Act I Part 3 Chapter 3 – A Most Welcome Invitation

November, Two years ago

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A week had passed since the Celestials had torn through the autumn sky, and though the City’s bustle had resumed, no corner of Erlankor City felt quite the same. Nobles and Noble Gentry whispered in magically lit salons, their polite tones edged with dread at what power Saint Sylia might unleash next. In taverns and kitchens alike, Folks and Gentry spoke of that night as legend. They recalled the streaks of corrupted Mana, the Saints’ children and Summons fending off hellish creatures and the Saint who had dived from the sky, destroying a giant Celestial. Most admitted, in hushed gratitude, that they owed their lives to the Saints’ intervention.

For the children of the Slums, however, the fallout was far more mundane yet no less bitter. Their long-awaited cooking classes, their only respite from winter’s chores, had been canceled. Instead of learning to stew meat over a crackling fire or roast Potadiosso on embers, they were pressed into gathering wood, hauling water, and mending coats. Some of the younger ones still whispered about the Wyveria’s attack as if it were a bedtime story while few older children exchanged embarrassed laughs over memories of the Bunny Lady’s improbable appearance. However, hidden behind every tale was the same disappointment. Cooking class had meant a full meal and a day without toil, but all that had been stolen from them because of the Celestials’ attack.

Despite her busy schedule, Sylia had still not forgotten her promise to compensate the families whose children had been at risk during her cooking event.

By the next day after the attack, carts had appeared at every household whose child had attended the ill-fated session, bearing boxes of fresh and canned vegetables, lengths of warm cloth, sacks of salted meat, and jars of precious preserves. Jimmy’s foster family claimed their share gratefully. His adoptive parents, however, received none on his behalf, sparking outraged complaints. Jimmy, himself, could not understand the uproar. He didn’t live with them in the first place and they had received their share for his siblings’ sake, although that offering had been more modest since the children had left before the Celestial’s attack and had never been in any danger. His adoptive parents had still received plenty to compensate their offspring, whose next lessons had been temporarily cancelled due to the unfortunate incident.

All week, Jimmy had delighted his cousins and siblings with increasingly fanciful retellings of the Bunny Lady’s exploits until even he could no longer discern truth from embellishment. His own lessons remained canceled, but at least he would not go hungry and had plenty of company.

His friend Pullina and her cousin Nailin said little about the incident itself. They remembered the way the loud cries of the beasts before Sylia’s shield locked them out of the courtyard, the horrid smell of corrupted Mana, the terrified screams of the children and adults. Yet, they preferred to focus on the good memories. The festivities before and after the attack. The lovely cream cakes they had eaten. Pullina, in particular, was quite a cheerful and optimistic girl who loved her food more than life itself.

The other guest children were, on the other hand, divided. Some were too afraid to remember and wanted nothing to do anymore with Sylia or her children, while others felt betrayed and cheated since they could not attend any of the festive events scheduled for the Autumn.

After the terrible incident, all activities had been suspended, including school classes. No one questioned it. Still, the disappointment festered, especially as chores and work crept in to fill the space left by lessons and games. Some parents, uncertain of what dangers might follow, now refused to let their children attend another event organized by Sylia. Others, emboldened by the compensation, grudgingly confessed their hope that the Saints’ events for both adults and children would soon resume. Many depended on those occasions to support themselves.

Meanwhile, far from the Slums, something was quietly taking shape under Lord Chester’s command. Wishing to reward young Danielu for his remarkable stand during the recent battle, the great Lord had ordered new lands to be formed—lands that would serve the boy as a better place to play and grow. Few were aware of Lord Chester’s intentions. Only Sylia and a handful of close associates had been informed. Even Danielu’s own father had been told nothing for some time. The man had always been kept in the dark when it came to his children’s gifts and holdings.

Taki Beymeyer had spent the entire week turning the incident over in his mind. He understood all too well what his children’s transformations meant. Bitterly, he recalled that Dio hadn’t even seemed surprised to watch Neron shift into his adolescent form and charge into battle. At least Liussa’s father had reacted like a sane man—utterly shocked and now inconsolable.

Taki had managed better, perhaps, but the resentment remained. He hated being kept in the dark. He had always believed himself close to Sylia. Now he realized how far that belief was from the truth.

