Kair and Adam finally arrived at their destination, a decrepit shack tucked deep within the forest. It was barely visible, hidden beneath thick foliage and surrounded by towering trees, their dense canopy casting shadows that blanketed the area even in daylight. The air was damp, carrying the earthy scent of moss and decomposing leaves, and the occasional chirp of distant birds punctuated the otherwise eerie silence.
"That's the place," Kair whispered, pointing to the ramshackle structure ahead. His voice was steady, but his eyes were sharp and focused. "Hemlok should be in there."
Adam squinted, barely able to make out the shack from their vantage point. If Kair hadn't been guiding him, he doubted he would have found the place at all. It looked as though nature itself was trying to reclaim it, with vines creeping up its wooden walls and a roof that seemed on the verge of collapse.
They had spent two nights trudging through the forest to get here, and now that they'd found Hemlok's supposed hideout, Adam felt a mix of relief and apprehension. "Alright, so… now what? Remember, no killing," Adam said, glancing at Kair. "I know you're good with that bow, right? What if we set a trap near the door? It doesn't look like he's here right now. I could grab some leaves or something while you set up a rope snare like the one from before."
Kair shook his head, his expression unreadable. "No. Hemlok's lived in this forest for a long time. If he notices anything off—any change in his surroundings—he'll bolt. And trying to chase him down in this terrain would be a disaster."
Adam sighed. "Alright, genius. What's your plan, then?"
Kair's lips curled into a faint smirk as he surveyed their surroundings. "We'll wait. First, we need to find a high vantage point where we can hide without being seen. Once we're up there, we'll keep an eye on the shack to see if he's inside. If not, we wait until he comes back. Once he's inside, I'll climb down and lure him out. While I distract him, you sneak up from behind and knock him out."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Kair, I don't think I'm strong enough to knock him out. What if I'm the one who gets him out and distracts him, and you're the one who takes him out of commission?"
Kair considered this for a moment, his sharp gaze darting back to Adam. "Fine. But don't screw it up," he said with a small shrug. "We'll adapt as we go if things go sideways."
As Kair scanned the area for a suitable hiding spot, Adam couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Yeah, no pressure or anything."
The two eventually found a large tree nearby, its thick branches high enough to keep them out of sight but close enough to observe the shack. Kair deftly climbed up first, his movements smooth and practiced, his leather armor creaking faintly as he ascended. Adam followed with far less grace, nearly slipping twice before settling onto a branch next to Kair.
From their perch, they had a clear view of the shack's entrance. Kair pulled out a small spyglass from his pouch, carefully scanning the area. The wind rustled the leaves around them, and the forest seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Adam shifted uncomfortably, the bark of the tree rough against his hands.
"Just be ready," Kair whispered, not taking his eyes off the shack. "If this goes wrong, we're in for a long night."
Adam nodded, clutching the small club he'd fashioned earlier, though he doubted it would do much against someone like Hemlok. The waiting game had begun, and the tension hung thick in the air as they prepared for what lay ahead.
________________
Kair's voice was low but sharp, cutting through the night air. "It's time. He's here. Get ready to climb down when I give the signal. Just keep him distracted long enough for me to sneak up on him—then it's over."
From their perch in the tree, they could see a faint light glowing through the shack's window. Hemlok had returned. The forest was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
Adam nodded, his hands clammy as he gripped the rough bark. "Alright... give me a minute," he whispered back, his nerves clear in his voice. He began his descent from the tree, his movements awkward and slow. He slipped once, catching himself on a lower branch with a muffled grunt. Thankfully, Hemlok didn't seem to notice. Finally, Adam landed softly on the forest floor, exhaling shakily as he steadied himself.
He crept closer to the shack, staying low and out of sight of the windows. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice, injecting a tone of desperation into his words. "H-hello? Is anyone there? Please... I need help. I'm lost and don't know where I am."
Silence. For a long moment, Adam thought his ruse had failed. The shack remained still, its dim light flickering faintly. Then, a gruff voice broke the quiet, coming from inside. "...Boy. Are you alone?"
Adam swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. The fear he felt wasn't entirely an act, but it served his purpose well, making his voice tremble. "Y-yeah... Please, I... I got separated from my caravan two days ago. I'm so lost. I just need directions. And... I-I haven't eaten much. Do you... have any food? Even just a little?"
