Outside the City walls, a small group of men and women waited patiently. They were Grenar Krevoski's people—longtime associates, conspirators, and pawns ready to move the moment he gave the signal. Orders had been clear for weeks, and now they stood poised for action. They had already raised a modest army, thanks to Juvel Greesham, who had defected from his family to stand beside Masha, his beloved, with whom he had shared a few passionate nights during the rare times she was permitted to take her adult form. Their children now waited impatiently for her return, likely unaware that she remained trapped in that ungrateful body of hers, forced to submit to the will of a most vile person.

Among the ones waiting, Sylan Syresmundi was the most anxious. His nerves frayed, his confidence shattered, he felt the crushing certainty that they were doomed. He had tried to save himself, even going so far as to report Juvel's betrayal. But Sylia, the one who mattered, had responded only with silence.

Within the City, tension simmered in every corner. Grenar's adoptive sons, Kuschiel and Julend, sat near an Okonomiyaki stall on the border between the lower Gentry district and the Slums. Kuschiel fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked, eyeing Julend's elegant suit.

Julend gave a half-hearted shrug, glancing down at his attire. "Thought I might get lucky. This suit worked for me once. Not today, though. Anyway, you're not exactly dressed for these streets either."

Kuschiel turned away, sulking. "I thought maybe… she'd spare time for a date. She's leaving tomorrow but I guess she's too busy."

Julend sighed. Both of them were fools, really.

Elsewhere in the City, the newly constructed Square of Moon, Nights, and Stars hummed with the buzz of restless anticipation. It was located in the heart of the growing Gentry-Commoner district, a zone expanding faster than the officials could control. The city had changed. Distorted spaces had begun appearing—zones where entry was impossible for some, as though the city itself were selecting who belonged. The Province Lords and even the Region Lord had long lost control of parts of the City.

Tamren Syrmundi, Grenar Krevoski's younger brother, sipped his rice wine at a round table on the modest terrace of a Commoners shop.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The place had no airs about it, but the food was excellent—priced higher than what locals were used to paying though. Clearly, the menu catered to upper Gentry and the occasional Noble looking to mingle discreetly with the lower ranks. The district had changed too quickly, warped by strange enchantments. New homes had cropped up like mushrooms after rain—too refined for mere Gentry, better suited for Mednobles. Especially those tucked into that strange Half-Enclaved zone he had passed earlier.

Tamren had noticed several Nobles already. They were poorly disguised, their power practically leaking through their gestures and glances. He didn't need anyone to tell him they were all tied to Sylia, one way or another. Most had come hoping to catch a glimpse of her, or of a Division of hers. However, they were bound for disappointment. She wasn't coming tonight.

All evening, new squares like this one had appeared across the City. Tamren had seen at least four. Each one supposedly meant for lower Commoners, designed with humble stools and terraces no Gentry or god forbid, Nobles would deign to use. Yet here they were, especially the men, pretending to blend in. Tamren had a good guess why they were here, but he preferred not to think about it. They'd all go home with nothing. She wasn't coming. Not tonight.

His brothers, Runalk Syrmund-Bimelo and Tarsen Syrmundi, sat beside him, restless.

Tamren's brothers, Runalk Syrmund-Bimelo and Tarsen Syrmundi, looked at him expectantly. Runalk was the first to speak.

"So… what do we do now? She's not coming. That much is obvious. I think the others have already given up as well on her ever showing up."

Tamren exhaled slowly, wearied by waiting. He downed the last of his drink and stood.

"We go to her." he said firmly. "She's at the building she shares with Grenar tonight. We'll find her there."

Tarsen looked doubtful. "She might reject us harder than before."

"And you'll give up on Sasha?" Tamren shot back. "Are you truly ready to give up on her? Not the Sasha we used to know but this one, this version of her that finally fits all of us. Perfectly. Like she was made for us."

Tarsen, blushing now, shook his head. He couldn't disagree.

Tamren nodded. "Then let's go see her and show her just what she'd be giving up if she walks away from us. Maybe she'll leave behind a tiny piece of herself. That's still more than we've had so far. I don't know about you, but I'll be damned if I let my woman slip away. I just… don't know how to live without her."

They left the square, determination burning in their steps, like moths chasing a flame they knew would burn them but might still warm them for a moment.

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