The woman behind the counter moved with an unhurried grace, her black braid glinting faintly in the light of the hovering orbs above. In her hand was a peculiar sheet of paper that seemed to shimmer between visibility and transparency, as though caught in a liminal state. Runes and symbols pulsed softly on its surface, shifting and rearranging as she wrote on it with a pen that left trails of light instead of ink.

Emma watched in fascination as the woman’s hand moved fluidly, her script forming an intricate design that felt more like a spell than an order. The language she used was unlike anything Emma had ever seen or heard, flowing with a rhythm that seemed to hum with magic.

When the woman finished, she tossed the paper into the air with a casual flick of her wrist. The paper vanished in a swirl of golden sparks, and almost immediately, the food materialized on the counter in a flash of soft light.

Emma’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent “wow.” She had seen magic before—Windfield had its share of enchanted tools and tricks—but this was entirely different. It wasn’t just magic; it was art, elegant and otherworldly.

Vivian stepped forward, speaking again in that unfamiliar language. The woman behind the counter bowed slightly in response, her movements as fluid as her speech. With practiced ease, Vivian gathered the dishes and gestured for Emma to follow her to a nearby table.

The table they chose was tucked near a window, offering a view of the town’s neat streets and glowing streetlights. Vivian placed a plate in front of Emma, who stared at the dish with eager curiosity. It was a colorful medley: mashed sweet corn and potatoes swirled together into a creamy base, dotted with vibrant green peas and tiny cubes of tender, spiced green beef. The aroma was intoxicating, a blend of savory spices and earthy sweetness.

“Gashi,” Vivian said with a faint smile. “A popular dish here.”

Emma leaned closer, her mouth already watering. The sight of the meal triggered a fond memory, and she couldn’t help but think of the Green Festival of Windfield. The festival had been a celebration of community and abundance, filled with laughter and music. What a wonderful time, Emma thought wistfully. I wish it could last forever.

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“Are you planning to just stare at it until it gets cold?” Vivian’s voice broke through Emma’s thoughts, amusement lacing her tone.

Startled, Emma quickly picked up her fork and took her first bite. The flavors exploded on her tongue, a perfect harmony of sweet, savory, and tangy.

As they ate in comfortable silence, Emma’s curiosity bubbled to the surface. She swallowed a bite and looked at her mother. “What language were you speaking to the woman at the counter?”

Vivian wiped her mouth with a napkin before answering. “It’s the main language of Eldo-Clearoth Kingdom,” she said simply.

Emma blinked in surprise. “Really? I’ve never heard it before. What’s it called?”

“It doesn’t have a single name,” Vivian explained, her tone patient. “Some call it ‘Eldan,’ while others refer to it as the ‘Clearothian tongue.’ It’s ancient, deeply tied to the history of this kingdom.”

Emma nodded slowly, taking in the information. “Then what language do we speak in Windfield?”

Vivian chuckled softly. “The language of Windfield is primarily Elven. It’s unique to our region, since we are close to the elven lands.”

Emma furrowed her brow in thought as she took another bite of her meal. If the Elven language was all she knew, how would she communicate with the people of Eldo-Clearoth Kingdom? The realization sent a ripple of unease through her, but she quickly pushed it aside.

I’ll find a way, she thought, determination hardening in her mind.

As their meal came to an end, a waiter approached their table. He was tall and impeccably dressed, his uniform adorned with embroidered glyphs that seemed to pulse faintly. He spoke to Vivian in the same flowing language as the woman at the counter, his words smooth and measured.

Vivian responded without hesitation, her tone calm and confident. The waiter nodded and placed a small, glowing box on the table. Vivian reached into her purse and withdrew a sleek, metallic card. She swiped it across the surface of the box, which emitted a soft chime as it confirmed the transaction.

Emma watched the exchange in silent awe. Everything here felt so advanced, so seamlessly integrated with magic. It was a stark contrast to the more rustic charms of Windfield.

With their meal paid for, Emma and Vivian stepped out of the restaurant. The sun hung lower in the sky now, its faint rays casting a gentle glow over the town. The air was warm, and the streets were beginning to stir with the subtle buzz of early afternoon activity.

As they walked through the streets of Wellington, Emma glanced up at the sky, a small smile tugging at her lips.

When I get back home, she thought, I’m going to study harder. I’ll learn the Eldan language and everything else I need to know. I won’t let myself be left behind.

Her smile grew as they walked further, ready for whatever the rest of their journey had in store.