CALM BEFORE THE STORM

"Traces of demonic energy... Hold on, how do you know there have been traces if you have been secluded?" Marshall inquired, but it clicked in his head before he received an answer.

"Ah, the white owl! I get it," the disciple snapped his fingers. "It was your bird, right? Surveying areas for demonic energy to report back to you."

"Something along those lines," the young man gave a vague confirmation, and quickly moved on. "This is the place with frequently recurring demonic energy. It has lingered for multiple days, which leads me to suspect something major is being planned."

Marshall tilted his head, scrunching his brows. "I don't feel anything here, though."

The young man's brows arched as he considered Marshall's statement.

"No demonic presence...?" he murmured, walking back onto the busy street with a puzzled look on his face.

The disciple followed, dodging the locals before grabbing onto one of the young man's white sleeves to not get lost. "Do you sense anything?"

They weaved through the crowd, but neither caught any trace of demonic energy.

A few blocks down, the young man slowly came to a halt, hesitantly tilting his head with a perplexed expression.

"I do not understand how... Just earlier today..." he trailed off, deep in thought.

Marshall hummed. "But that's good, isn't it?"

"I do not have a good feeling about this."

Marshall shrugged. While the young man was lost in thought, he glanced up at the rows of red oil-paper lanterns swaying lightly in the evening breeze.

Warm light stretched along the entire street, filling it with a homely feeling.

"Woah, look at that," he spoke unconsciously.

The young man followed his gaze and his lips parted in a strange expression of recognition. "So he finished the task after all," he noted quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Marshall asked, glancing to him.

"Muyang."

Marshall recalled the red oil-paper rolls he had seen in the alley upon meeting Muyang. Dots connected in his head seamlessly.

"Oh, Muyang made these lanterns?" 

A small nod followed as the icy eyes carefully studied the slight imperfections and inconsistencies of the crafts.

"He was working on it for a long time. One of the rare endeavors that he finished," the young man stated with an amused huff. 

Marshall subtly shifted closer, lifting his brow at the sudden display fondness. He must've had a soft spot for his younger brother. 

The disciple tried to keep his jokes locked behind his teeth, not to ruin the moment, but couldn't resist for long.

"Do you think a snowman would melt if he stared at those lanterns for too long?" he whispered, grinning.

The young man's lips twitched slightly, suppressing a smile. He didn't respond, watching the lights a while longer while Marshall paced around with small steps, growing impatient.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" 

The young man arched a brow at him. "Are you inviting me to dinner?"

"I know a good spot," Marshall noted expectantly.

➳ ➳ ➳

Rich aromas of spices and mouth-watering dishes filled the air.

Aside the distant murmur of patrons, the area was packed with the constant clatter of dishes and the rumbling of stone pots moving in and out of the oven.

Marshall picked a table that was in a less crowded zone, and the young man looked around with a subtle but curious expression.

The moment they settled by a table, an older lady with a tight gray bun and a red apron approached their table. She gave Marshall a strong pat on the shoulder.

"Would you look at that! I was wondering when you would show your face! I heard you Four Weather kids were finally here."

"It is called the Four Season Contest," the young man corrected her.

Marshall jabbed his elbow into the other's ribs to shut him up. "Ah, don't mind him!"

Mrs. Edith chuckled, patting down her oil-stained apron. "Is he one of the ten winners?" 

"No, he's..." Marshall glanced at him, unsure of how to introduce the young man. He had forgotten to ask for his name, who he was and so on. 

"Wyn," the young man gave his name, bowing his head respectfully. "Nice to meet you."

"What a nice name. Wyn." Mrs. Edith hummed, extending her hand for a handshake. "I'm Edith."

"Pleasure to meet you," the young man shook her hand with both hands politely.

"How mannerly," Mrs. Edith noted with a smile, casting a narrow-eyed glance at Marshall. "Unlike someone here."

The disciple chuckled awkwardly, waving his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry for not visiting sooner! I swear I didn't forget about you."

"It's fine, it's fine. I'm just kidding. Now, what should I get started for ya?"

After they ordered, the disciple rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand.

"Come to think of it, didn't even know your name until now," Marshall remarked. "What's your full name?"

"Chioni Wyn."

Contrary to Marshall's expectations, the young man's introduction was short and humble. He looked noble and... somewhat heavenly. 

"Do you have any titles?"

"Why would you need to know?" Wyn questioned.

Marshall gave him a shrug and a smirk, "I'm curious."

The young man took a deep breath and recited his titles, "I am known as the Keeper of Snow, Master of Cheimon and Young Lord Chioni."

Three titles. Keeper of Snow meant he was the deity of snow. Master of Cheimon was self explanatory, but Young Lord Chioni stood out to him.

"Wait, you're Lord Chioni's heir?" Marshall asked.

Before Wyn could respond, the light-hearted ambiance of the diner was shattered by a sudden commotion outside. Panicked shouting broke out and the people at their tables exchanged started murmurs.

Marshall shot up from his seat, instinctively glancing at Wyn. Their eyes met briefly, and both of them bolted out of the diner.

The buzzing street had been set ablaze, and the lanterns overhead had transformed into a row of flames. Wooden stalls below crackling like large campfires.

Anguished wails echoed through Chara Town as sinister creatures charged past them, killing anyone in their way. 

Marshall stood stiff, seconds dragging into eternity. It felt as if his soul had momentarily flown out of his body, and he was watching it all from an outer perspective like a horrible nightmare. 

A heart-wrenching cry snapped him out of it.

"Help! The Stygian Regions are invading!"