Vivieepped out into the bustling streets, the hum of the city washing over her like an uing tide. The chaos of the marketpce was intoxig, alive with the mingled sts of spices, roasted goods, and sweat. Her dark eyes sed the crowd as she moved with a measured paot hurried, but not lingeriher. Despite her attempt to blend irange presend the stark bck of her eyes made blending impossible.

  People parted for her like water before a ship, some casting fearful gnces, others openly staring. A child gasped as she passed, tugging on their mother’s sleeve and pointing. The woman grabbed the child’s hand and pulled them away with a whispered warning.

  Vivienne smirked, uerred. Fear was a nguage she uood intimately, and its resonan the air around her was almost f. But not everyoed with terror. Some, like Ardyn, simply watched her with curiosity or fasation. These were the people who intrigued her most.

  As she wandered deeper into the market, her attention was drawn to a small cart with a brightly colored awning, where skewers of sizzli smoked over an opehe vendor, a stocky man with a bushy beard and a stained apron, called out to passersby in a booming voice.

  “Fresh Pokopokrilled to perfe, seasoned with my secret blend of spices! Get it while it’s hot!”

  The aroma was undeniable, a mouthwatering blend of smokiness and tang. Vivienne approached the cart, her shadow falling over the vendor as he looked up. His fident grin faltered for a moment when their eyes met, but he recovered quickly, his tone warming.

  “Ah, miss! You’ve got a good nose on you—drawn right to the best in the market, eh?” He gestured to the skewers. “You won’t find Pokopoko this juiywhere else.”

  Vivienne arched an eyebrow, her grin sly. “Pokopoko bird, you say? Is it as tender as it smells?”

  “Better,” the man decred, puffing out his chest. “Raised and butchered fresh from the highnds—none of that stringy city-bred nonsense.”

  Reag into her pouch, Vivierieved a silver pied pced it on the ter. “Then I’ll take your best.”

  The vendor’s face lit up as he handed her a skewer ed in part. “Here you go, miss. If it’s not the best you’ve ever had, I’ll eat my own beard.”

  Vivienne chuckled, taking a bite. The meat was suct, the spices perfectly banced, with a hint of sweethat lingered oongue. She made a satisfied hum, her grin widening.

  “You’ve done well, my friend,” she said with a pyful lilt. She pulled out a few silver s and pced them on the ter. “Perhaps I’ll e back.”

  The vendhed, his fidence bolstered. “You’re wele anytime, miss. Just don’t scare off my other ers, eh?”

  Vivieilted her head, monoce dang in her gaze. “Oh, I’d never dream of it.”

  Vivierolled away from the skewer vendor, sav the tender Pokopoko meat. The smoky spices lingered pleasantly oongue, and she hummed softly to herself. Renzia followed in her usual silent, deliberate manner, her mismatched movements drawing occasional curious ghe market thrummed around them, the cmor of haggling, ughter, and the occasional shout blending into an ambient symphony of life.

  As they turned down a quieter street lined with modest homes and carts selling tris, a small group of children came into view. They were pying a spirited game of tag, their ughter carrying on the breeze. When one of the children—a small boy with a mop of dark hair—noticed Vivienne, his ughter cut off sharply. His wide eyes took i form, her bck eyes, and the faint smile curling her lips.

  “Monster!” he shouted, pointing a trembling finger.

  The other children froze mid-py, their expressiing from curiosity to ht terror. Otle girl clutched a stuffed toy tightly and started to cry, her small shoulders shaking.

  Vivienne sighed softly, croug down to make herself less imposing. She offered a warm, disarming smile. “I’m not here to hurt you, little ones. I promise.”

  The g girl sniffled, hiding her fa her toy. A braver child—a boy a little older, perhaps eight or epped forward, though his legs trembled. “Are you a monster?” he asked, his voice wavering. “Are you going to eat us?”

  Vivienne chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich. “I am a monster,” she admitted, “but not the kind you should fear. I’m the mohat eats childreing monsters.”

  The children exged uain gnces, her words slowly sinking in. The older boy’s face lit up with a mix of wonder and relief. “You eat the bad monsters?”

