The streets were quieter than expected. Day two of the Lantern Festival, and yet the usual buzz of morning activity felt muted, as if the city itself was catching its breath after the previous night’s celebrations. I headed toward the Gilded Hearth out of habit, only to find its shutters closed, a sign posted on the door:

Closed for the Festival. Back tomorrow with fresh brews and pastries.

I had forgotten. A part of me wanted to sulk. The Gilded Hearth was now a solid part of my routine. Without it, the morning felt... untethered. Emberfist would mock me if she knew how much I depended on it.

I sighed, tucking my hands into my coat pockets, and wandered aimlessly. The festival lanterns from last night still hung above the canals, their delicate paper frames casting dappled patterns of light across the cobbled streets. The scents of spiced pastries and roasting nuts drifted from nearby stalls, but none of it felt quite right for breakfast.

I turned a corner and spotted a small park by the edge of a shimmering lake. The water mirrored the pale morning light, rippling gently as the occasional breeze swept across its surface. A group of children clustered by the shore, their laughter bright and unrestrained as they skipped stones across the glassy water.

I watched for a moment, then wandered closer. One of the stones made an impressive arc, skipping four times before plunking into the lake. The kids cheered. Another attempted to match it but managed only two skips before the stone sank.

'Not bad,' I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

A boy noticed me watching and held up a flat stone.

I smiled. Then nodded.

Selecting a smooth, flat stone from the shore, I tested its weight in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, the stone arced gracefully across the water. One, two, three, four, five skips before disappearing beneath the surface. The kids erupted in cheers, their energy infectious.

'Show-off,' a voice chuckled from behind me. I turned to see an old man, his weathered face split into a grin. He held a stone of his own, already lined up for a throw.

'Think you can beat that?' I asked, stepping aside to give him room.

'Oh, I know I can,' he said with a wink. His stone flew low and fast, skipping seven times before it finally sank. The children gasped, crowding around him as if he’d just performed a miracle.

'Alright, you win,' I admitted, clapping politely. 'Not bad for someone your age.'

He chuckled, brushing off his hands. 'You’ve got a decent arm, lad. But it’s all in the wrist.' He nodded toward the path leading away from the park.

‘Been here a while?’ I asked. ‘Vallenport - I mean.’

‘All of my life,’ replied the old man, a reflective look on his face.

‘Know any place open for breakfast today?’

The old man rubbed his chin. 'There’s a little breakfast shop just up the hill. Best coffee in the district, if you’re interested.'

‘Perfect. Might take you up on that.'

***

The shop was small, nestled between a pair of crooked townhouses. A simple sign above the door read Morning Tide. Inside the smell of coffee - actual coffee — and sizzling eggs greeted me like an old friend.

The space was cosy—half a dozen tables, each adorned with small bouquets of wildflowers in mismatched vases. Sunlight streamed through the windows, lending the room a warm, golden glow.

To my surprise, the old man from the lake stood behind the counter, tying an apron around his waist. He grinned when he saw me. 'Decided to take my advice, huh?'

'You didn’t mention you owned the place,' I said, taking a seat at the counter.

'Didn’t seem important at the time.' He poured a steaming cup of coffee and set it in front of me. 'House special. On the house.'

I took a sip, the rich, slightly nutty flavour warming me instantly. 'Alright, you’re forgiven for beating me at skipping stones.'

He laughed, turning to tend to a sizzling pan on the stove. 'So, what brings you out so early? Festival’s not exactly a morning affair.'

'Usual spot’s closed,' I admitted. 'Thought I’d try something new.'

'Well, you’re in for a treat. Breakfast here is an experience.' He flipped a couple of eggs with practised ease, adding a sprinkle of herbs from a small jar. 'You’ve got a name, or should I keep calling you ‘skipping stone guy’?'

'Tavalor,' I said, offering a nod. 'And you?'

'Caius,' he replied, plating the eggs alongside slices of buttered toast and roasted tomatoes. He slid the plate in front of me. 'Eat up. You look like you’ve got a long day ahead.'

I took a bite, the flavours simple but perfectly balanced. 'You’re good at this.'

