Fay stepped out of the tent with Mirage at his side, the flap falling closed behind them.

He greeted the guards who kept the gates barred, giving them a brief nod before waving for the doors to be opened.

Together, he and Mirage passed through, the heavy wood creaking shut again behind them.

As they walked, the night air carried the heavy scent of smoke and cooking fires from the refugee camp beyond the walls.

Dozens of faces turned their way, drawn by curiosity, fear, or hope.

The crowd pressed forward but kept a tense distance, waiting for the verdict.

Fay raised his voice, steady but not harsh. "Only the children will enter the city tonight. A few parents may come with them, but the rest must wait until we decide and test you all."

The words rippled through the camp, sparking shouts and protests.

Some argued openly, while others pleaded, insisting they could not be left outside with beasts prowling after dark.

One man shoved his way forward, anger twisting his face. "You think we'll just hand over our children while we rot out here? No, if the kids go, so do we!"

The crowd surged with agreement, voices rising, but Mirage didn't wait for Fay to answer.

Her eyes gleamed golden as she lifted one hand.

A wave of invisible force suddenly passed through the camp.

In an instant, half a dozen men and women slumped to the ground, asleep before their shouts even finished.

Only silence remained.

Mirage's voice cut through the tension; it was cold with a hint of danger to it. "If you value your lives, you will obey. That was mercy. Next time, I will not be so gentle."

The people shrank back, fear draining the last sparks of defiance.

Fay clenched his jaw but said nothing.

He signaled for the children to gather, along with a handful of parents who came quietly, gripping their little ones' hands.

With that, he led them back toward the gates, Mirage following with her usual air of indifference.

Inside the city, they searched for a place to house the newcomers.

A few abandoned shelters stood near the edge of the market square, their walls patched but still bare and drafty.

Fay stopped there and turned to the families.

"It isn't much," he admitted, his voice low. "But it's what we have for now. Make the best of it. Tomorrow, we'll see about food and work."

The parents bowed their heads in weary gratitude, and the children clung to each other, already exploring the corners of their new shelter.

Fay lingered a moment longer, then left them to settle in.

His steps carried him toward the healer's hut, where he found Mira seated beside Mother Kueha.

The elder catfolk's spotted fur and kind, lined face softened as she looked up.

Mira had been helping her sort herbs into small bundles, though she brightened the moment Fay entered.

Kueha's gaze lingered on him, steady and knowing. "So, you've brought in the little ones."

"Yes," Fay said, running a hand through his hair. "But only them and a few parents. The rest are still outside… angry. I don't know if it was enough."

The healer gave a small, weary chuckle. "Life is rarely enough. There are always mouths to feed, always voices that demand more. But you gave those children shelter, and that is no small thing."

Fay hesitated. "What about the others? Leaving them out there—"

"Is the way of things," Kueha interrupted gently. "There will always be ups and downs, boy. Tonight you did what you could. That alone is more than most leaders would dare do. For now, let the children rest. Tomorrow will bring new choices."

Fay nodded faintly, though the weight of it still pressed on him.

As he studied her face, he noticed how calm she seemed, more at ease than usual.

Her sharp eyes softened as if she was reliving a private memory that lingered just behind her eyes.

"You know," Kueha said after a pause, "when I was younger, I thought myself wise. A healer, guiding others, carrying knowledge from one generation to the next. But when I spent time with the Eluwyn… I realized how little I truly knew."

Her whiskers twitched with a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. "Their years stretch on far beyond ours. Even the youngest among them carries centuries of memory, and beside them I felt like a child fumbling with bandages and herbs. I have lived long by the standards of our people, yet perhaps only a third of what some of the elf folk will see in their lifetime."

She leaned back, her hands resting on her knees. "And still, they treated me with patience. They shared what they knew, as if no question was too small. It humbled me, Fay. Reminded me that no matter how much one learns, there will always be more to see… more to endure."

Fay found himself quiet, watching her with new respect. "So that's why you never seem shaken. Because you've already seen so much."

Kueha's smile grew, faint but genuine. "No, boy. It is because I've seen how little one life truly is. We struggle, we falter, but we are only one thread in a much greater weave. Remember that when the weight feels too heavy. You do what you can, that is all that one can do at the end, so don't feel bad for the rest of the refugees."

Mira looked between them, her small hands clutching the bundle of herbs she had been tying. "Then Fayfay doesn't have to fix everything at once, right? He can make more time for me!"

"Exactly, little one," Kueha said, reaching to ruffle her hair. "Even kings and dragons must take one step at a time."

Fay let out a slow breath, some of the tightness in his chest easing at last.

Fay stayed a little longer, listening as Kueha hummed softly while Mira tied the last of the herbs.

But eventually, the boy rose to his feet. "Thank you… for the advice," he said quietly.

The healer only waved a hand. "Go. Rest while you can. Tomorrow will not wait."

Fay crouched, and Mira climbed easily onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He carried her out of the healer's hut, the cool night air greeting them with the scent of damp earth and torches smoldering low along the streets.

They walked slowly toward the palace, the girl resting her chin on his shoulder while Mirage followed silently behind them.

Neither spoke much, and the silence between them felt almost peaceful.

For the first time that day, Fay allowed himself to breathe.

As they reached the palace steps, two familiar voices called out.

"Fay! Mira!"

The twins, Rina and Tomo, came jogging over, their faces bright with excitement.

Yet their attention wasn't truly on Fay at all.

Behind them, their summons bounded and darted in the open courtyard, each beast caught up in its own training.

Sparks of aether flickered in the air as claws met stone and wings beat against the night sky.

Tomo's small, parrot-like bird darted from perch to perch, its yellow feathers glinting under the torchlight, green wings cutting through the air in quick arcs.

Every so often, it squawked a word or two in a startlingly clear voice, echoing the boy's thoughts aloud as if mocking him.

Beside it, Rina's summon floated in sharp, darting motions: a metallic orb resembling a single, watchful eye.

It whirled through the air faster than most people could follow, leaving faint trails of light as it spun.

Every shift in its flight seemed to mirror Rina's own focus, as though she could see through it while it flew.

"We've been at it all evening," Tomo said with a grin, wiping sweat from his brow. "They're getting stronger, you'll see."

Rina's eyes shone as she pointed to her creature, pride clear in her voice. "Just look! She's already faster than she was this morning."

Mira giggled softly from Fay's back, her drowsiness fading a little at the sight.

Fay managed a faint smile, though his gaze lingered on the sparks of energy dancing around the inside of the palace.

Soon, they were all bathed and ready for bed.

The palace felt quieter now, the earlier noise of training and voices fading into the calm of the warm night.

Fay settled in one of the side chambers with the others, his bag set down at his feet.

One by one, he called the creatures over and pressed mana stones into their waiting claws, beaks, or paws.

Even Mirage leaned in with interest, her silver hair catching the lamplight as she accepted hers without a word.

Fay didn't forget the twins' summons either, handing Rina's metallic eye-orb a smooth stone that glowed faintly as it absorbed the energy, while Tomo's parrot snapped its stone up in its beak before fluttering to a perch.

At last, Fay loosened the straps of his bag and took stock of what remained.

Nearly five hundred stones lay inside, gathered from the dungeon.

He set aside the ones he had promised himself to save, carefully placing them in a separate pouch.

Those were for Jolt. His lizard would need them soon enough.

As the last of the summons finished feeding, the room dimmed.

The creatures settled in their own quiet ways, curled on rugs for those that could absorb ambient aether; others however, faded back into spirit form.

Fay leaned back against the bed, Mira curled up beside him, and let the heavy stillness of the palace night close around them.

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