The shack's window creaked open slightly, and Adam could make out the shadow of a man peering at him. His clothes were ragged, his face thin and scruffy, with eyes that gleamed with suspicion—and greed. Hemlok.
"...Fine," the man said after a pause. "But for a price. Ten copper for a piece of bread, thirty for directions."
Adam bit back a scathing retort, forcing his face into an expression of defeated resignation. (Forty copper?! No wonder you're wanted, you greedy bastard.) Instead, he sighed, letting his shoulders slump and his voice take on a pleading tone. "F-fine... Two pieces of bread and directions, please."
He pulled out a small pouch, deliberately opening it in a way that revealed far more coins than necessary. The sound of jingling copper and silver was unmistakable. Hemlok's eyes narrowed as he weighed his options. A lost, seemingly well-off boy wandering alone in the woods, with a heavy coin pouch? The temptation was too great.
The door to the shack creaked open, and Hemlok stepped out, a crooked grin on his face. "Alright, then. Follow me. You go right from here, then left at the brown tree, and then... gotcha!"
In a flash, Hemlok grabbed Adam, pinning him to the ground with surprising force. Adam let out a startled yelp as the thief sneered down at him. "Foolish boy! You think you can just walk around with all that coin? Ha! Do you even know who I am? I'm Hemlok, the greatest thief in the entire republic! And now, thanks to you, I'm about to be rich!"
Before Hemlok could continue his gloating, there was a faint thud, and his expression froze. His body slumped forward, landing heavily on Adam with an audible oof.
Adam groaned, struggling under the thief's weight, and looked up to see Kair standing over them, holding a large stone. "Relax. I didn't kill him," Kair said, poking Hemlok's limp form, which groaned faintly in response. "See? Totally alive. Just... has a headache."
Kair crouched down, inspecting Hemlok briefly before glancing at Adam. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on him. You go find some rope to tie him up."
Adam squirmed beneath the unconscious thief, his voice muffled. "Uh, yeah, sure, but... can you help me first? This guy's heavy!"
Kair rolled his eyes but reached down to haul Hemlok off of Adam with surprising ease. "Stop complaining," he muttered, hoisting the thief into a sitting position. "Now hurry up. The sooner we tie him up, the sooner we get paid."
Adam dusted himself off, muttering under his breath as he headed toward the shack to search for rope. "Next time, I'm the one who gets to hit him..."
____________
The streets of the Has Republic's mainland unfurled before Adam like a vivid tapestry brought to life. Every corner was a marvel, every building a testament to the artistic fervor of an ancient kingdom long past. It was overwhelming, beautiful, and utterly unlike anything Adam had ever seen.
"And that's the smiths' smith," Kair said, gesturing to a modest yet intricate building. The structure stood proudly, with walls of blackened stone adorned by engraved patterns of hammers, anvils, and roaring flames. Even the sign over the door was a masterpiece: a wrought-iron plaque shaped like an anvil, with curling vines and filigree. "They make tools for smithing, not weapons. Anyway, the nearest inn is just down that road, a little to the left. The rooms are pricier than most, but the place has really good lodging and food. If you pay extra, they've even got hot water. Plus, it's close to most places in town."
Adam barely registered Kair's words, too entranced by his surroundings. The streets themselves were a marvel. Wide cobblestone roads stretched out like veins, the stones varying in shade from deep greys to faint blues, giving them an almost shimmering quality in the afternoon light. The edges of the streets were lined with ornate gutters, their cast-iron grates shaped into intricate patterns of swirling leaves and flowing water.
The buildings were nothing short of breathtaking. Tall, narrow facades stretched upward, their spires piercing the sky like gothic sentinels. Each structure bore the unmistakable marks of ancient craftsmanship: stone gargoyles perched ominously on ledges, their grotesque faces twisted into eternal snarls. Flying buttresses arched gracefully between buildings, their stone curves both functional and decorative, as if the architects had poured their very souls into their designs.
