"It's almost midday. The Vanguard patrols often sweep this area, and that crash will definitely draw them in," Lucio said, his eyes scanning the tree line. "We should head back. Since we are all wanted, only one of us should risk slipping into the Capital to reach Oakhaven."

  Bags secured, the CINDERS quickly retraced their steps through the dense woods, the gathering phase of their mission a complete success.

  ________

  "Everything went smoothly. No disruptions." Kian handed the cold, heavy canvas bags to Imara. "These are the Mugworts and the Valerian Roots. For the wine, only one of us will slip into the capital to buy it.”

  "Thank you so much." Imara took the bags, offering them a warm, exhausted smile. "I will make sure these are frozen immediately, exactly as Master Orlon instructed."

  "Speaking of which... how is Master now?" Riko had a flicker of genuine worry in her emerald eyes.

  "He is doing much better than expected." Imara smiled reassuringly at the worried girl, opening the doors of the pantry. "Honestly, the speed of his recovery is surprising. But I suppose that's the Grand Mage for you. He said he will start working on the draught today."

  They waited for the sun to start setting. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows across the safehouse walls.

  Kaito stared into his wooden mug, the rising steam barely warming his face. "As for slipping into the capital..." He set the mug down with a dull, heavy thud. "I'm not setting foot in that hell-hole. The Vanguard would spot these from a mile away."

  He dragged a rough thumb across the jagged scars on his cheek.

  Kian leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed tight over his chest. "And I stand out too much. I'm a frontline fighter. If a patrol stops me, I won't be able to talk my way out of it. It ends in a fight, or my demise."

  A heavy silence stretched across the kitchen. The capital was a suffocating death trap, and they all knew it.

  "Leave it to me."

  Riko sat at the edge of the table, lazily swinging her legs. The energy was completely absent from her voice.

  "I'll wrap up in my oversized cloak and keep my head down," she said quietly. "They won't suspect a thing."

  Kian frowned, his eyes narrowing in the dim light. "Are you sure, Riko? After the crater you blew in the throne room, Kaelen's Vanguard will be tearing the streets apart looking for a pink-haired girl."

  Riko stopped swinging her legs. She hopped off the table, the wooden floorboards creaking under her boots.

  "Eila broke his own body to give us a chance." Riko looked up, her emerald eyes locking onto Kian's with an iron-clad resolve. "If buying some wine helps Master Orlon save him... I am going."

  With the sun down, a dark gloom settled over the forest. Riko slipped into her oversized maroon cloak, pulling the heavy hood low over her hair. She began the walk towards the capital.

  The massive iron gates of Aethelgard loomed ahead. A few Vanguard guards stood by the entrance, their loud, slurred voices cutting through the cold. They were clearly drunk.

  "...burned right through it..." one guard slurred, shivering.

  "His Majesty was furious..."

  Riko slipped past them in the shadows. Instantly, the sharp, pale-grey smog of Noxara pierced her nostrils. The terrifying hollow feeling clamped down on her chest, aggressively suffocating her mana circuits.

  "Great. I forgot how awful this feels," she muttered, gripping her cloak tighter.

  She hailed a passing horse-drawn cart hauling crates of winter vegetables.

  "Can you take me to Oakhaven?" she asked the driver, keeping her face hidden. "You're headed that way, right?"

  "Jump in the back, miss."

  Riko climbed in, settling between the wooden crates. From beneath her hood, she watched the ash-choked streets pass by. The Vanguard presence had heavily multiplied. They were definitely anticipating another strike.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Say, miss," the bored driver called over his shoulder, "you hear about them kids that blew up the castle?"

  "I heard some rumors, though the details are still a fog to me," Riko replied carefully.

  "Word is, it was pure magic! Even in this Noxara smog!" He shook his head in awe. "Must have the biggest mana circuits in the world to pull that off, don't you think?"

  Riko allowed a tiny, smug smirk to touch her lips under the hood. "Seems so."

  They reached the entrance to Oakhaven shortly after. The fortress city had been entirely rebuilt since the demonic raid a month ago. Even in the dead of night, the streets were bustling. Vendors screamed over the noise, desperately drawing attention to their brightly lit stalls.

  Riko pulled out the crumpled map Lucio had drawn. It had a messy name scrawled over a giant X: The Herald Owl.

  Strange name for a bar, she thought, pulling her heavy hood tighter.

  She navigated the ash-choked alleyways, one left, two rights, until she found a steep, rotting stone staircase leading underground. At the bottom sat a heavy, battered iron door that looked like it had survived centuries. She knocked.

