The line moved again.

Ryn stepped forward and handed over his papers.

The paladin took them, eyes scanning the surface with the detached efficiency of someone who had already seen too many names today.

His armor bore the white-and-gold of Rhea, but the men flanking him carried Rokhan's red and Mystia's blue.

Three Churches' authority at one gate.

"Name," the paladin said.

"Ryn Eden Arctis."

That earned him a pause.

The man's eyes lifted, sharper now, flicking briefly toward the seal on the parchment before returning to Ryn's face.

"House Arctis already has a registered delegate within the capital."

"I'm aware."

Jay shifted slightly at his side.

The paladin's gaze lingered. "Then you're not here in an official capacity."

"No," Ryn said evenly. "I'm not."

A moment passed.

"State your business."

"Observation," Ryn replied. "Coordination."

The paladin frowned. "With whom?"

Ryn didn't raise his voice nor lean in.

"House Arctis," he said. "And Grandal."

The words settled heavily between them.

The Rokhan paladin turned his head slightly, studying Ryn more carefully now.

Ryn met the paladin's gaze without flinching.

"This is informal," he added calmly.

"If it were official, you'd already have received notice. I'm here because both houses deemed an announcement unnecessary."

The paladins exchanged uneasy looks.

They had no clean way to verify the claim—and even attempting to confirm it would mean involving two major houses from the neighboring kingdom, creating a big hassle.

The Rhea paladin exhaled slowly and handed the papers back.

"Welcome to Aster," he said after a beat.

"…Sir Arctis."

They stepped fully into Aster—and the city immediately split itself in Ryn's mind.

"The Light," he said, nodding upward.

Jay followed his gaze.

Above them, pale terraces rose in measured tiers, white stone catching the sun and reflecting it outward. The place felt pristine, and so far away from what they were currently at.

"And the Dark," Ryn continued, eyes lowering.

Jay looked around.

The street they stood on was broad by necessity, but the space had long since been claimed. Buildings leaned inward, their stone faces smoothed by centuries of traffic. Stalls crowded the sidewalks, some permanent, others hastily assembled.

People filled every available gap, the flow of bodies constantly changed as wagons forced their way through.

"Why's it called that?" Jay tilted his head, not following.

Ryn didn't answer right away.

He tilted his head slightly, tracking the sun.

"The city's built on hills," he said at last. "The Light sits on top of them."

Jay frowned. "So?"

"So as the sun moves, the hills move with it."

Ryn gestured ahead. One side of the street lay warm and bright, while the other had already slipped into shade. Lanterns were being lit there despite it being morning.

"Entire streets pass in and out of shadow throughout the day," Ryn continued.

"Markets that get sunlight in the morning lose it by noon. Homes that catch warmth at dawn never see it again after."

Jay slowed, looking around more carefully now.

"Seems…intentional."

"Yeah."

They moved with the flow of people again.

Up close, the crowd resolved into patterns.

At first, it was just the crowd.

Too many bodies pressed together, moving in uneven waves, forcing the street to breathe in waves. Ryn let himself be carried with it, attention fixed forward out of habit.

Then the details surfaced.

Tails attached to the backs of traders, wrapped tight to avoid the press. Ears—longer, sharper than they should be, twitching as people adjusted instinctively to noise and movement.

"Ah."

Jay turned. "What?"

Ryn didn't answer immediately.

With everything he had been forced to navigate before this, the thought had narrowed itself out of focus.

"Just something I set aside," he realized.

Aster was a multi-race city. It always had been.

Humans made up the administrative core, but Beast People shared the territory by necessity and history. Trade routes cut through lands neither side could afford to lose, and Aster had grown where compromise was cheaper than war.

It was common knowledge.

But when the Evernight happened, the world had simplified itself in his mind. Cities became targets. Populations became numbers. Coexistence became irrelevant in the face of extinction.

Now, walking through Aster, the complexity returned all at once.

Dwarves passed through occasionally, selling their wares. Elves appeared sparingly, maintaining visibility without surrendering isolation. Spirits and elementals stayed away entirely, preferring not to meddle with the humans.

However, even if Aster appeared inclusive on the surface, its structure made the reality impossible to miss.

Most of them had stayed where they were.

Ryn watched the way the crowd reorganized itself without conscious thought—how doorways were wider by design, frames reinforced where heavier bodies passed through more often.

It wasn't enforced segregation, but adaptation layered over time.

Ryn exhaled slowly.

In his first life, Aster was the first city to collapse. Places like these tend to fracture first the moment pressure spiked.

Not because they were weak in fighting power.

But because there were too many problems in a city such as this.

The streets thinned as they climbed. Even if they were still in the Dark, noise dulled and buildings were cleaner.

Maria had left them a note when they returned to Lumen. To meet up at her place within the Capital to discuss plans and reconvene information.

They stopped before an iron gate set into a low stone wall. A discreet sigil etched into the metal, easy to miss unless you knew to look for it.

Ryn took the note to confirm the sigil, a small feather.

Jay squinted. "This is Maria's place?"

"Seems so."

The gate opened before they could knock.

Inside, the estate felt deliberately understated. The space was open, functional but wasn't fancy or glamorous in the slightest.

However, the courtyard was quiet…too quiet.

Something prickled at the edge of his senses.

His hand drifted instinctively toward his weapon as he took another step forward.

Bloodlust? No…it's too familiar.

"Ryn!"

He turned. Before he could do anything—

Amelia hit him like a charging beast.

"Oof—!"

For half a second, Ryn's instincts completely short-circuited.

Then his hands came up on reflex, steadying her as laughter bubbled up in his chest.

"You're late," she said into him, muffled and furious.

The hug lasted just long enough for Ryn to register warmth and familiarity.

"Sorry," Ryn said, patting Amelia's hair. "It was necessary."

But before he could go for a second one, she froze…then pulled back quicker than even the fastest of swordsmen.

Her eyes flicked past Ryn's shoulder.

Locked onto Jay.

"Oh."

Her face went bright red instantly.

Ryn blinked.

Then glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh. Right."

He turned slightly and gestured with his thumb.

"Amelia—this is Jay."

Jay, who had very much been pretending to examine the stonework like it contained the secrets of the universe, straightened instantly.

"Hi," he said. "Jay. I, uh…nice to meet you! Uhmmm…Lady Grandal?"

Amelia hesitated.

Then she straightened. Her shoulders squared, expression smoothing even if the color hadn't quite left her face.

"Amelia Grandal," she said, a touch too stiff. "It's… nice to meet you."

Jay blinked, then nodded quickly. "Likewise. Sorry—I'm not great with formalities."

"That's fine," Ryn said easily, before Amelia could respond. "You won't need them."

She glanced at him.

Ryn met her eyes, tone gentle but certain. "Jay's one of us."

A beat.

Her posture eased—not completely, but enough.

"…Then," she said, quieter, "you may call me Amelia."

Jay smiled, relieved.

"Thanks."

The tension bled out of Ryn's senses, leaving only something warm and familiar behind.

He breathed out, slower than before.

Whatever Aster was about to throw at him, facing it no longer felt like something he had to do alone.

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