All week, he had wanted to speak to his children about the deception—but he hadn’t found the courage. In the end, it had been Takara who approached him, quietly apologizing for keeping the truth hidden.

Now, in his children’s quiet City manor, Taki sat unmoving, staring at the polished stone floor. His fingers were tightly laced, unmoving. His eyes remained open, but vacant.

Danisha stood by the tall window, arms crossed, posture rigid. The afternoon light caught her shoulders but left her face in shadow, her expression unreadable.

Yujin sat at a low table near the wall, a closed book resting beside him. He had returned earlier that week from the western Region. Calm as ever, he offered no words but his usually comforting presence did little to ease the thick tension hanging in the room.

The silence had not broken for several minutes. Outside, the autumn wind stirred the yellowing leaves against the shutters, a soft, irregular rustle that underscored the tension inside the room.

At last, Danisha spoke, not to apologize, but to state, with careful composure, what she had waited a week to say.

“Father, we never meant to deceive you. We simply… were not allowed to speak of it.”

Her voice was even, but not cold. It lacked defensiveness, yet it offered no plea. It was a statement of fact, as if she had rehearsed it, perhaps a dozen times.

Taki did not respond immediately. He continued to stare downward, as though the pattern in the stone might unravel some clarity he had failed to grasp.

Yujin shifted slightly but said nothing. His gaze remained on the closed book beside him.

Danisha went on. “We were raised to serve the Saints’ will. That meant secrecy, even from you. Especially from you.”

Taki looked up, slowly, his expression unreadable. “So I was the only one too mundane to be trusted.”

“No,” she replied. “You were the one too dear to endanger.”

The words hung in the air—too honest for comfort, too soft for anger. Taki exhaled, long and slow. His hands unclasped but remained resting on his knees.

“You’re telling me I was spared the truth out of love?” he asked.

Danisha did not answer. The silence that followed was answer enough.

From the hallway beyond the parlor, the faint creak of footsteps signaled movement in the household. A servant passed by, carrying folded linens, and did not glance into the room.

Taki’s gaze shifted again, this time to Danisha. “And what of Danielu?”

She hesitated, only briefly. “He knows what he is — in part. He understands what he fought, and what it cost. Mother has explained a lot, already.”

“He understands he is a Celestial?” Taki asked, a trace of something bitter slipping into his voice.

“Partly” she said. “The rest… Mother will tell him when the time is right.”

Yujin, still seated by the low table, spoke without looking up. “Lord Chester chose to reward him with a new land, formed by the Spirits, to honour the child who stood in defiance of the Celestials. Danielu needs a safer place to play and grow up.”

Taki frowned. “And you expect me to believe this was created so he could play?”

“No,” Yujin replied. “Danielu will have many responsibilities. The village is not a playpen. It is a gift but a demanding one. Only Lord Chester and his Flock consider it a child’s game. Mother will explain properly and make Danielu understand how many people’s lives lay now in his hands.”

Danisha added, “He invited the children from the cooking class. Mother plans on hosting an inauguration event there for Folks, Gentry and a few selected Nobles. Danielu’s guests will join the celebration and spend a few days in company of Danielu. He has no friends to speak of. This is a good occasion for him to socialize.”

Taki let a bitter laugh that sounded more like a breath caught sideways. “Inaugurating a land created by Holy Spirits and inviting children from the Slums for the festivities. This sounds like Sylia.”

Danisha allowed herself a brief smile. “The children’s invitation was his idea. He wants to compensate them for the danger they were put in because of him. He was the main target, you know.”

The room fell still again. Outside, the wind had eased, and distant bells marked the hour.

“When do we go there?” Taki asked.

“Tomorrow,” Danisha confirmed. “At dawn.”

He gave a slow nod, and this time there was no bitterness in it.

***

Forty miles northeast of the City, beyond the dense sprawl of the Klugans Forests, a new land manifested—catching all local inhabitants by surprise.

News spread swiftly. A new Hirf-Enclave had just been created there by Lord Chester’s Spirits. Roads formed seemingly overnight, leading straight to the entrance of this strange new domain, and then continued on toward a village founded in honor of Danielu, son of Saint Sylia. The boy, only six years old, became the talk of the region. His reputation flourished overnight. Many hoped the young Lordling would bring protection, resources, and much-needed employment to the scattered residents of the nearby lands. Yet, few had ever met him.

