While Angel was heading towards the direction of the inn Lady Thornweald provided, she was amazed by the unique and unfamiliar sights around her. The street was paved with glowing runes, shifting like living script beneath her feet. Each step made the symbols flare softly, reacting to her presence—something they shouldn't do for ordinary people.
Above, riders soared on unicorn‑like creatures, their white, royal‑military uniforms gleaming in the sunlight. They looked entirely different from the villagers on the ground, who bustled about with baskets, tools, and chatter.
Suddenly—
SPLASH!
Angel gasped, water splattering across her shoes.
"Oh, I am so sorry, young lady," an old, tall woman exclaimed, her voice filled with worry. She looked to be in her mid‑forties, her hair streaked with silver, and she clutched a wooden bucket that had tipped in her haste. The spilled water seeped into the runes, which shimmered strangely as if drinking it in.
Angel blinked, still caught between awe and confusion. Even accidents here feel… magical.
Behind her stood a decent‑looking building with a carved sign that read Moonwell Inn. Angel tilted her head, smirking faintly. "Well, that's convenient. I was half‑expecting to wander around for hours before finding the place. Guess the universe decided to cut me some slack for once."
"That's the place I was looking for," Angel said brightly, turning to the tall woman. "Is there any empty room I can stay here for a while?"
"Yes, there is…" The woman's voice softened as she brushed a few droplets of water from Angel's cloak. Her touch was gentle, almost motherly. "Come in, dear. You must be feeling quite cold."
Angel nodded gratefully, her heart easing just a little. She stepped toward the inn's door, the runes beneath her feet flaring once more as if acknowledging her presence. Inside, she could already hear the murmur of voices, the clink of mugs, and the faint shimmer of enchanted lanterns.
Angel followed the old woman through the door, and a wave of warmth washed over her—firelight flickering in the hearth, the rich scent of cooking spices drifting from the kitchen, and the faint shimmer of Aether lamps glowing along the walls. The Moonwell Inn felt alive, every surface humming softly as if the building itself breathed.
Behind the counter, stacks of Aether coins pulsed faintly, their glow resonating with the lamps overhead. Angel's eyes widened; even currency here seemed infused with magic.
"We've got one room left on the second floor," the woman said, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret. "Cozy little thing. Faces the moonwell spring out back. Travelers say the water helps them sleep."
Angel nodded, relieved. "How much would it be for a few nights?"
The old woman tapped the Aether Reader on the counter. The carved runes flickered awake, swirling into a soft blue spiral that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"For you? A single Pulse per night," she said gently. Then her eyes narrowed—not unkindly, but with curiosity. "Though… your presence is making the Reader act strange."
Angel glanced down. The Aether Reader's glow had intensified, pulsing faster, brighter, almost like it was excited. The runes shimmered in rhythm with her breath, as though they recognized her.
The woman tilted her head, studying her carefully. "It doesn't usually do that. Only when someone has strong magic or strong lineage. Then she smiled faintly, brushing her hand across the counter.
The woman's words lingered in Angel's mind—strong magic, strong lineage—but before she could ask more, the woman turned toward the wall of hanging keys. Each one shimmered faintly, embedded with a tiny Glimmer shard that pulsed like a heartbeat.
She selected one, its glow softening as it rested in her palm. "Here we are," she said warmly, holding it out. "Second floor, end of the hall.
Angel reached for the key, the shard's light flaring brighter as her fingers brushed it. The woman's eyes flicked to the glow, but she said nothing, only offering a gentle smile.
Angel curled her fingers around the glowing shard key, its warmth seeping into her palm.
"Room 7," the woman said, placing it gently into her hand. "If you need a bath drawn or a meal sent up, just ask. And… if anything strange happens with the Aether in your room, call me immediately. One more thing—I'll send someone to bring you some warm clothes."
Angel blinked, her brow furrowing. "Strange?"
"Oh yes," the woman replied with a chuckle, her tone carrying both amusement and warning. "Moonwell Inn has a habit of revealing things… and prying into people's secrets. Especially those who are new here." She leaned closer, lowering her voice as though sharing a rumor. "If you want to know about some things, just come to the dining hall downstairs. I'm quite sure you'll find useful information there."
Angel's grip tightened on the key, her heart racing. Revealing secrets? Prying into people's things? What kind of place is this inn… and what will it show me?
Angel climbed the staircase, the wood creaking softly beneath her steps. The bluish glow from the lanterns lining the hallway seemed to follow her, their Aether cores swirling lazily inside the glass. Each one pulsed faintly as she passed, as though acknowledging her presence.