'Been at it a while,' he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. 'Started this place after I retired from the Waveguard. Thought I’d try my hand at something less... violent.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'Waveguard, huh? You don’t strike me as the law enforcement type.'

'Not anymore,' he said with a shrug. 'But once upon a time, I was chasing smugglers and breaking up brawls in the dockyards. Got too old for it, though. Decided I’d rather be remembered for good coffee than broken noses.'

'Can’t argue with that,' I said, finishing the last of my breakfast. 'So, what’s the festival like? It’s my first. Anything I should know?'

Caius smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. 'See the races. Walk around. This city has a way of surprising people during the festival.'

I paid for my meal, leaving a generous tip despite his protests. As I stepped back out into the bustling streets I felt in a better mood.

The festival’s magic was in full swing now, lanterns bobbing above the canals as musicians tuned their instruments and vendors set up their stalls. I adjusted my cloak and headed toward the map-maker’s shop, the echoes of Caius’s laughter and the taste of perfectly brewed coffee lingering with me.

***

I walked back. Taking in the sights of the festival. It was mostly people setting up for the Gondola Races. Magic barriers were being put up all along. As well as banners, streamers and seating. Merchants had arrived and a lot of different booths were being setup as well.

Like Caius had said earlier - today’s main event was the Gondola races.

The manor’s shadowed outline came into view, framed against the faint glow of the lingering festival lanterns. Despite the wear and tear of its age, the enchanted barrier surrounding the grounds hummed softly, a sign that its magic still held strong.

Or so I thought.

As I approached the garden, a muffled string of curses drifted through the air. At first, I assumed it was Emberfist venting—again—but the tone was too high-pitched, too frantic. The enchanted vines along the trellis rustled, shifting as though alive. Rounding the corner, I stopped, blinking in disbelief.

Dangling upside down from one of the twisting vines was a thief, arms pinned to their sides, their cloak hanging awkwardly to reveal patched leather armour. They wriggled like a caught fish, muttering curses under their breath.

Hallelujah. The barriers were finally doing their job. Brolin did a great job.

The thief’s hood slipped back, and a shock of messy black hair fell free. A familiar face.

'Luneth?' I blurted.

Her head snapped up—or down, given her current position. 'Tavalor!' she exclaimed, a mix of relief and exasperation in her voice. 'Get me down from here, you idiot!'

The barrier must’ve triggered her capture, but the garden... it had a mind of its own. The sentient vines seemed particularly proud of their prize, coiling tighter and swaying slightly, as if showing off. A sharp tug earned a squeak from Luneth, followed by a fresh round of swearing.

Emberfist appeared at my side, her fiery gauntlets flaring faintly as she took in the scene. 'Well, well,' she drawled. 'The elusive Luneth. Caught like a rabbit in a snare.'

'I’m not a rabbit!' Luneth hissed, wincing as the vines tightened around her midsection. 'Can you two stop gawking and do something useful?'

I sighed, rubbing my temples. 'Why are you here? You do realise breaking into my manor is a terrible idea, right?'

'I wasn’t breaking in! I was—' She paused, then groaned. 'Look, just cut me down first, and then I’ll explain.'

'Convenient,' Emberfist said, crossing her arms. 'Why don’t you explain now while you’re... incentivised?'

'I swear, if I could move my hands right now—'

'That’s enough,' I said, stepping forward. 'Let her down, gently this time.' The vines reluctantly obeyed, unwinding slowly and lowering Luneth to the ground. She stumbled as her feet touched the cobblestones, but I caught her before she fell.

Her dishevelled state was impossible to ignore. A faint cut marred her cheek, dried blood crusted along the edges. Her left arm was wrapped in a haphazard bandage, the material stained with fresh and old blood.

'You’re hurt,' I said, inspecting the wound. 'What happened?'

'I’m fine,' Luneth snapped, yanking her arm away. 'I just need a place to rest.'

'Rest?' Emberfist cut in, her tone sharp. 'You’re lucky you’re not dangling from the garden vines again. What were you really doing skulking around here?'

