The narrow alley faded behind them, swallowed by the encroaching darkness of the night. Henry adjusted his grip on his sister, Sarah, whose frail body was wrapped snugly in his cloak. Elara skipped beside him, her steps light and bizarrely carefree, as though they weren’t sneaking through a hostile city.

The city of Frieter was a different place after sundown. The bustling markets and crowded squares gave way to deserted streets and an uneasy silence, broken only by the distant clatter of armored boots and the flickering lanterns casting elongated shadows on the cobblestone paths.

“Carrying your sister through the city at night—oh yes, definitely the behavior of well-adjusted people,” Elara whispered, her voice sing-song and slightly too loud. Her eyes darted around, glinting with manic energy as if she were enjoying the tension far more than she should.

“Keep your voice down,” Henry hissed. “We can't afford any attention.”

Elara tilted her head at him, her blue curls swaying. “You say that, but have you considered announcing your plight? ‘Oh no! My sister! Dying in my arms! Won’t someone lend a hand?’ That’d really throw them off, wouldn’t it?”

“Stop,” Henry snapped, his tone low but sharp.

She pouted, but it was a fleeting expression, replaced almost instantly by an exaggerated gasp. “Ooooh, look at that shadow!” She pointed dramatically at a perfectly normal corner. “Bet it’s a ghost. Or a rat. Or a ghost rat! Wouldn’t that be fun? No? Just me?”

Henry ground his teeth, trying to ignore her. The weight of Sarah in his arms was light, yet the responsibility felt immense. They moved swiftly along the edges of buildings, avoiding the main thoroughfares where the city guards patrolled with increased vigilance.

As they turned onto Silver Hollow Lane, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilled out from the taverns they passed. A group of revelers stumbled out of a doorway, forcing Henry and Elara to press themselves against the wall to remain unseen.

“Drunks,” Elara muttered, wrinkling her nose. Then she brightened. “Oh! Let’s join them! Blend in. I can pretend to be a pirate. Or a baker! ‘Yo ho, ye need a loaf o’ bread, matey?’” Suddenly, a rolling pin appeared in her hand, and she mimed brandishing it like a sword.

Henry glared at her. “Stay quiet.”

Elara rolled her eyes dramatically, whispering, “You’re no fun.”

They continued, the streets growing narrower and more twisted. The ornate architecture of the city center faded into worn facades and dilapidated structures. Overhead, the sky was a tapestry of stars, the moon casting a pale glow that did little to pierce the darkness below.

“Charming part of town,” Elara commented, her tone oddly chipper as she sidestepped a puddle. Then she crouched, peering into the puddle with fascination. “Do you see the rainbow in it? Looks like a portal to another dimension. Think it’ll eat us if we touch it?”

Henry didn’t bother replying, his focus fixed ahead. “We need to reach the mountain before the next guard rotation.”

A sudden shout echoed from behind them. “Hey! You there!”

Henry’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced back to see two city guards emerging from an intersecting street, their eyes fixed in their direction.

“Time to go!” Elara squealed with delighted urgency. She grabbed Henry’s arm, pulling him forward. “Quick! Before they ask for a hug. Or worse, directions!”

Elara stepped forward, her grin stretching wide, almost uncomfortably so, as if the sheer joy of the moment was too much for her body to contain. “Let me try,” she breathed, her voice syrupy sweet, like someone inviting you to lean closer to hear a secret you shouldn’t. Her fingers grazed the dwarven runes, and they flickered nervously, as if aware of what was to come.

The sound of boots hammering against the cobblestones shattered the moment. The guards burst into view, their torches illuminating the alley like a stage.

“Stop right there!” one bellowed, his sword gleaming as he pointed it at her.

Elara’s head snapped toward them with an audible crack, her body remaining perfectly still. Her grin spread impossibly wider, her teeth catching the torchlight. “Ooooh,” she purred, her voice bubbling like hot tar. “They brought shiny sticks and loud noises! How precious! Shall we give them a bedtime story?”

Henry grabbed her arm, desperate. “Elara, no. We need to get inside—”

She spun to face him, her eyes wide and glittering with an almost childlike glee. “Inside? Inside where? The big stone box with all the secrets? No, no, no. Outside is where the fun is! You can’t hear the screaming from inside!” She giggled, high-pitched and erratic, as if the thought tickled her.

Before Henry could argue, she skipped toward the guards, her movements disjointed and too fast, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. “My friends!” she called, throwing her arms wide. “Did you bring gifts? No? Then I’ll share mine!”

The guards hesitated, unnerved, as she began to twirl, her bare feet slapping the stone in a bizarre, stomping rhythm. Her humming turned to a tune that made no sense, half nursery rhyme, half war chant, her voice lilting and breaking like a shattered music box. The air around her shimmered unnaturally, the light bending and twisting.

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One of the guards took a cautious step forward. “What kind of magic is this?” he demanded, his voice trembling.

Elara froze mid-spin, her head snapping to face him. Her expression was one of mock surprise, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Magic?” she gasped. “Oh, no, darling. This is art!” She lunged forward, her fingers flicking as if scattering invisible seeds. The guard stumbled back, gasping as veins of liquid gold began to crawl up his arms, burning into his skin. He screamed as the molten veins erupted into tiny, writhing flowers that blossomed across his chest.

Elara clapped her hands, laughing. “Oh, look! A garden grows in his misery. Isn’t it lovely?”

Another guard roared, charging at her, sword raised. She tilted her head, her grin unwavering. “Tick-tock, little clock,” she sang, her voice sing-song. “Your gears are grinding down!” She tapped the air in front of her, and the man’s sword stopped mid-swing, shattering into shards that spun like a kaleidoscope around his head. He froze, eyes wide, as the shards began to melt, dripping into his eyes, his mouth, his ears. He fell, convulsing, as Elara’s laughter rang out like a twisted lullaby.

