Chapter 27: Southward to Merlia

Two days later, the Kazantrias departed Typhos. The family carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets, its wheels groaning as if reluctant to leave the capital behind. Inside, Lea leaned against the window, her cheek pressed to the cool glass, while Leo fidgeted beside her, unable to sit still for more than a few seconds at a time. Their mother sat across from them, her posture perfect, though her eyes kept scanning the streets through the curtain slit, as if half-expecting another attack even now.

The capital was far from at peace. Merchants called out their prices louder than usual, voices sharp with desperation. Beggars huddled in corners, their cries for coin more insistent. At every intersection, guards stood armed with halberds, faces pale but resolute. The air hummed with unease.

Snippets of conversation drifted in through the carriage windows.

“The Empire are the only ones who would dare consort with demons. Mark me, it was them!” a man barked, waving his arms as a crowd muttered agreement.

Another voice countered, lower but shaking, “Don’t be a fool. It wasn’t Kaisha. Someone in our own walls let those monsters in.”

Leo and Lea exchanged a glance. The words stabbed into both of them, because deep down they knew that second voice was right.

“The Empire…” Leo muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. “Always the easy answer. But Drakenhart—” He bit off the rest, catching the way his mother’s eyes flickered toward him.

“Enough, Leo,” Lucina said softly but firmly. “Speculation only fuels chaos. We know nothing yet. Leave it to the Queen’s investigators.”

Leo nodded, though reluctantly, his jaw tight.

As the carriage rolled toward the great southern gate, the cries of the city dimmed behind them. For the twins, leaving felt like stepping out from under a suffocating weight. The air tasted cleaner. Lea released a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

The city walls shrank into the distance, and the road south stretched before them.

The days bled into one another. Stone roads gave way to dirt paths, dirt paths to wide fields. The landscapes shifted endlessly, each new stretch more vivid than the last. Forests of tall evergreens whispered overhead, their shadows stretching across the wagon. Golden plains swayed like oceans of grain beneath the summer wind. Mountains loomed jagged and dark, their peaks dusted with snow, before finally softening into rolling hills.

At night, they often stopped at roadside inns. Some were cozy and clean, others drafty and damp, but each offered food, warmth, and most importantly rumors.

In one crowded inn, a barkeeper leaned across the counter, lowering his voice. “The nobles won’t tell us the truth. But someone opened those gates for the demons. Mark my words, there are traitors among them.”

Leo stiffened, gripping his mug so hard his knuckles turned white. Lea noticed and gently nudged his elbow.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

But his thoughts were already racing. That man Drakenhart… the way his eyes looked, the way he was too calm. It has to be him.

Outside of the inns, Solan made them train almost every evening. On clear nights, they sparred beneath starlight, the sound of steel ringing faintly through the still air.

Lea practiced shaping her light shield. At first it flickered like weak glass, full of cracks. But with each passing week she made it smoother, thinner, stronger, until her dome shimmered like pure crystal. Solan would test her by striking it with the blunt end of his blade, forcing her to adjust her focus until the barrier barely rippled at all.

Leo pushed himself harder still. His fire magic coursed hot and wild, threatening to scorch his own hands if he lost focus. Again and again he tried channeling the flames along his sword. Sometimes the blade hissed with nothing more than smoke; other times, it burned so fiercely it threatened to shatter. Sweat poured down his face as Solan corrected his stance, his grip, his breathing.

“Control first. Power comes after,” his father would remind him.

Weeks passed like this, the road carrying them farther south until the air began to shift.

The smell of salt touched the wind. The cries of gulls carried across the horizon.

The road wound up over a rise, and there it was—Merlia.

The city sprawled across the southern coast, its buildings perched atop colossal white stones that jutted out of the sea like the bones of a god. The ocean waves crashed against them, spraying mist that glittered beneath the sunlight. Wooden piers stretched long into the water, where fishermen shouted orders and nets sparkled with silver scales. Dozens of sailboats dotted the horizon, their masts swaying against the endless blue.

The twins pressed to the windows, eyes wide.

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” Lea whispered.

“It’s so vivid and alive,” Leo added, grinning. “It looks incredible”

Seagulls swooped above them, their cries sharp as they circled the bustling marketplace. There, rows of fish glistened on slabs of ice. Strings of dried seaweed swayed from poles. Women carried baskets of shellfish, children darted between stalls, their laughter mixing with the calls of merchants hawking their catch.