The walls of many buildings were canvases of color and life. Massive murals painted in vibrant hues depicted legendary battles, serene pastoral scenes, and celestial beings. Some murals were framed by sculpted stone borders, almost like a gallery display in the open air. Stained glass windows adorned older buildings, their panes depicting saints, heroes, and mythical beasts. During the day, the sunlight pierced through, scattering fragments of rainbow light across the streets like ethereal confetti.
What struck Adam most, though, were the streetlights. Every road had tall, metal rods rising at intervals, their design unlike anything he had ever seen. By day, they appeared as strange sculptures—some shaped like swords planted in the ground, their blades etched with runes; others like halberds or hammers, their shafts adorned with gilded filigree. Kair had told him they would illuminate at night, and Adam could already imagine how magical the city would look under their glow.
(Oh yeah... I think I'm loving it already,) Adam thought, barely suppressing a grin.
"Hey, are you even listening?" Kair's voice cut through Adam's reverie. He turned to find his companion waving a hand in front of his face. "Can I go now? I want to eat."
"Uh, yeah, sure, go ahead," Adam said, nodding distractedly as he glanced down another street lined with intricately carved columns and arched doorways. "I'm just going to look around for a bit."
Kair shrugged and walked off, muttering something about food. Adam, however, stood still, turning slowly as he took in every detail around him. The city was a living work of art, a blend of gothic grandeur and fantastical whimsy.
(Yeah,) he thought again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. (I'm definitely going to enjoy this place.)
_________________
Uruua sat quietly in the small, sunlit room, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup. The tea, infused with the subtle floral notes of a local herb, was a human custom she had grown to enjoy despite her dragon nature. Dragons, after all, didn't require sustenance as mortals did. Their essence thrived without food or drink, yet there was something rhythmic and almost meditative about the act of sipping tea, a fleeting tranquility she seldom found in this noisy world.
(How peaceful…) she thought, savoring the moment. She closed her sharp, golden eyes, their slit pupils faintly catching the sunlight streaming through the nearby window. Her silver hair, shimmering like polished metal, cascaded down her back, contrasting with the flowing, iridescent gown she had conjured—a dress that mimicked the sheen of her dragon scales. For now, all was still, and Uruua allowed herself to enjoy the quiet, a rare gift these days.
Of course, that peace was short-lived.
"URUUA! I'M BACK! HAHAHA, THAT WAS A GOOD THROW!" boomed a voice that shattered the serene atmosphere like a thunderclap.
Uruua winced, already bracing for the storm. She turned to see Martimus, the self-proclaimed Magic King of the Has Republic, stomping into the room with his usual chaotic energy. His muscular frame, draped in a patchwork of robes that had seen better days, seemed to radiate vitality. His wild, unkempt hair—a tousled mess of brown that looked like it hadn't met a comb in years—only added to his larger-than-life presence.
"I GOT SO LUCKY! I RAN THROUGH A BUNCH OF WYVERNS AND ENDED UP FALLING MIDWAY THROUGH! IT WAS GREAT!" he yelled, his voice booming with uncontainable enthusiasm. Then, noticing the tea, his eyes lit up like a child's. "OH, WHAT'S THIS? MIND IF I HAVE SOME?"
"Why are you yelling?" Uruua asked, her voice calm yet tinged with exasperation. She could already feel the dull throb of an impending headache, a concerning development given that dragons didn't have brains—or organs, for that matter. Their existence was fundamentally different from that of other beings, yet somehow, Martimus had managed to make her feel physiological discomfort.
Martimus cupped a hand to his ear dramatically. "URUUA, DID YOU SAY SOMETHING? I CAN'T HEAR YOU! I THINK I'VE GONE DEAF! THIS FEELS KIND OF NICE, ACTUALLY—NOW I CAN HEAR MY THOUGHTS SO MUCH MORE CLEARLY!"
Uruua sighed deeply, setting her teacup down with deliberate care. With a flick of her wrist, a soft surge of golden magic swept toward him, weaving through the air like smoke. It enveloped Martimus briefly, and he blinked in surprise.
"There," she said. "Your hearing's fixed. Now, please, lower your voice. I've already got a headache, and you're only making it worse." She massaged her temples and glanced at him. "Honestly, how do you even manage to be this loud?"
Martimus grinned, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry about that! Guess I get carried away sometimes."
