“Ahh, the moonlight… so radiant tonight! Look how it washes this garden in that silvery hue. Everything takes on such quiet splendor when the world turns nocturnal. Night truly is beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Once again, the same feminine voice drifted into Levko’s ears. And, just like before, he nodded in agreement. She was… different from what the rumors painted her to be. He could hardly believe that the drakkari woman standing before him was actually a Gold Core cultivator.

  Levko himself was only a Red Core, and every Gold he had ever met carried a sort of oppressive grace, a form of aura that made his instincts coil up just from remembering it. Being near one felt like holding your breath while treading on eggshells, praying not to crack anything sacred. Not exactly an experience one sought out often.

  So when the day arrived, as tradition demanded, and he was assigned to guard the sacred Dragonfire, to watch over the ceremony and permit only approved participants to drip their blood into the flame, he didn’t think much of it. Routine, as usual. But then came the announcement that Elder Alina would be sharing his post tonight, disguised to conceal her identity. That single sentence had been enough to make his stomach churn.

  Sure, she was on his side, but spending an entire night in the company of a Gold? Ancestors spare him. Yet tradition was tradition. Backing out was not an option. His family had been Dragonfire handlers for as long as their records stretched and it was a duty passed down through generations. Even if their sect was technically a branch under the greater Flameclaw banner, it carried its own weight and pride.

  All those nerves, however, scattered the moment he actually met Elder Alina. Her presence didn’t smother the air like molten gold pressing on his chest; it was strangely gentle, almost refreshing. She was charming, lively, even a little eccentric. Despite her title, she looked no older than twenty. Levko couldn’t guess her true age and he knew better than to try, but whatever it was, her current demeanor wrapped him in an unexpected sense of ease.

  Still, something didn’t quite add up. Why was a Gold Core personally guarding the Dragonfire alongside him and under disguise, no less? He couldn’t sense her core at all. That meant she was deliberately concealing it.

  They’d said her presence was due to the recent disturbances in Varkaigrad, but Levko wasn’t convinced. Then again, if there was a deeper reason, what business did a Red Core like him have knowing it? So he shrugged it off and went about his patrol, which Alina decided to join for company. Staying too long inside the chamber that housed the Dragonfire was draining anyway, the flame’s rainbow radiance pressed on his mind in a sense. Perhaps even the elder found it uncomfortable.

  There was something… otherworldly about that fire. It didn’t feel like it belonged to the mortal world at all. It shimmered with a sacred brilliance, the kind that whispered of Ancestors and their ancient vows. As an ancestral relic, that sense of divinity made perfect sense.

  Though he wasn’t sure a Gold Core would feel the same way he did… surely not?

  He decided to just ask her directly. She seemed like the kind who’d actually answer.

  “Elder Al—”

  Before he could even finish, a slender finger brushed against his lips. He froze. Her beautiful face hovered mere inches from his, and heat climbed up his neck so fast he thought he might combust.

  “I told you to stop calling me that,” she said with a playful pout. “It makes me feel old!” Then, with a teasing tilt of her wrist, her hand came up to gently hold his chin. “I’d like it if you just called me Alina.”

  And just like that, she pulled away… mercifully. Levko swore his heart had nearly escaped his ribs in those brief, perilous seconds. Even without releasing an ounce of her Core’s presence, her beauty alone was dangerous enough to count as a weapon. What a lethal woman.

  “My apologies, E— Alina.”

  Old habits died hard, but he caught himself just in time. Still felt strange calling someone of her stature by name, much less so casually. But what choice did he have here? “I was just curious about something…”

  “Oh? Well then, ask away! I’d be delighted to satisfy your curiosity.” She smiled and continued walking, then with an effortless hop, vaulted over a hedge into the moonlit garden proper. “Let’s take the scenic route back.”

  Levko followed, still trying to calm his heartbeat. “How do you feel standing around the Dragonfire?”

  She blinked, caught off guard by the question, before pressing a thoughtful finger to her chin. “Hmm… now there’s a query I didn’t see coming. I wouldn’t say I harbor any strong feelings toward it. I’ve heard people describe its presence as alien, a weight upon the soul but for me, it’s quite the opposite. I feel… an intimacy. A warmth that tingles in my veins and hums in my blood when I stand near it.”

  “So… it’s a good feeling?”

  “I wouldn’t classify it as good, exactly,” she said, her tone musing. “The fire stirs something inside me. An emotion I can’t quite name. I might have an inkling why, but I’m not entirely sure. That same warmth makes me question its origin rather than embrace it.”

  “Ah… that makes sense.”