Luneth glared, clearly weighing her options. 'I was ambushed a few days ago. Lost most of my supplies. I knew this place had wards, so I figured it’d be safe.'

'Safe?' Emberfist barked a laugh. 'Breaking into someone’s home is your idea of safe?'

'I wasn’t breaking in!' Luneth shot back, her voice rising. 'I was... borrowing.'

'Oh, borrowing.' Emberfist’s flames flared brighter. 'You should’ve borrowed better excuses while you were at it.'

'Enough,' I interrupted, my voice cutting through the tension. 'We’ll sort this out inside.'

I motioned toward the manor, but Luneth hesitated, clutching her pack. 'Not yet,' she muttered. 'I... need to explain something.'

Her pack slipped open slightly, revealing a jumble of scraps—notes, maps, and symbols drawn in dark ink. Emberfist snatched a page before Luneth could stop her.

'What’s this?' she demanded, holding up the paper. The symbols were jagged and unfamiliar, but they bore an unsettling resemblance to the markings I’d seen on the other map.

'It’s nothing!' Luneth reached for the page, but Emberfist held it out of reach. 'Just research.'

'Research,' Emberfist echoed, scepticism dripping from the word. 'How’d you get this? And why does it match the clues we’ve been chasing?'

Luneth’s mouth opened, then closed. Her defiance faltered, replaced by something resembling desperation. 'I can’t tell you. Not yet.'

'You mean you won’t,' Emberfist said, stepping closer, her flames dimming to a threatening glow.

Before the argument could escalate, a loud hum filled the air. The barrier shimmered brightly, rippling like disturbed water. It wasn’t just reacting to Luneth—it was drawing attention.

A pair of festival-goers approached the gate, their faces alight with curiosity. One of them, a young woman holding a glowing lantern, pointed at the shimmering barrier. 'Look! It’s part of the festival!' she said excitedly.

'Definitely not part of the festival,' I muttered. Stepping forward, I raised my voice. 'Nothing to see here, folks. Just an overactive ward. Enjoy the festival!'

The crowd began to grow. I turned back to Luneth and Emberfist. 'Get inside, now. I’ll handle this.'

With some grumbling, they retreated into the manor. I waved my hand, dispelling the vines and dimming the barrier’s glow. The small gathering groaned in disappointment before dispersing.

Inside, I found Luneth sitting awkwardly on one of the worn chairs in the main hall, Emberfist looming nearby with her arms crossed.

'Alright,' I said, closing the door behind me. 'You’ve got two options, Luneth. You either tell us what’s going on, or you leave.'

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. Slowly, she pulled out a folded map from her pack and placed it on the table. 'This is why I’m here.'

The map was old, its edges frayed and ink faded in places. But the markings were clear—routes, symbols, and a single location circled in bold strokes.

'This matches our map' I said, glancing at Emberfist.

I pulled our map it out of my [System Space] and compared it. It wasn’t an exact match but it came pretty close. Our map was newer. A crude map of Vallenport’s southern docks. Several buildings marked with red circles, and one was labelled with a strange glyph. The same as the other building on Luneth’s map.

'Where did you get it?' I asked Luneth.

'I told you, I was ambushed,' Luneth said. 'They were after this. I don’t know who they were, but they were organised.'

'And you thought bringing it here would keep you safe?' Emberfist asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

Luneth’s gaze hardened. 'I thought you’d want to find out what’s at that location as much as I do.'

The tension in the room was thick, but the map’s implications couldn’t be ignored. I met Emberfist’s gaze, then turned back to Luneth.

'Alright,' I said finally. 'You can stay. But no more secrets. If we’re going to follow this map, we need to work together.'

Luneth nodded, relief flashing briefly across her face. Emberfist grumbled something under her breath but didn’t argue.

***

We needed a map. So we headed out to get one. It was just myself and Emberfist. Luneth had decided to stay back in the house and rest. The morning sunlight danced across the canals as we set out for the map-maker’s shop, the air warm with the promise of summer.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

It was the second day of the Lantern Festival, and the city now thrummed with life. The scent of blooming jasmine and roasted nuts mingled in the air, underscoring the unmistakable energy of Summer. It was mid-year. July on earth - Emberglow here.

