I followed my father down the meandering paths of the tower. Each corridor seemingly stretched endlessly and turned, sometimes even on itself, which should’ve led into the path before we had just come from, yet didn’t. Just like the time I had been here before, the structure of my mother’s cabin tower seemed nonsensical. Yet, my father looked as if he knew where he was going.

  Which only led me to wonder, how the hell did Mr. Bxen find us?

  For minutes, it was only us, the sounds of our breathing, and echoing footsteps. It wasn’t until we reached a rounded wooden door at the end of the hall that opened into a stairwell that I finally heard the sounds of more life. Distant voices and the sounds of distressed children echoed up from below, and with it, my chest tightened with anxiety.

  My father noticed my hesitation and smiled faintly over his shoulder. He reached out and pced his hand on my head. “Hey,” He said, “You have nothing to be worried about.” He tussled my hair.

  I cringed faintly under his hand and peered up at him. “But… They’ll know me,” I said softly. So many people had seen me when the fight was taken outside. The soldiers had watched me defend them against the ethereal weapon. Not to mention all the people I had saved in the hospital…

  My father arched an eyebrow. “And that’s a bad thing?” He asked. “Many of them down there are only here because of you, you know that?”

  He’s talking like I’m a hero. I thought.

  That’s because, in a way, you are. The rational goblin stated. Isn’t that what you wanted? When we came into this world, we dreamed of being heroes like in those isekai stories.

  That was mostly true, except that I never expected such a story to take a turn like mine had. I shifted my gaze away from my father, my cheeks burning faintly as he chuckled softly and knelt before me. “Hey, talk to me, what’s up?”

  What was up with me? My rational mind was right, I wanted this, didn’t I? Those people below, some of them I had helped. The soldiers I had protected. Why was I so anxious to see them?

  Because you failed, Rational said. Or so you feel like.

  But I did. Putinov, or whoever they were, they “lit the beacon,” or so they put it.

  But you stopped them and shut it off. Surely, if you hadn’t done that, worse things would’ve happened.

  Perhaps. I closed my eyes. But even then, as I stood there, I felt as if I could’ve done better.

  “Luna,” my father said, pulling me back to the present. “Do you hear that?” He asked me.

  I blinked. “He-hear what?” I asked, gncing around him toward the stairs. My ears twitched as I focused them, and among the din of voices below. I could hear the sounds of song, ughter, and even children giggling.

  Weren’t they crying, though, just moments before? I thought. I had sworn when we opened the door, among the voices I heard them. I…

  Scared yourself into thinking squealing ughter was sobs? Rational suggested.

  “Those,” My father said softly as joyful cheer rose from below. “Those are the sounds of people happy to be alive. Joyful that they’re safe, because of you.” He booped my nose, and I squeaked. “It was your idea to use your mother’s tower as shelter, and it was you who healed all of those who were injured. Because of that, many were able to quickly find shelter. I understand being the center of attention can be stressful, believe me, your mother and I are well aware of it.” He chuckled. “But know that you.” He tapped my chest. “You protected them, and me.” He smiled and winked. “I never knew in all my days that it would be my own daughter coming to my rescue.” He chuckled and stood up. “Most father’s egos would probably be bruised at the idea of it but me…” He snorted and shook his head. “I’m grateful for it.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “You’d have to be a big jerk if your ego got hurt for having your life saved.”

  Father gave me a goofy smile. “Perhaps, but you’d be surprised by how many would be.” He turned back towards the stairs. “You ready to venture down?” He asked.

  Taking a deep breath, I smiled and said, “Yes, and thank you.”

  Father’s smile broadened, and he said nothing as he turned toward the stairs and we began our descent.

  Father opened the door to an expansive, spanning room, a great hall it seemed, filled with dozens, upon dozens of people of all various ages and races. Many of whose backs were turned to us, cheering and cpping as three men stood atop a table in the center of the room. The three men tiptoed and danced around one another as they each juggled what looked to be colorful balls in tune with a small band that stood not so far off from the crowd. Among them was a human man with a lute, a small gnomeish fellow and his drums, a vender-skinned akumari woman and her flute.

  The room was lively, nearly overwhelming, as the crowd stomped and cpped along with the performers. I watched as one of the showpeople, a red-haired human in their te teens, threw his balls into the air, spun, caught each one mid-spin, and kept spinning. Like a corkscrew, he circled the table, carefully avoiding his companions as he juggled all the way. The crowd roared with approval and erupted into rapturous appuse, and it was here that I noticed something peculiar.

