(Kira)


    I stared down at the envelope on my desk.


    It was old-fashioned. Handwritten. Sealed with crimson wax pressed into a sigil I didn’t recognize—half circle, half sunburst, and a jagged crack right through it. The kind of seal that said, "I used to rule things," whether or not the sender admitted it.


    I broke the seal.


    Mayor Nojin of Graybarrow cordially invites you to the Founding Festival.


    I blinked.


    "...What."


    The ink shimmered faintly, reacting to the pulse of my magic. Subtle rune-work. Clever, and far too on-brand for him. I set the letter down and started pacing.


    He wanted me to come to a festival.


    A festival.


    I stopped at the window, staring out at the Concord training fields. Perfect lines, perfect uniforms, perfect people pretending they weren’t slowly boiling under the surface. Meanwhile, somewhere on a forgotten planet, a retired demon lord was hosting a festival.


    Honestly, it sounded like a trap. Or a joke. Or—worse—a genuine invitation.


    Still.


    I could hear his voice in the phrasing. Formal but dry. Slightly sarcastic, probably sincere. I hadn’t even known he could send letters across realms. Maybe he had help. Maybe he just guessed. But of course it had found me.


    He always showed up when it mattered.


    I smiled.


    ***


    When I summoned him, I wasn’t sure if I was expecting him to arrive dramatically or grumbling. Nojin stepped out of the portal like he’d just come from grocery shopping.


    "Wasn’t sure you’d summon me in time," he said, adjusting his scarf. "So I sent a letter."


    "To an undisclosed location on another planet?"


    He gave me a look. "I have my ways."


    I crossed my arms, amused. "You invited me to a party."


    "A festival," he corrected, already sounding defensive. "And the whole town wants culture and mild chaos. You bring both."


    "That sounds like flattery wrapped in insult."


    "It’s Graybarrow. That’s a compliment."


    He looked... different. A little more rested. A little less like the weight of five realms was sitting on his spine.


    "You actually want me there?"


    "The festival''s been hijacked by over-enthusiastic mushroom children, the gnomes built a mead fountain without asking, and someone enchanted the mayoral bell to chime whenever someone lies about their baking prowess. Yes. I want you there. I need a buffer."


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I laughed. "So you miss me."


    "I miss predictable disaster. You qualify. Come to the festival."


    ***


    The portal dropped me just outside the town gate.


    I stepped out and immediately ducked as something small and fiery zipped overhead, shrieking with joy and trailing streamers of fire. Somewhere nearby, a bloated, floating creature with too many eyes and shimmering wings was reciting rhyming couplets about soup. An apple cart wheeled past on its own, creaking like it had an opinion about everything.


    Graybarrow.


    I blinked at the oddities swarming around me—and then saw him.


    Nojin, leaning casually against a post, holding two mugs. One was steaming. One was glowing.


    "Wait, you came through first?" I asked, walking up.


    "Wanted a moment to bring you a drink," he replied, shrugging. "Felt like the considerate thing."


    I raised an eyebrow. "Do I get to choose?"


    "No. I already decided which one suits you."


    He handed me the glowing one.


    "Figures," I muttered, sipping. It tasted like lightning and apricots. Weirdly good.


    The main square pulsed with life. Tents were being set up. Someone was singing in four-part harmony—with themselves. What looked like one of the mushroom kids Nojin had mentioned—a Mycari, maybe?—was doing some sort of spore-dance off to the side, while a trio of squat, tinkering figures (had to be gnomes) argued over where to hang a crooked banner that read "Mild Explosions Only, Please."


    "This is chaos."


    "This is order. We’re just not used to this kind."


    He showed me the town.


    There was a bakery that sold cupcakes capable of inducing lucid dreams. A smithy run by an earth elemental who did his best work during full moons. A library with a sentient index that judged you silently.


    Children darted by with glowing paper wyrms. A pair of witches bartered over magically aged cheese. Everyone seemed busy and half-mad, but the madness had rhythm.


    Nojin pointed things out casually. The bridge where a goat duel happened. A tree that allegedly grants wishes if you yell at it long enough. The hill where he almost lost a chess match to Yuuhi''s apprentice, Nell.


    I was trying not to smile too much.


    Eventually, we reached a little pond ringed with lantern-glow mushrooms. A toad the size of a watermelon blinked up at me and croaked a perfect scale.


    "Normal?" I asked.


    "Tuesday," Nojin replied.


    I turned back to him. "You’ve really made something here."


    He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at the water.


    Then, quietly: "That was the point."


    I nodded. "I think I’ll stay a couple of days. If that''s okay?"


    He looked surprised for a heartbeat—eyebrows raised, the faintest hitch in his breath. Then he actually smiled. Not a smirk, not a polite quirk of the mouth, but a real, genuine smile. It caught me off guard.


    "Sure. I’ll find you a room."


    I hesitated, then said, "I’d like to stay with you. If that’s alright."


    He paused again. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but then he nodded. "Alright."


    He exhaled, like he’d been holding the moment in. "Try not to explode."


    I grinned. "No promises."


    I watched him wander back into the bustle of the town, and I lingered a moment longer by the pond. The place was strange, unstructured, borderline unhinged… but it worked. The people were smiling. Working together. Laughing. Everyone seemed to love their odd little town—and somehow, they all loved their mayor.


    Everywhere I’d been lately had felt tense, heavy with pretense or control. But here? Graybarrow breathed.


    I wish more places could be like this.


    "Did you try the glowing one or the steaming one?" a woman’s voice asked nearby.


    I turned. She was tall and elegant, hair in a loose braid, a single silver ring on her finger that pulsed with light. Her presence had the kind of quiet confidence that only came from age, knowledge, or both.


    "Glowing," I replied, holding up the mug. "Apparently, it suits me."


    "That tracks," she said with a warm smirk. "I’m Yuuhi. You must be Kira."


    Her voice tugged at something in my memory. Familiar, though I couldn’t say from where.


    "Nojin''s talked about you," I said.


    "Hopefully only the good parts."


    We both laughed. I liked her immediately.


    We walked together back toward the main street. She pointed out a few things I hadn’t seen—an alchemy stall with shelves that floated and rearranged themselves, a joke shop advertising "cursed items, no refunds," and a murmoth—practicing his dramatic poetry to a group of silently attentive frogs.


    "I get the feeling this place doesn’t sleep," I said.


    "It naps aggressively and at the worst possible times."


    I glanced at her again. That voice.


    Why did it sound like something I should remember?


    But before I could follow the thought, a Kindling whizzed between us, laughing madly, and we both instinctively ducked.


    "Careful," Yuuhi said. "They’re still learning about spatial boundaries."


    "Right," I muttered. "And combustion."


    She grinned. "You''ll fit in just fine."