The walk was pleasant, if a little chaotic. Vendors called out from their stalls, offering everything from enchanted trinkets to shimmering fabrics, while gondolas glided through the waterways, their pilots calling jovially to one another. Above, colourful banners swayed in the breeze, adding a festive touch to the already vibrant city.

'I’ll never understand how this people handles the seasons,' Emberfist said, shielding her eyes from the sun as we paused by a canal.

I was surprised. She was from here.

‘It’s not bad. I like the heat’ I said. I was a dragon. Heat wasn’t an issue.

‘You like it? Ah, you are a southerner after all.’ She shook her head. 'All it’s good for is sweating and complaining.'

She tilted her head. 'I suppose you’re one of those people who ‘finds beauty in every season.’'

'I find beauty in good ice cream,' I said, gesturing toward a nearby cart. 'Speaking of which...'

We each grabbed a cone—mine a swirl of honey and lavender, hers a tart mix of citrus and berry.

A race began as we licked our treats, the gondolas surging forward with bursts of magical propulsion. The water churned beneath them, reflecting the iridescent trails left in their wake.

There had been many different types of races. There were powered races. Using magic crystals and maxing out straight line speed. Unpowered ones. Only using the pole. And a mix. This one was a mix. Poles and physical strength and magic to cheat.

These Gondolas also had sails. Most didn’t unless they left the city.

'Any favourites?' she asked, nodding toward the racers.

'Third from the left,' I said. 'They’re keeping a steady pace.'

'Too cautious,' she said, licking her cone. 'Second on the right. They’re taking risks.'

We watched as the racers darted through narrow arches, their gondolas skimming dangerously close to one another. The crowd cheered as one pilot conjured a burst of wind to push themselves forward. Another responded by creating a magical wake to disrupt their opponents.

The race ended with a near tie, the crowd erupting into applause as the victors raised their oars in triumph. We finished our ice cream, letting the excitement of the moment settle before continuing toward our destination.

***

The shop stood in a quiet nook of the district, nestled between a jeweller's with opalescent windows and a gondola repair stall that smelled of tar and varnish. The Cartographer's Compass, the hand-painted sign read, its letters curling like waves. Beneath it, smaller text declared: 'Navigating the Unknowable since 784 A.M.'

The door was carved with a detailed compass rose, its points inlaid with shimmering brass. The air outside carried the mingled scents of brine and parchment, hinting at what lay within.

'This is the place?' I asked, pausing to glance up at the sign. My first visit to a map-maker, and it felt more like stepping into the lair of some eccentric wizard than a shop.

Emberfist was already pushing the door open. 'Of course it’s the place. The only cartographer worth their ink in Vallenport. Try to act like you’ve seen a map before.'

'I’ve seen maps,' I muttered. 'Just not enchanted ones.'

The air changed as we entered, cool and heavy with the scent of old parchment, ink, and something faintly metallic. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with scrolls, atlases, and bound tomes. Odd objects sat atop them—small globes spinning lazily without touch, brass instruments with intricate runes, and what looked like a glass sphere filled with floating ink that shifted to form continents and seas.

At the centre of the room was a large, heavy table. Upon it lay a map of Vallenport, its canals glowing faintly with an enchanted light that pulsed in time with the tides. The city shimmered with life, gondolas and ships represented by tiny flickers of moving light.

Behind the counter stood the cartographer, a tall man with an austere demeanour. His silver monocle glinted as he scrutinised us. His vest was embroidered with constellations, and a pen hung from a chain at his chest like a weapon.

'Ah,' he said, his voice as smooth and sharp as a drawn blade. 'Customers who aren’t tourists. How rare.'

'I’ll handle this,' Emberfist said, striding forward. She leaned casually against the counter, her fiery presence making even this refined space feel slightly chaotic. 'We need maps—something detailed. Vallenport, and beyond.'

The cartographer raised an eyebrow. 'Beyond? You’re not planning a pleasure cruise to the Storm Shores, are you?'

'No,' she replied. 'This is serious business.'

He studied her, then turned his gaze to me, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of my appearance. 'Your first time in a map shop?'