City dwellers, for their part, were even more excited. Uncorrupted lands with high Magic Levels were a rarity throughout the Kingdom. Despite years of fervent prayers from the Royal Family, the Gods had denied them even a single parcel. And now, a full Hirf-Enclave had been granted not to a Prince or Royal heir, but to a mere six-year-old boy—the child of a former low-ranking Noble who was now only a Commoner. It was both a bitter insult and a telling sign.

In the days that followed, new lands began to appear around the Enclave, expanding the area dramatically. Curious locals looked on in awe as richly fertile and magically saturated lands took form, surrounding five newly raised Castles Domains and an array of Noble Manors Estates which buildings were adorned with intricate carvings. Verdant fields, overflowing with life, stretched out across the land. Spring-born forests burst into view amid an autumn-colored landscape, their vibrant greens stark against the russet and gold beyond.

Peasants rejoiced when the Saint and her son Danielu summoned them to assist with a harvest that most would only expect to see in the height of late spring or summer. A protective magical barrier encircled the fields, keeping the climate warm and the corruption at bay. Neighbors cheered. Not only were they being employed and paid handsomely, but they were also allowed to partake in the bounty of the rich fields and Mana-saturated woods.

To make up for the canceled classes and the recent incident, Danielu personally extended an invitation to the Slums children who had attended his troubled cooking class. He was to host the gathering himself, aided by Gnome Sylia and the Summons of his mother. Together, they arranged for special transportation for the children and the few adults accompanying them. The new Hirf-Enclave was, after all, far too distant for Slums residents to reach by ordinary means.

Sylia had planned two events for the village’s inauguration: one for the Gentry and local Folk, and another dedicated to the children Danielu had invited. While the menu would be the same, the experience had been carefully tailored for each group.

The Slums’ children had been overjoyed at the opportunity. Few had spoken directly to the shy six-year-old boy, but many had witnessed his recent fight and wished to honor his courage.

On the appointed day, Danielu’s guests arrived late in the morning, just before ten-thirty. Pullina, Jimmy, Nailin, and several others who had attended the previously interrupted event were among them. Some wore new cloaks and boots obtained through Sylia’s donations. Others came with empty provision bags, eager to bring back gifts and food for their hopeful families.

Many children arrived wide-eyed, clutching the backpacks they had received—each travel bag containing clothes for the coming days. Those had been sent by Sylia’s Bunnies and packed with formal garments, new boots, and useful items, as the children would be staying for several days in the new village.

Jimmy had brought his younger adoptive and foster siblings along. This time, his adoptive parents hadn’t objected. He didn’t know exactly what Sylia had said to silence them—likely some mix of threats and persuasion. He had seen her use both before. For once, one of Jimmy’s foster parents had even decided to accompany him. Likely, curiosity and unease had driven such a surprising choice. His adoptive parents were not invited, though.

Danielu stood at the gathering point awaiting his guests. He wore formal Noble attire, the kind rarely seen in the Slums. His smile was warm as he greeted each child by name, then turned to address the accompanying adults with the same courtesy. He gave a brief explanation of the day’s plans and the travel arrangements before leading the group a short distance away to a more secluded area.

There, Danielu activated transport crystals, causing several flying vehicles to appear. At his command, the children and their companions boarded sleek, Magic-driven carts with floating wheels. The vehicles rose and departed moments later, guided forward by a spell of his own.

The trip was swift and smooth. Some children gasped at the sensation of floating through the air, while others stared wide-eyed at the countryside blurring beneath them.

Upon arrival, the new territory hardly seemed real. It resembled something out of a dream.

The air carried a different scent—clean, bright, almost humming with Magic. Overhead, the sky shimmered a brilliant blue, flecked with subtle glimmers of magical energy.

As the group reached the gates, they paused for a moment. Then, wordlessly, the guards opened both the wards and the gate.

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Danielu’s older brother, Takara, stood just beyond the main gate, dressed in full Ceremonial Noble garb. His hair was neatly combed back, and a faint Sigil glowed over his right hand. The young man welcomed the group with a smile and explained the security and administrative protocols in place for entry.

