Igni knew the celebrations began the night normalcy was to end at Jonjae-Bū, The Festival That Doesn't Exist. The Arahlā calendar, used by both the faifethi of Sahīleth and the indrahti of Khabēht, lacked the official day of Jonē'i-Bū, The Day That Doesn't Exist. This day of such excessive and unique celebrations existed as nothing more than the New Year. However, the largest attraction of Jonē'i-Bū came during the night.

This very night of this very day, in fact.

Heavy music proclaimed the end of one calendar cycle and the beginning of another, fluting through the air from every doorway, balcony, street corner, and window. Sparklers held by children reflected the fireworks in the sky, lighting the night with colors and handheld nightfires as far as his eyes could see. People walked together, their usually dull eyes noticeably alight with gratefulness for the passing of another cycle with their loved ones and hoping for many more.

All the while, they caroused beneath the shadows of military ships patrolling in the sky.

Walking down the main street, Igni watched above tall walls and the beautiful sloped tops of low buildings to marvel at the fireworks. They came in several colors and designs of mythical beings from faifethi lore, and they left a light haze of smoke in the air. His forked black tongue flickered out to better taste the unique fetid scent they left behind.

He leveled his gaze to observe the citizens, the faifethi of Faifeleth Megalopolis. They dressed in beautiful clothes and colors, as they were the fortunate of the Sahīleth plane. When they came upon them—and there were many—they would bow at the portraits of their empress with reverence and a strange gleam of obsession in their eyes...

Resting his long arms in billowing sleeves, he took notice of the eyes that would briefly dart at his blindfolded face with apprehension and only sometimes with brief curiosity as he strolled along. The latter gazes came from children, of course, the little strange things they were. Only during Jonjae-Bū could he walk so openly in the city, let alone the central megalopolis itself. The citizens needn't fear him, for only during this day would the royal Mahilasi within the Sūn Palace descend to mingle with commoners en masse. The faifethi even believed the demi-godlike creatures called ōshinokós emerged from their realm during this time.

Thus, even the ever-so-fearful citizens treated him rather amicably.

A particular scent, strong enough that his nostrils picked it up, diverted his attention to a large multileveled restaurant. His expression initially twisted at the smell of food, but the sign, Dalko's Hangan, made his face brighten. He didn't think twice, ducking inside with his typical wide smile on his lips.

Cordial expressions turned to him, only to drop the moment they recognized him. He couldn't prevent his tongue from slipping out to get a taste of the fear emitting from the pores of a woman and two waitstaff. Likewise, his presence ceased all conversations and laughter that were once amid the patrons as soon as they noticed him.

The man behind the counter, dressed in a short navy blue tunic of a host and a matching hat, opted to give him a simple, cordial nod. This was Dalko, the restaurant owner. After returning the nod, Igni kept his hands in his sleeves even when Dalko wordlessly beckoned him to follow. Behind him, he heard a whispered order for eight helpings of rasagola. His smile widened.

They walked down the large aisle where myriads of heads in shades of brown and blond remained silent and poised downward on both sides. Naturally, those who didn't understand were children, eyeing him and inquisitive despite the worry from their guardians which permeated the air around them.

He observed the restaurant's lavishly decorated interior as they walked. Adorned in silvers, bronzes, reds, and deep navy blues on nearly every brown surface, it came across as gaudy to his tastes. Yet, as expected, high above the third floor looking down at them hung another portrait of the Faifethi Empress.

Dalko didn't take Igni upstairs but to a decent-sized room on the main floor located at the back of the restaurant. What or whom normally reserved it, he hadn't a clue, but it always seemed available to him when he visited.

When they arrived, the man moved aside so Igni could part the red curtain, revealing a large space decorated in various light browns and a large maroon table in the center. He considered this appealing to his eyes, as nothing existed to distract him from his eventual meal.

He approached the table and sat with his back to the curtain. He didn't have to wait long before he heard tentative footsteps approach from behind.

His tongue flicked out but he otherwise didn't make any movement lest he scared the poor waitress. He recognized her; she existed as one of two waiters who were lucky enough to serve him. Or unlucky, depending on who said what, he supposed.

She managed to place the small bowl and a single small khopt utensil in front of him despite having to be close to his side. She then bowed her head and said something resembling an apology and thanks in one mess of a sentence before quickly disappearing behind the curtain again.

He took in a few whiffs of the bowl of syrup and white, cheesy pastry with his nose, humming with appreciation and a widening smile at its perfect smell to his olfactory. Pulling back his sleeve with his free hand, he raised his utensil and poked his first piece. He placed the warm, syrupy desert on his tongue and bit into it.

He made a soft sound of contentment.

Perfect.

There were only eight pieces of rasagola, but he slowly took every bite with the reminder this could very well be his last time tasting the heavenly sweet. He resigned himself to the dismaying thought.

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Once done with his last morsel, he gracefully placed the khopt beside the bowl. Sliding his sleeve back down, he took a moment to sit and enjoy the peaceful moment.

With a soft sigh, he reached into his coat and brought out a small pouch of money. Humming to himself, he picked out a single gold jūl coin and placed it atop the table. Standing, he replaced his pouch and approached the curtain. Moving it aside, he could hear and sense patrons were still within the restaurant but were considerably subdued.

The curtain brushed against his back as he walked out of the room and returned to the main space. He glanced up and over to his right to gaze at the second floor. A young child looked down at him from the rail, though his guardian quietly tried to pry him away from it. Igni's smile widened, and as he neared the large aisle, he waved at the child.

The child waved back, in that innocent way.