I bristled, but Emberfist smirked. 'Go easy on him, Joras. He’s new to this.'

Joras gestured to a nearby shelf. 'Maps of Vallenport are simple enough. But beyond the city… well, that depends on how far you’re going and how precise you need to be.'

He pulled out a large map of the the Elder Isles and spread it across the table. The parchment shimmered faintly, its lines shifting as though alive. Landmasses appeared fluid, their edges breathing in and out like waves against the shore.

There were five major continents surrounding several minor ones at the centre of the map. The major continents were North, South, East and the two Wests - North West and The Elves Continent (South West)

The minor ones were at the centre of the map - the Elder Isles. Vallenport was a part of the Elder Isles. Along with Vallenport were the Storm Shores, Auran Dominion, Free City of Miragos and Sapphire Corsairs.

The map he pulled out only focused on the Elder Isles.

'This one’s basic,' Joras said. 'The cities, the major routes, the usual. But if you’re going near the Storm Shores, you’ll want something more adaptable.'

He reached behind the counter and retrieved a small brass compass. Its needle spun wildly before locking in place, glowing faintly. 'Log Crystals, like the ones on flying ships. They attune to ley lines and major magical currents, giving you real-time updates. Expensive but worth it.'

I leaned closer, intrigued. 'And how do these… maps work? The enchanted ones.'

Joras’s lips twitched into a faint smile. 'You must be fun at parties. The enchantment responds to the Log Crystals location. It updates as you move, adapting to the terrain. Useful for explorers, treasure hunters, or anyone trying not to get lost.'

Emberfist cut in. 'We’re after something specific.' She pulled out Luneth’s map, the faded symbols and cryptic markings now slightly clearer. 'We need to overlay this with anything you’ve got.'

Joras frowned as he examined the map. 'This is old. And not just ‘grandfather’s attic’ old. These markings—' he pointed to a faded circle near the edge of Vallenport'—they’re pre-meteor.'

'Meaning?' I asked.

'Meaning no one’s charted this properly in centuries,' he said. 'It could be a ruin, an island, or just someone’s overactive imagination.'

Emberfist leaned forward. 'Can you get us there or not?'

He straightened, pulling out a slender wand-like instrument. With a wave, a flickering overlay appeared above the parchment, a faint glow tracing the ancient symbols. 'I can refine it. The markings suggest an old ley point—a powerful one. If you’re lucky, it’s intact. If not… well, I hope you can swim.'

We (meaning me, since Emberfist was poor) bought several maps, one of the entire world with all of the continents, one of the Elder Isles, a Vallenport specific one, one that Joras had enchanted as well as several different Log Crystals and a lot of books. We cleaned the place out.

We spent so much that Joras originally sour demeanour changed. He was smiling as we left. A smile so big on such a normally stern face was creepy.

***

The tension eased as we stepped out of the shop, all the stuff tucked safely into my [System Space]. The city buzzed with festival energy, the canals alive with color and movement. Ahead, a gondola race was underway, the sleek boats cutting through the water like arrows.

This was a different race again so I wanted to watch. This time it was a sprint. No sails on the gondolas this time. Just a thin, sleek single-seater boat.

We found a spot by the edge of the canal, the crowd around us cheering as the racers approached. Their gondolas shimmered with enchantments—some glowing with ethereal light, others sprouting brief bursts of wind to propel them forward.

The racers themselves were a mix of seasoned professionals and daring amateurs, their faces set with determination.

'You’d think they’d ban magic in these races,' I said, watching one gondola conjure a small wave to disrupt its opponents.

'That’s half the fun,' Emberfist replied, tossing a coin to a nearby vendor for a bag of roasted nuts. She handed me some as we watched the race intensify.

One gondola, its hull painted a vivid green, surged ahead, its pilot chanting an incantation that sent a glowing ripple across the water. Another racer retaliated with a burst of wind, nearly toppling the green boat. The crowd roared as the two pilots exchanged heated glares.

'Think they’ll make it to the finish?' Emberfist asked.

'I wouldn’t bet on it,' I said, smirking as one gondola veered off course, narrowly missing the canal wall.

