LESSON: V - The Tale of the Four Sisters

Third month of Flandore, the third week, the third day—

On that day, the very same spectacle could be seen across almost every district in the city. The residents had taken the day off from work and school alike; instead of remaining cooped up in their homes, everyone had gathered out in the streets.

Or, more accurately, they were gathered around the scattered streetlamps.

The largest crowd, naturally, had congregated in the central Markt Square, a crucial hub of the city. Groups of student friends, families, merchant guilds... All their eyes were fixed on the darkened, soot-stained streetlamps. A young child, clinging to his mother's hand, looked up at her innocently.

"What's going to happen now?"

The mother replied with a playful tone.

"They're going to light up the streetlamps, for the first time in a while!"

"Since that Dimming Policy was put in place, the city has been completely sapped of its vitality, hasn't it?"

Speaking to no one in particular, the surrounding residents chimed into the conversation.

"It's the Duke-sama's wedding, so today is a special exception."

"If only every day was somebody's wedding!"

"Hahaha, all those werewolves are heading 'upstairs' today too!"

"—Whoa, here comes the star of the show. Make way, everyone!"

Everyone who heard the voice turned around, and the crowd parted to the left and right.

A middle-aged man holding an ignition tool stood sheepishly at the entrance to the square. He was the lamplighter. His job was to light the streetlamps at a set time every morning and extinguish them at dusk. This was likely the very first time he had ever bathed in such expectant gazes from the people.

He was dressed in a brand-new work uniform, without a single smudge of soot—

Whistles blew and cheers erupted. The lamplighter, his face flushing red, looked up at the clock in the square.

There were less than five minutes left until the streetlamps were scheduled to be lit—that is to say, until the beginning of the wedding ceremony.

† † †

"Poisoning, you say...!?"

A raw sense of dread seeped into Melida's heart. Kufa simply nodded.

They were currently in a waiting room inside the Giant Flying Castle, the Grand Trois, located in the Holy King District.

Melida was dressed in a white-themed Bridesmaid dress. Beside her, Kufa wore a pale hydrangea-colored suit. He, in his own right, had secured a position as Serge's Groomsman.

His white hair, the very proof of his vampire heritage, was neatly styled with pomade, and he seemed fully mentally prepared for what was to come.

All that remained was to confirm the procedure for the assassination at the crucial moment.

It was the afternoon of the following day, one day after the dramatic resolution of the Ripper Incident—

The moment that many had eagerly anticipated, and yet simultaneously feared, had finally arrived. The wedding between Duke Serge and Freesia, which served as the symbol of peace between the human side and the Werewolf Tribe.

A massive crowd of invited guests had already gathered on the deck of the Grand Trois, which served as the ceremony venue. Powerful figures from Flandore, emissaries from the Night World, and as for the Werewolf Tribe, it seemed likely that nearly all their brethren, not just the executives, had flocked to attend. The tremendous sound of countless footsteps echoed down from the ceiling of the waiting room.

Amidst it all, Kufa was solemnly dedicating himself to his "preparations."

He was repeatedly running a cloth generously soaked in poison along the blade of the Holy Sword, the proof of a king.

Kufa admonished Melida with a sharp gaze as she began to lean forward.

"My Lady, please do not come any closer. This is a deadly poison."

"W-What exactly do you intend to do with that? Sensei..."

When Melida asked with a trembling voice, Kufa briefly deflected the question by murmuring, "How nostalgic."

This Holy Sword, adorned with four distinct jewels, had been crafted about a year ago... right alongside the coronation of Serge Shiksal as  Duke King. He could still remember it vividly. The train journey with Melida, Elise, Salacha, and Mule. And that perilous encounter with Serge, the very man who had issued the order.

To think that this Holy Sword would end up taking the king's life after everything that had happened.

Kufa hardened his resolve and spoke.

"I had them alter the progression of the ceremony. After the bride removes the Engagement Ring, the groom will cut his own fingertip with this Holy Sword. And then, he will seal the marriage certificate with his blood... By the time they share their vows with a kiss, the poison entering from the wound on his finger will have circulated throughout his entire body, and it will likely have led him to his death."

"...!!"

"If things proceed according to plan, Lord Serge will be the only casualty. Afterward, we simply end the ceremony for the time being, and then issue a joint statement with Mad Gold at a later date. Explaining that the peace negotiations have gone back to square one, and that we will tenaciously continue adjustments with a new representative from the human side..."

In reality, that would be the end of it. The Werewolf Tribe would never appear in Flandore again. They themselves would likely be more than satisfied since the Perpetual Motion Machine had been completed.

Kufa wouldn't be striking the blow directly. The identity of the assassin would never be brought to light. It was a meticulously crafted plan.

And yet, why was it...

His hands felt heavy. Simply sliding the cloth across the blade required a tremendous amount of effort. To begin with, there was no need to coat it so thoroughly. Just a single drop of this rare, lethal poison was enough to snatch away a life.

Despite this, Kufa had been repeating the exact same action for quite some time now.

Almost as if he was under the illusion that time would never move forward as long as he kept doing so—

"Sensei..."

Melida fiddled with the hem of her skirt in frustration, and then, with a sharp clack, stepped forward.

"Sensei! I knew it, I really don't want you to kill the Duke-sama!"

"My Lady..."

"Because if you do, it would just be so sad for Freesia-san..."

Just how deeply would that pure-hearted girl be hurt if the person she loved died right before her eyes after sharing a kiss?

She would have to be dragged away from Flandore, a city bathed in light, and taken back to the darkness of the Night World...

Right at that moment, the floor shook.

It wasn't just the floor. The walls, the ceiling—the entire room itself. A heavy vibration transmitted from beyond. The whole ship was rumbling. Kufa realized what was happening based on the sheer scale of it.

He carefully set down the Holy Sword and the poisoned cloth, removed his gloves in a similar fashion, and then stood up to approach the window.

Melida followed slightly behind, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

They caught their breath in unison.

"The ship is floating...!"

The Giant Flying Castle, the Grand Trois, had slightly lifted off from the surface of the river, just as its name implied. It was likely a surprise performance for the invited guests, as cheers and gasps of amazement echoed from the deck above.

"It seems they've started up the Perpetual Motion Machine," Kufa muttered.

If that was the case, it looked like they had no intention of turning back on Mad Gold now.

Since they had already activated it, they had to acquire the control device—the Engagement Ring. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to stabilize that colossal amount of energy, and it would undoubtedly spiral out of control before long.