Takara noted that the village was not closed to visitors, but its protective wards were strong. Special procedures ensured that only those with peaceful intent could pass. That day, many guests—commoners, Gentry, and Nobles—were arriving at the Hirf-Enclave and all undergoing strict checks at the entrance. Even the Slums children were scanned and marked with entry charms before boarding magical carriages that would take them to the village’s main square through a shimmering Magic Portal.

When the children’s group arrived, they found a statue of Danielu near the edge of the central gathering space. Though smaller than life-size, the carving was fine and detailed. Danielu shyly pointed to the cloak and admitted he had protested the statue’s design—especially that part. But Sylia had insisted. He hadn’t been able to win the argument.

The children laughed. Everyone knew it was futile to argue with Saint Sylia. Many had seen their own parents try—and fail. When the Saint wanted something, she got it, one way or another.

Gnome Sylia appeared beside them just then and ushered the group toward a building adjacent to the plaza. Inside, several long tables had been set with food and drinks.

Danielu introduced the dishes himself, naming each one and describing its origins. The Cocoa Almond Milk, the Soybean and Almond Milk Tea, the King Cake–style Almond Apple Pie, the Almond Cake, the savory Ham, Meat and Mushroom Pie, and lastly the Green Peas, Meat and Potatoes Pie—soon to be the specialties of his village.

The children listened attentively, not missing a word. Here was a boy their own age—or younger—who had been granted Noble lands by the Spirits at the command of Lord Chester himself. While the great Lord’s generosity was well known, it was exceedingly rare for him to favor a single individual. Almost unheard of.

Danielu went on to explain where the ingredients came from and how they were cultivated. He then began describing the organization of the new lands and the village’s infrastructure before inviting his guests to join him for a tour.

Once again, Danielu spoke at length, walking the group through the village and explaining its layout in meticulous details.

Jimmy, smiling as he listened, waited for a pause. When it came, he raised his voice slightly.

“How many people could live here?” he asked.

Danielu looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “For now, only about a hundred Native people live here, but the land could accommodate up to five thousand residents. Some sections are hidden or sealed until we actually need them.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up. “Do you think my foster family could live here?”

Danielu replied, “We’ll have to ask Mother. She’s the one in charge. I’m too young to decide who gets to settle here. But I did hear she might reward them by offering a position in the village.”

Jimmy beamed. “Really?”

Danielu nodded. “I don’t know the details, though. Maybe your birth mother will be invited too. My sister Rozen received a larger territory—a Half-Enclave, right next to this place.”

Jimmy blinked. “Rozen? Isn’t she Pullina’s cousin?”

Pullina’s eyes widened. Several of the children and adults turned to look at her.

Danielu answered, “Yes, but Rozen’s father is Pullina’s great-uncle.”

Takara frowned and immediately corrected him. “They’re not blood relatives, Danielu. Dio is more closely related to Rozen.”

Danielu, Pullina, and Jimmy all stared in surprise. Jimmy looked at his older friend. “But… how is that possible?”

Danielu turned to Takara, silently echoing the question.

Takara sighed. “All of Grenar’s bloodline is cursed. He and his family betrayed the Sigmundi family out of greed. Their punishment was severe—they were made to protect the very survivors they had endangered.”

Pullina gasped. “What?”

Takara continued calmly, “The same fate fell upon Jimmy’s adoptive parents. They were both criminals—ex-prisoners, released under condition. Their task now is to protect the children of the families they once harmed.”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped.

Takara gave another quiet sigh. “And yet I’ve heard them complain. Imagine that—dangerous criminals daring to speak against Mother, who spared them out of grace.”

Jimmy looked down, suddenly ashamed.

Takara added, “Your birth mother wasn’t involved. She was placed somewhere safe because they don’t trust her brother. As for your natural father—he’s not exactly good, but that doesn’t mean anything when you’re concerned. It doesn’t reflect on you, Pullina, or any of the other Slum-born children.”

Danielu tilted his head. “What do you mean, Takara?”