The race ended in a dramatic finish, the green gondola crossing the line first by mere inches. The pilot raised his arms in triumph, the crowd erupting into applause. As the racers docked, their exhausted smiles and handshakes spoke of camaraderie despite the competition.

***

The manor was quiet when we returned, the faint hum of the barrier wards now a familiar background noise. Inside, the stillness stretched, broken only by the occasional creak of the old floorboards as we climbed the stairs to my study.

The room was a mess of organised chaos: books stacked haphazardly on every available surface, shelves groaning under the weight of ancient tomes, and my desk cluttered with scrolls, ink-pots, and quills. I still had the books I had bought earlier to pick through my build. Still un-opened.

A single enchanted lantern hung from the ceiling, its soft golden light casting long shadows against the dark wood-panelled walls.

Luneth had joined us as well. But she wasn’t in the mood to participate. Sitting in a chair, sipping tea as she watched.

Emberfist leaned against the desk, her arms crossed as I spread out the maps we’d purchased from Joras alongside Luneth’s. The intricate lines and symbols seemed to pulse faintly, the faint glow of magic lending an air of mystery to the parchment.

'All right,' she said, her voice cutting through the silence. 'We’ve got world maps, continental maps, city maps, and whatever this'—she gestured to Luneth’s cryptic document—'is supposed to be. Let’s narrow it down.'

I nodded, unrolling the map of Vallenport first. The enchanted parchment shimmered faintly, the city’s twisting canals and maze-like streets almost alive with detail. I placed Luneth’s map beside it, lining up landmarks and comparing symbols.

'We know it’s somewhere in Vallenport,' I said, tracing a finger along the southern district. 'Near the docks, if these markings are accurate. But this—' I pointed to the glyphs scrawled in bold ink on Luneth’s map '—suggests something underground.'

'Underground?' Emberfist raised an eyebrow. 'You’re telling me there’s a secret layer to this city? Beneath the canals and the mess we already live in?'

'Think about it,' I said, tapping the desk for emphasis. 'This city has been built and rebuilt countless times. New layers over old. What if there’s more beneath the surface than we realise?'

Emberfist frowned, leaning closer to study the map. 'That’s a lot of what-ifs. Got any solid proof?'

I picked up a smaller map Joras had included in our purchase—a detailed rendering of Vallenport’s ley lines. The enchanted lines glowed faintly, intersecting in intricate patterns across the city. 'Here,' I said, pointing to a junction in the southern district. 'This ley point matches the glyph on Luneth’s map. If there’s anything of significance, it’ll be here.'

'Or it’s just a drained ley well,' Emberfist muttered, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

I rolled my eyes. 'Then why would Luneth risk her life for it? Whoever ambushed her thought this was important enough to kill for. I doubt they’re chasing empty ley wells.'

She conceded with a shrug, pulling a roasted nut from her pocket and popping it into her mouth. 'Fine. So, underground. What’s the best way down?'

'That,' I admitted, 'is the tricky part.'

We turned back to the maps, scrutinising every detail. The older city layouts showed long-forgotten tunnels, some marked as 'storm drains,' others labelled cryptically as 'catacombs.' The glyphs on Luneth’s map seemed to align with one particular set of tunnels beneath the southern docks, branching off into a section marked only as 'The Forgotten Reservoir.'

Emberfist’s finger hovered over the map. 'Here. This reservoir. Nobody in their right mind would go near it.'

'Why not?' I asked, scanning the name for anything obviously dangerous.

'Flooding risk,' she said, her tone matter-of-fact. 'Any structure under the docks is bound to be unstable. And if it’s connected to old ley lines? That’s a recipe for magical backlash.'

'Which explains why it’s the perfect hiding spot,' I said, feeling a thrill of discovery. 'Nobody would look here because they’d assume it’s abandoned—or too dangerous. Or that someone had already checked it'

Emberfist smirked. 'You really think you’re onto something, don’t you?'

I returned the smirk. 'Call it a hunch.'