The beginning of the wedding ceremony was rapidly approaching.

"My Lady, we are out of time—this is our final chance."

Kufa turned back to Melida, peering closely into her large, crimson eyes.

Melida stared back at him with a tense expression.

"Please look over there. At the Airship Primavera, anchored in the sky above the Twins Mist Bridge."

That was the location Serge had chosen for his emergency anchorage just yesterday. Its elegant form could be seen looking up from the Grand Trois... A bridge appeared to be extended midway across the aerial corridor connecting the two towers, securing it in place.

Speaking slightly faster, Kufa infused his words with emotion.

"Our time limit is until the groom and bride make their eternal vows! Before then, I need you to infiltrate the airship, My Lady, and rescue Lady Salacha, who should be imprisoned there. Right now, the security there should be at its absolute minimum."

He paused for a moment, wetting his lips.

His voice was predictably laced with hesitation as he continued...

"You must bring her here to persuade her older brother. If there is a path where we can avoid killing Lord Serge, that is our only remaining hope."

Melida leaned in firmly, gripping the fabric at his chest.

"Understood, Sensei. I will do it!"

Then, she offered her lips to him, looking as though she wanted him to give her courage.

Kufa pressed a kiss to her forehead while pressing a 'parting gift' into the palm of her hand.

It would be a lot more helpful than sending her out completely unarmed, after all...

Finally, he gave her a gentle push on the back of her dress.

"Now go, and leave the wedding to me!"

At that moment, the door to the waiting room swung open, and Mad Gold strode in triumphantly.

"On this highly auspicious daaay—"

Melida dashed past him and bolted out into the hallway. Gold widened his eyes in surprise.

"Where is the Child of Prophecy running off to?"

"I just sent her on a little errand."

"Well, I'll be... If she misses the moment of the century, don't come crying to me!"

Either way, since Serge already knew her face, Kufa couldn't exactly bring her to the ceremony.

In his vampiric state, Kufa would likely face no issues. He sheathed the poisoned Holy Sword and headed toward the deck alongside Gold, who was dressed in the garb of a clergyman.

As expected, a massive crowd of invited guests was already seated in the magnificently decorated venue. Long benches that spanned nearly the entire width of the ship were lined up in rows, and an impressive array of prominent figures occupied them.

It seemed that all the participants who had been gathered for the Kings' Conference a month ago and subsequently detained in their hotels had been invited. Among the cluster of humans, he spotted a few familiar faces. The one showing the most blatant displeasure at this event was likely the elderly Lord Derwent, renowned as the Sword Saint.

Roughly speaking, the right side was seated with humans—the influential figures of Flandore.

And the left side was arranged for the Lycanthropes, the representatives of the Night World. Most of them were werewolves, but he also caught a glimpse of Doctor Wheel and the back of the Bandit Tribe's Bruno amongst them.

A total of several hundred people, all facing forward—toward the bow of the ship.

Standing tall over there was the Perpetual Motion Machine, the heart of the Giant Flying Castle, Grand Trois. It was of an immense scale, shaped much like a horn played by a giant. Small pistons moved back and forth, puffing out fine streams of steam; evidently, it was already in an active state.

The fierce luminescence emanating from the core was undoubtedly the result of it repeatedly undergoing annihilation reactions.

Operating it without a control device meant that it was currently balancing on an incredibly precarious edge. In Gold's mind, he probably already considered the Engagement Ring as good as his...

Whether it was just his imagination or not, the outer shell looked somewhat thicker than it had yesterday.

They must have gathered all the crosses engraved with the True Names of the Werewolf Tribe and used them to seal it.

Standing at the base of the Perpetual Motion Machine, which had crept ever closer to completion in such a manner, was a young man.

The groom in his pure white tuxedo.

Serge Shiksal, the man whose life was to be scattered away on this glorious day...

He noticed her as she appeared at the venue.

The groomsman, someone she had supposedly never met before, smiled warmly at her—

Melida watched from afar as the wedding finally began. Along the streets of the Holmes River, crowds of townspeople had gathered, eager to witness the historic moment as closely as possible. Although a beautiful girl dashing out of the Grand Trois in a dress briefly drew their attention, Melida sprinted straight toward the Twins Mist Bridge without a second glance.

As she ran, she stole a quick glance at the venue through gaps in the crowd.

The groom, Serge, was already standing before the altar with his groomsman, Kufa, positioned behind him. At a signal from Mad Gold, who was dressed as a clergyman, the orchestra began to play a hymn.

Then, at the very back of the pews, the bride appeared in her wedding dress.

Watched by all the attendees, she took her first step down the aisle.

"Freesia-san...!" Melida whispered.

Her face was hidden beneath multiple layers of a veil. It would likely be lifted during the vow's kiss... And, as expected, she appeared taller than usual. Beneath her long skirt, she must have been wearing the high heels she had been breaking in earlier.

Combined with the makeup on her lips, she looked quite grown-up.

Even Mad Gold seemed to widen his eyes at the mature appearance of the girl he called his "daughter."

Only Serge, who was taking her as his wife, waited with a composed and unhurried demeanor.

Stepping forward first, the groomsman, Kufa, walked reverently to Serge's side.

He presented him with a sheathed Holy Sword—

Just as Serge accepted it and secured it to his belt, the wall of people grew too thick, entirely blocking Melida's view. Shaking her head to dispel any hesitation, she picked up her pace.

In no time at all, she left the crowd of onlookers behind and reached the Twins Mist Bridge. It was a drawbridge, and the aerial corridor connecting its two towers served as a walkway while the bridge was raised. Melida immediately stepped into the tower and bolted up the deserted stairs.

Her bottomless stamina was likely a testament to her daily lessons with her tutor—

But by the time she finally reached the aerial corridor, even Melida was panting slightly. Still, there was no time to rest. A maintenance door had been left open, with a boarding bridge extending from it. Multiple mooring ropes tethered a massive whale to the sky.

The Airship Primavera.

How many times had she set foot in here by now? Looking down, the people on the ground were already smaller than peas. The moment she stepped out of the aerial corridor, a strong gust of wind whipped at her blonde hair. Taking a deep breath to fill her lungs with fresh air, Melida dashed across the bridge.

Through the boarding hatch in its hull, she entered the belly of the flying whale—

As soon as she slipped inside, the howling wind faded away. The ship was dead silent.

