickly and stepped inside.

  Most chairs were flipped atop the tables. Only one table near the kitchen remained set—and Philip moved toward it instinctively, as though it were his place.

  Moments later, Diane emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food. She noticed the unfamiliar soldiers and then looked toward Philip.

  “Captain Philip, I didn’t know you’d be bringing guests.”

  “They’re the soldiers who served with me tonight,” he said. “I wanted them to try the best food in the city.”

  Diane smiled warmly.

  “Please, gentlemen. Don’t be shy.”

  After a moment, Leon and Gareth sat beside Philip.

  Philip was already enjoying steaming soup when Leon leaned closer and whispered:

  “Sir… I hope this isn’t rude… but that beautiful lady—she isn’t your lover, is she?”

  Philip immediately choked, coughing hard.

  He glared at Leon.

  “Are you trying to get me killed? Shut your mouth and eat your food.”

  Leon stiffened.

  “Sorry, sir…”

  But in his mind, thoughts raced:

  Killed? By who? Your father commands one of Lord Casper’s legions. And you… everyone knows you were strong enough to become one of Lord Casper’s knights.

  You refused the promotion and stayed a simple soldier… so what in the world scares you?

  Before he could think more, Gareth nudged him.

  “Look at the workers here… except for the blue-eyed girl, they’re all half-elves.”

  Leon rolled his eyes.

  “Emi is half-elf too. I meant her—Diane. That woman… I’ve only seen features like hers in the Eastern Continent. Rare, but unforgettable.”

  Gareth nodded, glancing again at Diane’s elegant posture.

  “And all of them are beautiful. What kind of tavern is this…?”

  Before Leon could answer, a small half-elf girl hurried over, carrying a mug of ale.

  “Talia,” Philip said warmly, placing a hand on her golden hair. “Still awake? You should be in bed.”

  “If I sleep, who will bring you your drink?” she replied proudly.

  Philip laughed.

  “Fair point.”

  Talia looked at the soldiers.

  “And who are these two?”

  “Leon and Gareth,” Philip said. “They served with me tonight.”

  “Then I’ll bring more cups!” she chirped, rushing toward the kitchen—nearly colliding with Diane.

  Talia twisted around her just in time and slipped inside.

  “Talia!” Marilla scolded from the kitchen. “How many times must I tell you to be careful?”

  “Sorry!” Talia replied, darting out moments later with two mugs. She set them in front of the soldiers.

  “Have you been on many missions? Have you fought monsters? Demons? Bandits?” she asked, eyes sparkling.

  Diane hurried over.

  “Talia, don’t bother the soldiers. They’re tired.”

  But Gareth smiled.

  “It’s alright, miss. I don’t mind.”

  He turned to Talia. “Yes, I’ve fought demons and monsters over the years.”

  Talia gasped, dragging a chair to sit beside him.

  “Tell me! Tell me the story!”

  Gareth laughed.

  “Alright, alright…”

  Diane and Marilla exchanged shy, grateful smiles—accustomed to Talia’s boundless enthusiasm.

  Diane returned to Philip, sitting beside him.

  “Any news, Captain?” she asked quietly.

  Emi moved closer, her thoughts whispering louder than her footsteps.

  “Rick… Rose… Sai… please be safe…”

  Philip set his cup down and looked straight into Diane’s eyes.

  “Orders have been issued,” he said calmly. “Refugees whose villages lie close to the major cities will be allowed to return. The announcement will be made in the morning.”

  Diane’s breath caught, and both Emi and Marilla turned toward him with tense expressions before Diane finally spoke:

  “Does that mean… they found the cause of the phenomenon? Was there any word from the expedition? Are they coming back?”

  Emi moved closer and rested a hand on Diane’s shoulder, trying to calm her.

  Diane kept her gaze fixed on Philip, waiting—hoping—for an answer.

  But Philip suddenly turned his head toward the door.

  Before anyone could ask why, a loud, unexpected knock echoed through the tavern.

  The room froze.

  Philip glanced at Diane.

  “Miss Diane… were you expecting anyone at this hour?”

  She stared at Emi, startled.

  “No… Captain Philip. No one.”

  Philip stood at once, and the two soldiers rose with him.

  With a quick nod, one followed at his side while the other remained behind, hand gripping the hilt of his sword—ready to protect Talia and the women inside.

  Marilla rushed to her daughter, pulling her behind her.

  Diane stood trembling, but was taken aback when Emi stepped in front of her, spreading her arms slightly as if shielding her.

  Philip moved toward the door with steady steps, the soldier right behind him.

  Both men placed their hands on their sword hilts as the knocking came again—louder, heavier, more urgent.

  The tavern fell silent.

  Every breath, every heartbeat…

  held still as Philip’s hand touched the door.