As we cross-referenced the maps, a clearer picture began to emerge. The reservoir wasn’t just a forgotten relic—it was connected to a network of tunnels leading to key points across the city. One tunnel, marked faintly on the ley map, led directly to the docks. Another, more faded, hinted at a passage extending toward the Duke’s palace.

'That’s bold,' Emberfist muttered, tracing the line toward the palace. 'If this map is accurate, these tunnels could bypass half the city’s defences.'

'And nobody knows about it,' I said, feeling the weight of the revelation. 'Or at least, nobody who’s alive.'

Emberfist shook her head. ‘Don’t forget about the Moonwardens.’ She said. ‘Don’t underestimate Vallenport. All of these old-timers. They’ve all got a lot of history behind them.’

Emberfist tilted her head, studying the overlapping maps with a mixture of scepticism and intrigue. 'So, what’s the next step? We waltz down to the docks and hope we don’t drown?'

'Not quite,' I said, rolling up the maps carefully and placing them in a protective case. 'We’ll need supplies—and a way to keep the Waveguards and the Moonwarden’s off our trail.'

She laughed, a sharp, fiery sound that echoed in the quiet study. 'You’ve really got a taste for danger, don’t you?'

'Let’s just say I’d rather face a flooded tunnel than another festival crowd,' I replied with a grin.

As I extinguished the lantern, the maps safely tucked away, I felt a strange sense of anticipation.

The clues were finally leading us somewhere—somewhere forgotten, hidden, and possibly dangerous. But for the first time in days, it felt like we were finally moving forward.

Outside, the hum of the city continued, the festival’s energy undimmed by the weight of the secrets buried beneath it.

***

The manor felt unusually quiet as I prepared to leave for dinner. Emberfist and Luneth had practically buried themselves in the maps, their hushed voices punctuated by occasional sharp quips from Emberfist or Luneth’s muttered exclamations. It was clear they weren’t going anywhere tonight.

'You sure you two don’t want to eat?' I asked, leaning against the doorway of the study.

'Go on,' Emberfist said, not even looking up. She was tracing a line on one of the older maps with her gauntleted finger. 'We’ve got this. Besides, you’re better at charming restaurant staff than deciphering ancient symbols.'

Luneth snorted, flipping through one of the map-maker’s books. 'He’s better at charming in general.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Suit yourselves.'

Stepping out into the evening, I was greeted by the soft hum of the city at twilight. Vallenport had settled into the second night of the Lantern Festival, the canals glowing with reflections of floating lanterns. Their light painted rippling golds and soft blues across the water, and the air was thick with the scent of grilling fish, spiced bread, and roasted nuts. The festival felt different at night—more intimate, like the city was breathing in sync with its visitors.

I walked without a destination in mind, letting my feet carry me through winding streets and over arched bridges. Small crowds gathered around gondolas lit with soft magical glows, their pilots regaling passengers with songs that echoed across the water. Vendors called out to passersby, their carts overflowing with skewered meats, fried dumplings, and an array of sparkling drinks.

Eventually, I came across an interesting sight. A floating restaurant. Nestled gently on the shimmering waters of one of Vallenport’s quieter canal. It wasn’t tethered to the shore like most establishments but drifted slowly along the water, its enchanted hull glowing faintly with soft blue light. Gondolas ferried diners to and from the floating platform, their pilots dressed in sleek uniforms adorned with embroidered waves.

The restaurant itself was a marvel of magical engineering—a circular structure with a glass dome that offered an unobstructed view of the night sky and the festival lanterns. Small enchanted orbs floated inside, casting warm, shifting hues across the polished wood floors. Tables were spaced generously, each set with pristine white linens and flickering candles encased in shells.

I took a Gondola over to the restaurant. The gondola ride over was serene, the water lapping gently against the sides of the boat. The pilot, an older woman with a steady hand and a soft hum to her voice, guided the gondola expertly to the platform. I stepped off, the faint rocking of the restaurant beneath my feet quickly adjusted to by the subtle magic that kept it stable.

A hostess greeted me at the entrance, her elegant robes shimmering like liquid silver. 'Welcome to The Floating Tide,' she said, her voice calm and melodic. 'Do you have a reservation?'