I was told the security would be light, but could it really be completely empty...?

Moreover, the lamps were off, leaving the area in darkness. The only thing she could rely on was the faint light filtering in through the windows.

"I wonder where Sala is being held?" she murmured to herself.

She was currently on the second deck. Was Salacha on the first deck near the main deck? Or the third deck near the bottom of the ship?

Melida was about to step forward aimlessly when she suddenly flinched and stopped right before a window.

Something had caught the dim light. She squinted, straining her eyes.

—A tripwire! It was strung across the hallway, placed right where someone would trip over it if they weren't paying attention. The last time she was on this ship, there hadn't been any traps like this.

...What happens if I trip it?

As a test, Melida took off one of her shoes and tossed it from a short distance away.

Her aim was true; the heel of the shoe snagged the wire, pulling it taut.

Thwip. The air vibrated sharply.

Something shot across Melida's field of vision from right to left at a breakneck speed. She instinctively leaned back, then looked at the wall.

A spiderweb of cracks had spread across the lacquered wall. At the center of it, something was lodged deep. —An arrow! On the opposite side of the wire, hidden in the shadows, a crossbow had been rigged.

A chill ran down Melida's spine as she realized the trajectory of the arrow.

It was far from a merciful trap meant to immobilize an intruder by piercing their leg. The crossbow was aimed squarely above the chest level of an adult—a fatal shot for anyone who tripped the wire.

Reaching out to retrieve her shoe, she slipped it back on and took a moment to steady her breathing.

"An anti-intruder trap? But who could have...?"

Was it Serge? Melida vaguely understood why there wasn't a single guard or crew member in sight. No one in their right mind would want to stay on such a dangerous ship.

And yet, a voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness.

"My, my, my... It seems another pesky butterfly has wandered in."

"W-Who's there!?" Melida demanded.

Even as she called out, she realized that she recognized this cloying, sticky woman's voice.

She had only heard it once, but she could never forget it. It was the beautiful woman from the Imp Tribe, the one who had cornered them alongside the Werewolf Tribe at the Clock Tower. Melida had found it hard to comprehend how she had flirted so indiscriminately with everyone in sight.

She remembered the woman whispering her name to Kufa.

From wherever she was, Nelfire had somehow projected her disembodied voice.

"I went through all the trouble of chasing those mutts and humans off this ship, but now you're going to delay my plans? I suppose I'll just have to squash you quickly—"

"Where are you...? Show yourself!" Melida ordered.

Carefully stepping over the tripwire, she fumbled her way down the corridor.

Relying on her intuition, she rounded a corner, only to find herself in pitch blackness—

It's too dark to see anything! Spotting a wall-mounted lamp, Melida reached out for it.

Just as her fingers found the ignition knob and she was about to twist it all the way up, the air around her shifted.

"Don't, Lida-chan!!"

Someone tackled her from the front, shoving her to the floor.

But the sheer force of the impact caused her fingers to flick the knob.

Flames erupted from the ceiling.

A blast from a flamethrower scorched the corridor, practically melting the wall lamp. A pipe protruding from a hole in the corner of the ceiling had sprayed fuel and ignited it.

Before any words could be exchanged, Melida and the person who had tackled her rolled across the floor. They quickly scrambled out of the flamethrower's range and pushed off the ground. Leaping up acrobatically, they distanced themselves even further, standing back-to-back as they warily monitored both ends of the hallway.

Only then did Melida turn to look over her shoulder.

"Mule!! Why are you here!?"

"I could ask you the same thing...! You always manage to surprise me!"

It was Melida's much-admired friend, Mule La Moir, a girl with fairy-like beauty and black crystal hair. They swiftly grasped each other's hands and affectionately rubbed their cheeks together, reaffirming their bond.

There was a mountain of things Melida wanted to discuss. After all, Mule had vanished without a trace since the Kings' Conference a month ago, not even telling her own mother, Almedia, where she had gone.

However, questioning her would have to wait. Covering each other's blind spots once again, the two girls glared intensely down both sides of the corridor.

Nelfire's voice continued to echo, her exact location and distance still impossible to discern.

"Oh, so you're friends. In that case, I'll happily devour you both together."

"Shouldn't you be at the wedding? Sensei already told me about your arrangements."

Melida retorted, keeping a watchful eye on the pitch blackness around them.

"You came here to get a piece of the Perpetual Motion Machine, didn't you? Wouldn't it be bad if you skipped out on the invitation and offended the Werewolf Tribe?"

"I couldn't care less about the mood of those mutts."

Her mocking tone was laced with pure malice.

Both Melida and Mule furrowed their brows, trying to process the situation.

"Using the Perpetual Motion Machine to supply all the energy in the Night World? It's utterly laughable. Think about the sheer terror of entrusting your infrastructure to your enemies. All it would take is for those mutts to close the valve on a whim, and their opponents would have their resources cut off, bringing their lives to a grinding halt. Once you start relying on the Perpetual Motion Machine, you'll be forced to bow down and cater to the Werewolf Tribe's every demand for all eternity... That's the kind of world that nouveau riche bastard is trying to build."

"I absolutely refuse to let that happen," the voice from the darkness spat.

Melida called out to the unseen enemy.

"...If that's the case, then why did you come to Flandore? You could have just ignored it!"

She felt as though the darkness itself was sneering at her.

"Oh, it was well worth the trip. Because there's a Perpetual Motion Machine right here!"

"What?"

"The Airship Primavera!! This was our goal from the very beginning! This beautiful sky whale belongs in the hands of the Imp Tribe...! Peace talks, weddings, mutt business—they can do whatever they please. I'll just take this ship and its Perpetual Motion Machine back to our territory in the Night World."

"What an audacious thief," Mule commented.

Even she had let out an exasperated sigh.

From the shadows, Nelfire snorted.

"I've kicked all the crew members off the ship. Every last one of those mutts is obsessed with the bride at the wedding... As for the captive princess, I can just slowly strangle her to death at the very end."

And that was why, the darkness hissed.

"The two of you are the only things standing in my way."

In a chain reaction, pipes shot out from all directions in the corridor.

Without a second thought, Melida and Mule kicked off the ground.

A split second later, the flamethrowers unleashed a torrent of fire simultaneously. The fiery breath grazed the hems of their dresses right after they dashed through at full speed. They couldn't afford to stop moving. With the continuous roar of flames echoing behind them, the two girls sprinted deeper and deeper into the hallway.