  “Does it?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “Maybe… a little,” he admitted. Not something he could personally relate to, but hearing her reasoning laid out like that, he could at least follow the logic. Intimacy, huh? That was certainly odd. Perhaps her stronger bloodline made her soul more attuned to the Ancestors, closer to them in essence. Maybe that’s why the Dragonfire welcomed her warmth while it merely pressed on him like divine weight.

  Still, Levko couldn’t complain. She was talking, actually entertaining his questions, and that alone made him strangely happy. He had a dozen more he wanted to throw at her right then. He wasn’t even sure where all that curiosity was coming from; normally, he couldn’t care less about souls or their mysteries.

  But in that moment… something about asking her felt right. Yes.

  A Gold Core is in a fine mood, whispered a sly voice in his mind, so why not prune the moment? Find out what a Gold is truly doing here.

  The thought slithered through his head, a silken whisper. And for some reason, it sounded like the most unassailable logic.

  So he opened his mouth to ask a question he technically already knew the answer to.

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  “I still don’t understand why someone of your rank needs to guard the Dragonfire…”

  It wasn’t like there was any real danger surrounding it. The Vor’akhs were just pests, always skulking about, but never an actual threat during Spirit Hunt. Once, they’d even tried sneaking one of their own into the Hunt, only for the Ancestors themselves to strike him down. After that, no sane enemy would dare approach the Dragonfire again.

  “Well,” Alina began with a soft laugh, “I suppose the excuse of ‘in light of recent events’ doesn’t work quite as well on someone as perceptive as you.”

  Her smile lingered on him, but Levko nearly tripped over his own thoughts. Perceptive? Hardly. It wasn’t clever insight… just some random thought that had slipped out before his brain caught up. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it aloud. Maybe it was that strange sense of comfort around her loosening his tongue.

  “Well,” she went on, tone light but eyes glinting, “let’s just say we have a rather unruly brat roaming around Varkaigrad.”

  Something shifted in her expression then. The playful glimmer in her eyes deepened into something older, something honed. Her emerald irises seemed to twist, spiraling inward, and for the first time, Levko felt the faintest brush of her presence against his soul. His breath caught. That casual warmth vanished, replaced by the chilling understanding that this woman could unmake him between one heartbeat and the next.

  “They have a knack for stirring chaos whenever the opportunity presents itself,” she said, voice calm but threaded with something dangerous. “So I’m expecting them to show up here sooner or later. I’d just… like to get my hands on them… just once.”

  And as quickly as the predatory air appeared, it was gone. Her bright, bubbly demeanor resurfaced as if nothing had happened. Levko swallowed hard. Right. Gold Core. Still terrifying.

  Whoever this “brat” was, he almost pitied them already. There was something oddly personal in the way she’d said it, like familiarity laced with irritation. A relative, perhaps? Some prodigy gone rogue? He couldn’t tell.

  At least that confirmed there was a personal motive behind her being here. That much eased a few of his doubts.

  But before he could voice his next question, a sharp noise echoed from ahead.

  Alina’s head snapped toward the sound, no, snapped was an understatement. Her neck twisted a full hundred and eighty degrees, emerald irises flaring until they narrowed into glowing slits. A slow smile curved her lips again, but this time it wasn’t playful. It was hungry.

  “Oh my,” she purred, “seems the troublemaker’s already here. Stay put, won’t you? I’ll be right back.”

  And before he could react, she blurred forward with enough speed to leave a shockwave rippling through the air.

  Levko just stood there, blinking at the empty space she’d left behind. As curious as he was, maybe it was best to leave whatever, or whoever, this “troublemaker” was to Elder Alina.

  He turned to head back toward the chamber when a faint rustle caught his attention. His instincts sharpened instantly. From the treetop above, a crow tumbled down, landing near his boots with a weak croak.

  Levko tensed, hand drifting toward his weapon. Having a Gold Core nearby should’ve made him feel safe, but habit was habit, suspicion first, comfort later. The crow looked wounded, feathers ruffled and one wing bent awkwardly.

  Then another rustle followed, something soft and fleshy, leaping branch to branch before disappearing into the shadows of another tree.

  Levko’s eyes narrowed.

  “…Maybe a cat?” he muttered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

  He stared down at the wounded crow. There was a deep claw mark along its underbelly.

  Oh, this poor thing… I should take it inside and heal it somehow.

  The thought coiled into his mind, soft, insistent and perfectly reasonable. It felt right. Yes, of course he should. It would be the height of cruelty to leave the creature to its fate when he could offer aid so easily.

  Levko nodded to himself. Perfectly reasonable.

  With that, he carefully gathered the bird into his hands and carried it toward the estate. The Dragonfire wasn't housed in a temple or a sanctum, but within his family’s own ancestral mansion in the upper district, a pristine, grand structure steeped in history, maintained through generations of fastidious care. It served as lodging for the Dragonfire handlers before the Spirit Hunt began and the flame rekindled itself each cycle. After the hunt, it became the heart of the festivities, a stage for celebrating the renewed fire.

