A wagon rattled through the cobblestone streets of Baurous, each jolt sending a cascade of pebbles skittering away. The rhythmic clacking of its iron-bound wheels reverberated off the stone façades, creating a symphony of nocturnal sounds. Overhead, the full moon hung in the sky like a sentinel, its silvery beams piercing through the inky darkness and bathing the cobblestones in an ethereal glow.

Moonlight caressed the wagon's wooden frame, drawing attention to a meticulously carved raven emblem on its lower corner. The emblem's obsidian sheen glimmered like a gemstone, a dark jewel against the backdrop of the night.

Old street lamps, wrought from blackened iron and topped with glass globes, lined the path. Their flickering flames cast a warm, amber glow that danced along the cobblestones. This light outlined the confident driver seated on the bench, his silhouette sharp against the amber hues, revealing a weathered face and eyes keenly surveying the road ahead.

His hands moved with the confidence of someone familiar with every twist and turn of the streets, guiding the pure-blooded horses with practiced finesse. Inside the wagon, two women sat.

Miranda Noctis, a vision of ageless beauty, possessed hair that seamlessly blended silver and gold, cascading in lustrous waves down her back. Each strand seemed to capture the lamplight, shimmering like strands of spun platinum and gold, accentuating her regal bearing.

Her striking yellow eyes, like twin suns, held depths of wisdom and understanding forged through countless experiences. They shone with an intensity that spoke of a life fully lived, each glance a sign of the profound knowledge she had amassed.

She wore a dark-blue robe that complemented her mature, dignified presence. The fabric flowed over her form with deliberate grace, each fold and crease meticulously arranged to accentuate her natural poise and elegance.

Lisandra sat beside her mother with a posture that exuded discipline and rigorous training. Her legs were crossed with precision, and her hands rested gently on her thighs, the picture of composed grace. Despite this poised exterior, her expression was distant, as if her thoughts were adrift.

Her gaze toward the curtains suggested a mind wandering far beyond the present, perhaps exploring realms unseen. Her expression alternated between serene contemplation and subtle inquiry, as if she were silently wrestling with questions known only to her.

As the wagon eased to a gentle halt, Jenson deftly opened the door, his movements smooth and practiced. He extended his left hand with a courteous bow, ready to assist with a grace that bespoke years of service.

"We've arrived, madam."

Miranda Noctis gracefully took Jenson's hand, using it for support as she elegantly descended from the wagon.

Lisandra followed, stepping out with equal grace. Together, they looked up, taking in the impressive exterior of the building before them.

In the heart of Baurous, the Garden Chief stood as a testament to architectural brilliance. The establishment's facade was an intricate tapestry, seamlessly weaving together elements of stone, richly grained wood, and polished silver accents. These materials combined to form a striking, cohesive structure that exuded both strength and elegance.

Guests were greeted by a stunning array of flowers, meticulously arranged in elegant displays that cascaded down from ornate planters and trellises. The air was filled with a symphony of vibrant colors and a delightful bouquet of fragrances, ranging from the sweet scent of jasmine to the fresh aroma of lavender, creating an inviting and enchanting entrance.

The restaurant's exterior was a masterpiece of artistic expression, adorned with intricate carvings, ornate moldings, and elaborate decorative elements. Each detail, from the delicate floral motifs etched into the stone to the sweeping curves of the wrought-iron accents, was masterfully crafted, creating an aura of grandeur and opulence that captivated every passerby.

Inside, the Garden Chief's interior was equally majestic. High, vaulted ceilings soared above, creating an airy, cathedral-like spaciousness. Deluxe furnishings, upholstered in sumptuous fabrics of deep burgundy and gold, were strategically placed throughout the space, their rich tones blending harmoniously with the gentle strains of live music that filled the air.

Miranda and Lisandra entered the Garden Chief, their arrival drawing immediate attention. A woman in an elegant black dress adorned with intricate golden patterns gracefully approached them.

Her hair was neatly tied back, and a warm, welcoming smile graced her features. Noticing the Noctis family emblem, she respectfully inclined her head and addressed them, 'This way, Madam Noctis.'

She led them through the restaurant to their reserved table. Lisandra sat next to Miranda.

Barely had they settled into their seats when the restaurant's ambiance transformed. In the center of the room, a pianist took his place, fingers poised over the ivory keys, and began to play a hauntingly beautiful sonata.

The music began with a slow, deliberate pace, each note lingering in the air before dissolving into the next. Gradually, the tempo increased, the notes intertwining like threads in a tapestry, seamlessly enhancing the evening's ambiance.

As the pianist lost himself in the music, his body swayed like a pendulum, each movement mirroring the ebb and flow of the melody. Leaning to the left, the notes softened, casting a serene spell over the patrons, filling their minds with tranquility and echoing the calm embrace of the night.