She tightened her grip on the shard key, the old woman's words echoing in her mind—revealing and preying into people's things. Was that meant as a warning, or simply the way this inn worked? Either way, it left her uneasy.
The hallway stretched ahead, lined with doors marked by carved runes. Some glowed faintly, others remained dark, as if sleeping. At the far end, a small window revealed the moonwell spring outside, its surface shimmering with pale light under the full moon. The glow seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat, drawing her forward.
Angel paused before the door marked Room 7. The shard key in her hand flared softly, resonating with the runes carved into the wood.
Room 7 waited at the far end of the hall.
When Angel slid the key into the lock, the Glimmer embedded within it flared—bright, brighter than it should have—and the door clicked open on its own. A soft breeze brushed past her, carrying the scent of moonlit water.
The room was simple but warm: a small bed tucked neatly against the wall, a wooden desk with faint runes etched into its surface, and a round window overlooking the moonwell spring behind the inn. The spring shimmered with pale silver light, rippling even though no wind stirred.
Angel stepped closer to the window, her breath catching. Beyond the spring, the night sky stretched vast and impossible. The moon loomed enormous—four times the size of Earth's—its silver glow bathing the landscape in ethereal light. Around it, millions of colorful stars burned bright, and two or three planets hung visibly in the heavens, so close they seemed almost within reach.
Her heart raced. This isn't just another world… it's a place where the sky itself feels alive.
The moment Angel's foot crossed the threshold, the Aether lamps flared all at once, their glow scattering like startled fireflies.
"…That's amazing," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The lamps pulsed again—once, twice—then steadied, as if recognizing her. A faint hum filled the air, rhythmic and steady, almost like a heartbeat.
Angel swallowed hard. "What's… happening?"
She set her bag down beside the bed, took a deep breath, and drifted toward the round window. The silver light of the moonwell spring spilled across the floor, shimmering like liquid starlight. She pressed her hand against the glass, staring at the vast sky beyond—the enormous moon, the millions of colorful stars, the planets hanging close enough to see with the naked eye.
Her chest tightened. "Huhh… I don't know what's happening. Everything is so weird… what if I'm just imagining things? Maybe I'm just sleeping." She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, then opened them again with a spark of determination. "Ok… let's do it."
Angel winced, pressing her hand to her cheek after the sharp slap. "3…2…1… Aaah… it hurts. I guess it's all true," she muttered, her voice trembling between disbelief and resignation.
She closed her eyes, standing still for a moment before stumbling backward onto the bed. The mattress creaked under her weight as exhaustion washed over her, leaving her feeling small and lonely in the dim glow of the Aether lamps.
Her thoughts drifted, heavy and unguarded. I wonder where Scarlet is right now… but wherever she is, I hope she's alright.
The silence pressed in, and another thought surfaced, raw and unbidden. I wonder if anyone would be worried about my disappearance back home. It makes me sound rude and ungrateful, but what's true is true. I've never seen my parents or heard from them… only my grandfather, who rarely visited and spoke to me.
Angel's thoughts spiraled as she lay on the bed, staring at the silver glow spilling through the round window.
Many people would think my grandfather was kind and loving… but he wasn't. The only thing he cared about was his business, his money, and who would inherit his empire—the wealth and the underworld dealings he kept hidden behind closed doors.
Her chest tightened as memories surfaced. When I was ten, I found out I had two older siblings. But they didn't welcome me. They barely acknowledged me. The only person who seemed to care, even a little, was James Ryne—my butler. Annoying, yes, but competent. An old dude in his mid‑thirties, single, and I'm one hundred percent sure he got rejected because of his personality.
She let out a tired laugh, though it quickly faded. Everything was so boring back then. That's why I left home at sixteen. I transferred to a new country, a new school, hoping to start fresh. Grandfather was annoyed when he found out, of course. He limited my bank balance to four million. Four million… like that was supposed to punish me.
Angel turned her head against the pillow, her voice softening. James helped me buy an apartment near my school, only twenty minutes away. He did all the paperwork, like always. And then… I met Scarlet.
Her eyes stung, but she smiled faintly. Scarlet was the only right decision I ever made in my whole life.
Angel turned toward the door, the soft knock still echoing in her ears. She opened it carefully, and there stood a young girl, no older than twelve, clutching a folded bundle of clothes like it was the most precious treasure in the world. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes wide with nervous excitement.
