An especially jaunty pep came about Lyric as they descended the stairs. She ran her fingers along the rails beside them as though her life depended on it. Somehow, such a focus wasn't completely out of place for just walking down steps.

"What is it, now?" Kyoya prodded.

She huffed and stood at the foot of the stairs. Her foot tapped the boardwalk below while waiting for him to descend.

"That's that outta the way... But we really have to just sit tight? I thought this whole thing would be loads more exciting than that."

"We already put a Demon in the dirt, and Solitaire said herself things would probably pick up once they settled on a lead."

He juggled his next statement, ultimately landing on more of a taunt than reassurance. Maybe she was beginning to rub off on him.

"I think you'd do good with some downtime."

"Credit for compassion," she sighed, "I'll give you that, Blue. But don't tell me your plan is to hunker down in the room for the rest of today."

Finally making it to the foot of the stairs, Kyoya shrugged.

"I just feel like it'd be a little tough to keep a low profile... Y'know, since we just lit the arena up, and everything. Downtime is downtime; no cutting corners—besides, something about you just screams, 'I could really use a nice evening off.'"

They made it out the main doors, greeted once again by a cozy early-afternoon wind. The Seraph, though, fancied herself a bit too antsy to let comfort sink in.

"Under one condition. Meet it, and I'll consider your offer."

"And what's that?"

Even doing her best to feign innocence, it was impossible for Lyric to completely hide whatever devious thought she'd dreamed up.

"Just follow me for a bit, that's all. I can at least guarantee that we won't be out long."

Kyoya made a light huff at her secrecy. By now, he'd grown well aware of the danger that accompanied her many plans... However, if this were her condition, he winced at the idea of risking their only term of agreement. The Miscreant sighed and loosened his stance.

"I guess you're leading, then. Let's not get cooked just standing out here."

Just before turning to walk, Lyric paused.

"...Get cooked? It's the beginning of August—"

"Look, I just burn a little easy, alright?"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Judging by her biting back another round of laughter, it seemed she'd found humor in yet another of his quirks. "What?"

"First you're a raging thallassophobe, and now you're a contender for the toughest Fire Reclaimer around who just happens to be prone to sunburns? Is there anything else I should know?"

The boy's eyes narrowed.

"Right, my bad—I'm so sorry for having a totally normal fear and sensitive skin. Aren't we supposed to be taking a walk?"

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon. It's not much of a trip; we're just going around the edge of the bay."

She took a bit of a lead at first. Before long, though, the Seraph quickly slowed to meet his more moderate stride. "Didn't you not want to take long?"

"I never said I didn't want to enjoy it. You probably wanna do this for a reason, so I'll at least savor whatever we're doin'."

"O-Oh! Right, that makes sense..."

The Seraph didn't add anything further. Instead, she fell in line next to him, matching that leisurely walk.

With their pace, they'd only be on stone and wood walkways for another 20 minutes before approaching the harbor's end. A gate similar to Altaire's main entrance's stood just at the edge of his vision. Past that, all that awaited were dirt pathways, accompanied by trees among whatever else lay beyond.

As they pressed on, each step seemed paid in full by the coastal breeze that followed the rolling waves. Still, the boy worked tirelessly to keep his gaze off of the open ocean.

"Once we're out the gate, there's a little nook I use to make sure it's not easy to find. We'll have to do a bit of adventuring, though."

"Works for me. Lead the way."

As expected, they passed through yet another of Altaire's many connections to the untamed wilderness. For the first time, his greaves fell firmly upon grass and dirt. These first few steps made him wonder just which he preferred between armor and running shoes.

Kyoya pinged around a speck of confusion about why the highlands' climate was further along in the year than out here. Of course, he didn't rule out the possibility of Guran's less-than-practical applications of magic. Even still, part of him arrived at the idea that it may have been to help make Reika feel at home.

In that, he rested with the thought, as he and Lyric soon continued deeper into the grove.

It wasn't long before the shade's embrace extended from intertwined branches and leaves above them. They walked along a dirt road, inscribed with wheel tracks and divots that each told a unique tale of passage. While the trail certainly wasn't massive, it still offered enough room for two-way travel on carriages—this idea gaining weight in the animal footprints jumbled among the aforementioned tracks.

His eyes jumped between a series of spots within the trail. The Miscreant's nerves dwelled on the dire possibilities of lurking predators, but his heart put that notion in the ground. "Maybe I'm just too used to Teleo," he muttered, too far beneath his breath to hear aloud.

The solitary Kingdom's wilds crept their way into his thoughts every so often. Brutal cannonfire and distant war cries were no less common than the spindly breezes that sapped his body's warmth. Even the cherished shade, shielding him from Teleo's cruel sun, silently threatened to drown him in the dark of night.

Altaire, however, spoke to him with warm greetings. A chorus was sung by joyous birds, and a lulling hymn was left behind by winds, left to spread comfort through the canopy. It happily welcomed him, a stranger, to the same sanctuary that his own treasured home tried its damnedest to deny.

He fled Teleo and its vicious barrens under the impression that this was a standard of some sort. For years, the Miscreant wondered if everywhere was just as unforgiving as his old home—just as spiteful to those that forsook it.

Now, to his unending gratitude, a shift had met that idea. His years spent outside the loathsome grasp of a kingdom sustained by wrath had taught him well of the opposite.