  Swirling upward from the crowd and around the three men on the table, I saw familiar motes of light. Pink and yellow whisps, like the ones I’d seen the night prior, danced and twirled above the crowd and around the men. My eyes widened as the whisps coalesced around the twirling man, who ended his trick by leaping into the air and nding on the center of the table between his companions, legs spyed in an impressive split. His arms thrown into the air, fingers spread, his balls were unched upwards along with a swarm of excited whisps. One by one, each ball arched and descended downwards, and without looking, he caught every one.

  Children cheered excitedly, men and women ughed and cpped, and to my own surprise. I hadn’t noticed the smile pstered across my face, which I shared with my father when I looked up to him.

  “I should’ve mentioned there were merrymen here,” He said over the din of noise.

  Merrymen, that was something I haven’t heard in a while. It took a second for the word to register, but I remembered now, back in school with Varis and Isa. They were minstrels, traveling entertainers, and the like. Word had it that a few had traveled through Oren once, but none in my time; the town being so small and the like, there wasn’t really any reason to come through.

  I looked back at the makeshift stage where the crowd bustled around the three men, many of whom were begging them for an encore. Though I could see on the leading performer's face, the red-haired fellow, he seemed quite exhausted despite his damndest to keep it hidden. I hadn’t noticed it till now, but I was smiling ear to ear.

  “That was incredible,” I said just loud enough for Father to hear as he silently nodded and scanned the crowd. Spotting something I couldn’t see, I watched as lips curled in and he inhaled deeply before releasing a quick, sharp whistle.

  The sound made me jump, as did a few bystanders nearby, who turned to see what was happening. Up ahead, toward the stage, onlookers squeaked and yelped as they began to disperse; to my relief and joy, Varis pushed through them, shouting apologies over his shoulder.

  “Papa!” Varis called, then paused when his eyes fell on me. For a brief moment, neither of us said anything as we stared. I opened my mouth, yet it was as if someone had just shoved cotton balls in there. Before I could react, my brother rushed toward me, and without a word, he threw his arms around me and yanked me into a back-breaking hug.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Father ughed and knelt between us.

  “C-can’t breathe!” I squeaked as Varis hugged me so hard, I felt my upper back pop.

  It took a second, but Father pulled Varis off of me. My brother sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist. “Th-This needs to stop!” He said between hiccups.

  “Varis,” My father cooed. “Everything’s alright now. I told you so.”

  Varis sniffed once again, his green and blue eyes shimmering with welling tears. “I know, but…” He looked at me. “How many times? How many times are you going to almost… Almost die?” He whispered.

  My heart twinged. “I-I don’t know,” I said softly.

  “Hey,” Father said, his hands resting on either of our shoulders. “This isn’t a pce to talk about–”

  “It’s her!” Someone from the crowd spoke out. “The Angel of Kencha, the child saint! She’s finally awake!”

  My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes shot to my father, who looked to me sheepishly. “Yeah…” He said awkwardly, “I-I should’ve… I should’ve mentioned…” He trailed off as the crowd’s attention turned away from the merrymen on stage and focused on us.

  People of all races, ages, and csses began to crowd around us. Soldiers, construction workers, and wealthy merchants looked to my family in awe. Many of them were calling out, yet so loudly I couldn’t make out their words or requests. Father stood up and gestured for Varis and me to get behind him.

  “Hey now!” He barked. “Keep your distance from my children!” Though it was futile, it was like speaking to a brick wall; everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, and once again I couldn’t find the words to say. It was like I was thrust in the middle of a stage, and I had no idea how to react.

  “Enough!” A voice bellowed from the other side of the hall. The crowd fell silent, and onlookers awkwardly shuffled as the center parted before us, revealing who had drawn their attention.

  Standing before a rge wooden door across the hall was none other than Mr. Rosewall, finally dressed like I’d seen him before, yet incredibly tired. His face sagged and no longer jolly as when I’d first met him, his twinkling eyes now sporting heavy, dark bags, and beside him, my heart fluttered. Isa, alive and well like father had said, stood with a glowering expression. Like a predator ready to strike, her slitted eyes shot to every face of those in the crowd who drew too close to us.

  Mr. Rosewall, the one who had shouted, cleared his throat and, in a much more rexed tone, said, “How is it that you wish to express your thanks to our savior, if you all are going to mob her? Is this how gratitude is shown, by overwhelming one?” He shook his head disappointedly. “Goodness, people, show some respect.” He then jabbed a meaty finger at one onlooker specifically. “Especially you, Howard.”

  “Uh, eh… A-apologies, Mr. Rosewall.” I overheard the man say dejectedly.

