The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 90: The Festival Night

The lanterns still floated in the sky above Wayford, scattered now like loose stars drifting toward the horizon.

The crowd in the square had thinned, but the village was far from quiet. Laughter spilled out of the taverns, music drifted from somewhere near the river, and children ran between the legs of adults with their faces sticky from honey cakes.

The festival is going to continue for three days, I thought, and there is still a whole night left.

I was trying to slip away when—

I felt a small hand grab my sleeve.

"Leo, you promised."

I looked down. Lily was staring up at me with those big round eyes that she used like weapons, and behind her the rest of the orphanage kids had formed a loose semicircle that blocked any chance of escape.

"I did not promise anything," I said.

"You said you would come to the festival," Tobin said with his arms crossed. "That means you have to do festival things."

"What festival things?"

"Food, games, and then more food." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like I was the only person alive who did not already know that festivals existed purely for eating until you could not walk.

I looked around for help, but Mia was standing a few feet away with her arms crossed, watching me with an expression that said you brought this on yourself. Sera was next to her, those golden eyes of hers following something in the distance that no one else could see.

"...Fine," I sighed. "But I am not carrying anyone."

That promise lasted about ten minutes.

The village market had been transformed for the festival.

Normally it was just a collection of wooden stalls selling vegetables, cloth, and basic tools, but tonight the stalls were draped in colorful fabrics and strung with lanterns that glowed soft yellow in the darkness.

The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread mixed with the sweetness of candied nuts and spiced wine, and the whole place felt like something out of a dream.

People moved in every direction, their faces lit up with smiles.

Old couples walked arm in arm, young men tried to impress girls with their coin pouches and bad jokes, and children darted between legs chasing each other with sticks that had been decorated with ribbons.

A woman called out from behind a stall piled high with pastries. "Leo, bring the kids over. I saved some honey cakes for you."

It was Ella, the baker. She was a plump woman with flour permanently dusted on her apron and a laugh that could be heard clear across the village. I had bought bread from her more times than I could count in the past few months, and she always gave the kids extra scraps when they came by.

"See?" Lily tugged my sleeve. "Even Ella wants us to eat."

"We are always eating," I said.

"That is the best part."

We moved through the crowd as the kids pulled me from stall to stall. Tobin found a game where you had to knock down wooden pins with a ball, and he spent five coins trying to win a stuffed rabbit for a girl who kept watching him from behind her mother’s skirt.

He did not win the rabbit.

Lily dragged me to a storyteller who was reciting an old legend about a hero who fought a thousand demons, and even though I had heard the story before, the way the old man told it made the hairs on my arms stand up.

Sera stood at the edge of the crowd with those golden eyes fixed on the storyteller, and for once she looked like a normal child instead of an ancient soul trapped in a small body.

"Leo! Look! The puppet show is starting!"

Lily’s voice was a high-pitched gale as she yanked on my sleeve. She did not wait for an answer, her small boots clattering against the cobblestones as she dragged me toward the central plaza.

I stumbled, laughing as I regained my balance. "Slow down, Lily! The puppets are not going to run away."

"You do not know that!" Tobin shouted from behind, his mouth already smeared with red candy from a sugar-plum. "Last year, the dragon puppet fell off the stage and tried to escape into the well!"

"It did not escape, you idiot, it fell," Sera muttered, though her usual stoic expression was softened by the flickering lantern light. She walked beside Mia, who was busy trying to keep the kids in a loose formation.

As we moved through the market, the atmosphere was electric. This was my home now—at least for the moment.

"Evening, Leo!" Torben the smith called out, his massive arms crossed over a soot-stained apron. He leaned against his stall, which was displaying small, decorative iron trinkets. "If you let those kids eat any more sugar, Marta is going to have your head for the noise they will make tonight!"

"I will take my chances, Torben!" I waved back, grinning. I felt a strange warmth in my chest.

"Having fun?" Mia appeared at my side holding a cup of something that smelled like cinnamon.

"They are going to make me broke," I said, gesturing at the kids who were now gathered around a puppet show.

"You let them."

"They have weapons. Those eyes. You have seen the eyes."

She smiled. It was the closest thing to happiness I had seen on her face in weeks, and I decided not to ruin it by saying anything stupid.

We stood there for a while watching the puppet show, which was about a fisherman who caught a magical fish and wasted all his wishes on stupid things. The kids were laughing at the puppet’s mistakes, and even Mia let out a small breath that might have been a laugh if you listened close enough.