  “That’s right,” Vivienne said, resting her on her hands. “The ohat sneak around in the dark, sg good children like you? I make sure they ’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  The g girl peeked over her toy, her tears slowing. “Really?”

  “Really,” Vivienne said, her tone ear. “And you know what? You’re very brave, fag me like this. It takes ce to stand up to a monster, even a friendly one.”

  The boy’s chest puffed out a little, aepped closer. “Do you fight big monsters? Like really, really big ones?”

  Vivienne grinned, spreading her arms wide. “Big ones, small ones, fast ones, slow ones—I’ve fought them all.”

  The childre closer, their initial terror melting into untainable curiosity. A girl with wild red hair and freckles practically bounced ooes as she blurted, “What’s the scariest monster you’ve ever fought?”

  Vivieilted her head thoughtfully, her dark eyes glimmering with mischief. She tapped a finger against her lips for dramatic effect. “Let me think... Ah, there was a beast—a terrible o had six heads, eae its own serpent, and shadows g to it like a living shroud. It was big enough to blot out the moo roared.”

  The children gasped in unison, eyes wide with a mix of terror and awe.

  “What did you do?” a boy asked, his voice almost a whisper.

  Vivienne smirked, her fangs fshing briefly. “What did I do? I ate it, of course! It wao make a meal out of me, but I showed it who was boss.” She wi the boy. “And now, I take on its shape.”

  Another child, smaller and braver than most, piped up with wide, pleading eyes. “ you show us? Please?”

  Vivienne chuckled, her ugh low and melodic. “Maybe aime, little ones. It’s a very big creature, and I wouldn’t want to actally knock over your houses or scare the chis.”

  The children burst into giggles, the tension finally breaking. Even the g girl wiped at her face, a shy smile creeping in. A young boy with a gap-toothed grin edged closer and tugged at the hem of Vivieoga. “Do you have a name, Miss Monster?”

  Vivienne crouched slightly to meet him at eye level, her grin softening into something warm. “My name is Vivienne. And what about all of you? Surely such brave children have names.”

  One by ohe children introduced themselves, each more eager tha. They huddled closer arouhe barrier of fear long gone.

  “What’s wrong with your eyes?” a freckled girl asked bluntly, tilting her head as she stared into Vivienne’s qui of pitch-bck irises.

  “Wrong?” Vivienne replied, feigning mock offense. “Nothing at all! These are special eyes. They help me see the monsters hiding where no one else .”

  “Wow…” the girl breathed, clearly impressed. “They are pretty!”

  Another boy poi Renzia, who remained a silent and enigmatic figure a few paces away. “What about her? Is she a mooo?”

  Vivienne g Renzia, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “She’s my friend. A quiet one, but sometimes the quiet ones are the bravest of all.”

  The children buzzed with excitement, asking question after question about monsters, battles, and what it was like to be a “good monster.” Vivienne answered eae with patiend a touch of humor, her voice weaving a spell of fasatiohem.

  As the chatter grew more animated, one of the children’s parents appeared at the far end of the square. A woman with a tightly ed shawl and an anxious expression sed the se, her gaze nding on the cluster of children gathered around Vivienne. Her eyes widened in arm.

  “Therrin! What are you doing?” she called sharply, rushing forward. The children turned, startled, as the proached. Her expression shifted from to fear whe a clearer look at Vivienne. “Get away from her!” she barked, pulling the closest child behind her and gring at Vivienne as if she were staring down a wild beast.

  Vivieayed perfectly still, her demeanor calm and uening. “They’re fine,” she said gently, her voice a soothing melody. “I promise, no harm has e to them.”

  The woman clutched the child protectively, her distrustful gaze never leaving Viviehey shouldn’t be talking to... to someone like you,” she said, her voice trembling. “e along, all of you! Now!”

  The childreated, gng back at Vivienne. One of the bolder ohe freckled girl, tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “But she’s not scary, Mama! She’s nice! She’s the mohat eats child-eating monsters!”

  The aled at the statement, her grip tightening. “That’s enough, Ele’s go.”