Uruua's gaze softened momentarily as her thoughts drifted back to their first encounter, a memory that felt both distant and vivid.
It had been centuries ago—or perhaps just a handful of decades; time blurred for a dragon. She had been sleeping in her cave near her birthplace, a volcano whose molten core still resonated with her being. Her slumber had been interrupted by a persistent thudding against her impenetrable skin.
(Hmm?) she thought, stirring reluctantly. The sensation wasn't painful—nothing could harm her—but the mere fact that she could feel anything at all was enough to pique her curiosity. Opening one golden eye, she saw him: a scrawny human boy with unkempt brown hair, his face alight with determination and reckless excitement. He stood wielding a rusted sword, striking her scales with all his might.
(Oh, it's one of those things,) she mused, her voice a low, smoky rumble as she exhaled, sending a plume of smoke toward him. She expected him to flee like most intruders, but instead, the boy shouted in glee as the smoke knocked him off his feet.
"AMAZING!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet with a grin that stretched ear to ear.
(How bothersome,) she thought. Most creatures would have taken the hint, but this one was different. He kept talking—a language she didn't understand at first but picked up within minutes, as was the way of dragons. To her regret, comprehension only made his words more irritating.
"You have to teach me magic!" he demanded, eyes blazing with determination.
This continued for nine excruciating months. Every day, he returned, louder and more insistent, until she finally relented, if only to gain some semblance of quiet. She taught him the basics—simple spells meant for children, nothing dangerous or powerful. To him, however, it was life-changing.
She returned to her slumber, only to awaken in a place far from her cave. Instead of volcanic stone, she found herself on a ranch, surrounded by humans. Martimus had somehow transported her there, and from that day forward, her life had never been quiet again.
Snapping back to the present, Uruua shook her head and sighed. Martimus, oblivious to her reminiscence, had already started rummaging through the cupboards for snacks, humming a tune that seemed to have no discernible melody.
"Martimus," she said, her voice steady, "please, for the sake of my sanity, try to act your age for once."
He turned to her with a cheeky grin, crumbs already on his face. "Why would I do that? Where's the fun in being boring?"
Uruua pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. "Mother above, grant me patience."
"Hey, Uruua! So, I was talking to some nice old ladies in town, and they told me I should take you out for something called a 'honeymoon'? Wanna go? I mean, we could practice magic while we're at it! Oh, oh! I've got this new spell that makes you go deaf! Wanna see? It's hilarious!"
Martimus's voice boomed through the small room as he practically bounced in place, his excitement a chaotic whirlwind that made the furniture tremble—or maybe that was just Uruua's growing frustration manifesting as subtle tremors in the air.
Uruua, sitting regally in her chair, her sharp golden eyes narrowing at him, let out a long, world-weary sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her claw-like nails glinting in the sunlight, and set her teacup down with deliberate care, lest she crush it in her growing irritation.
"Martimus," she began, her voice low and icy, "let me make this very clear: the only thing I've ever done for you is don this ridiculous human disguise. Which, by the way, I find repulsive. You humans are not exactly paragons of beauty, strength, or—frankly—anything remotely admirable." She gestured at her form with disdain, the shimmering gown she wore struggling to contain her aura of barely restrained fury. "Other than that, you're not getting anything else from me. And for the love of all that is sacred, stop telling people we're married! It's not even possible!"
Martimus, undeterred by her venomous tone, gave her a wide-eyed, mock-innocent look. "But we do have a child together, remember? Our daughter, Amali? We made her on that night of passion!"
The room went utterly silent. Even the wind seemed to pause outside the window, holding its breath.
Uruua stared at him, her expression shifting from disbelief to sheer, unbridled rage. "Night of passion?" she echoed, her voice dangerously calm—the kind of calm that preceded natural disasters.
Martimus, oblivious to the incoming storm, nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Remember? I was experimenting with alchemy, and—"
"That 'child' you're referring to," Uruua interrupted, her tone now laced with venom, "is a homunculus you created after using my tea cup in one of your harebrained experiments! You were trying to 'see what would happen' if dragon DNA was introduced to the mix. If I hadn't intervened to remove the dragon genes, she would have exploded and taken half the continent with her!" She stood abruptly, towering over him despite her human guise. "Do you even comprehend how lucky you are that I don't want to deal with a war? Otherwise, I would have incinerated you where you stand!"