"A corner!"

Melida had spotted it first, and Mule likely pulled up the ship's map in her head instantly.

"Go left! There are too many critical systems there; she shouldn't be able to use fire!" Mule instructed.

The moment she finished speaking, they reached the intersection, and Melida took a sharp left turn. Mule barely managed to keep up with her speed. A second later, the wave of fire blasted straight through the main corridor. Just as Mule predicted, there were no offensive traps set on the left side of the hallway—

Instead, a non-lethal trap was waiting for them.

"Kyaa!?"

Melida's foot jolted to a sudden halt. The sole of her shoe wouldn't budge from the floor—and before she could even process it, Mule crashed into her back. Their bodies tangled together, and they both tumbled to the ground.

The moment her shoulder slammed into the floor, an unpleasant, sticky sensation spread across it. This time, their positions were reversed. Mule was pinned beneath Melida, crushing her under her weight.

She tried to jump up immediately, but found herself unable to do so.

That sticky feeling that had greeted them the moment they fell was practically gluing them to the floor. Mule, who was pinned at the bottom, was in a particularly miserable state.

Melida, who at least had some freedom of movement, grimaced at the gooey substance stringing from the floor to her arm.

"What is this!? Gum...? Glue!?"

"I think it's... birdlime... ugh," Mule grunted.

Mule was dressed in a party dress, but its entire front was smothered in the sticky birdlime, rendering her unable to even lift her upper body.

Whether it was just incredibly adhesive or simply designed to catch fabric, it had a terrifyingly strong grip...

If Nelfire targeted them right now, they wouldn't stand a chance.

And yet, their enemy showed neither her face nor her voice.

"W-Why isn't she coming to finish us off?" Melida wondered.

"She can't."

Even pinned to the floor, Mule kept her mind perfectly calm and collected.

Slowly peeling herself off the floor, Melida listened intently to her best friend's voice.

"The Imp Tribe doesn't actually possess much combat ability," Mule explained sharply. "That confident, beautiful form of hers is nothing but an illusion! We're both Mana users, even if just barely, and it's two against one. She's terrified of taking a serious counterattack from us."

"Does she have some kind of weakness, then?" Melida asked urgently.

"Just as their name suggests, they are spirits born from darkness, and they can only survive in the darkness—"

Closing her eyes, Mule searched through the bookshelves of her memory, her lips trembling slightly.

Then, her eyes snapped wide open as she delivered the answer.

"—Nectar. Their skin is incredibly vulnerable to sunlight, even more so than other Lycanthropes! Didn't they say the Night Smog the Werewolf Tribe scattered over the Holy King District was originally meant to welcome the Imp Tribe?"

"The light of Nectar... but there's barely any light right now because of the Dimming Policy..." Melida muttered.

Desperately racking her brain, Melida continued to peel the sticky glue trap off her skirt.

Suddenly, an idea flashed in her mind.

"Miu, listen to me," she whispered.

Leaning over to cover her friend's face, Melida quietly relayed her plan.

Instantly grasping the intent, her best friend gave a firm nod.

"In that case, we need to head to the kitchen," Mule whispered back. "Or perhaps the party room would work, too!"

"If that's decided, Miu, can you manage to stand up?" Melida urged.

At this point, Melida had finally managed to free herself almost entirely.

However, it was clear that Mule, who had been pinned beneath her, wouldn't have it so easy. Just peeling the glue off the edges of her dress... felt like it would take an eternity! And Nelfire certainly wouldn't be so patient as to wait idly by while they struggled.

Biting her lip, Mule felt a deep flush spread across her pale cheeks.

"A-Are you absolutely certain there's no one else on this ship right now?" she asked hesitantly.

"The boarding ramp got burned down, so I doubt anyone else will be coming in, but..." Melida trailed off.

In fact, it wasn't even certain if Nelfire could see them clearly in this pitch-black darkness.

"I suppose... this is no time to worry about being elegant!" Mule declared.

Riiiip! With her own hands, Mule began to tear her dress.

Melida reached around and helped her. With one of Mule's hands and one of her own, they applied force in opposite directions. Inwardly, Melida offered a silent apology to the honor of the La Moir family.

"I'll try to tear it as neatly as possible!" Melida promised.

"Please do!"

And so, with a synchronized, "Ready, go!", they pulled with all their might—

Riiiip-rip-riiiip!! With unexpected force, a massive chunk of the fabric tore right off...

"Ah, uh... ahhh..."

Naturally, there was no turning back time to fix it now.

Since they had already started tearing, there was nothing else to do but extend the rip all the way down to the hem of the skirt. With a decisive snap, the torn fabric fell away.

Leaving half of her dress stuck to the floor along with the glue trap, Mule was finally able to stand up.

She desperately gathered what was left of the fabric, making a futile effort to hide her underwear.

Her mature, party-style panties made Melida wonder if they had been chosen with a certain older someone in mind... though it was a bit ruined now that her beautiful dress was in shreds.

More than that, Melida was simply stunned by her best friend's rare reaction.

Her face was beet red.

"Between Kufa-sensei and you, Lida-chan... how exactly are you going to make this up to me?" Mule groaned in embarrassment.

Suddenly, the air was sliced open.

The two girls ducked reflexively. Something grazed just above their heads and struck the wall. A whip-like crack echoed through the room, leaving a perfectly straight gouge in the structure. And then, rippling through Melida's sharp vision, came a thread-like glimmer—

"It's those wires again!" Melida cried out.

And this time, weights were attached to the ends, turning the wires themselves into deadly, swinging weapons.

Leaping over the remaining glue trap, Melida and Mule broke into a sprint. While they had been struggling to get back on their feet, Nelfire had clearly planned her next move and finished her preparations. From every direction ahead of them—up, down, left, and right—the sharp twang of released springs echoed in rapid succession.

A relentless web of wires lashed out at them from all sides.

Melida dodged a sweeping strike aimed at her legs with a forward roll, seamlessly chaining it into a cartwheel, then a backflip, constantly dancing through the air. One moment she stretched her limbs out wide, and the next she curled into a tight ball, slipping through the cat's cradle of deadly wires with absolute perfection.

Mule, on the other hand, perceived the unpredictable trajectory of every single wire with an almost godlike omniscience. She stepped forward with the grace of a lady. The instant she brought her heels together, a wire struck the floor where she had just been. Raising her arms as if accepting a dance invitation, she thrust one leg upward with the flexibility of a ballerina, allowing the flashing wires to slice through the narrow gaps between her limbs by mere millimeters.