"Um… Miss? The clothes Madam Rossa prepared for you," the girl said, her voice trembling just a little.
Angel's gaze softened. The bundle was neatly tied with a ribbon, the fabric inside faintly shimmering with protective runes. She reached out, taking it gently from the girl's hands. "Thank you," Angel said, offering a small smile.
The girl nodded quickly, almost shyly, before stepping back. "Madam Rossa said they'll keep you warm tonight. The moonwell's night can be… unpredictable."
Angel glanced down at the bundle, her heart tightening. Even the clothes here carry magic. Everything feels so strange, yet so real. She closed the door slowly, the hum of the Aether lamps steadying as if approving of the gift.
She set the bundle on the bed, running her fingers over the fabric.
Angel's breath caught as the bundle unfolded piece by piece.
A sleek, shadow‑black tunic lay across the bed, its fabric smooth and light yet strong. Beside it, a deep forest‑green mantlecoat with a high collar seemed to shimmer faintly under the lantern glow. Charcoal trousers followed, sturdy but elegant, and knee‑high boots polished to a soft shine completed the set.
Then she noticed the runes.
Thin lines of icy blue light traced along the coat's edges, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. The glow was subtle, but alive, as though the garment itself recognized her.
"…Whoa," Angel whispered, fingertips hovering just above the glowing seams. The hum in the room deepened, resonating with the runes, and for a moment she felt as though the clothes weren't just meant to protect her—they were meant for her.
Angel's stomach growled again, louder this time, cutting through the hum of the Aether lamps.
"Right, Angel‑Elviana. Food first. Magical fashion crisis later," she muttered, shaking her head at herself.
She reached for the pouch Lady Thornweald had given her. It was still heavy, filled with Glimmers, Pulses, and even a few rare Heartstones. Angel turned it over in her hands, the weight of it unsettling. She didn't know how to use them properly yet, but one thing was clear:
This was way too much money for a stranger to hand out.
Still… Lady Thornweald had seemed kind. Elegant. Rich. And definitely not suspicious at all.
…Probably.
Angel sighed, splashing cold water on her face from the basin. The shock of it made her gasp—it was icy, biting, and real. No dream could sting like that. She straightened, feeling a little more awake, her reflection in the glassy surface of the water rippling with the silver glow from the moonwell outside.
Angel tightened her belt and stepped off the last stair, the hum of the Aether lamps following her like lazy fireflies. The inn was small, cozy, worn in places but alive with warmth. A few travelers sat scattered around the dining hall, their voices low, their meals steaming in front of them.
For a moment, no one paid her much attention. Then the runes on her mantlecoat flickered.
The shift was subtle, but it drew eyes. A few rough‑looking men at the corner tables turned their heads—not toward her face, not toward the glowing runes—but toward the pouch at her hip.
Angel's stomach twisted. Of course. Money always speaks louder than magic.
The men's gazes lingered, sharp and calculating, before one leaned back in his chair with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. The room's chatter dimmed just slightly, as though the inn itself was holding its breath.
Angel squared her shoulders, forcing herself to walk toward the counter.
Madam Rossa's smile stretched a little too wide as Angel approached, her eyes flicking to the glowing runes on the mantlecoat before settling on the pouch at her hip.
"Well, don't you clean up nicely," Rossa said, voice sweet but edged with something sharper. "Those clothes suit you."
Angel returned a polite smile. "Thank you. I was hoping to get dinner… and maybe some information?"
"Of course, dear," Rossa replied, her tone dripping with honey. "Sit anywhere you like. Since you are new here, your first meal's on the house."
Elviana's eyes widened. On the house? That's… generous. Too generous.
Rossa froze for half a heartbeat. It was tiny—barely a flicker—but Elviana caught it. The pause stretched just long enough to betray something, before Rossa's smile returned, smooth as butter.
"Well, young lady—"
"Elviana Sylvene," she interrupted firmly, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. "My name's Elviana Sylvene. And I am definitely not a lady. I'm only sixteen years old."
The words hung in the air, sharper than she intended. A few travelers glanced up from their meals, curious at the sudden declaration. The rough‑looking men in the corner exchanged glances, their eyes narrowing.
Rossa's smile didn't falter, but her gaze sharpened, studying Elviana as though weighing her against some unseen measure.
Rossa's words carried a weight that pressed against the cozy hum of the inn.