While leaving, Igni bowed his head in thanks and appreciation at Dalko behind the counter. The man eagerly returned the gesture with a small but insecure smile. It humored Igni when city faifethi smiled at him. A waiter who stood near Dalko, however, stared somewhat openly at him while another who served a nearby table avoided looking at him entirely—though that didn't prevent them from shaking at his close proximity.

He exited through the door and returned to the street. A few steps away, he heard the steady return of life in the restaurant.

The light from the massive fireworks gave the streets a soft glow of colors, a pleasant sight. Continuing his walk up the street eventually brought him close enough to see the tall white walls of the Janchitei, the Court of Feasts, in the distance. Blockading the Court's perimeter, the many Malaki Raja'shun brackets were hidden behind thick woods. In spite of this intentional barrier, he heard far-off thumps of drums and loud, boisterous voices. He imagined the few lucky soldiers allowed to be merry were enjoying themselves.

With his advanced eyesight, he observed the Janchitei entrance. Pristine white steps diverting from the equally white street led to the landing, and at the gate were the eight appointed K'etishao, the noble guard. Standing still as statues, their silver-gold masks covered their mouths, and their headwear of white wraps and coned black hats shaded their eyes.

With a hum to himself, he considered his options.

He watched the sky.

In the second between the moment two fireworks went off, to the untrained eye, he would have seemingly disappeared from where he stood just moments before.

His swift steps were soundless as he landed on the grass and into the vegetation of the woods.

If he were lucky, the person he focused his sights on would be nearer to the back of the Janchitei. With twenty-five brackets, the military's soldiers from the higher ones were likely there.

After some time, he became accustomed to the loud sounds of revelry the soldiers were making in the light of the fires on their bracket grounds. Their growling, hissing, collective sounds and thumps on outdoor tables and drums came across as brutish to him, something only exacerbated by the strong smells of various liquor. Faifethi culture forever existed as a confusing mess to him, and now and then, the shrieking and guttural growling of their songs and vocalizations made his face twist.

He eventually saw a gold symbol above the building indicating the bracket he searched for. Within a tree, he watched them from afar.

Most to all of the soldiers dressed casually in half-uniform which consisted of their uniform pants and undershirts. Some individuals, most of which were female, wore sarashi, bearing their arms, collarbones, shoulders, and some abdomens, whereas the others, most of which were male, wore similar wrappings that only covered their abdomens. Igni noticed several soldiers countered the plainness of such an appearance with jewelry, sashes, and other accessories.

They laughed and swung their heads in violent ways to the heavy beats from the drums, something that, while he had seen this several times before, came as a sort of culture shock to him. For the umpteenth time.

His smile never waned; the person he had been looking for sat among them. He sat back in the tree, waiting patiently for the moment.

It came shortly; a young soldier with light brown hair glanced into the woods as if looking for something. The soldier then stood from where he had been sitting at a table with comrades and casually walked into the woods.

Igni waited a few moments, watching the shorter figure approach, then moved closer and landed with a purposeful thump near him.

At first, copper eyes widened, only to narrow. "Igni," the man said flatly.

Igni's eternally wide smile somehow grew larger. "Lanad," he greeted in a sing-song tone. "Been a while since I seen ya. How ya been, Lil' Bear?"

The man glanced around. "What do you want? You stand out too much. What if someone, namely my mother, sees you?"

Igni gave his head a slight tilt towards the woods. "Then we might wanna move in s'more, yeah?"

More than willing to comply, Lanad walked parallel to him in the verdant. Once they were a distance inside the woods, he stopped and repeated, "What is it?"

"Aw, that ain't no way to treat an ol' friend. Can't I just wanna see ya after so long?" Igni leaned against a tree, sliding his hands back into wide white sleeves.

"Igni..." Exhaling with evident patience, Lanad ran his hands through his long locks, pulling at them. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, and Igni watched the gears moving in his mind. Lanad then met his unseen gaze. "Is it time?"

"Yep. Heard 'bout the attack an' it's best if ya'll come now."

Lanad's shoulders slowly fell, as did his gaze. "Tonight?" He lowered his hands to his sides.

"Yep, ain't it great? I got it all ready."

"Well...can you pass Bal something for me?"

A soft rustle in the bushes beside Igni signaled the appearance of the man in question. Igni looked to his right at a black-clad man with glowing lime eyes who walked soundlessly to his side.

"Bal." A genuine smile pulled at Lanad's face, but it quickly faltered.

"Yo, Lanad," Balgoros chuckled, his raspy voice low.

Looking between Igni and the older man, Lanad narrowed his eyes. "Okay. What's really happening? Something big happened if you both are here."

"Hm, we got word from the Rat 'bout somethin' real interestin' b'fore 'e died," Igni responded.

"Yeah?"

Balgoros looked from him to Igni. "Well, it's...kind of going along with what we planned but it's also not what he expected the bitch to do."

"What...did she do?"

"She poisoned `Yeayai, Haleth, and Wen-Lao."

A strange gurgling sound emitted from Lanad's throat as he took a stumbling step back. "What the fuck! Why?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Balgoros scoffed. "She's batshit crazy, Lan. In any case, we gotta go before something worse happens."

"Can...we stay a little longer?"

Balgoros made a sound of doubt. "Is that wise?"

Igni shrugged. "We can see."

"Please?"

He broke out into a large, crooked smile. "Ah, nice to hear ya when yer polite. Sure, Lil' Bear. We're friends, 'fter all."

Lanad simply gave a nod of thanks. He then looked toward the green eyes for reassurance.

Another heavy sigh. "Well, no matter which way you look at it, they're still gonna be mad at you. I don't think it's a smart move, but. Eh." Balgoros turned and walked off.

Igni followed after the older man. The fireworks overhead slightly brightened the area, intensifying the moment of quiet. He took a step forward, then jumped into the trees ahead, disappearing from the woods with Balgoros ahead of him.