Fiercely at times, then shifting into a slow, elegant dance—

Mule's toe kicked away one wire, immediately followed by her striking down a second that came from her blind spot. As the deflected wire went slack in the air, Melida snatched it mid-leap. Gripping the weight at the end, she let her landing momentum carry her arm into a massive swing.

With a resounding crash, the launcher mechanism was ripped right out from inside the wall.

The wire onslaught weakened instantly. Tossing the heavy weight aside, Melida kicked off the floor and dashed forward.

"How is she controlling these wires so precisely!?" she yelled.

"It's the Imp Tribe's Anima!" Mule replied.

Taking advantage of the brief respite, Mule accelerated her pace as well.

"It's less like controlling machines and more like playing pranks on them. I bet she just set up all those traps earlier and then triggered them to malfunction from a distance."

Melida remembered the interference attack on her Intercom back at the Clock Tower a few days ago.

"So she absolutely refuses to fight us up close!" Melida deduced.

Without slowing down, they kicked open a set of doors and burst into the room.

It was the party room. Just in front of the curtain where the servers went in and out... there it was! Spotting their target lined up on the counter, the two girls rushed over.

It was a row of small bottles filled with drinking water. While Melida yanked out a cork, Mule grabbed a glass. In the darkness, they poured the water, filling the glass to the brim, even as some spilled onto the floor.

Mule then held the glass up high, as if proposing a toast.

They both turned to face the wide-open doors.

"Hey, do you know what I meant earlier, Rita-chan?" Mule asked loudly. "When I said that the Imp Tribe's form is nothing but an illusion?"

"No, I have no idea," Melida replied.

She made sure her voice carried, speaking with exaggerated volume.

The darkness seemed to thicken around them, and the doorframe let out a faint, ominous creak—

"The Imp Tribe's true nature," Mule declared, "is actually that of a small lizard, a snake, or a rat. They merely use illusions to disguise themselves in beautiful forms. That's why their combat ability is so pathetically low."

"Oh, now that you mention it, I saw her eyes earlier!" Melida chimed in.

"They looked rather reptilian, didn't they? For them, that hideous true nature they can't quite hide is a massive inferiority complex. Since they know how weak they are, the Imp Tribe leeches off other tribes, sweet-talking their way to the top. I wonder what would happen if everyone found out they were being deceived?"

"Shut your mouths!!"

Tearing through the darkness, Nelfire herself lunged directly at them.

Scales bulged across the backs of her hands, and her fingertips had sharpened into jagged points like twisted tree roots. Her beautiful face had already collapsed. Her jaw split wide open in a bloody red maw, and her pitch-black eyes bulged grotesquely from their sockets—this was her true form.

Mule smoothly sidestepped a vicious strike aimed right at her face. Melida leaped to the opposite side to put some distance between them.

Sharpening her fingers even further into deadly claws, Nelfire flicked a forked tongue from her lips.

"You insolent little brats...! I'll tear you both to shreds!!"

"My, how vulgar. Your makeup is completely ruined, you know!" Mule taunted.

"Kishaaaaa!!"

Just as expected, Nelfire locked her sights on Mule. Brute-force lariats and a barrage of wild kicks sent Mule's ruined dress fluttering around her as she gracefully ducked and weaved through the assault. The water inside the glass she held delicately between her fingertips sloshed wildly.

Before all the water could spill out, Melida flipped up the hem of her skirt.

Wrapped around her pale thigh was a sleek garter ring—

She slid its contents out of the attached holder and into the palm of her hand. It was the Ambrosia Crystal she had received from Kufa as a parting gift. Waiting for the perfect opening, she expertly tossed it with a flick of her fingers.

"Miu!" Melida shouted.

Without even looking, Mule extended the mouth of her glass toward Melida.

Just as Mule deflected Nelfire's brutal strike with one arm, the crystal dropped flawlessly into the glass.

Plop. A ripple expanded outward across the surface of the water—

An instant later, the submerged crystal erupted with blinding intensity. It was a phenomenon unique to Ambrosia. The oppressive darkness of the party room was obliterated in a single breath, completely crushed by a brilliant white flash.

"Hiiik!?"

Nelfire's face twisted into an expression of sheer terror. The scales covering her face suddenly began to crack and splinter.

Holding the glowing glass out like a searchlight, Mule thrust it directly into her face—

"Farewell, and good riddance. Isn't that right, Spirit of Darkness?"

"Hiii—Hiaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!"

Screaming in agony, Nelfire turned and fled for her life. As she scrambled blindly toward the exit doors, a sharp crack echoed—her limbs were rapidly calcifying into stone. She pitched forward, crashing to the floor, but still desperately tried to crawl away. The petrification spread swiftly from her extremities. Just as she grabbed the doorframe with a clawed hand, her opposite arm crumbled into dust.

Dragging herself into the hallway with her one remaining arm, she seized a window frame and hauled her upper body up with the last of her strength.

Her lower half had already almost completely turned to dust, and the encroaching stone was rapidly creeping up past her heart and toward her throat—

She smashed through the window.

Tumbling straight out of the ship, her remaining upper body plummeted through the sky. The rushing wind whipped at her hair, the very tips turning to stone as they danced in the air. Soon, the petrification swallowed her forehead, sweeping down across the bridge of her nose, consuming every last inch of her flesh. Frozen forever in a demonic scream, the solid stone statue finally crashed violently into the surface of the river.

A towering geyser of water erupted from the impact.

At that moment, one could only wonder if anyone in the city had witnessed her final, miserable fate as she shattered into a million pieces...

The ripples that spread from the center of the Holmes River were soon swallowed up by larger waves, vanishing without a trace.

Having watched the entire spectacle unfold from the airship's window, Melida finally turned around.

Perhaps it was because the spirit governing the darkness had perished, or perhaps her eyes had just adjusted, but her vision felt much clearer now. In the center of the party room, Mule was trying to catch her breath. Pressing a hand against the torn bodice of her ruined dress with an embarrassed flush, she stood up.

"Honestly, to be seen in such an indecent state... Kufa-sensei is going to be exasperated with me all over again. I need to borrow a change of clothes from the dressing room. I'm sure it was on this floor somewhere..."

As her best friend muttered complaints, Melida rushed over and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Miu, I was so, so worried about you!" she cried.