"Well, Lady Sylvene," she said lightly, though her eyes were sharp. As I was saying—Ashglen isn't the kind of place people visit. Anyone who leaves usually doesn't come back. And anyone who stays long enough learns to keep their head down."
Her tone softened, but her gaze didn't waver. "People here remember faces. And yours? I would've remembered. When I look at you, I see something different. You're looking at your surroundings like you've never seen anything like this before. That is definitely not the behavior of someone accustomed to this place."
Elviana nodded slowly, her voice quiet but steady. "I see."
Rossa leaned forward, lowering her voice. "You want information, Miss Sylvene? Fine. I'll give you the basics." She leaned in, her tone dropping so only Elviana could hear.
"Ashglen sits on the outer edge of the Lumerine Sector. And the Lumerine Sector… sits on the border of something most people pretend doesn't exist."
Elviana blinked, her brows knitting. "What do you mean?" Rossa's smile thinned, the warmth draining from her face.
"The Umbral Expanse."
The name alone made the nearby men shift uncomfortably, their mugs lowering mid‑drink. A silence rippled through the room, heavy and uneasy.
Rossa's words hung heavy in the air, her smile no longer soft but sharpened into something deliberate.
"Well, Lady Sylvene, in here children who have turned sixteen years old are considered adults. As I was saying—Ashglen isn't the kind of place people visit. Anyone who leaves usually doesn't come back. And anyone who stays long enough learns to keep their head down."
Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed locked on Elviana, unblinking, as though trying to peel back the layers of her soul.
"People here remember faces. And yours? I would've remembered. When I look at you, I see something different. You're looking at your surroundings like you've never seen anything like this before. That is definitely not the behavior of someone accustomed to this place."
The Aether lamps pulsed faintly, their glow echoing the rhythm of Elviana's heartbeat. The inn seemed to lean closer, listening, while the rough‑looking men at the corner tables exchanged glances. The name of the Umbral Expanse still lingered in the air like smoke, and the silence that followed Rossa's words felt heavier than before.
Elviana frowned. "I've never heard of it."
"Good," Rossa said, her tone clipped but steady. "Most people haven't. The Empire doesn't like the word spreading. Makes them look weak."
She wiped her hands on her apron, voice dropping even lower, as though the walls themselves might be listening.
"The Umbral Expanse is a landmass beyond the Aether storms. Bigger than all eight kingdoms combined. Older than the Empire. And far, far more dangerous."
Elviana swallowed, her throat tight. "And Ashglen is… close to it?"
Rossa's eyes flicked toward the round window, where the faint silver shimmer of the moonwell spring pulsed against the night. "Closer than most would dare to live. The storms keep the Expanse at bay, but sometimes… the storms thin. And when they do, things slip through."
The inn's Aether lamps dimmed for a heartbeat, then steadied, as if echoing the tension.
Elviana's pulse quickened. A landmass bigger than kingdoms… older than the Empire… and dangerous enough to make hardened men flinch at its name.
Rossa's lips pressed into a thin line, her voice dropping to a near‑whisper.
"Too close," she muttered. "Close enough that strange things drift in. Close enough that Aether behaves wrong. Close enough that the Empire refuses to invest a single coin here."
She gave Elviana a pointed look, her eyes narrowing.
"Which is why nobles don't come here. And even if they do, it would be… quite unusual."
Elviana stiffened, her thoughts racing. (And why someone like Lady Leviniaa Thornweald showing up in Ashglen is… unusual.) Her brow furrowed, the question slipping out before she could stop herself. "Unusual how?"
The inn seemed to hold its breath. The Aether lamps dimmed faintly, then steadied, as though listening for Rossa's answer. The rough‑looking men at the tables shifted again, their eyes flicking between Elviana and the pouch at her hip.
Rossa leaned closer, her smile gone now, replaced by something harder. "Unusual because nobles don't risk the Expanse. They don't risk the storms. And they certainly don't risk being seen in a place where the Empire's reach is weakest. Angel thought for a second, "Then why was Lady Thornweald is here… is she's here for a reason.
Rossa shrugged, her fingers drumming lightly against the counter.
"Depends. Some nobles come to hide. Some come to hunt. Some come for information. Some come to make deals they don't want traced—or sometimes just to check on us."
She tapped the counter again, her smile curling into something sly. "And some come because they're looking for something. "Elviana's breath caught. "Looking for what?" Rossa smiled slowly, the kind of smile that promised answers but demanded a price.
"That, Lady Sylvene… depends on how much you're willing to pay."