The last guard fell to his knees, trembling, his torch clattering to the ground. “What… what are you?” he whimpered.

Elara crouched low, leaning in close. Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, “I’m the thing the dark dreams of when it’s lonely.” She reached out, her fingers curling around his face, and the man began to laugh—a high, broken sound that didn’t stop, even as his body twisted and contorted into an impossible shape. The laughter continued long after he collapsed into a heap.

The alley fell silent, save for the echo of that manic laughter, reverberating off the walls.

Henry stared at her, his stomach twisting. “What… the hell… was that?”

Elara spun to face him, arms outstretched, her grin beaming with unsettling pride. “That, my darling Henry, was a symphony! And you—” She booped his nose, her hand still slick with something viscous and dark. “—are my unwilling audience. Now, shall we open the big, boring door, or do you want another encore?”

Henry swallowed hard, clutching Sarah closer as Elara twirled back to the door, humming her fractured melody, blood and ichor trailing from her fingertips. He didn’t dare answer.

Elara darted forward, her fingers skittering over the carved symbols on the door like a pianist in the middle of a concerto only she could hear. “Oh, hello, ancient mysteries! Speak to me in riddles, won’t you?” She pressed her ear against the cold stone as if it might whisper secrets. “Wait... yes, I feel it. Right... here!” She jabbed a rune with theatrical flair. A concealed slot slid open with an almost embarrassed groan.

Henry slipped the key in with trembling fingers. “Do you have to make everything so weird?”

“Weird? I’m communing with history, Henry. Have some respect!” Elara hissed, before adding with an exaggerated flourish, “Now, twist the key and don’t mess it up. This is a sacred moment.”

Henry rolled his eyes but obeyed, twisting the ornate key in the lock. The ancient gears groaned like a cranky old man waking from a nap, and the doors creaked open, revealing a dark, foreboding passage.

“Oh, a dark, spooky abyss! My favorite!” Elara clapped her hands, practically vibrating with excitement as she skipped in place. “It’s probably full of unspeakable horrors and… oooh, maybe cursed snacks!”

“Cursed… snacks?” Henry muttered, deadpan.

“Yes! Ghostly gummy worms! Phantom peanuts! The kind of trail mix that eats you!” Elara wiggled her fingers ominously, then dashed toward the opening with a gleeful bounce.

Before they could step inside, a voice barked from behind.

They whirled around to find a squad of guards, their swords gleaming under flickering lantern light, their expressions promising nothing good.

Elara’s grin widened, like a child caught mid-prank. “Oh no, it’s the fun police! Whatever shall we do?” She threw the back of her hand against her forehead in mock despair.

“You are in violation of the curfew and are suspected of kidnapping. Surrender now,” the lead guard demanded, his tone grim.

Henry tightened his grip on Sarah, his voice rising defensively. “Kidnapping? She’s my sister!”

The guard’s eyes narrowed at Sarah’s pale face. “Then you’ll have no problem coming with us.”

Elara leaned toward Henry, her voice a gleeful whisper. “Do they hear themselves? Do they ever hear themselves?”

“Elara, focus,” he hissed.

She rolled her eyes, stepping forward with her hands raised. “Alright, fine, let’s be civil.” Her tone was syrupy sweet, her smile dangerously wide. “Gentlemen, I’d love to chat about curfews and whatever delightful misunderstandings we’re having here. Really, I would.”

“Stay where you are!” the guard snapped.

“Oh, you don’t have to shout,” Elara cooed, her fingers twitching like she was conducting an invisible orchestra. “But if you insist...”

With a dramatic twirl, she flung her arms outward, and the ground beneath the guards began to shimmer unnaturally. A low hum filled the air, growing louder as the cobblestones under their feet glowed a molten red.

“What—what’s happening?!” one of the guards shouted, stumbling back, but it was too late. The stones liquefied, swallowing their boots with a wet, sticky hiss.

Elara clapped her hands with childlike glee. “Oh, look! You’re melting! Isn’t that neat?”

The first guard screamed as the glowing liquid crept up his legs, his armor bubbling and warping grotesquely. He dropped his sword, which dissolved before it hit the ground. “Make it stop!” he howled, but the stone-turned-sludge surged higher, eating through flesh and bone with terrifying efficiency.

The others tried to pull free, but the more they struggled, the faster the liquefied stone consumed them. Their screams mingled with the stench of burning flesh and metal, filling the night air with a cacophony of horror.

Elara tilted her head, watching with a fascinated smile as the last of the guards sank into the glowing pool. “That worked out nicely. Don’t you think?” She turned to Henry, who was staring in pale-faced horror.

“You—what—how—” Henry stammered, clutching Sarah protectively.

Elara tapped her chin, feigning thought. “Oh, that? Just a little ancient rune magic. Doors like this always have hidden tricks if you know where to look!” Her grin widened. “Honestly, I’m a little disappointed none of them exploded. Next time, we’ll aim for fireworks.”

“Elara, you’re insane!” Henry snapped, dragging Sarah toward the tunnel.

“And you’re welcome!” she called after him, skipping along as the heavy doors groaned shut behind them. “Now, come on, slowpoke! There’s a whole mountain of horrors waiting, and I’m dying to see what melts next!”

As her words echoed in the tunnel, Elara stumbled, clutching the wall for support. A faint flicker of light shimmered around her edges, her form growing translucent. She glanced at her hand and let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, dear. This again.”