Wrapping both of her arms securely around Melida's slender back, Mule hugged her back tightly.

"I was just as worried about you, Rita-chan! Seeing you paraded around as the Child of Prophecy had me sick with anxiety."

"Where have you even been all this time? You didn't even tell your mother where you were going!"

"I've been on this ship the entire time, you know? Serge-oniisama had me hidden away."

Melida's brain felt like it was going to short-circuit. Grabbing her by the hand, Mule gently pulled her along.

"We can go over the details later! Right now, we need to free Sala-chan!"

"R-Right. Let's go!"

To begin with, that was the very reason they had rushed all the way to the Primavera.

According to Mule, Salacha was being held on the first deck. Sprinting at full speed through the ship, which was truly completely devoid of people, the two girls finally arrived before the door in question.

I wonder if it's locked?

However, Mule produced a key as if it were the most natural thing in the world and unlocked the door.

Before there was even time to voice a question, they threw the door open together.

"Sala!!" Melida cried out. "We're here to save you!"

They charged in with great vigor, but—her figure was nowhere to be found inside the lavish room.

Wondering why the wind was so strong, they noticed the windows leading out to the balcony were wide open.

Only the left curtain was violently flapping in the wind—

The right one had been torn from its rail and was tied around the balcony railing. At this, the blood drained completely from Melida and Mule's faces. They rushed out onto the balcony in a panic and leaned over the railing, and just as their worst fears suggested, they spotted cherry blossom-colored hair being whipped about by the fierce wind.

"Sala-chan!!" Melida screamed. "What are you doing?!"

Dangling from the single curtain tied to the balcony, she seemed utterly incapable of climbing back up into the room. Perhaps she had thought she could reach the windows on the deck below. However, her lifeline had run out of slack before she could even make it halfway down.

From the ground, she would look like nothing more than a tiny flower seed. No one down there would notice her predicament.

The balcony of the adjacent room was also—too far. Salacha's hands were already turning completely white from her desperate grip.

"E-Everyone disappeared from the ship, so..." Salacha stammered, tears in her eyes. "I thought I might be able to escape now...!"

"Oh, jeez, just hold on!" Mule shouted back. "We'll pull you up right now!"

Mule and Melida gripped the base of the makeshift lifeline and shifted their weight backward as they cried out, "Heave!"

Slowly but surely, Salacha's dress-clad figure began to be hoisted upward.

Along the hull of the ship, the splash of cherry-blossom pink inched closer to the balcony.

And finally, just when it seemed they had closed the remaining distance to a mere meter or two—

Suddenly, a violent gust of wind tore past.

Her soft dress billowed wildly, lifting both of her legs into the air. One of her shoes flew off. Instinctively trying to reach for it, Salacha's remaining hand slipped right off the lifeline.

Melida and Mule watched in horror as their best friend's wide-eyed expression instantaneously plummeted away from them.

"Sala!!"

"Sala-chan!!"

A flash of light.

Something streaked across Melida's vision from the side, piercing right through the falling Salacha.

No—more precisely, it pierced her dress. A single arrow shot through her puff sleeve, pinning the fabric to the ship's hull. With the sudden tug of her body weight, the fabric tore violently at the shoulder, but in that momentary reprieve, Salacha had desperately seized the end of the curtain.

All three girls let out a sharp gasp, breathing out a massive sigh of relief.

"W-What was that just now...?" Melida breathed, still trembling.

She turned her gaze toward the balcony of the room to their right.

She barely managed to catch a glimpse of a slender figure wielding a crossbow disappearing back into the room—

But regardless, their best friend's safety was the top priority. Salacha gave up on her dress. Riding the momentum of being pulled up, she tore the fabric entirely from the shoulder pinned by the arrow, leaving the dress behind... Clinging to the curtain in little more than her undergarments and an exposed chest.

With the utmost care, Melida and Mule continued to step backward, gripping the curtain tight.

Eventually, Salacha's hands appeared, firmly grabbing hold of the railing.

Hauling her body up, she tumbled onto the balcony. Melida and Mule dropped the curtain and rushed to her side. Pulling Salacha inside the room, the three of them embraced tightly.

"Honestly, Sala-chan!!" Mule chided gently. "Just how reckless can you be?!"

"Ugh... I-I'm sorry..." Salacha whimpered. "B-But, who was it that saved me just now...?"

A footstep sounded behind them.

Melida was the first to look back, and standing before the door to the room, she found exactly who she had expected.

Even so, she couldn't help but doubt her own eyes.

"Freesia-san...?!"

Standing there with a crossbow in hand was indeed the Gunner girl they had rapidly grown close with over the past few days. She was clad in her familiar cold-weather combat uniform. Were none of the wolves she called her childhood friends with her? No—that was hardly the main issue here.

Melida practically scrambled to her feet in panic.

"What are you doing here?!" she demanded. "Weren't you just at your wedding...?!"

Melida had seen the bride walking down the aisle with her own two eyes.

So, was that—not Freesia?

The girl in question tossed the crossbow aside. She must have borrowed Nelfire's trap.

Now completely unarmed, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head deeply. Melida was utterly bewildered.

"I know it is terribly brazen of me!" Freesia pleaded. "But I have a favor to ask of you all...!"

"H-Huh? W-What is it?" Melida stammered.

"Please, you must help Lord Serge!!" she cried out. "His true goal isn't a peace treaty with the Lycanthropes at all! If this continues—..."

A scream echoed out.

It came from outside the balcony, far down on the ground. A commotion loud enough to reach an airship anchored over two hundred meters in the sky was anything but ordinary. Melida frantically rushed back to the window.

Leaning far over the railing, she looked down at the Great Holmes River.

—There, she saw the Grand Trois violently engulfed in flames.

† † †

It was an incident that occurred just a short while prior.

The anomaly occurred while Mad Gold was melodiously reading from the Bible. The bride suddenly swayed without warning and crouched down as if in pain.

No, anyone who had been keeping a close eye on her would have noticed.

That she had been struggling to breathe ever since she made her entrance. The attendees began to murmur in confusion. Mad Gold, a cold sweat running down his cheek, scolded her in a low voice.

"...Freesia! What are you doing? Stand up at once!"

On the other hand, the groom, Serge, was entirely unperturbed.

Instead, he merely let out a wry smile.

"Is the corset too tight?" he asked gently. "You've strapped it up quite fiercely, after all."