  “And what is this I overheard?” Rosewall then called out to the crowd. “About her being some sort of Angel? A saint?”

  “She’s an Angel sent by the Seven!” Someone from the crowd called, and my stomach dropped, and I heard my father sigh.

  “A child of the Father, she more likely is!” Another added. “I seen it me self, Mr. Rosewall. I saw her fly and defeat the demon that attacked!”

  “Aye, so did I!” A third chimed in. “I was there when she healed the dying, I saw the lights she brought forth.”

  “And that’s all it takes for you to believe she’s some divine being?” Rosewall asked, voice dripping with skepticism. He stepped forward, and though the crowd had already made way for him and Isa, they shuffled back even further. He turned his attention toward me. “Have none of you at least once chosen to ask what she sees herself as?” No one said a word, and he snorted. “Of course, then,” he nodded to me. “Luna,” he emphasized my name. “Do you see yourself as some divine angel sent forth from the Divine Gates?”

  “Mr. Rosewall, this isn’t necessary,” My father said, but Rosewall shook his head.

  “Nay, Mr. Ashflow, I think it is. I will not stand for those under my care to act as such.” He said, facing the crowd again.

  “You cannot deny what she has done, Master Rosewall!” An older gentleman stepped forth, a figure I vaguely remembered from my visit to the hospital the day before. “I ain’t seen no child do what she has done.”

  Mr. Rosewall nodded. “That maybe true, Mr. Sternel, but what does Luna, think?” He looked to me.

  My father bit his lip and shifted slightly out of my way so I could see Mr. Rosewall clearly. Nervously, I licked my lips and went to speak, then coughed. My mouth was like sandpaper, and seeing this, Mr. Rosewall smiled, and I felt even more embarrassed. Finally, I found the words and said, “I just… I just want to help people. I-I’m… I’m just Luna?” I said, not really knowing what else to add.

  “Exactly,” Mr. Rosewall said, “She is Luna Ashflow, a hero. But despite that, she is no different then you or I. Treat her as such, with respect. If word comes to me that you all are crowding her like I’d seen coming in here, there will be hell to pay!” He wagged his finger in the air. “For as long as you’re here under Automaton Works care, you abide by my rules!” He then dashed his hand in the air. “Now, carry on all of you. Leave the Ashflows be for I have need for them.”

  “You do?” My father blinked as the crowd began to disperse and the room filled with murmurs.

  Mr. Rosewall smiled widely, his moustache puffing outwards; the tiredness he had shown upon entering seemed to fade ever so slightly. His eyes twinkled as he waddled over to us, his arms stretching out wide as if he were about to hug my father. “Of course!” His hands shot outwards and suddenly csped around my father’s as he pulled him into a tight handshake. “It’s because of you and your family’s arrival to my site that we all stand here today, Mr. Ashflow!” He then turned to me and held out a pudgy hand. “And of course you, Lady Ashflow.”

  My ears fluttered upon hearing that title, and I shook my head.” Pl-Please just call me Luna, Mr. Rosewall!” I said, taking his hand, which he shook gently.

  “Yes, yes, of course. In that case, call me Terry.” He winked and pulled back. “Now, now, before I continue this pce is not suitable for what I wish to discuss. Please, follow me. Madam Soza was kind enough to procure me a private chamber.”

  “Alright then,” My father said, smiling faintly, then frowned. “Mr. Rosewall, before we continue… Have you seen Mr. Bxen? The tall Valendi fellow?”

  “Please, call me Terry.” He said from over his shoulder. “But to answer your question. Yes, I believe he and the some of the Hein’s Guard officials are taking shelter down in one of the lower floors.”

  “Third floor to be exact,” I heard Isa say for the first time since she arrived. Her voice was drained, judging by her sharp, tired gaze. She seemed just as exhausted as Terry.

  My eyes widened. “The Hein’s Guard is here?” Last I recalled, only a small group of soldiers was stationed at the construction site. I’d think that with those numbers, there would only be like a captain or two looking over them. Why would they need an entire floor to themselves?

  “A lot has happened since you fell unconscious, Luna,” Isa said tiredly, “We’ll get you up to speed shortly, but not here.” She gestured for us to move, and move we did.

  “Do not take heart their honeyed words. Heed my advice and know that I say is nothing but the truth. Those who cim to come from the garden seek not your salvation, but the devastation of everything you hold dear. Seek not but the light, but the shadows in which you can hide. For they will come, and when they do, no one will be safe.” - Unnamed Kazoran scripture

  ImmortanJoJo