  Vivienne offered a small, uanding smile, though her sharp eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “It’s all right,” she said to the children. “Listen to your parents. But remember—if there are monsters out there, you know who to call.”

  The children giggled nervously, casting lingering g Vivienne as the woman hurriedly corralled them away. The freckled girl gave her a tiny wave over her shoulder, and Vivienne lifted a cwed hand iurn, her smile bittersweet.

  As the group disappeared into the crowd, Vivienne sighed softly, the moment lingering in the air. She g Renzia, who remained as silent and still as ever. “Well, that went about as expected,” she murmured, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of weariness.

  Vivienne wahrough the busy streets, her eyes flig over the various stalls and buildings. She came across a narrow street where the st of old paper and ink filled the air. The building was modest, but the sign outside—a weathered wooden pnk with intricate carvings—read, “The Gilded Page.”

  Curious, Vivieepped ihe shop was cozy, with rows of shelves stacked high with books of all shapes and sizes. The air smelled of part, ink, and the faint musk of old leather. Warmth radiated from a small fire burning in a hearth at the back, its flickering light casting pyful shadows over the rows of carefully arranged volumes. The faint crag of the fire was the only sound breaking the silence of the room, adding to the peaceful, almost sacred atmosphere.

  Behind a ter made of thick oak sat a small goblin, her green skin dotted with dark freckles that gave her a well-worn, lived-in appearance. Her small nose, adorned with round spectacles, perched just so, allowio peer over the rim with an air of quiet intelligence. Her long, sharp ears twitched at every sound, always alert. When Vivieered, the goblin looked up, her yellow eyes bright with curiosity as they took in Vivie form and the curious absence of shoes.

  "Ah, a er," The diminutive woman muttered to herself, her voice low and raspy but with an underlying sharphat hi both wit and wisdom. "Don't get many ers these days with the war happening." Her gaze flickered over Vivienne's frame, pausing as she took in the unfamiliarity of her presence. "ly the typical er, are we?"

  Vivienne fshed a wide grieeth glinting in the firelight. “I think no matter where I tread, I am not the typical er.”

  Mizzra chuckled softly, the sound like a dry leaf rustling in the wind. "I suppose so. I am Mizzra, what brings you into my humble little shop then? Looking for something specific, or just browsing?"

  Vivienne shook her head, letting her gaze wander over the rows of books with an air of fondness. "Not really. It's been a while since I st held a book. Do you sell any fi?"

  "Fi?" Mizzra raised an eyebrow, the amused glint in her eyes softening into a thoughtful expression. "That's a rare taste, especially with how expensive books are these days. Most people want something useful—something practical." She tilted her head as she studied Vivienne.

  Vivienne grinned wider, a pyful glimmer in her dark eyes. “Sometimes there is nothing like losing yourself in a world of someone else's owion.” Vivienne giggled knowingly.

  Mizzra’s lips curled up in a sly smile. "I like your attitude. But fi is a bit of a treat around here, giveate of things. I do have a few pieces here and there, though I will warn you, their price is high."

  Vivienne’s eyes softened, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over her. She paused for a moment, her fingers brushily across the spines of the books. “Maybe as a little treat for myself it will be fine. Back where I’m from, books were cheap. One was the price of a meal or two.” Her voice carried a wistful edge, the memories of simpler times almost slipping from her trol. She caught herself quickly, though, and masked the vulnerability with a small smile, letting her fingers wander across the shelves in a practiced way, as if the motion itself was a ritual.

  Mizzra blinked, her sharp yellow eyes widening slightly. “I ’t imagine books being that cheap. Were they... made by sves or something?”

  Vivienne chuckled, the melodic sound filling the air like a warm breeze. "No, not sves. They were made with artifiot by hand.” She tinued browsing, her mind distant for a moment as her thoughts flickered to a pce long gone.

  Mizzra leaned in a bit closer, her i piqued. Her rge ears twitched, betraying her curiosity. “Artifice, you say? Is it the designs of my sisters?” Her voice carried a touch of surprise, though it was mixed with the guarded skepticism of someone who had seen much of the world’s ws.

  Vivienne’s lips curled into a grin, a fsh of humhting her gaze. “No, it was humans, if you could believe it.”