The silence stretched, broken only by the low murmur of travelers and the scrape of boots against the floorboards. Elviana's jaw tightened, frustration bubbling up. She reached into her pouch, the weight of Glimmers heavy in her hand.
"Thud…"
Twenty Glimmers hit the counter, the sound sharp and final. Elviana shoved them forward, her eyes narrowing. "Here. Twenty Glimmers."
Rossa's smile widened as she swept the twenty Glimmers off the counter with a little too much enthusiasm, the coins vanishing into her apron pocket with a practiced flick.
Elviana raised an eyebrow. "…You look awfully happy for someone talking about world‑ending danger."
Rossa coughed delicately, straightening her posture. "Ahem. I simply appreciate a customer who pays well."
Elviana groaned, pressing her fingers to her temple. "Just—just tell me the thing before I regret paying you."
Rossa cleared her throat, slipping back into her "mysterious informant" persona, her voice dropping low enough that only Elviana could hear.
"Right. The Umbral Expanse. The Empire's biggest secret and biggest headache."
The words seemed to ripple through the inn. The rough‑looking men shifted uneasily, one muttering under his breath before falling silent. The Aether lamps dimmed for a heartbeat, then steadied, as though echoing the gravity of the name.
Rossa leaned closer, her eyes glinting. "It's not just a landmass. It's a wound in the world. Bigger than all eight kingdoms combined, older than the Empire itself. And dangerous enough that even nobles whisper its name with caution. That's why Ashglen matters—it sits close enough to feel the Expanse's breath."
Elviana leaned in, spoon halfway to her mouth, eyes narrowing with curiosity. Rossa lowered her voice, her tone carrying the weight of secrets.
"Most people think the Expanse is dangerous because of monsters. Or storms. Or the land itself." Elviana nodded slowly. "That… sounds reasonable."
"Oh, it is," Rossa agreed, her eyes glinting. "But that's not the real problem." She paused, letting the silence stretch, the inn's Aether lamps flickering faintly as though they too were waiting.
Elviana blinked, groaning. "Rossa. Don't do the dramatic pause thing. You're milking it."" Rossa's smile curled, unbothered. "I am building suspense." and it's important!
Elviana sighed, setting her spoon down with a resigned look. "Fine. Continue."
Rossa leaned even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to pull the air tighter around them.
"The real danger of the Expanse is that it's not empty."
Elviana froze, her spoon hovering mid‑air. "…What?"
"Ruins," Rossa whispered. "Structures. Cities. Entire complexes older than the Empire. Older than the kingdoms. Older than anything we can date."
Elviana's eyes widened. "People lived there?"
Rossa's gaze sharpened, her tone grave. "Yes. People still live there. Their population is not that much, but yes. And their situation is much worse than ours."
Elviana's spoon clattered into her bowl, broth splashing against the rim. Rossa smirked, satisfaction curling her lips. "Now you're reacting properly."
Elviana sputtered, her words tumbling out in disbelief. "I—what—how— You can't just drop that like it's normal gossip!"
Rossa's grin widened, unbothered. "Oh, trust me. This is the mild version." Elviana stared at her, incredulous. "There's a worse version?"
"Oh yes," Rossa said cheerfully, almost too cheerfully. "Much worse."
Elviana buried her face in her hands, muffling her groan. "What would have happened if I had kept on wandering the streets?" Rossa tilted her head, pretending to think. "Hmmm… You would've definitely been kidnapped and sold for a high price."
A chill ran down Elviana's spine, her body shivering at the thought. "D-Don't scare me like that."
Rossa chuckled loudly, the sound echoing through the inn. "I was just messing with you. Don't take it seriously."
Then her tone shifted, the laughter fading into something sharper, heavier. "But do be aware of nobles. They don't just come here by accident."
Elviana calmed herself, her spoon forgotten, thoughts circling like restless birds.
"Nobles… Lady Thornweald. People like her don't come here for no reason." Her voice dropped, almost to herself. "…Then why did she?" The question hung in the air, heavy and unsettling.
Finally, she leaned back, folding her arms. "That's the right question to ask. Nobles don't risk Ashglen unless they're chasing something worth more than coin. And if Lady Thornweald is here… it means the Expanse has stirred. Something inside it has caught her attention.
"Elviana's chest tightened. The Expanse. The ruins. The people who still live there. Her mind raced, connecting threads she didn't yet understand. Scarlet's name whispered at the edge of her thoughts, like a shadow waiting to be spoken aloud.