I watched them. It was kind of peaceful. A smile appeared on my face as I went back to watching the puppet show.

The night deepened and the crowd began to thin.

The younger children were getting tired, their eyelids heavy and their steps slow. Mia rounded them up with the efficiency of a general, herding them back toward the orphanage while Lily protested that she was not tired even as she yawned in the middle of her sentence.

"Go," I said. "I will stay a little longer."

Mia nodded and led the kids away. Sera lingered for a moment, those golden eyes fixed on something in the shadows near the edge of the market. Then she turned and followed without saying a word.

I walked toward the quieter part of the village where the market gave way to empty streets and the lanterns were fewer. The air was cooler here, the music softer, and I could hear the stream running somewhere in the darkness.

That was when I noticed them.

Three figures moving against the flow of the crowd, heading in the opposite direction from everyone else.

They wore dark cloaks with hoods pulled low over their faces, and they did not talk to anyone or look at any of the stalls. They moved like water around stone, silent and purposeful, and something about the way they carried themselves made my hand drift toward Tempest.

Then a girl bumped into the lead figure.

She was young, maybe sixteen, with brown hair and a basket of flowers in her arms. The impact sent petals scattering across the ground, and she dropped to her knees to gather them up.

"...Oh, I am so sorry," she said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

The lead figure stopped. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his face was hidden beneath a hood that shadowed everything but his jaw.

He looked down at the girl for a moment that stretched too long, and when he spoke his voice was low and smooth but something about it made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"...It is fine," he said.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "I was not looking where I was going. Please forgive me."

"There is no need."

He bent down and picked up a single flower that had rolled toward his feet, and he held it out to her with a hand that was pale and steady.

She took it with trembling fingers and smiled a little. "Thank you."

I was already moving toward them.

"Mia," I called out. "We need to go."

The girl turned. It was not Mia, just a village girl I did not recognize, but the name had done its job. The three figures turned slightly, not toward me but just enough to show that they had heard, and the tall one straightened up and let his hood shift back into place.

"Sorry," I said, stepping between them and the girl. "I thought you were someone else."

The girl scrambled to her feet and hurried away with her basket clutched to her chest.

The three figures did not move. They just stood there watching me with faces I could not see, and I could feel my Flash Instinct humming in the back of my mind. Not screaming, not yet, but warning me that something was not right.

"You are not from around here," I said.

The tall one tilted his head. "We are travelers. Passing through for the festival."

"Where are you from?"

"A village you would not know. Far from here."

I studied him. I did not sense anything wrong with their mana, but something about them felt wrong. My senses were telling me something was not right.

"Leo!"

Mia’s voice cut through the tension. She was standing at the edge of the street with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

"The kids are waiting," she said. "Are you coming or not?"

I looked back at the three figures, but the tall one had already turned away. He was walking toward the market with his companions falling in step behind him, and they moved like shadows slipping between the lantern light and the darkness.

"Leo," Mia said again.

"...Coming."

I walked toward her, but I kept my hand on Tempest until we were back in the crowd.

_

[Third Person POV]

The three figures found a quiet corner near the edge of the market.

There was a table tucked between two stalls, half-hidden by a hanging tapestry, and they sat down with their hoods still pulled low and their faces still hidden from view. The lantern light did not reach them here, and the shadows wrapped around them like a second skin.

The girl spoke first, and her voice was light and almost playful but there was something sharp beneath it. "It was her, was it not?"

"It was her," the girl whispered. Her hood twitched as she turned her head toward the plaza. "Our target... it is even purer than the scouts reported. I could have snatched her while that boy was distracted."

"And you would have been a corpse before your fingers touched her skin," the tall one said. His voice was not loud, but it had the sharpness of a closing trap.

The male to his right slammed a fist onto the wooden table. "He was just a boy! Fast, maybe, but I could have cracked his ribs before he drew that scrap of iron."

The tall one leaned forward, the shadows under his hood shifting like liquid. "Both of you are idiots. You are so blinded by the scent of the girl that you have missed the blade at your throats."

The other male stiffened. "What?"

"Focus," the leader commanded. "Do not look with your eyes—look with your skin. Do you feel that? That thin, vibrating hum in the air?"

He gestured vaguely toward the thatched roofs above the village.

"It is a sensory net. High-level mana, spread so thin it is almost transparent. It is a Grandmaster’s intent. He has layered it over the entire village like a spider’s web. Every footstep, every breath, every heartbeat in this market is being measured."