Takara looked at him. “Pullina’s Soul was forged by a few Spirits. She can be considered a Sainted Soul. Her lack of Mana and Magic do not matter—her gifts function with almost no magical cost. As for Jimmy—he was born with two Souls inhabiting a single body. His physical embodiment was remade by the power of the Spirits. The dominant Soul belongs to a Knight who was slain by order of the Royal Family. That one now temporarily resides in this body, which will eventually separate again. His presence serves to teach another Soul—one from his own bloodline. Because they’re together, they’re more resistant to corruption. The Knight’s family is still waiting for his return, frozen in time, guarded by a handful of loyal retainers.”

Jimmy stood frozen. Pullina looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, then took a step back.

“Hey, Pullina!” Jimmy protested. “Takara’s joking.”

However, Danielu narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “When did he die?”

Takara paused, thoughtful. “Almost three centuries ago. Mother—or rather, part of her—was still in Spiritual form then, observing the world.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. “What?”

Takara sighed. “That part of her is a Creation Spirit. It split off and now lives partially in her Mortal body. She sometimes calls upon her main Spiritual self to create lands or people. Mother isn’t really a Saint. If anything, she’s a Saint Maker. She studies Saints to learn how to make new ones.”

Jimmy gasped. Danielu nodded solemnly.

“You said part of her is a Creation Spirit,” Jimmy asked. “What about the rest of her?”

Takara gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s where things get complicated. I don’t know how many parts merged to form her current self, but I do know one part is a Destruction Spirit—one that can devour souls, Spirits, even Gods to recycle or annihilate them. When she learned Danielu had been targeted, she devoured half the Flock of the Dark God responsible.”

Danisha shouted, “What?!”

Taki started to sweat. Danielu’s mouth fell open in silent shock.

Takara sighed again. “What did you expect? That’s why Lord Chester didn’t intervene. They were her prey. There’s another God, connected to the Night Queen’s Goddess, who’s also hunting us—especially Danielu.”

Danielu stiffened. “Why me?”

Takara replied, “Because you don’t smell like mother’s child. You smell more like Lord Chester’s. That makes you a potential target—at least until they realize they’ve been tricked. See, Lord Chester always smells like a victim… until he makes you his victim. That’s how he operates. Mother’s style is different. No one even slightly sane would go after Neron and Seron.”

Taki asked, “Why not?”

Takara’s voice dropped. “Because they’re more like her children. Dark and dangerous. We, on the other hand, were born under the influence of different Spirits. And Danielu—don’t get cocky just because Lord Chester favors you. You’re mostly a decoy.”

Danielu and Taki shouted in unison, “What?!”

“Explain.” Danielu demanded.

Takara nodded. “I’m not saying he doesn’t care about you. You were born with the Blessing of the Chipmuck Mascot, so he does care. But Lord Chester hides his true nature behind that cute, innocent image. In truth, he’s one of the Dark Lord’s Dark Lords and his official Dark King. He was so frightening that no one dared speak to him. So he split himself and took on that harmless, vulnerable form. I don’t know the whole story, but Mother is related to him—as a Blessed Child of the Dark Lord’s Crow. So yes—Lord Chester is like our uncle. That’s why he speaks to us directly. These lands are just a small token. A gift from him. Like a ring or necklace an uncle might give his nephew.”

Danielu’s eyes widened. Taki started trembling.

Danisha pressed, “Takara, what happened to you? You sound strange. Did Mother or that Crow say something?”

Takara nodded. “The Crow told me about Mother’s true form. She’s a Titan-Goddess—too vast for this world. What we see is only a sliver of her, the size of a needle. When she learned Danielu had been devoured, she went to devour the Ancient God responsible for the Flock that traitorous God belonged to. She’ll keep sending fragments of herself to consume the lower Gods and Spirits of that Flock, working her way down through the ranks.”

Danisha stared. “What does that mean for us?”

Takara’s expression remained unreadable. “It means we’ll have help from Izranaga.”

Danisha blinked. “Why?”

“Because he’s terrified of Titan Mama,” Takara said simply. “She devoured many of his siblings. He knows she doesn’t tolerate defiance. According to the Crow, Mother has a history of devouring her own children when they displease her. Others she enslaves. Some are condemned to endless torment.”

Danielu gripped his sister tightly.

Takara sighed. “Don’t worry. We’re joining Lord Chester’s Flock. He’s more… forgiving.”

Danisha shouted, “Are you mad?! He’s nothing like that! I’ve heard enough—some of it from his own mouth.”

