The inn bustled with the soft murmurs of children settling in after a long day, but Elliot noticed the persistent glances at the window as dusk crept in. Whispers rose around him, a ripple of excitement that grew harder to ignore.

A young girl leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Have you heard about the night market? They say it's like a festival!"

Others nodded eagerly, and soon the room filled with pleading looks cast in Maya's direction. She frowned, a hint of worry in her eyes, arms crossed as she looked them over. "You want to go out *now*?" she asked, not unkindly but with clear hesitation. "After all that's happened? You're lucky the innkeeper isn't half as worried as I am."

"But it's our first time here, Maya!" Wuxian exclaimed, his eyes practically glittering with excitement. "We might not get another chance."

Another child piped up, "We'll come back before midnight—promise!"

The innkeeper, an older woman covered in swirling tribal tattoos, chimed in from behind the reception desk, her gaze warm but knowing. "They'll be fine, dear. They have some sturdy-looking young warriors with them," she nodded toward Quizig, who had just returned from his meeting at the palace. She eyed the warrior with a look that spoke of deep trust and history. "Besides, the festival only comes once a year."

Quizig, overhearing the conversation, laughed. "So, I'm an escort now, am I?"

Maya sighed, giving Quizig a slightly exasperated look, though her resolve seemed to be melting under the children's wide, hopeful eyes. "Fine," she said, hands up in surrender, "but only if Quizig and his warriors come with us. And *everyone* is back by midnight." Her voice was gentle but held a stern edge that warned against disobedience.

With a collective cheer, the group poured out into the warm night, spilling onto the cobbled streets where a soft breeze carried the scent of spices and freshly cooked food. The night sky was framed by the towering branches of the Great Tree, which pulsed with veins of light, like a beacon guiding their path. The light stretched down, illuminating the winding canals and creating reflections that danced in the water, casting a glow that touched even the deep, mysterious shadows below.

Rows of stalls lined the market square, spilling over with goods of all kinds: woven fabrics in vibrant patterns, glistening trinkets, baskets of tropical fruits piled high, and skewers of roasted meats dripping with savory juices. Each stall was lit by glowing orbs that hung from vines, filling the marketplace with a warm, welcoming radiance.

Roshan's eyes sparkled as she took in the spectacle. "It's like a festival! I've never seen anything like this!"

"That's because it is a festival," Quizig explained. "This night, we celebrate the arrival of delegates from the island of Pygmaia, far to the south."

"Pygmaia" Amiyan's voice held a hint of reverence. "The ancient race of craftsmen that made legendary weapons for the Archons."

"Great timing," Quizig said gesturing toward a small stage where a bard was performing. "Listen carefully. The bard's song will tell you more about Pygmaia's history than any tale I could tell."

They gathered around the stage as the bard began, plucking a haunting tune from his lute. His voice rose over the crowd, carrying a melody that felt as ancient as the stones beneath their feet, calling forth the memory of a time when myth was reality.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

*

🎶 The Pygmaia 🎶

Long before the cities rose,

The Pygmaian's art in shadows flowed.

Beneath the earth, by fire's light,

They shaped the steel to pierce the night.

With hands of craft, both wise and deep,

They forged the weapons gods would keep.

Blades like lightning, shields of might,

Weapons born from endless fight.

The Archons came with hunger wide,

To wield the craft, to turn the tide.

In blood they fought, with strength untold,

Their fury vast, their hearts of gold.

Each strike they made, the world did quake,

The earth did split, the oceans break.

Thunder crashed with every blow,

The sky was torn, the winds did blow.

The heavens wept, the ground did crack,

And in their wake, no peace came back.

Each Archon fought with power grand,

And wrecked the earth with fiery hand.

But from the depths, a weapon old,

One final strike, its tale unfolds.

The End, they called it, forged in flame,

It split the world, it cursed the name.

A rift was born, from earth to sky,

Where once was land, now empty cry.

The seas did rage, the earth did scream,

The land was torn, as if a dream.

The Archons fell, their war was done,

The ancient craft, in ruin spun.