Martimus took a cautious step back, raising his hands defensively, but then his expression shifted. His eyes widened, his lower lip trembled, and he unleashed his ultimate weapon: puppy-dog eyes.
"Don't. You. Dare," Uruua growled, her voice a low rumble akin to an earthquake.
"But Amali always says you'd do anything when she gives you this look!" Martimus replied, his tone as pitiful as his expression.
Uruua froze, her sharp gaze narrowing as she processed his words. "...I am going to kill you one day," she muttered, sinking back into her chair.
Martimus, oblivious to how close he'd come to annihilation, plopped into a nearby chair with a triumphant grin. "I'll make sure to write that on my tombstone! 'Here lies Martimus, the man who annoyed a dragon to death—and lived to tell about it!'"
Uruua closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as though summoning every ounce of patience in her millennia-long existence. "If you do not shut up, Martimus, I swear by the stars above, I will turn you into a frog."
"A frog? Oh, that would be amazing!" Martimus exclaimed, his grin widening. "Can you make me glow in the dark too? Oh! And give me wings!"
Uruua slumped forward, her head in her hands. "Why do I tolerate you?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
"Because deep down, you love me," Martimus said, winking dramatically.
"Or perhaps I'm just waiting for the perfect moment to feed you to the wyverns," Uruua replied flatly, reaching for her tea again. "Now, shut up and let me enjoy my last shred of peace."
Martimus grinned, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied air. "You're the best, Uruua."
"I hate you," she muttered, sipping her tea with the resigned elegance of someone who had long accepted their fate.
The sharp sound of knocking echoed through the room. "Knock, knock, knock... Mother, is Father back? Again?" came the familiar voice of Amali, her tone dripping with a mixture of curiosity and mild exasperation.
Uruua, who had just started sipping her tea, sighed deeply. She set her cup down and gestured toward the door with a languid wave of her hand. "Yes, Amali, come in. Come and behold your fool of a 'father.'" Her words were heavy with sarcasm, the kind that only millennia of refined disdain could muster.
The door creaked open, revealing Amali in all her serene, no-nonsense glory. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, falling in neat waves down her back. Her piercing blue eyes, identical to Uruua's, scanned the room with the calculating calm of someone far too mature for her youthful appearance. She wore a simple but elegant navy dress, its hem embroidered with intricate silver patterns that glinted faintly in the light, and a pair of sturdy boots—practical, yet fashionable.
Martimus practically leapt out of his chair, spreading his arms wide as if preparing for a dramatic embrace. "Amali! My darling daughter! How was your day? Did you create any new spells? Come on, show Papa!" His grin stretched ear to ear, eyes twinkling with boundless enthusiasm.
Amali didn't so much as glance at him. She walked past him with the quiet grace of a cat, her expression one of mild disinterest. Without breaking stride, she settled into the chair beside Uruua and began pouring herself a cup of tea, her movements deliberate and elegant.
"Welcome back, Father," she said coolly, finally sparing him a brief, unimpressed look. "I see you still haven't washed yourself. I could tell by the wyvern guts I passed on the way here."
Martimus froze, mid-hug, his arms still outstretched. His face twitched as he looked down at himself. Sure enough, his once-white tunic was streaked with grime and streaks of suspiciously green blood. His patched brown trousers were no better, and his boots looked like they'd waded through a swamp.
"Oh, come on, Amali," he said, grinning sheepishly as he dropped his arms. "Wyvern guts are a badge of honor! You should've seen me out there—it was glorious!" He struck a heroic pose, flexing his biceps—which, to his eternal embarrassment, barely registered as anything more than a slight bulge.
Amali raised an eyebrow, her expression as blank as Uruua's. "Glorious. Yes. Nothing says 'competent magic king' quite like smelling like a rotting carcass."
Martimus clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh, you wound me, my darling daughter! And to think, I was going to teach you my newest spell! It makes you go deaf—temporarily, of course. Isn't that amazing?"
Uruua, who had been quietly sipping her tea, set her cup down with a loud clink. "Amali," she said, turning to her daughter with a rare hint of warmth in her tone, "did you know your 'father' has recently discovered a way to be even louder? Truly, an accomplishment for the ages."
