The streets had transformed into a festival of color and motion. Crowds in team colors surged through the walkways, cheering and chanting. Performers lined the terraces — life?breathers shaping raw elements into living sculptures that danced and shimmered before dissolving into mist. A troupe of Horuska spun in tight circles, their innate wind?craft sending flower petals swirling in spirals like a choreographed storm.

  Spirit?bonds roamed freely among the performers, each one stranger and more mesmerizing than the last.

  A Ribbilila lumbered past — four feet tall, frog?bodied but thick?armed like a gorilla, its outer arms covered in shaggy brown fur. Its belly gleamed like polished gem?metal, catching the light with every hop. Its derpy frog face and huge purple eyes drew delighted laughter from children.

  A Nyxi padded along a railing above them, six paws moving in eerie silence. Its midnight?blue fur shimmered with star?like flecks, tail-tip glowing like a drifting constellation.

  A rainbow?feathered bird swooped overhead, its long rail feathers sparkling in the sunlight like falling shards of glass.

  Fallentop was alive — overwhelmingly, impossibly alive.

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  The walk back was long.

  Elijah kept glancing at Hokori, something clearly weighing on him. Hokori tried to ignore it, but Elijah’s stare was persistent enough to eventually wear him down.

  Hokori sighed. “What is it?”

  Elijah hesitated, then found his voice. “Why did you stop riding?”

  Hokori’s steps slowed, just slightly.

  “And… could you teach me? Before the competition, I mean. Even just the basics.”

  Jacob, who had been quietly snapping pictures of everything — the performers, the spirit?bonds, the skyline, Hokori’s annoyed expression — paused mid?shot to look at Elijah.

  Hokori didn’t answer right away. The wind tugged at his coat, carrying the distant roar of engines from the practice arenas.

  “I’ll teach you the basics,” he said finally. “Later.”

  Elijah nodded, relief and nerves tangling in his chest.

  Jacob snapped another picture — this one of Elijah’s stunned face.

  “Perfect,” Jacob muttered. “That’s going in the archive.”

  Hokori shot him a look. Jacob pretended not to notice.

  They continued down the winding street, the festival noise swelling around them, Fallentop’s energy rising like a tide.

  And for the first time since arriving, Elijah felt something shift and stir — not in the city, but in himself.

  As they moved farther from the towers, the world began to quiet. The crowds thinned. The lanterns dimmed. The performers vanished. Even the wind seemed to hush.

  Elijah slowed, rubbing his calves. “Are we… almost there? I can’t feel my legs.”

  Jacob groaned dramatically. “If Stella made us walk this far on purpose, I’m filing a complaint.”

  Hokori nodded toward the narrowing street. “We’re close. I think.”

  Elijah squinted at the run?down buildings. “Why did Stella book something this far away? We’ve walked half the island.”

  “For safety,” Hokori said. “Crowds make it harder to move unnoticed.”

  Jacob threw his hands up. “So we’re staying in the middle of nowhere because Jaden and Imala spent all our money on metal and wood?”

  Elijah snorted. “That… actually sounds about right.”

  Jacob pointed accusingly at the sky. “I blame both of them. Equally. Completely.”

  Hokori didn’t comment, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he agreed more than he’d admit.

  They rounded a corner — and the hotel came into view.