When he shifted to the right, the rhythm intensified, the arpeggios cascading with breathtaking precision. The audience was spellbound; some paused mid-sip, eyes glistening with unshed tears, while others bowed their heads, seemingly confronting the ghosts of their pasts in a moment of profound emotional release.

The pianist's hands danced over the keys in a masterful display of virtuosity. In the final verse, his fingers trilled the notes with a mesmerizing speed, creating a vibrating symphony that built to a resounding crescendo. As the last note hung in the air, the spellbound audience erupted into thunderous applause.

As the restaurant returned to its bustling atmosphere, Miranda placed her order with the attendant. "The number seven for us and a bottle of red wine, please."

"Yes, Madam."

Lisandra exhaled deeply, still absorbing the sonata's lingering notes. Her eyes roved the restaurant, taking in every detail – the patrons, the attentive staff, and particularly a group of young adults, not much older than herself, engrossed in conversation with a refined man displaying a set of glowing stones.

"This place is incredible as always," she murmured.

The Garden Chief was not a regular destination for her family; it was reserved for special occasions that demanded its unique ambiance.

Miranda, observing her daughter, sensed her fascination. "It's more than a restaurant," she said softly. "When you complete your journey at the Academy, you'll understand the true significance of this place. So, are you ready?"

Lisandra's gaze shifted to her mother. "Yes, mom," she replied confidently. "Father and you have prepared me since childhood for this moment."

Miranda nodded with a hint of caution. "Be careful, Lisandra. The Academy may seem safe, but it harbors its own dangers. Remember, each Eruption is unique. Despite your thorough upbringing, the Academy's teachings are vital and should be taken seriously."

The attendant arrived at their table. Two silver bowls glistened under the ambient light, each holding a succulent red steak marinated in a refreshing mint sauce with a tantalizing aroma. Alongside the entrees were two glasses of wine.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Thank you," Miranda and Lisandra said, nodding appreciatively at the attendant. The attendant offered a polite bow before withdrawing.

“How was it in your time, mom?”

Miranda gently closed her eyes, bringing the glass of wine to her nose. The rich, dark-red hue of the wine contrasted with the dim lighting of the restaurant.

As she inhaled, the aroma of ripe cherries and plums, with a hint of vanilla, wafted up to her. The scents evoked a wave of memories, causing her eyes to redden slightly with unspoken emotions.

With a sip, the flavors unfolded on her tongue, each stirring a different memory from her own Eruption. The sonata playing in the background resonated with these recollections, bringing forth echoes of muffled screams of sadness interspersed with rare moments of joy and adventure.

Opening her eyes, she gazed at her daughter with a mix of love and apprehension.

"If we didn't live in a cage, I would never let you participate in the Eruption, my daughter," she said softly. "I'll never let you go..."

Noticing the subtle change in her mother's demeanor, Lisandra tilted her head, a gesture of inquiry and concern. Picking up on the word her mother had used, she echoed it back with a hint of confusion.

"Cage?"

Miranda's hands moved in a gentle, dismissive gesture, as if pushing away an invisible weight.

"Forget it," she said softly. "You will understand in due time. As for my experiences in the Eruption, I can offer you some advice."

Lisandra leaned in, eager. "Please, mom."

Miranda raised a finger. "First, my dear, guard against sowing seeds of doubt within yourself. They take root quietly and, when noticed, may be too deeply entrenched to remove."

She lifted a second finger. "Secondly, don't shy away from fear. Fear can guide you; too much paralyzes, and too little leads to unanticipated perils. A bit of fear keeps you aware of your vulnerability, distinguishing courage from recklessness."

Her third finger followed, and she drew a deep breath. "Lastly, seek loyal companions. It's challenging, but those willing to face a monster's fang for you make every trial worthwhile."

Salty, unbidden tears traced paths down Lisandra's cheeks. This was rare for her, especially in the presence of her parents.

She always presented herself as independent and capable, ready to tackle any challenge with intellect and strength. This persona stemmed not from pressure but from a deep-seated desire to make her parents proud and be a reliable heir to their legacy.

However, tonight's atmosphere, influenced by the sonata's melody and her mother's openness, made it easier for Lisandra to reveal her internal struggles.

Her emotions overflowed, reminiscent of times when she submerged herself in the bathtub. But now, her tears were the water, and her body felt like a foreign yet familiar entity, shaping her true essence. It was a moment without masks, connecting her directly to her innermost self.

Miranda reached out, tenderly catching Lisandra's tears.

"Your father and I are proud of you," she said softly. "It's okay to lower the walls around your heart sometimes to release emotions. Otherwise, they might explode, and by then, it could be too late to mend."

Miranda blinked away the intensity of the moment, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Let's eat."

As they began their meal, Miranda and Lisandra savored their red steaks, the rich flavors enhanced by occasional sips of wine.