"...Indeed I have."

Hearing the voice echoing from beneath the veil, Gold finally realized it at this very moment.

It was a resolute, commanding voice that sounded nothing like his daughter's.

His eyes slowly widened in shock.

"You're not... Freesia?"

—It happened in a split second.

Serge smoothly reached to his waist and drew his sword. The sound of a slashing blade ripped through the air.

Almost no one in the venue had been able to track such blinding speed.

Everyone stood utterly dumbfounded, completely lost for words.

From the tip of the Holy Sword, blood dripped down alongside droplets of clear poison.

"Ah...?"

Mad Gold's suit had been slashed clean open across his chest. From the bottom half of the gash, a vibrant color rapidly seeped out. —Fresh blood, spurting wildly.

He collapsed to the floor, his knees giving way. The impact caused something to tumble out from his breast pocket.

It was a Derringer. With the Holy Sword still held in his right hand, Serge scooped it up with his left.

"So you had this concealed on you?" he noted.

The edges of his lips curled into a grotesque sneer.

"Was the poison-laced sword not enough to satisfy you? —Then let the poison consume you."

He raised the Holy Sword once more, holding it in a reverse grip.

"Fulfill your purpose!!"

A merciless second strike dug deep into Gold's shoulder. At this point, the attendees finally began to scream in terror. Hearing a woman's voice shriek as if tearing through silk, Serge turned around.

"Ah, Mother! Look, I have avenged you like this...!"

"D-D-Duke-sama?!" an attendee shouted. "Just what on earth are you doing?!"

"Father. Please do not be so angry," Serge muttered, staring into empty space. "—Yes, I will handle it at once."

"Lord Serge!!" another attendee cried. "Just who is it you're speaking to?!"

The attendees all stared at him as if looking at something terrifying and horrific.

This was especially true for the influential figures of Flandore who had also been invited to the Kings' Conference. The sight of the King Duke in a blood-soaked suit conversing with thin air was nothing short of absolute madness.

Serge, however, looked back at them with a mystified expression.

"Who? Can none of you see them?" he asked incredulously. "My father and mother are standing right there!"

"N-No, we see nothing! Lord Serge, your mother has passed away!"

"What was that?! Then they are ghosts! The ghosts are trying to deceive me!"

Serge randomly thrust his pistol forward. Because it happened to be pointed toward the pews, the attendees shrieked and tumbled away in a panic.

"Where are they... over there! No, over there! Ahaha!"

Serge wildly swung the muzzle around, sending anyone caught in his line of sight cowering in terror. It was pure madness. From the seats on the right side, the elder 'Sword Saint' Derwent leaped to his feet with a furious expression.

"I knew it...!" Derwent roared. "I've thought he's been acting bizarrely ever since the day of the Kings' Conference!"

He violently pounded his walking stick against the floor repeatedly.

"The Duke has lost his sanity!! A peace treaty with the Night World was never a rational idea to begin with!"

Though Serge heard those words clearly, he feigned ignorance. Anyone possessing a keen eye for observation would surely notice—that his eyes still held the absolute clarity of complete sanity.

In other words, it was all an act.

Feigning madness to strike down Gold.

Chasing after nonexistent ghosts, only to aim his gun at the Perpetual Motion Machine—

"Ghosts, are you there?!"

He pulled the trigger.

The single bullet was drawn right to the core, popping off with a sharp metallic clatter.

Who exactly among the Werewolf Tribe was it that let out that gasp...?

It happened in the very next moment.

A catastrophic fissure raced across the glass case separating the Ambrosia Crystal from the Nemesisphere. The annihilation reaction, which had barely maintained its delicate balance until now, underwent a dramatic and violent shift as the barrier fractured.

Explosive flames erupted outward.

Blowing the outer shell completely away, a dragon made of fire soared into the sky. Shrapnel scattered in every direction, forcing the wedding attendees to dive to the floor and cover their heads. In that moment of terror, there was no distinction between humans and members of the Werewolf Tribe.

The Perpetual Motion Machine had been operating entirely without a control system from the very beginning; thus, a single small-caliber bullet was enough to cause the entire system to collapse. The fissure widened even further, spewing out more fiery dragons from the gaping rift.

An earth-shattering roar echoed through the air—

Its massive jaws looked as though they would swallow the attendees whole. Everyone's eyes widened in sheer panic as they screamed in terror.

Suddenly, a freezing wind tore through the space between them.

A figure slid into the fray with the speed of a gale, throwing their left hand upward. Freezing Anima erupted from their fingertips, clashing head-on with the fire dragon. The violent collision caused the icy winds and scorching heat waves to swell into a swirling tornado.

The surface of the Holmes River churned violently below.

Kufa forcefully repelled the flaming beast, then immediately thrust his right hand forward.

From the tips of his five fingers, he fired thorns of highly concentrated Anima like a barrage of bullets.

The attack should have turned the Duke into a honeycomb, but it was blown away right before it could reach him.

—No, it would be more accurate to say it had been burned away.

Just as Kufa had stepped in to protect the guests, someone else had positioned themselves in front of Serge. Creating a wall of ominous black flames, the newcomer swept Kufa's Anima away with a single wave of their arm.

It was Bruno of the Bandit Tribe.

He had loosened his thick clothing, exposing his crimson skin to the air.

"I was half in doubt when I heard the story at the Clock Tower, but—" Bruno remarked.

Glancing over his shoulder, he flashed a vicious grin at Serge.

"To think you would actually pull it off! Mad King, at this point, your true intentions matter little to me. If it means destroying Flandore, then I shall lend you my strength...!!"

"My, how incredibly reassuring, Mr. Bruno," Serge chuckled.

Meanwhile, the bride used a concealed knife to sever her restrictive corset, casting it aside.

Ripping off the veil and standing tall, she revealed the striking beauty of Kshana Shiksal.

In his vampire state, Kufa quietly gritted his teeth, careful not to let his true allegiances show.

"Kshana-sama...!" Kufa gasped.

For whatever reason, she had decided to side with Serge! He had no idea what kind of exchange had taken place between the two of them. But is her goal really the destruction of the wedding ceremony?

To make matters even more complicated, they had somehow managed to reel Bruno of the Bandit Tribe in as an ally. Their interests must have aligned due to his vehement opposition to the peace treaty.

Without needing to be asked, Bruno stepped forward triumphantly.

He hooked his fingers around his turban and aggressively tossed it aside.