Amali smirked slightly, her blue eyes glinting with mischief as she took a sip of her tea. "Astounding. Perhaps we should submit his name to the bards. They'd love to compose an ode to his... unique talents."
Martimus looked between the two of them, his grin faltering. "Wait... Are you two ganging up on me?"
"Yes," Uruua and Amali said in perfect unison, their voices eerily calm.
Martimus pouted, crossing his arms like a sulking child. "I can't believe this. Betrayed by my own family."
Amali shot him a sideways glance, her smirk widening. "Family? You mean the homunculus you accidentally created and the dragon who tolerates your existence because exterminating you would be too much trouble?"
Uruua nodded approvingly. "Well said, Amali."
Martimus gasped, looking genuinely hurt for a moment before he dramatically flopped onto the floor. "Fine! I'll just lie here, unloved and unappreciated, until the wyvern guts attract scavengers to feast on my remains!"
Amali rolled her eyes, taking another sip of tea. "Please. You'd scare the scavengers away with your smell."
"True," Uruua added, her voice as dry as a desert. "Even death has standards."
Martimus groaned loudly, muttering something about how he deserved better, but the faint twitch of a smile betrayed his enjoyment of the banter.
"Tea?" Amali asked, holding out the pot to her mother.
"Thank you, dear," Uruua replied, taking the pot with a slight smile of her own.
And so, the three of them sat in the quiet, broken only by the sound of tea being poured and Martimus's occasional, theatrical sighs of despair.
_______________
Varin stood in the doorway, her sharp green eyes fixed on the odd sight before her. Long strands of hair floated eerily around the room in gentle spirals, shimmering faintly as if infused with magic. "Ms. Eldez," Varin began, her voice tinged with confusion, "why is there hair... floating in our room?"
Ms. Eldez, seated cross-legged on the floor amidst an intricate circle of glowing runes, glanced up from her work with a serene expression. Her once waist-length auburn hair now barely brushed her shoulders, and her hands were carefully tracing symbols in the air. "Ah, that," she said, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. "I'm preparing a spell. The hair is part of a seeking enchantment—it will search for someone I've been trying to find. Once it locates them, it will return to me with their whereabouts."
Varin blinked, her gaze shifting between the floating strands and Ms. Eldez. "Wait... Is that why you cut your hair?"
"Yes," Ms. Eldez replied simply, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. "It was necessary for the spell. Hair holds a strong connection to its owner—perfect for a seeking enchantment like this." Her voice carried a touch of pride, as though she was explaining a well-loved hobby.
Varin crossed her arms, her brow furrowing slightly. "And this someone you're looking for... Are they here, in Has?"
Ms. Eldez's smile softened, a flicker of emotion passing through her warm hazel eyes. "I believe so. But the city is vast, and this will save us both a lot of time."
There was a moment of quiet as Varin processed this. Then she asked, "Have you eaten yet? We could go out today if you want."
Ms. Eldez's expression brightened. "Not yet, but I'd love to. Perhaps we could stop by that café you like—the one near the central plaza?"
Varin hesitated, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Actually, before that... you said you're looking for someone, right? Can I help? I mean, I've got free time."
Ms. Eldez paused, her hand lingering mid-gesture as she considered the offer. A faint smile crept onto her lips, one that carried a mix of gratitude and amusement. "You're sweet, Varin. But this spell is quite specific; it needs to be handled delicately." She stood, brushing off her long, flowing tunic, which was a deep emerald green adorned with golden embroidery that glinted faintly in the light. "That said," she added, placing a gentle hand on Varin's shoulder, "if this spell doesn't work as planned, I may need your help with the search later. For now, though, why don't we enjoy the day? You've been cooped up too long."
Varin gave a small nod, still intrigued by the floating hair. "Alright," she said, her lips curving into a slight smile. "But you'll tell me if you need me, right? I can be pretty useful, you know."
Ms. Eldez chuckled softly, her voice like a soothing melody. "I've no doubt about that. Now, let's get ready. Adventure can wait, but pastries and tea can't."
As they left the room, the floating strands of hair continued their silent, mesmerizing dance, glowing faintly as the magic within them grew stronger.