As the lights dimmed, the atmosphere in the restaurant transformed, casting a warm, intimate glow illuminated by flickering candlelight. Shadows danced on the walls, creating an enchanting and cozy ambience.

On the pianist's stage, the spotlight sprang to life, casting a golden halo around the musician as he prepared for his next performance. His presence commanded attention; the anticipation was palpable in the air.

Before taking his seat on the bench, he made a sweeping gesture, and in response, small orbs of light burst forth, scattering across the room like fireflies, weaving an enchanting spell that held everyone in rapt attention.

The orbs floated gracefully through the air, their colors shifting fluidly between serene blue and warm yellow, casting a mesmerizing glow that danced across the faces of the captivated patrons.

The pianist clapped his hands, drawing every eye in the room. His fingers moved with precision and passion, dancing across the keys with a life of their own. The tempo quickened, and the notes cascaded like a lively stream over pebbles, fast and bright, filling the air with an invigorating energy.

Each press of the keys was like a painter's stroke, vivid and expressive, creating a melody that was both technically flawless and poetically profound, resonating deeply with the soul of every listener.

The patrons, enveloped in the musical spell, felt their spirits lift as if thrilled by an unseen force. Smiles spread like ripples across the room, contagious and bright. Some stood to applaud, their hands clapping in perfect rhythm with the music. Others, caught in a wave of pure joy, twirled and swayed with their partners, the melody guiding their steps in a spontaneous, heartfelt dance.

Amidst the enchanting scene, Miranda and Lisandra were engrossed in the performance. Suddenly, a subtle figure approached, whispering urgently into Miranda's ear. She turned to Lisandra, concerned about etching her features.

"I need to go. Something's happening at one of our alchemy stores," Miranda said urgently. "Stay here as long as you want, or head home; you decide. Use tonight to find tranquility for your thoughts."

With a gentle pat on Lisandra's head, she said, "Don't overthink. I love you."

Miranda's departure left Lisandra adrift in her thoughts. The pianist's cheerful melody lingered in her ears, intertwining with the realization that this evening would be etched in her memory as a moment before her life truly started.

Eventually, the song concluded, and Lisandra stood up, almost mechanically. She navigated her way out of the Garden Chief.

As she stepped into the dimly lit streets, the reality of her surroundings snapped her back to the present. The scratched and weathered walls and the pavement were marred with imprints of neglect.

Whispering to herself, "In the end, I'm here..."

Lisandra approached a narrow alley, contorting her body to fit through the slim gap between two walls. She found herself on an elliptical pathway leading to a ladder.

Ascending with practiced ease, she climbed through the frame of a window, heading toward her favorite secluded spot.

Reaching the top floor, Lisandra was about to settle into her cherished view when a groan disrupted the silence. Her heart raced, and her senses heightened in alarm.

Peering through the darkness, she spotted a figure spasming dangerously close to the edge. Recognition dawned on her, and her voice, tinged with shock and concern, broke the stillness.

"Joah!"

Rushing towards Joah's convulsing figure, Lisandra quickly assessed his condition, her hands moving deftly. She drew upon every shred of first aid training she had received.

As Joah's body jerked with another spasm, nearly slipping from her grasp, realization struck her.

"Right, that will work!" she exclaimed, remembering the pills in her pocket.

With urgency, Lisandra retrieved the pills, swiftly stuffing one into Joah's mouth. She gently massaged his throat to aid swallowing. The recommended dosage was one, but she administered three, hoping to stabilize his condition quickly.

As the pills took effect, Joah's body ceased its spasms, descending into a heavy, motionless silence. Exhausted yet relieved, Lisandra dragged his still form away from the precarious edge to a safer area.

She positioned herself to keep a watchful eye on him, her gaze fixed on his face, waiting for any sign of recovery.

As time drifted on, Lisandra's thoughts wandered back to their first encounter. It was a chilly night, one where she sought escape from the day's pressures, wandering aimlessly under the moon's gentle gaze.

To her, the moon was a beacon, a reminder of distant, unexplored places waiting for her.

Driven by sudden inspiration, she sought the highest yet inconspicuous building in the city. That's where she stumbled upon him.

He initially struck her as distant, enigmatic, and occasionally brusque—traits that, like a sandcastle facing the tide, were bound to erode over time.

Week by week, they shared the same space atop that building, embracing the silence in a unique bond of trust.

Through their sparse conversations, Lisandra learned about Joah's aspirations for the Academy, igniting a sense of kinship and excitement for her own upcoming journey.

A soft groan broke her reverie. Joah's eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. He coughed, a sign of life returning, and she greeted him with a gentle smile. She was about to speak, but he spoke first.

"Good to see you," he managed, his words rough but sincere.

Lisandra chuckled softly, her relief evident. "Same here. Don't go dying before the Academy, okay?"

"I'll try."