The emperor had given his approval.
Ayumu and a selected few would travel to Graitan on a mission to retrieve the forbidden book—the one that could send the djinn back to where he had originally come from. It was kept in the secret treasury of Graitan, hidden away from prying eyes and greedy hands.
Kaiser had urged the emperor to allow him to accompany Ayumu. Visil had reluctantly agreed. His dark eyes narrowing with suspicion, but ultimately conceding to the logic of having the strongest magis in the empire by his sister's side. He could also keep the djinn in check if anything were to happen.
And so they departed.
Ayumu, Kaiser, Rhea, Levain, and Fifi.
Drobar had been left behind to prepare for his judge examination. He was currently wailing in the library, with Osmond standing guard to keep him disciplined—as ordered by Drobar's father, Lord Elbus.
The group traveled on horseback, not in a rushed pace. The new road bypassed the mountain range, cutting days off the journey. Four days, they estimated, until they reached Graitan.
Ayumu was not as excited as she usually was.
Rhea noticed.
"Is this your first time going to Graitan, Ayumu?" she asked gently.
Ayumu looked down at her reins, her fingers fidgeting with the leather. "Yes… I have heard stories. My mentor taught me what I need to know, but I feel slightly… amiss about going there. I cannot explain it."
Fifi snorted. "It is called being nervous."
Ayumu looked at him. "Nervous?"
"You white magis really do lack the processing of emotions." Fifi gestured vaguely. "You are unsure of what is to come. You do not know how people will perceive you. So you feel unsettled. That is being nervous."
Ayumu considered this. "I think you are right, Sir Fifi."
Fifi puffed out his chest. "I am always right."
Levain shot him a look of pure annoyance.
Rhea smiled. "Well, for now, without Drobar, I think the journey will be quiet."
As Rhea had said, the journey went smoothly. Four days passed without a hitch. They stopped at different villages for the three nights on the road, resting and resupplying. There were no ambushes, no sudden change of terrain or problems arising. And most surprisingly—Ayumu had not caused any trouble at all.
The others exchanged glances but said nothing.
On the fourth day, Graitan was not far off.
From afar, they could see the city—its walls made of white marble that glistened like pearls under the afternoon sun. The city was placed on the edge of a mountain, the cliffs providing a natural defense on one side, the towering walls protecting the rest.
The gates of Graitan were intricate, made of steel that reflected light in shimmering patterns. Carvings of spells covered their surface, similar to the tattoos on charoite magis—wards of protection, ready to activate when threatened.
Ayumu's heart began to race as they drew nearer.
She had heard stories. She had studied the history. But she had never been here.
She was the last white magis alive.
In the past, white magis had always been appointed as chancellors of Graitan. They had been the leaders, the mediators, the guardians of forbidden knowledge. But after the great Chancellor Theana had rejected war and proposed Graitan become part of the Epsos Empire, everything might have changed.
What if the people did not accept her? What if they saw her as somewhat a traitor's descendant? What if they rejected her?
Her grip on the reins tightened until her knuckles went white.
Beside her, Kaiser noticed.
He leaned closer, his voice soft, meant only for her. "Hey…"
She glanced at him.
"Our people would celebrate you," he said quietly. "Do not fear anything. Do not worry about anything."
Ayumu looked at him—at his steady red eyes, at the calm certainty in his voice—and gave him a small, solemn smile.
Despite his words, she was still worried.
Fifi then moved forward to the gate.
The intricate markings on the massive steel doors were familiar to him—they had been crafted by his ancestors, his family's magic woven into the very metal. He pulled up his sleeves, revealing the glowing tattoos that covered his forearms, and placed both palms flat against the gate's surface.
The black markings began to shift. A purple glow spread from his hands, spiderwebbing across the carvings like veins of light. Gears turned deep within the walls—ancient mechanisms groaning to life.
The gates started to open.
Ayumu's breath caught.
She scrambled off her horse, her feet hitting the ground before she even realized what she was doing. Her eyes were wide, her chest tight, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
The others looked at her in confusion.
Rhea's expression softened with understanding. She sighed and turned to Kaiser.
"Kaiser."
Kaiser looked from Ayumu to Rhea.
"Let her ride with you," Rhea said quietly. "She is having something called a panic attack. This is too overwhelming for her. I am afraid she might dart off and disappear."
Kaiser looked at Ayumu again.
She stood there like a tree stump, frozen in place, her white robes trembling with the faintest shiver. Fear was written across her face—a fear so raw and unfamiliar that it seemed foreign on her usually serene features.
The gates continued to open, wider and wider, revealing the city beyond.
Ayumu's foot inched backward.
Seeing that, Kaiser dismounted and approached her carefully. His movements slow and deliberate, as if she were a startled deer. He reached out and gently touched her cheek.
Ayumu flinched—then looked up at him with wide, golden eyes.
"If you are scared," he said softly, "you can ride behind me."
Ayumu stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Excuse me."
Kaiser's hands found her waist, and he lifted her onto his horse with effortless strength. She settled onto the saddle, and he mounted in front of her, his back a solid wall between her and the crowd.
Ayumu grabbed him around the waist—tight, desperate—and buried her face against his back.
She did not want to see, and she did not want to be seen.
Rhea smirked from her horse. "Is your ribcage okay, Kaiser? I remember when I held on to you out of fear of heights, you winced in pain." She tilted her head knowingly. "But when Ayumu does it, you seem to have no complaints."
Kaiser cleared his throat stiffly. "Ahem. It has healed completely."
Rhea's smirk deepened. She did not believe him for a second.
She tied the reins of Ayumu's horse to hers and rode on.
The soldiers stationed at the entrance steadied their formation, raising their lances in unison as the group passed through. Their movements was a silent show of respect for the arriving dignitaries.
Beyond the gate, the city of Graitan unfolded before them.
It was ethereal.
The marble walls rose high and pristine, but inside, the buildings were a riot of color and style—each house different from the next, reflecting the myriad tribes and cultures that called this place home. Vibrant reds sat beside cool blues. Ornate carvings next to simple wooden structures. Flowers and trees grew in abundance, spilling over walls and winding around archways, creating a living tapestry of green and gold.
It was not messy—it was vibrant, managed, alive.
The people began to gather.
Unlike the non-magis who celebrated with chants and cheers, the Graitans greeted them with a softer, more magical welcome. Brown magis threw flower petals, creating a cascade of color that drifted through the air like perfumed snow. Blue magis cast spells that formed mist, and when the sunlight hit it just right, a rainbow arched across the sky above them.
Charoite children bounced excitedly, spark balls crackling in their small hands—only to be stopped by their parents before they could throw them and spook the horses.
Dark magis observed from a distance, their eyes following Kaiser, and bowed low as they recognized him.
The group of important people had arrived.
And then—the whispers began.
"Is that a white magis?"
"Is that Lady Ayumu they talked about?"
"The last descendent of Velmiar? My gosh, she is alive..."
Some giggled as they saw how she was clinging to Lord Kaiser, her face buried in his back. The sight reminded them of another story—of Chancellor Theana and Lord Rokhan, a love that had been whispered about for generations.
Ayumu overheard.
She grasped Kaiser's robes tighter, her fingers twisting into the fabric.
She was not used to this. Not used to attention. Not used to being seen.
For so long, she had hidden. She had worn veils at formal events in Rodh, but here—here there was no need for a veil. Here, she was exposed.
Kaiser felt her tension.
He could not do much to ease it, but he could at least show her that the people meant no harm. He rode slowly, letting her see the smiles, the bows, the petals, the rainbow.
They welcome you, he wanted to say. They celebrate you.
But he said nothing. He simply let her hold on.