The moonlight painted the cobblestone streets of Velaria in silver hues as Zen and Lyra wandered through the bustling heart of Grandovale's capital. After a long day of tension and rejection at the gates of Eboncrest Arcanist's Academy, they were exhausted—hungry, sore, and in desperate need of a place to stay for the night.
"Ugh! Are there seriously no rooms left in this entire city?" Lyra groaned, slumping against a stone wall as they exited yet another tavern.
Zen shook his head, offering her a quiet smile. "We'll find one. Eventually."
"Eventually? Zen, we've been to—what? Five? No, seven places already!" Lyra huffed, exaggerating a pout. "If I die from sleeping in the cold, I'm haunting you."
He chuckled lightly, but the fatigue in his eyes was clear. The Grandovale capital was more crowded than usual, with young arcanists, merchants, nobles, and travelers from all over the continent pouring in for the upcoming Arcanist Trials. Every inn and tavern was booked solid.
Still, the streets were beautiful in their own way. Lanterns floated by gentle wind magic, casting warm glows through the narrow alleys. Music from street performers played softly nearby. Lyra didn't waste the opportunity.
"You know, Zen," she teased, bumping into him playfully, "If we don't find a room soon, we'll just have to share a bench. Or maybe… cuddle under the stars?"
Zen looked away, ears turning pink. "I… don't think that's necessary."
"Aww, don't be shy. I'm just kidding. Unless you're into that?" she laughed, her voice a melodic mix of mischief and charm.
They wandered on, side by side under the moonlit sky—until something caught their attention.
From a shadowed alley, faint scuffling and muffled voices reached their ears.
Zen halted. "Did you hear that?"
Lyra stopped too, eyes narrowing. "That sounded like… someone in trouble."
They slipped silently toward the source, hiding behind crates stacked near a narrow passage. Peeking through the shadows, they saw them—three cloaked figures dragging a struggling girl, her mouth gagged and hands bound and though she wore simple commoner clothes, her beauty was unmistakable. Pale skin dusted with freckles, deep amethyst eyes wide with fear, and flowing dark hair that glinted like obsidian under the moon. She kicked weakly, clearly terrified.
"We have to help her," Lyra whispered.
Zen nodded grimly.
The kidnappers spoke in hushed, yet urgent tones. One of them, raising his palm, whispered, "flame sear."
A burst of flame flickered briefly—controlled magic. Zen flinched. They know magic…
Lyra's brows furrowed. "Are they from the Academy? Or maybe rogue mages?"
"I don't know, but we can't fight them head-on. They're too strong."
Zen turned to Lyra. "Stay low. I'm going to distract them. When I signal, grab her and run."
"What? Are you insane? You'll get caught!" she hissed.
"I'll manage," he replied, already stepping into the light.
The Escape
Zen picked up a loose brick and hurled it at the far wall. It crashed loudly, drawing the attention of two cloaked figures.
"There!" one shouted. "Someone's watching!"
Zen bolted.
"Ventus Gale!" one of them roared, sending a gust of slicing wind his way.
Zen rolled, narrowly dodging the burst of wind, but a second incantation followed: "Cauteris Ray!"
A searing beam of light grazed Zen's side, burning through his shirt and leaving a painful scorch. He bit down a cry, staggering into the alley.
"LYRA, NOW!" he screamed.
Lyra dashed forward, grabbing the girl's arm and slicing through her restraints with his dagger.
"Run!" She hissed.
The girl didn't hesitate. Lyra grabbed her hand and pulled her with her.
Zen clutched his wounded side, forcing himself up. "This way!"
They sprinted through alleyways, the girl breathless, Lyra supporting her while Zen tried to lead despite the pain. Another explosion rocked the nearby wall-magic again.
"They're still chasing!" Lyra shouted.
Zen ducked into an abandoned cart and pulled a sack of hay across the opening. "Inside, quickly!"
The three slipped into the darkness of the hidden cart. Zen collapsed, clutching his side, sweat dripping from his brow.
The kidnappers' footsteps thundered past. Then silence.
---
After the Escape
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Zen finally moved, wincing. Lyra gently peeled his burned shirt away.
"You're hurt," she whispered.
"I've had worse," he muttered.
The rescued girl looked at him, her eyes wide with both awe and guilt. "You… you saved me even when they used magic. Why?"
Zen only offered a faint smile. "Because you needed help."
The girl lowered her gaze, brushing hair from her face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off on my own…"
Lyra tilted her head. "Wait… run off?"
The girl hesitated. Then, slowly, she said, "I'm not just any commoner. My name is Arisella Vaelith. I'm the daughter of the Grandovale High Council's Head Chancellor."
Lyra gasped. "You're the princess?"
Arisella nodded. "I got bored of the guards, the rules… the isolation. So, I dressed like a commoner and snuck into the city to experience it for once."
Zen blinked, stunned.
Arisella gave a sheepish smile. "Guess that didn't go well."
Lyra snorted. "You think?"
Still holding his side, Zen leaned back and chuckled softly under his breath—a rare sound. "Well… you've certainly had a night."
Lyra turned toward him, her expression shifting. She reached out, carefully placing a hand on his burned side. "Thank you, Zen."
Zen didn't answer, but his calm smile said enough.
And under the blanket of stars, the three of them huddled quietly.