Lea tightened her cloak as she stepped out into the streets of Ein, spending all night writing a report, then sent it over to the church via mail, she was quite tired. The air felt different today—buzzing, almost festive. Music drifted faintly from somewhere unseen, accompanied by ughter and the clip-clop of wagon wheels.

  As she walked, she spotted a fsh of color ahead. A man in a garish costume stood at the center of the square, juggling pins painted in bright stripes of red and gold.

  His face was painted into a cheerful grin, though the paint was cracked in pces, giving him a strange, almost fragile look.

  "Come one, come all!" the clown sang, tossing a pin high into the air and catching it neatly on his nose. "The Puppet Night Circus has arrived! A night of spectacle, a night of marvels!! Performers from across the world, beasts you've never seen, and the flight of doves that will steal your breath away!!"

  He scattered a bundle of flyers into the air, and the papers danced like birds before floating down. Children squealed with delight as they chased after them, while adults passed by with only curious gnces.

  One flyer drifted toward Lea. She caught it before it touched the cobblestones. The parchment was slick, the ink shimmering faintly as though alive.

  The clown noticed her pause.

  He gave an exaggerated bow, sweeping his hat so low it almost brushed the ground. "Ah, a sharp-eyed young dy! You've the look of someone who appreciates a little wonder in life. Tell me, have you ever seen a lion leap through fire, or a man vanish into smoke, or a woman step into a dove's wings and fly?"

  Lea blinked, taken aback by his enthusiasm. "No… I can't say I have."

  "Then you mustn't miss it!", the clown beamed, pressing a second flyer into her hand, "The Circuit doesn't come often to a city like this. And only for those who dare to look beyond their doors."

  Lea nodded at his words. Ein is quite a religious city, so something like indulgence or entertainment doesn't come by often.

  He tapped the flyer with a painted finger, "Dusk, at the old fairgrounds outside the eastern gate on Saturday. Bring a friend if you like, or come alone, there's always room for one more in the audience!!"

  With that, he spun away, juggling again as he moved down the street, his voice carrying brightly over the crowd, "Step right up, step right up! Don't miss your chance at wonders untold!"

  Lea lingered, staring at the flyer. The ink shimmered again in her hand, and she felt the faintest stir of mystical energy, subtle and deliberate.

  It wasn't just a performance...

  It was also inviting the mystical underside of this city to watch...

  Quietly, she changed her direction to the Rue Cathedral.

  All the while, the clown narrowed his eyes, smiling, and then went back to doing his business.

  =0=0=

  "Your Highness, everything is ready.", a servant came in to inform Dawn in her study.

  She brushed her red hair back and nodded, "Let me double-check everything first. We will set off in ten minutes."

  The servant bowed and left. She went ahead to check everything in her leather bag, water skin, emergency rations, a mystical glock - her third invention, notebooks. She already had her gloves on, and she was wearing her goggles.

  Everything was set.

  So, she heads out, she will uncover the secrets of the ruins, and that elusive figure she read about once. Dawn's intuition says that this is important; every calcution made points toward something big about this supposed savior.

  =0=0=

  By the time she returned to the hidden base beneath the cathedral, her mind still gnawed at the discovery. The pce smelled of oil, steel, and faint incense, where holy wards mixed with weapon racks.

  She saw the flyer on the round table. Its surface caught the mplight unnaturally, as though the ink itself breathed. Looks like the Abyss Hunters had caught onto it.

  There are more Abyss Hunters today than the st time she visited; still, she would present her discovery.

  "There is a scent of mystical power in these flyers, I think this circuit isn't here to simply put on a show...", she speaks of her findings, "They are up to something... something about inviting the Pathstriders hidden in this city."

  Eyes turned to her. The flyer caught the mplight, shimmered unnaturally.

  "Strange... nobody else had reported.", his eyes glimmered a golden color, likely the work of Judgement.

  Then he found it, "There is a hypnotic effect from the flyer... you did well, Lea."

  Lea could feel it because of what she was.

  Malediction bound to the Immaterial and Corruption carved into her body. Sensitivity that cut like a knife showed her what others couldn't, hurt her in ways others didn't feel.