The Kazantrias pulled their carriage into a large inn at the center of town. Solan handed the reins to a stable boy, patting the horses before they were led to fodder.

Inside, the inn smelled of salt, spice, and freshly grilled fish. A great hearth crackled at the back, its flames struggling against the sea breeze that slipped through the open windows.

Lea froze in place when she spotted a platter carried past. Thin slices of raw fish, pink and white, neatly arranged around a dipping sauce.

Her throat tightened. This… this looks just like sushi.

Leo’s stomach growled. His eyes darted to a different dish, a roll of seaweed wrapped around rice and fish. And that’s nori. Actual seaweed! I haven’t seen this since since Japan.

The twins and their parents sat at a wooden stall overlooking the harbor. Instead of chopsticks, they were given small wooden picks, but the moment they took their first bites, the memories flooded back.

Salt. Rice. The clean, cool taste of raw fish.

It was as if a door to their old life cracked open for just a moment.

Lea closed her eyes, savoring it. For a heartbeat, she wasn’t a noble of Ronayah. She was Haruka again, eating sushi with her friends after kendo practice.

Leo swallowed hard, his chest aching, though his grin didn’t falter. I could live here forever.

“Not bad,” Solan admitted, chewing thoughtfully. “Strange, but fresh. Different from the meats of Endlost, but…” He trailed off, nodding in quiet approval.

Lucina smiled faintly at her children’s joy. “Perhaps this place was meant to remind you of something precious.”

For the first time in weeks, the twins laughed without the heaviness of grief pressing down on them.

The next morning, Solan led them up a steep path that wound into the cliffs above the city. Away from the marketplace, the roar of the ocean grew louder, waves pounding against the rocks below. At the top, tucked between two towering stones, stood a small shop.

Its sign was simple but striking: a wand crossed with a staff, carved deep into the wood.

Inside, the air smelled of polished oak, oils, and faint incense. The walls gleamed with racks of staves and wands, each glowing faintly with dormant enchantments. Crystals shimmered in their sockets, wood carved with runes that seemed almost alive.

An elderly craftsman approached, bowing slightly. His hands were calloused, his robe ink-stained. “Welcome. What is it you seek, young ones?”

Leo’s eyes darted instantly to a slim wand of dark ash wood, runes faintly etched along its length. When he picked it up, the fire in his blood hummed in resonance. Sparks flickered at the tip, answering his unspoken call.

“I didn’t know these even existed,” Leo breathed. “So cool.”

Lea, meanwhile, tilted her head. “What’s the point of using one of these over just casting magic with your hands? Everyone else seems to manage.”

The craftsman smiled knowingly. “Ah, but these are no ordinary tools. These are grown from Weeping Mages' wood, trees that sprout only where powerful mages fell in battle. A wand or staff such as these amplifies what lies within. Your mana flows more freely, with fewer constraints. A skilled mage can double their potency. More importantly, they gain precision.”

He gestured toward the rows. “The difference between casting raw magic with your hands and channeling it through one of these is like firing an arrow with and without a bowstring. Both will fly, but one strikes truer.”

Lea’s eyes softened. She reached out to a silver-white staff topped with a small orb of crystal. The wood shimmered faintly, almost glowing in her grip. It was lighter than she expected, perfectly balanced. As her fingers tightened around it, pale light rippled faintly across the shop floor.

“I didn’t know white wood like this existed,” she murmured. “But I like it.”

The craftsman nodded. “That is a rare one. Whitewood only grows where mighty light mages were laid to rest. And your brother’s wand—that wood once sprouted from the grave of a dark mage. Opposites, and yet fitting.”

Leo grinned, turning the wand in his hand. It felt natural, like an extension of himself.

Solan stepped forward, setting down a stack of gold. The clink of coins echoed in the small shop. “This should cover for both, correct?”

The craftsman studied them for a long moment, then bowed his head. “More than enough.”

“Isn’t this too much money, Father?” Leo asked, frowning.

“Do not worry,” Solan replied calmly. “You have earned this reward.”

Lea hugged her staff close. Leo twirled his wand, sparks dancing from its tip.

For the first time since their reincarnation, they didn’t just feel like noble children anymore.

They felt like mages standing at the edge of their true journey.