The girl’s playful demeanor vanished. She went very still, her fingers digging into the wood of the table. "I... I do not feel it."

"Exactly," the tall one hissed. "Because you are not looking for a hunter. Our mana is only temporarily concealed. If not for Morana’s technique masking our presence, that man would have sensed the wrongness of our energy the second we crossed the tree line. We are not invisible because we are good; we are invisible because a General is holding a shroud over us—and even that shroud will not last forever."

The girl traced a finger along the edge of the table, drawing invisible patterns in the wood. "So what do we do? Just wait?"

"We will strike, but not today. We need to create some distraction, and then we will take the girl with us." The tall one leaned back, and his hood cast his face in deeper shadow.

The air around the table shifted. A moment of silence passed between them, heavy and expectant. And then, without a sound, a new figure appeared at their table.

It moved like smoke, silent and sudden, their face hidden beneath a hood pulled so low that not even their chin was visible. Their cloak was plain and unadorned, the same dark grey as the shadows between the lanterns, and when they sat down they did not make a single noise.

"...You are late," the tall one said.

"I had to make sure I was not followed." The figure’s voice was distorted, muffled by something beneath the hood, impossible to tell if they were male or female, young or old. "The village is small, but eyes are everywhere."

"Sit."

The figure sat.

"The target is confirmed," the tall one said. "The Soul Healer. She is here."

"And the other one? The swordsman?"

"We have not engaged. His mana is significant. We will need to be careful."

The figure nodded slowly. "I told you he would be a problem. He is a former mercenary captain. Killed a Grave-Steel Behemoth alone. Grandmaster rank. Do not underestimate him."

"We will not."

The figure leaned forward. "So what is your plan? How do you deal with someone like that?"

The tall one glanced at the girl.

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside was dark, almost black, and it seemed to move on its own—swirling and churning like it was alive. When she held it up to the lantern light, the shadows around the table grew darker.

"This," she said. "The Catalyst."

The figure stared at the vial. "What is it?"

"Voss’s masterpiece," the girl said, holding up the vial. "He made it before he fled. Drop it in the main water stream that connects to every other stream and water source in the village, and it will spread everywhere within hours."

The figure looked at the dark liquid swirling inside the glass. "What does it do?"

The male leaned forward with a grin. "It taints the monsters cores. The monsters already have unstable mana cores, and this liquid makes them go berserk. It twists something inside them, makes them lose whatever little control they had. They will attack anything that moves—friend, foe, doesn’t matter. The swordsman will be too busy fighting for his life to worry about us."

The figure looked at the tall one. "You are sure this will work?"

"Voss tested it. On a smaller scale, but it worked. The monsters rampaged for three days. Nothing survived."

The figure leaned back. "And the Royal Army? They are searching for Voss. They have scouts everywhere. What if they come here?"

The tall one shook his head. "They are weeks away. By the time they hear about what happened here, we will be long gone."

"Then when do we strike?"

"We move on the third day when the moon is at its highest. We spread the liquid at dusk so the monsters go berserk by late night, and the chaos will cover us while we take the girl."

The figure nodded slowly. "And my reward? You promised."

The tall one reached into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch that clinked when he set it on the table. "This is half. The rest will come when the mission is complete."

The figure picked up the pouch and weighed it in their hand. "And the other thing? What I asked for?"

"It will be waiting for you. After the mission."

The figure stood without another word and disappeared into the crowd, moving so smoothly that it was impossible to tell which direction they had gone.

The male cracked his knuckles. "I hope someone puts up a fight. I have been bored."

The girl laughed. "You are always bored."

"And you are always hungry for blood."

She did not deny it.

The tall one looked out at the village, at the lanterns floating in the sky and the people laughing and dancing and living their lives without knowing what was coming for them. His face was still hidden, but something in his posture shifted, softened almost.

"...So peaceful," he said quietly.

He reached up and pushed back his hood.

His hair was brown, long and unkempt, falling across a face that was sharp and angular. His eyes were dark, almost black, hollow and obsessive. A thin scar ran down his cheek—a reminder of the day Roran shattered his sword.

Kael.

He looked at the village one last time, at the lights and the people and the place where the mana gathered the thickest, where the swordsman was waiting in the shadows.

A dark, twisted smile pulled at his lips.

"We will soon meet again," Kael whispered to the wind. Something dark flickered in his eyes. "...My god."

The lanterns floated on. The music played. The village danced.

...And in the darkness, the predators waited.