  Levko knew the layout by heart. He wasn’t a healer by any means, but the main hall kept a stash of alchemical potions, including some general healing brews.

  As he reached the front door, another thought whispered through his mind, slippery as smoke.

  I should turn off the barrier before going in. The crow’s still alive, it might register as an intruder.

  Oh. Right. That made sense. Wouldn’t want the poor bird fried by the security wards.

  He flicked his fingers and felt the barrier shimmer out of existence, then stepped inside with the crow in his arms. Once through, he reactivated it, better safe than sorry. That should do it.

  He made his way to the main hall and rummaged through the glass shelf until he found a small green vial. Perfect, standard healing tonic. Uncorking it, he dripped a few drops onto the crow’s wound. The liquid hissed faintly against torn flesh, and the effect was immediate, skin knitting, feathers regrowing, blood vanishing like it had never been spilled.

  Just to be sure, he poured a few more drops down the crow’s beak.

  The bird twitched once, then blinked up at him, glossy black eyes catching the lamplight. It cawed softly, almost politely. Levko smiled.

  “Glad to see you’re on the mend, feathered friend. Now, how about we see you back to the great outdoors, hmm?”

  He reached to gather it up, only for the crow to flap its wings with sudden vigor and shoot into the air, cawing loudly as it darted deeper into the mansion’s interior.

  “Hey!” Levko yelped. “That’s terribly ungrateful, you know! Get back here!”

  He even tried to hit it with a harmless stunning spell, but the little creature swerved midair like it was mocking him. Within seconds, it vanished up the staircase, leaving him standing there, hand raised, dignity in tatters.

  And then came the footsteps.

  “Something the matter, Levko?”

  Alina’s face peeked through the doorway, her expression curious.

  “Erm— nothing! Just, uh…” He looked down at the open potion bottle still in his hand.

  Her gaze flicked toward it too, one brow arching slightly.

  “Just— preparing for the troublemaker,” he blurted. “Thought I should, uh, keep some potions ready. You know, in case something… unseen happens.”

  He smiled far too widely. The kind of smile that screamed nothing suspicious here at all.

  Alina’s eyes lingered on him for a beat longer than was comfortable. Then she simply nodded.

  “Good thinking.”

  She turned and left as gracefully as she’d appeared, the faintest hum trailing behind her.

  Levko exhaled as soon as Alina turned away, his shoulders slumping in relief.

  Yeah. He was definitely not telling her that he’d just healed a crow and promptly lost it somewhere inside the mansion.

  He’d find it tomorrow. Probably. Assuming it didn’t find its own way out first.

  “Heh… those little creases of worry look rather cute on you.”

  Her voice came again, teasing, and when he looked up, she was glancing back over her shoulder, a wink accompanying that mischievous smile. Instantly, he felt his face heat up again.

  “But set your mind at ease; this brat won’t be slipping past me, much less laying a finger on you in here. Now, let’s resume our walk. I’ll recite the lovely poem about moonlight I just composed!”

  “Uh, I thought they were already here? Or was that just a false alarm?”

  “Merely a false alarm. It was just a Nyxen, likely some noble’s familiar. Must have strayed from its leash.”

  “A… Nyxen?”

  “Hmm… think of them as those owl-faced felines. A popular accessory in noble circles, though in practice they’re notoriously hard to tame and even harder to make useful. This one was particularly feisty; it seemed to think my head would make a splendid perch. I had to… encourage it to find another.”

  Levko nodded as he followed her out, casting a final, fleeting glance back for any sign of the feathery fugitive. Nothing. Damn it. He gave a mental shake of his head. Well, at least her company was a consolation.

  But as with all pleasant things, its time was cut short. A sudden rush of wind announced the new arrival. A woman stood atop a massive, shadowy avian beast, her silver hair crowned by the moonlight, her eyes twin pools of crimson disdain. She was someone he recognized instantly from the plethora of wanted posters plastered across the city.

  And just like that, the predatory smile returned to Alina’s lips.

  It seemed the troublemaker, Jade, had decided to make her entrance after all.

  Levko (the flustered Red Core): Has a weird crush on a powerful woman.

  “I think she smiled at me… right before her neck did the thing.”

  Alina (Gold Core Elder): Mood: predatory serenity. Halfway through a moonlight poem, halfway through planning murder. Possibly both at once.

  “I do so adore quiet nights. They make the screams echo beautifully.”

  Kraven (Lysska’s familiar, feathered spy): Successfully infiltrated the mansion.

  “Mission accomplished. Healing potion tasted weird.”

  “Jade” (???): On a Mission.

  “All pieces are in place.”

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