  Mizzra’s eyes narrowed slightly, her brow furrowing in disbelief. She settled back, adjusting her spectacles with a knowing air. “I doubt humans would be capable of any artifice as advanced as this.” She wasn’t dismissive, but more bemused, as though trying to process the idea of such a thing from a species she likely sarimitive in parison to the mastery of her own kind.

  Vivienne’s grin widened, a hint of mischief dang in her eyes. “It’s true!” she said, her voice light and fident. “In fact, the humans there were so talentless with aether that the only thing they could really do was artifice.” She gave a small, almost affeate shake of her head, as if fondly recalling ahat was both familiar and distant. "No magic for them—just a lot of clever meisms and clever minds."

  Mizzra sidered this, her yellow eyes flickering with a blend of skepticism and fasation. She let the sileretch, her gaze flitting over Vivienne as if trying to gauge the truth in her words. It wasn’t often that a traveler walked into her shop with such tales of distant nds, aainly not someone who seemed so fortable in their own skin. She opened her mouth, then paused, a sudden thought crossing her mind.

  “So, these humans,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “did they... did they work alone, or did they have help from, say, people like myself?” She gestured at herself with a flourish, clearly proud of her lineage, but there was also a flicker of wariness. "You make it sound like they were more... practical than magical, and that’s rare. Artifice requires a certain finesse."

  Vivienne leaned on the ter slightly, her gaze focused on the shelves but her mind clearly still on the versation. "In a way, it was the artifice that gave them their magic,” she said thoughtfully, her tone now reflective. “It wasn’t like the magic you’re familiar with—no weaving of aether or and over the elements. It was more about iion. A mae’s pulse was its magic. They built books like that—fast, effit, simple." Her eyes twi the thought, a gleam of excitement fshing in her gaze as she spoke of a long-lost world that seemed as distant as a dream.

  Mizzra’s expression softened, her skeptical edge giving way to a meerest. “That sounds... remarkable,” she said slowly, leaning ba her chair and folding her arms, tapping her fihoughtfully. “I suppose if you put it that way, it’s not all that different from what we do. We goblins... we uand the subtle art of crafting what others might call iion, though we do it through our tools. A great mae built by clever minds is not unlike a spell. Perhaps this is the lost art of your people.”

  Vivienne's lips curled in a small, knowing smile. “Perhaps.” She ran her fingers absently over the oak of the ter, a glint of something more calg flickering in her eyes. Then, as if the idea had only just taken full shape, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping a little lower, though still warm and inviting. “I was never an artificer myself, but I do have approximate knowledge of many things. I might be willing to share some of the principles of that rapid book making, for aual return.”

  Mizzra raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, though her caution was still present in the careful way she observed Vivienne. “Aual return, you say? And what exactly do you have in mind, my tall friend?” Her voice had a sharper edge now, as if she was assessing the weight of Vivienne’s offer, weighing the potential risks and rewards.

  Vivienne gave a slow, thoughtful nod, her eyes narrowing just a fra. “I’m not asking for anything immediate,” she began, choosing her words carefully, as though strug an offer that would appeal to Mizzra’s practical, profit-driven nature. “But if you’re ied, I share what I know about the process of mass-produg books. How to do it quickly, effitly—how to make a press that create hundreds of copies iime it would take you to write one by hand.” She paused, letting the idea sink in, watg Mizzra’s eyes flicker with i. “It would be an iment at first. There are materials and tools involved, and you would o develop the right maery. But once you’ve perfected it… well, you could sell books by the dozen, and they could be sold at a price affordable to those who ’t even dream of paying for the ones you keep in here.”

  Mizzra didn’t speak right away. She rubbed her thoughtfully, eyes sing Vivieh a mixture of wariness and curiosity. “That’s a pretty big cim, even for a creature as... impressive as you,” she said slowly, a sly smile pying on her lips. “You’re talking about ging how books are made, ging how information is shared. In a pce like this?” She gestured around the shop, a touch of icism creeping into her tone. “Books are already a luxury. People here barely afford them, and you wao make hundreds of copies? For what—more ers who’ll never be able to pay?”