Takara didn’t flinch. “Well, according to both Lord Chester and the Crow, Mother is worse. And there’s more—something you all need to hear.”

Danisha narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

Danielu watched her carefully. Their father remained conspicuously silent.

Takara said, “We’ve been lied to.”

Danisha’s voice rose. “Lied to about what? Say it!”

Danielu nodded gravely. His father still said nothing.

Takara continued, “The Crow claimed he would be impartial, that he would simply carry out the will of the Ancient Dark Goddess. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s been deceitful from the start. So has Mother.”

Danisha snapped, “But Mother was made by the Dark Goddess’s will!”

Takara shook his head. “No. The Crow can’t be impartial where she’s concerned—because she wasn’t created by the Ancient Dark Goddess alone. She was forged from a fragment of the one who co-created the Crow with the Dark Lord: the Dark Lord’s daughter. The Crow could never act against mother’s interests.”

Danisha’s voice faltered. “And the Ancient Dark Goddess?”

Takara’s voice grew quiet. “She was tricked. She never thought she was being tested. She was actually being set up. By antagonizing mother and ordering her around, she put her own existence at risk. She failed many trials. Now, she’s going to be split in two. One half will be discarded… and devoured by the Crow and others.”

***

After the morning’s startling revelations, Danielu guided his guests back into the sun-warmed courtyard where the day’s centerpiece awaited. As always, a festive showcase of new dishes had been arranged. Free tastings, live demonstrations, and hands-on cooking lessons lured villagers toward the fragrant stalls.

Today’s featured signature dish—Creamy Pork with Meaty Mushrooms, Potatoes, Carrots, and a silken Red Curry served over snowy white rice or delicately steamed Rizio—was the most anticipated one.

All who attended the inauguration were invited to learn how to prepare a dish that used ingredients harvested from Lord Chester’s new Hirf-Enclave and its connected Half-Enclave.

For the children and their caretakers, the demonstration was set beneath a broad canopy near the square’s center. Participation was optional, but no one seemed eager to miss the spectacle. The rest of the guests proceeded toward another shaded structure or into the adjoining buildings where additional sessions unfolded. Sylia had reserved a private area solely for the children Danielu had brought, while the other young visitors attended lessons with the rest of the crowd.

***

Danielu, sleeves rolled high, stood beside Gnome Sylia, fine-tuning the flame beneath a massive iron pot. The air shimmered with the scent of crushed garlic and warming spices, tinged with the earthiness of freshly peeled Potatoba. Nearby, Sylia’s ever-cheerful Bunnies chopped vegetables and meats, their quick paws flashing silver before the children’s astonished eyes.

As Gnome Sylia introduced the lesson and presented each ingredient, the Bunnies moved among the children, offering small samples and answering questions with cheerful ease, while Danielu listened attentively.

When his turn came, the boy spoke about the origins of the Red Curry, explaining that it was cultivated on his own lands and made possible through a Blessing from Lord Chester’s House. He then responded to a flurry of eager questions before the beginning of the demonstration.

Once both the children and adults were satisfied with the explanations provided by Danielu and the Bunnies, the session finally commenced. Gnome Sylia stepped closer to the ingredients and cooking pots, briefly describing the utensils to be used, then began walking them through each stage of the preparation.

“We always begin with vegetable oil, garlic, and onion,” Gnome Sylia declared, sliding the aromatics into the pot. “Neglect that trinity, and your curry will hold a grudge.” A ripple of laughter rose from the children.

In went a knob of vegetable butter, followed by cubes of pork and thick slabs of Meaty Mushrooms that hissed and spat on the hot metal. Danielu added diced potatoes, carrots, and chunks of Potatoba in careful succession.

“Let those brown on the bottom,” Gnome Sylia cautioned, holding back her spoon. “Stir too soon and you’ll miss the flavor.”

Only after a patient pause did chopped Tomatedion, a glimmer of water, and a generous spoonful of Red Curry powder join the fray. Gnome Sylia seasoned with salt and pepper, then poured in soybean milk thickened with Badanao flour, loosening the mixture with another splash of water. At once, the aroma deepened into something rich and inviting.

“Smells like magic,” murmured Pullina’s cousin, eyes shining.