'I don’t,' I admitted, glancing around at the half-filled tables. 'Any chance there’s room for one more?'

Her smile didn’t falter. 'Of course. We always keep a table open for wandering souls during the festival.'

She led me to a table near the edge of the platform, where the view was stunning. The canal stretched out in both directions, reflecting the festival lanterns in a kaleidoscope of colours. Gondolas passed occasionally, their occupants waving cheerfully. Above, the twin moons Lunaris and Noctis hung low, casting their pale light across the city.

A server arrived almost immediately, placing a slender, glowing menu before me. 'Tonight, we’re offering our Emberglow Festival Specials,' he explained. 'Every dish inspired by the four seasons of Vallenport. Would you like a recommendation?'

I scanned the menu.

Spring: Verdant Blossom Soup

A delicate broth infused with enchanted flowers that bloom in the bowl, releasing subtle herbal aromas.

Summer: Sunswell Seared Sea Bass

Freshly caught and grilled with citrus glaze, served alongside glowing salt crystals that crackle faintly.

Autumn: Harvest Moon Risotto

Creamy rice infused with roasted pumpkin and enchanted mushrooms that glow faintly in the dim light.

Winter: Frostember Sorbet

A dessert of icy precision, flavoured with mint and a hint of stardust, served in a bowl of crystalline ice.

'All excellent choices,' the server said, noticing my hesitation. 'But if you’re undecided, I recommend the Festival Flight—a tasting platter featuring all four.'

'Let’s go with that,' I said, handing the menu back. 'And whatever drink pairs best.'

The server bowed slightly. 'An excellent choice. I’ll bring the festival pairing—a flight of enchanted wines designed to complement each course.'

The first dish arrived on a platter that shimmered faintly, the bowl of Verdant Blossom Soup set in the centre. Tiny buds floated on the surface, opening slowly as the warmth of the broth released their fragrance. The taste was light and floral, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly.

Next came the Sunswell Seared Sea Bass, its golden crust glistening under the light. The citrus glaze was vibrant, cutting through the richness of the fish, while the salt crystals added a delightful crackle with each bite. The accompanying wine, a bright and effervescent white, enhanced the dish perfectly.

The Harvest Moon Risotto followed, its warm, earthy flavours a comforting contrast to the crispness of the summer course. The glowing mushrooms added a subtle umami, and the wine pairing—a rich amber ale—rounded out the flavours.

Finally, the Frostember Sorbet arrived, its frosted bowl shimmering like a piece of winter itself. The mint was sharp but balanced, the stardust leaving a faint, pleasant tingle on my tongue. The accompanying drink—a chilled, sparkling liqueur—brought the entire experience to a refreshing close.

As I dined, a small quartet played softly in one corner, their instruments glowing faintly to match the restaurant’s ambience. Conversations hummed around me, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or the gentle clink of glasses.

The gentle rocking of the restaurant against the canal was soothing, a subtle reminder of the city’s connection to the tides. Outside, a gondola passed with a group of children releasing floating lanterns. The lights drifted upward, joining the hundreds already dotting the sky.

As I sipped the last of the liqueur, I couldn’t help but marvel. Vallenport, this world was a city of magic—not for its grand displays or enchanted artefacts, but for moments like this.

The server returned with the bill, but before I could pay, he smiled and placed a small glowing token on the table. 'A gift from the house,' he said. 'For first-time visitors.'

I picked up the token, its surface warm to the touch. Etched into it was a wave cresting over a crescent moon—the symbol of the Tidekeepers.

It reminded me of something.

It was the same blue as [Mordrath’s Stone].

Azure, the scholar who had visited me back then had said that her family first acquired it at an auction. Several hundred years ago. From a famous sorcerer.

Could it have come from here? Was there a connection between that sorcerer? Could the previous owner have been Edran? The ghost of my manor?

Was that stone the key then — and not the dungeon key that I had?

Had I already had the answer the whole time?

I snapped back to reality. I nodded my thanks, pocketing the token before heading back to the gondola.

The ride home was quiet, the city’s lights reflecting softly in the canals. For the first time in what felt like days, I felt at peace.