  Vivieilted her head, her voice growing more persuasive. “Not necessarily more ers. But think of the future. A single book for the price of a meal? Imagihe potential markets. Imagine selling to schors, merts, those who need knowledge but ’t afford to ission a scribe to do the work. You could have books ohing: histories, tales, spells, or simply the murades. And the more books you produce, the less expensive eae bees.”

  Mizzra’s eyes narrowed, her fiapping against the wood of the ter, but her expression was no longer one of skepticism. She was thinking—pnning—calg. “You make a good point. And this press you’re talking about... how long would it take to get up and running? And more importantly,” she added, her yellow eyes glinting with sharpness, “what’s yle in all this?”

  Vivienne’s smile was unfling, her fidenwavering. “I’m not a businesswoman, if that’s what you’re asking. But I have an i in the spread of knowledge, and I also think there’s profit to be made in new ideas. I’m you the key to this press, to setting up the maery. Iurn, when you start selling your books, I’d like a small pertage of the profit. Nothing too steep—a share of the earnings once you’re up and running. Think of it like a partnership, where you have all the trol and I offer the foundation to get you there.”

  Mizzra’s yellow eyes flicked from Vivieo the bookshelves, then back to her, as if trying to judge the worth of the proposition. “So you’re looking to stake a cim on knowledge. Get a share of the profits from something that could ge the way this city—and maybe even more—sees books.” Her lips curled into a smile. “I like it.”

  Vivienne leaned back slightly, her posture casual, though she knew she had Mizzra’s attention now. “I’m not asking for much, just a fair share for providing the groundwork. And who knows,” she added with a sly smile of her own, “perhaps in time, we could discuss other... iions. Ideas for automating other processes, for making even more money. And if you’ve got the skill for it, and I’ve got the knowledge to help make those ideas a reality.”

  Mizzra stroked her thhly. “I suppose I could talk to some of my sisters about this. What about initial capital? WIll you be iing money into this?”

  Vivienne nodded. “I offer some. Perhaps more in future. I am in the process of gaining more funds as we speak for various projects.”

  Mizzra’s yellow eyes gleamed with i, her fiapping lightly against the oak ter. “Ah, well, if you secure some funding, then I think we make something of this.” She leaned forward slightly, her wrinkled green face full of sideration. “I’ll o sult with my sisters, but this—this could be something big. New processes, automation…” She trailed off, her thoughts clearly already rag ahead.

  Vivieched her, pleased to see the wheels turning. “You’ve got the right mind for it, Mizzra. And a fair share is all I ask. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”

  Mizzra finally straightened, a small, but genuine smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. You’ve intrigued me, Vivienne. Now, tell me—your people must have been something truly remarkable, to have created such a thing. Where are they now?”

  Vivienne’s expression softened, a subtle sadness clouding her eyes. She gnced down at her hands, her cws gently tapping against the ter in rhythm. The weight of the question hung in the air for a long moment before she spoke, her voice steady but distant.

  “They sank into the sea,” she said, her toter-of-fact, drawing upon the fact she’d never see her children again to improve the efficacy of the lie. “I’m the only survivor I know about.”

  Mizzra bliaken aback by the simplicity and finality of the statement. For a brief moment, she seemed at a loss for words, as if trying to grasp the magnitude of what Vivienne had just revealed. The sileretched on for a heartbeat, but it wasn’t unfortable—just heavy with uanding.

  “I’m sorry,” Mizzra said softly, her voice gehan before. “I ’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like. To lose everything like that…”

  Vivie her gaze again, a small, reassuring smile. “It’s been a long time. I’ve made my peace with it.”

  Mizzra nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I’m gd you’re still standing. And I’m even md you found your way here. There’s a lot to be learned from you, Vivienne. And I’ve got a feeling we’ll be w together more than once.”

  Vivienne chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in her smile. “I look forward to it. But for now, let’s focus oing this printing idea off the ground, yes?”

  Mizzra grinned back, the spark of excitement reigniting in her eyes. “Right, right. Oep at a time.”

  SupernovaSymphony