  A small viewing slit slid open. "What is it?" a gruff voice grunted.

  "I am here to... buy things," Riko said, desperately trying to lower her voice to sound intimidating.

  The slit snapped shut. A heartbeat later, the heavy door groaned open. A tall burly man jerked his chin toward the dim interior. "Get in."

  Riko slipped inside. The blast of heat, loud chatter, and the sharp stench of cheap ale and stale smoke hit her instantly. It was a packed underground syndicate, entirely hidden from the Vanguard patrols.

  She pushed her way through the grim-looking patrons to the main wooden counter. A young man stood there, lazily polishing a wine glass with a dirty rag.

  "Can I have some Black Malmsey?" Riko asked, leaning on the counter to look tough.

  The young man stopped polishing. He looked her up and down, raising a highly skeptical eyebrow. "And how do you plan to pay, little girl?" he smirked. "We only accept kidneys and demonic heads down here."

  Riko's nose wrinkled in absolute disgust. "Ew. Gross. Just tell me the price."

  "I might have a bottle in the back." The barman leaned in, challenging her. "It will cost you fifty Galvors, though."

  "Thirty-five," Riko shot back instantly.

  "For you? Forty-three." He extended an open hand.

  Riko shook it firmly. She pulled the heavy leather pouch Imara had given her from beneath her cloak, counting out the thick gold coins and dropping them on the table. The barman vanished into the back, returning a moment later to hand her a heavy, dark-green glass bottle.

  "You'll enjoy it," he said with a sly smile. "Come back again."

  _______

  The heavy wooden door slammed open. Riko stumbled inside, ripping the oversized cloak from her shoulders and tossing it to the floor. She took a massive, gasping breath of clean air, her lungs burning from the Noxara smog.

  Then, she lifted the heavy green bottle high into the air. "Miss me, losers? The stealth master has returned, and she isn't empty-handed!"

  "Y-You actually got it?" Kian stared at her like the sun had just turned green. "No mishaps? It went smoothly?"

  Riko glared at him, marching straight toward Imara. "It cost forty-three Galvors!" she whined, dramatically shoving the heavy pouch back into Imara's hands. "And my mana circuits feel like they're actively screaming at me."

  "Thank you so much, Riko. Honestly." Imara set the wine on the table. She took both of Riko's hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "You have no idea how much weight this lifts off my shoulders."

  Riko's chaotic smirk returned. "It's all okay." She pulled one hand free and patted Imara's trembling shoulder. "Your husband is going to be just fine. Master Orlon said so."

  Imara's ears instantly went bright pink, the heavy flush creeping rapidly across her cheeks. "H-Husband?" she stammered in a small voice. "Y-Yes, o-of course..."

  "Dinner is ready!" Lucio announced loudly, trying to save Imara from her panic as he clattered plates onto the table. "Please eat before it gets cold, or I'll have to heat it all over again."

  Imara grabbed the wine, the frozen bags of herbs, and a handful of dried chamomiles from the pantry. "I'll join you after I deliver these to the Grand Mage."

  "I'm going to help the Master!" Riko announced, immediately abandoning her hunger and trailing after Imara into the bedroom.

  Inside the dim room, the air was heavy with magic. "Open the window, Riko," Orlon commanded without looking up as the door clicked shut. "And light a fire beside it. We must work indoors, but the moonlight is strictly required."

  As Riko sparked the alchemical stove, Orlon placed the chamomiles into a cast-iron pot, silently crushing them into a fine dust with a pulse of his mana.

  "Riko, pour half a pint of the Black Malmsey into the pot," he instructed, his eyes closed in deep concentration.

  As the dark liquid hit the crushed flowers, Orlon extended his aged, trembling hand over the iron rim.

  "IGNIS MYTH: DIVINUMO!”

  A blinding, pure white light erupted from his palm. The sheer pressure of the magic warped the air in the room. As the light sank into the dark wine, the mixture instantly transmuted into a glowing, molten gold.

  "I must stoke this flame continuously through the night before adding the Mugwort and Valerian," Orlon breathed heavily, the spell clearly taking a toll on his frail body. "Riko, stay and assist me. It will be ready by dawn."

  Imara slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. The boys had already eaten in silence and collapsed into their beds. In the quiet dark of the safehouse, her eyes landed on Eila.

  His physical wounds were mostly closed, but his chest still heaved with those ragged, agonizing breaths.

  Dawn was only hours away. The golden draught would soon be ready to pull him back to reality. But somewhere deep in the suffocating void of his own mind, Eila's fractured consciousness was already running out of time.