"Come forth, my noble Kin of Fire, my Vulcans!"

They were born from the remnants of the destructive black flames he had scattered.

A few drifting embers suddenly swelled, taking the shape of beautiful women. However, it was merely their shape. Flaunting blazing skin that resembled molten lava, the entities tightly gripped swords forged entirely of fire.

They materialized one after another, taking to the air. Bruno's kin... their numbers seemed well beyond a few dozen. He commanded the Vulcans, who could be considered offshoots of himself.

"Scatter the flames of destruction throughout Flandore! Burn the Human World to the ground!!"

An ethereal battle cry echoed in response. It was the kind of chilling shriek that threatened to freeze one's very soul if they didn't cover their ears.

As the Perpetual Motion Machine let out another deafening roar, all the Vulcans simultaneously launched themselves high into the sky.

Their target was the station—the sole entrance connecting them to the lower districts.

Just as Almedia struck down the last of the werewolf guards, she heard the sound.

It was an eerie wail that seemed to resonate from the underworld itself, originating from the direction of the Holmes River.

"What is that...!? Could the assassination have failed!?" Almedia exclaimed.

Either way, her top priority was to see her own mission through to the end.

She gave her large sword a vigorous swing, splattering the blood across the floor.

Dodging the corpses of the werewolves, she broke into a run. They were the meager guards left at the station. Unhindered by anyone, she grabbed the gate-opening lever and threw her entire body weight into it, pulling it all the way down.

As the station gates lurched into motion, a sudden rush of air swirled violently, whipping Almedia's hair around.

She could almost hear the courageous whistle of a train echoing from the distance—

It was precisely at that moment that a train packed full of the Cavalry Guild's warriors departed from the Celesteteles Triumphal Arch District. Leading the charge in the foremost carriage was their commander, Duke Fergus Angel.

"The time for our counterattack, as foretold by the prophecy, is now—" Fergus declared.

He drew his Paladin longsword and thrust it high above his head.

"Everyone! Reclaim your swords!!"

"OOOOOOOHHH!!"

As if fueled by the explosive battle cries of the warriors, the train surged forward.

None of them were yet aware of the true meaning behind this battle—

† † †

Aboard the Airship Primavera, Freesia realized it was already too late.

Biting her lip intermittently, she poured out her bitter feelings to Melida and the other two.

"...Lord Serge did not simply inherit the will of his predecessors. His plan doesn't solely rely on the revolution with the werewolves! He was infinitely concerned about the future of Flandore, and had prepared numerous plans so that he would be ready no matter how the situation turned out...!" Freesia explained frantically.

"W-What exactly is the Duke trying to do...?" Melida asked.

"After speaking with Kshana-sama and learning that there was a way to escape the Wandering Curse, he made his decision—he chose the path of not surrendering Flandore," Freesia stated.

She squeezed her fists tightly.

"A scenario in which the revolution ends with him being struck down as the 'Mad King'!"

The sound of an explosion boomed from the ground below. As Melida and the others gasped, Freesia continued her explanation.

"...To that end, he is trying to fulfill the prophecy that he created himself. By making it look as though you, Melida Angel, the Incompetent Talented Girl, were the one who defeated him—"

"What!?" Melida cried out.

"He intends to reshape the people's perceptions, making them believe that the Knight Duke Houses are entirely insignificant," Freesia added.

"W-W-Wait! Hold on!"

Melida couldn't just let that slide. She thrust both her palms forward to stop Freesia.

"Created himself?"

She carefully repeated the words back, emphasizing every syllable.

"Does that mean he wrote the prophecy of 'himself being struck down' on his own!? Falsely claiming that I'm the Child of Prophecy... For what possible reason!?"

"It's because, to my brother, Rita-chan was an unparalleled talent," a voice interjected.

The one who interrupted was Mule.

Having been hidden away by none other than Serge himself, just how much of the situation did she understand? Everyone's gazes converged on the black-crystal fairy.

"The Incompetent Talented Girl who was born into the Angel family but lacks Paladin Mana, yet still possesses enough strength to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sala-chan and myself—" Mule began.

She slowly closed her eyes and delivered the truth as if reciting an oracle.

"If the Shiksal family was destined to be wiped out by the curse in the near future, he wanted to establish a power to replace them. As someone of the Samurai class capable of clashing with the higher ranks, Rita-chan was the perfect existence to show the people new hope in a world without the Shiksal family."

"That's... What am I supposed to do...?" Melida stammered.

"Say, I'll tell you the other message left by Brother Serge, alright?" Mule offered.

Mule shifted her tone, once again drawing everyone's undivided attention.

Her eyes lowered slightly, a hint of sorrow coloring her long eyelashes.

"According to Brother's calculations, Ellie-chan was supposed to be here as well, but..."

"What do you mean?"

Mule shook her head and continued.

"Brother's other plan... He instructed me with this: 'Once the wedding ceremony begins, reveal yourself and take Sala-chan, Ellie-chan... Rita-chan, and the ones we love. Board the airship, and escape Flandore.'"

"Eh...!?"

"By doing so, even if Flandore is destroyed as a result of the revolution, we would be able to preserve humanity's bloodline for the future. And then, one day, he wanted us to rebuild the human world. ...Honestly, he really only ever says whatever he pleases," Mule sighed.

The girls' minds—or at the very least, Melida's thoughts—were thrown into utter chaos.

The battle on the ground had already begun. Kshana and Bruno had sided with Serge. They were locked in a massive decisive battle against the Torch Knights, led by Fergus and Almedia.

Was there really anything they could do if they, mere students, were to force their way into that?

Could someone like me, a fake 'Child of Prophecy' who was nothing more than a fabricated existence—

Actually answer Freesia's wish and save Serge?

Would I be able to support Kufa, the young man I love...?

With no one able to make a move, Mule posed a question.

"I've been taught how to pilot the airship. We can fly it just with us," she stated.

Salacha lowered her eyes with a sorrowful expression.

"Will we follow Brother's instructions and escape? We can go anywhere," 

Melida's lips trembled in frustration.

"Or will we go back to pick up Ellie-chan and Kufa-sensei?"

Freesia glared at Mule with a pleading gaze.

Mule said nothing more. She purposely refrained from speaking of the third option aloud.

A strong gust of wind blew.

The wide-open door and the window leading out to the balcony seemed to beckon the girls, presenting them with what felt like a crossroads of destiny.

ToC