  At the far end sat Captain Owen, Ein's Abyss Hunter commander. Broad shoulders, steady eyes, scarred face. He listened, silent. Then—

  "You've done enough, Lea. Don't go near the fairgrounds."

  Her head snapped up, "...What?"

  "You heard me.", Owen picked up the flyer, weighed it in his hand like it was dangerous, "But you are too green, and too unstable, to be of help. You'd just be a liability."

  Lea's jaw tightened, "But—"

  "Listen to command.", His tone was firm and commanding, "You gave us the warning. That's all we need. From here, it's soldiers' work."

  Her hands curled into fists. Enough... that word burned her chest. They wanted her curse when it was useful, then shoved her aside when it mattered.

  "I'm not helpless. I can fight."

  “I know.”, his voice didn't soften, only final, "But you need more training than what you are now, you did your job as an informant."

  His eyes locked with hers. Solid. Unmoving. Maybe there was concern hidden in there, but it didn't ease the sting.

  Lea looked down at the flyer. Ink shimmered again, mocking her. She had been the one to see, she had been the one to sound the arm. And now— sidelined. Again.

  “…Fine,” she muttered, though it tasted bitter.

  Owen gave a short nod, "Good. That's discipline."

  He turned to the others, "Double patrols on the east gate."

  Lea didn't move. Her hands trembled at her sides. Discipline. Restraint. Obedience. Shackles.

  When she finally walked out, her cloak trailing behind her, her lips were pressed thin. Each step was stiff, heavy with swallowed anger.

  Her mind whispered to her, low and insistent.

  They'll never see what you see.

  They'll never understand what you carry.

  This is yours. Yours to witness. Yours to decide.

  Lea's hand slipped into her cloak, brushing against the folded flyer. The ink still pulsed faintly beneath her fingers, like a heartbeat.

  Go.

  Her breath caught. She didn't answer the thought. Didn't have to.

  Her feet were already carrying her toward the eastern gate.

  =0=0=

  The eastern gate loomed ahead, nterns burning in the dusk, guards stationed with their pikes and holy wards etched into the stone. Beyond it stretched the road, quiet save for the creak of wagon wheels and the distant ctter of hammers.

  Lea slipped past with the flow of travelers. Not many this time, mostly merchants headed home, cart drivers eager to beat the dark. No curious crowds yet, not tonight.

  The fairgrounds y open beyond the gate, that wide field of trampled earth where once soldiers had drilled. Now it was being remade. Wagons stood in crooked circles, their wheels sunk deep into mud. Poles were being driven into the ground, canvas tents half-raised, banners drooping lifeless without wind. Performers moved about briskly, their costumes dulled in the nternlight, their faces bare of paint.

  From afar, it looked like nothing more than preparations for a harmless festival. But the air told another story. Lea felt it before she reached the ridge, a faint tremor in her chest, like strings plucked too close to the bone. The Immaterial was humming here already, beneath every hammer strike, every ntern fme.

  She stopped on the slope, watching. One tent in particur drew her gaze, taller than the rest, its stakes driven deeper, symbols scrawled hastily into the soil around it. Not wards, something else...

  Then she felt it.

  Not from the circus, no. To her left, across the ridge, the weight pressed sharp and certain. Someone else was here, watching.

  Lea's breath caught. Her pulse quickened.

  Another Pathstrider.

  The sensation was unmistakable, the same gnawing tug she had felt when Bathory once looked through her, when Lady Keter passed too near. Whoever it was, they were cloaked well - no sound, no clear shape. Only that pressure, like an eye upon the back of her neck.

  Her first instinct was to turn, to meet it head-on. But she didn't. She forced herself still, her gaze locked on the half-built circus.

  If they're watching the fairgrounds too… then maybe they haven't realized I can feel them.

  …Or maybe they're watching me.

  Her hand brushed her cloak where the flyer hid, its ink still faintly alive, like veins of quicksilver.

  Lea lowered her voice to a whisper, barely more than breath.

  "…Who else is waiting for the show?"

  The cng of hammers answered her, steady and hollow, as if the ground itself knew.

  Rhaps