“Reserve your praise until you taste it,” Gnome Sylia teased, clapping on the lid and murmuring an Express Cooking Spell. When the Spell’s gentle chime announced that the sauce had thickened, Danielu lifted the lid and stirred in smooth, deliberate arcs. “Heat alone isn’t enough,” he told them. “The Curry’s weight matters—stir too fast and the body breaks apart, too slow and the flavor clings to the pot.”

A brave volunteer took over the stirring, and with the main demonstration concluded, Gnome Sylia cast a finishing spell over the curry, imbuing it with subtle properties of its own. Volunteers who wished to attempt the recipe themselves moved to nearby tables, where Danielu and Sylia drifted from station to station, offering gentle guidance and answering every question.

While the Curry rested, the children were served bowls of soup, potato salad, mushroom pie, spinach quiche, and fresh green salad.

Twenty minutes passed in happy chatter, and just as the children finished their first dishes, Sylia’s Bunnies started serving from the huge pot wide plates of the Creamy Red Curry accompanied by mounds of white rice or steamed Rizio. The children lined up at once, each eager to taste a Curry finer and silkier than any they had known, its spices layered so deftly that even the visiting Gentry whispered compliments.

Only when every child was served did Danielu claim a seat, settling beside Jimmy and a small boy who was already scraping his bowl. When his young guests asked for seconds, he merely smiled and reminded them other main dishes still awaited. Sylia had ensured that the entire banquet menu was available, including the main dishes meant for the village inauguration’s guests:

* Ham and Vegetable Stew

* Ham with Gravy, mashed potatoes, and a choice of steamed or seared vegetables

* Garlic-roasted chicken with baby potatoes and green beans

Some children laughed, protesting they could never eat so much. No one in the Slums ever saw that quantity of meat in a week. Danielu only nodded, while Pullina and Jimmy proposed sampling modest portions instead.

Noticing the children’s dilemma, the young host assured them the Bunnies had plates of every size and that sharing was welcomed. Lunchboxes and snack-boxes stood ready so each child could carry leftovers home.

Cheers erupted. Since the promised take-home portions were theirs alone and wouldn’t be shared with their families, the children vowed to taste as many dishes as possible.

Not far away, before the second canopy, a long queue coiled with guests eager for a complimentary spoonful of Curry. Jimmy watched them, astonished, noting that the giveaway bowls were rather small for both children and adults.

Sylia, who had returned in time to catch his comment, crossed her arms. “What did you expect? Samples are free. Anyone wanting more can pay the proper price. I don’t run a charity for those who can afford a meal.”

Jimmy grinned and shrugged. “We had too many kinds of soup, anyway.”

“I trust you’ll survive,” she replied with a sly smile.

Jimmy nodded, smiling back. Sylia was right. Everyone seemed to be having fun. So, he shouldn’t complain about trivial matters. He had heard some distressing news from Takara’s mouth, which he needed to discuss with Sylia. But that could wait. For now, he focused on the joyful celebration.

Jimmy was unaware that by afternoon’s end Sylia’s magic would gently erase the memory from his mind.

***

That evening, as enchanted lanterns drifted skyward and music echoed through the fledgling village, the children danced in a circle near the statue of Danielu. Gnome Sylia, wiping sweat from her brow, announced that any child who managed not to spill their drink deserved a certificate of culinary merit.

Takara stood beside Danisha, the siblings quietly sipping their drinks, saying nothing.

From a distance, Taki observed them, a cup of wine in hand. He still felt uncertain but he smiled now, however faintly. For the moment, there was peace. How long it would last, he couldn’t say. Would his younger son be attacked again? All he could do was pray—to the Lords, the Gods, and the Spirits alike—that his child would be protected.

He found comfort in the knowledge that the greatest among them, a High Lord named Lord Chester, was already watching over his children. Lord Chester, commander of thousands of Lords, Gods, and countless Spirits, had intervened directly in the last battle. According to Sylia, his envoy had executed hundreds of Gods and a fair number of Spirits. And yet, Lord Chester had apparently only begun to act—he was still holding back.

Taki exhaled slowly, struck by how little he truly understood of the Divine, let alone the Lords who made such power possible. He had to trust Sylia. There was no alternative. He knew she would defend their children at any cost—so long as those children remained loyal to her, to her closest Divine allies, and to the High Lords.