The Pygmaian, in sorrow deep,

Vowed never again their secrets keep.

They hid their craft, they closed the door,

And swore such weapon would be made no more.

For in their hands, they knew the cost,

The power given, and all that's lost. 🎵 🎶

"It split the world, what does that mean?", Elliot murmured.

"Exactly what it means, it split the continent into two. Isn't that right, General?" Amiyan responded after hearing Elliot.

"Perhaps," Quizig replied, a glint in his eye. "The legends don't specify. But I've read records of weapons that could shape rivers and raise mountains so it might be possible".

Elliot's brow furrowed, skepticism seeping into his tone. "I mean… splitting a continent? Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"

Wuxian shot him an indignant look. "I mean, they're Archons, of course it's possible! In Xia, there's a tale about the Stone Archon who created the Stone Forest Mountains by hurling down massive spears of rock during his battle with the Fire Archon."

Altan chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, the legendary Stone Archon. He was the Archon during the reign of the ancient Khuns of Tangli. Legends say that formed a massive wall of stones in a desperate attempt to protect our lands from the Fire Archon's wrath." He paused, a somber look crossing his face. "Though he perished in the end, and his empire fell. But his memory lives on in the rock formations that dot our land."

"The Stone Archon sounds amazing," Roshan remarked, though a teasing glint in her eye softened her tone.

Altan laughed, unoffended. "True enough. But he made his mark. Those stones are part of who we are, even if they're reminders of his… less-than-victorious end."

Elliot shook his head, trying to take it all in. "So… does the Archons just fought each other all the time? Aren't they supposed to protect people?"

Roshan, ever mischievous, grinned. "Oh, Elliot. How are you so clueless? Protection is only one side of their power. In Parthemia, there are stories of vast deserts created from the clashing of Archons' wills. The Fire Archon and Parthemia's Wind Archon fought for dominance, leaving only scorched land in their wake."

Altan added, "and by scortched land, they mean the Tangli steppes and the deserts between their domains"

Quizig nodded, his voice low and serious. "Archons are like forces of nature—sometimes benevolent creators, sometimes destroyers. But I believe their purposes run deeper than mortal understandings."

"Enough of that grim discussion, remember, we need to return before midnight. How about we explore more and chat later?" Maya cuts.

"You're right", Roshan nods in agreement.

The marketplace hummed with life around them, stalls packed with colorful displays, children darting around with sweet pastries in hand, and the air thick with the heady scent of incense. Wuxian stopped by a stall adorned with shimmering charms shaped like mythical beasts. He picked up an amulet in the shape of a dragon, jade-green and carefully carved.

"Do you think these have any… charm?" Wuxian asked, turning it over in his hand, his voice half hopeful, half playful.

The vendor, a sprightly old woman, chuckled. "Charms? Why, of course. But only if you believe in it. For this handsome young man, I'll be willing to give it for only 10 golds".

Amiyan joined them, smirking as she examined a trinket himself. "You'd believe anything, wouldn't you, Wuxian?"

Altan threw his arm around Wuxian's shoulders, laughing. "We all know you just want it because it looks cool."

Elliot stood a little apart, watching them laugh, his mind lingering on Quizig's words about the Archons. If they could shape mountains and split continents, so much so that they could… alter worlds.

*If anything is possible,* Elliot thought, his heart tight with longing, *maybe they could return me to Earth. Or at least answer my questions.*

His mind was interrupted by Maya, who nudged him playfully. "You look serious, Elliot. Is the festival not fun for you?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just… thinking. You know, about all this Archon stuff. The things they're capable of." He glanced back at her, trying to shake off the thought. "It's a lot to take in."

Maya patted his shoulder. "Well, for now, just take in the food and the fun."

As midnight approached, Quizig gathered the children and herded them back toward the inn, their pockets stuffed with treats and trinkets, eyes wide with all the sights they'd taken in. For one night, at least, they'd experienced the magic of Isantanah, a world that, despite its vastness and its mysteries, felt a little more like home.