Jadestone, the capital of the kingdom Wataron, was a sprawling human civilisation further to the east. It enjoyed the freshest, cleanest water in all four Loukoumades kingdoms, being fed directly from the flow of the eastern rivers.
Ennanis and Walden Vabolt rode into the heart of the capital in a horse-drawn carriage; an ornate vehicle that the Madam Vabolt had shelled out for. Ultimately, this job was to improve the image of their clan, and it wouldn’t do for Walden to be seen with his lady on a saddle. Not that Ennanis would have minded, but humans seemed to pay attention to such things.
The gossamer curtains of the carriage were drawn, to purposefully allow passers-by to notice the angel inside sitting beside Walden. This also afforded Ennanis a peek outside. The streets rolled with far more carriages than people on horseback, but the latter were still plentiful. It seemed that the Ball of Souls had attracted much of the populace here. Flurrying around were also many more angels on patrol, weapons on standby at their sides—luminarial gold that glinted in the daylight. People in the streets did not look surprised to see them; there was no more of the reverent attention of the Lightwood villagers. The most the townspeople did was give them a polite nod as they passed.
Another thing was different about the landscape in Jadestone, and that was of the pedestrians, who were dressed more snugly in layers of coats and scarves. Their breaths also fogged in the air. This far out from Mount Casca, the sun’s rays did not touch the land as strongly.
The carriage turned. They rolled past a monument in the centre of the street. It was a sandstone carving of a phoenix, its head bowed sombrely, great wings unfurled on either side to shelter a bronze plaque. The plaque read:
JADESTONE FIRES MEMORIAL.
DEDICATED TO THOSE LOST IN THE JADESTONE FIRES. MAY THEIR SOULS RISE TO THE SUN, AND FIND PEACE IN PARADISE.
Below, a plaque was etched thickly with names. Several shared surnames; entire families.
Jadestone was also famously known for being the site of the Jadestone Fires five years ago, still a fresh scar in everyone’s memories. It was a set of brutal, consecutive arson attacks on a number of major streets in Wataron’s capital city.
They had all been carried out by one single Beast: the Cockatrice.
To this day, no one could figure out her motive. Most agreed that she simply was a deranged psychopath, devil incarnate who just wanted to see the world burn.
Ennanis’ eyes lingered on the monument as they passed.
Soon, the carriage approached the Royal Palace, where the rulers of Wataron lived. What had been a pinprick of black visible from a distance became majestic, soaring towers supported by jade-green columns. Crimson banners fluttered below the fluted lips of the sloping, double-eaved roofs. In front of the palace was an enormous lake, deep and glittering under the sunlight.
The carriage stopped a short distance away from the lake. Walden helped Ennanis off the carriage. The banners of her skirt flapped around her slippered heels. Initially, Madam Tia Vabolt had wanted to dress Ennanis in large, rich hanfu of silk and brocade, but Ennanis hadn't liked their bulk, so in the end they had gone with a cheongsam, slit tall up the side for flow. The material was comfortable satin, delicately embroidered through with flowers, golden threads that shone when she moved about. It was designed for an angel, with a large waterdrop opening in the back for her wings. It was very pretty, and very different from the linen togas or buttoned uniforms that Ennanis was used to wearing.
“Do those armbraces ever come off?” The Madam had asked as she picked out accessories for her.
Ennanis thought about feverish heat, fire licking her bones. “I’ll keep them on.”
“Alright,” she said, and then affixed Ennanis’ rosy fringe with a brooch of gold-carved orchids. “There. If you have to keep them on, this will match nicely.”
The Ball of Souls was to be held at the Royal Palace, but it wasn’t going to be within the palace building. Instead, it was an open-air ball, taking place on the lake. A single, long bridge stretched down the centre of the lake, connecting the mainland of Jadestone to the palace doors. Four smaller bridges stretched out from the middle of the bridge at right angles, each leading to a spacious pavilion. At the intersection of the five bridges was a fifth, grandest pavilion of them all. According to Tia, the central pavilion was reserved for guests from nobleclans, while the other pavilions were for the general public.
Along with the other guests, Walden and Ennanis stepped onto the bridge, waiting in the orderly line that had formed while the usherers checked tickets and separated the guests into the different pavilions.
“Gosh, there’s so many people this year,” remarked someone from beside Ennanis.
The person standing beside them chuckled. “Yes, well, with all the storms, I think everyone is dying to have something good to pass the time for once.”
“Eek, don’t jinx it. What if it rains during the Ball?”
“Ehh, we’ll be sheltered by the pavilions, what are you scared about?”
Eventually, they reached the end of the line and shuffled into the central pavilion. It was late afternoon, and the sun shone down brightly, though the black roof of the pavilion provided shade—something mostly for humans’ benefit. Still, a cold winter breeze rustled between the pillars, making the air feel chilly. Ennanis was glad that years of being in the Graveyard had built up her tolerance to cold, thus even in her sleeveless dress, she did not shiver.
They were one of the first few guests there, but the pavilion filled up quickly. Guests strode confidently from the bridge in dresses and suits each more luxurious than the last, in a way that very quickly made Ennanis’ cheongsam and Walden’s hanfu look drab in comparison. Ennanis saw one gown that looked like a waterfall of pure diamonds, woven into a multi-piece skirt.
Many eyes seemed to linger on the two of them as well. It seemed Walden Vabolt was someone that many of these clearly important people already knew. Ennanis Zoleil, however, eluded their recognition, and she received many curious looks. Their expressions suggested they didn’t know what to make of her.
Noise filled Ennanis’ head, and she itched to leave. But before she could bolt, the first questioner walked up to them.
It was the woman wearing the diamond gown. Her hair was ink-black, with eyes as scarlet as the glass of wine she held, its mulled fragrance faint in the breeze.
“Sir Vabolt, it’s so good to see you here. I didn’t think you’d come,” the noblewoman gushed.
At this, Walden began to look gravely disconcerted. But he inclined his head politely, “Lady Garnet Lapice. It’s an honour to meet you here.”
“Uh huh, yeah-yeah,” the daughter of Lapice nodded. Her attention turned quickly to Ennanis, eyes brimming with excitement. “And this is…”
“Ennanis Zoleil, Miss Lapice,” Ennanis bowed and introduced herself.
Garnet waved her hand. “And your position is…?”
“A lieutenant in the Knights, Miss Lapice,” Ennanis said. Walden gave her a glance. The son had seen her golden ribbon before—he knew that she was a Commander. But he said nothing.
“A lieutenant?” Garnet hummed, visibly still impressed. Nobles cared more about ranks than ordinary humans did. She gave a reciprocal curtsy, lifting the ends of her diamond skirt with dainty hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ruby-red eyes swept over the ensemble of her outfit, and then she gasped. “Did Sir Vabolt give you that ring?”
She grabbed Ennanis’ hand and dragged it up to get a look at Lienna on her finger.
“No. It’s… mine,” was what Ennanis ended up saying.
“It’s beautiful,” Garnet commented, studying it. “It’s not regular gold, or even luminarial gold, is it?” She held Ennanis’ hand still, eyes fixated upon the way orange flame seemed to swirl beneath the surface of the gold. “Where’d you buy it from?”
“It’s one of a kind, I’m afraid.”
“Fascinating,” Garnet said appreciatively. More of her entourage had begun to gather around her, craning their necks to get a look at it, while visibly still trying to restrain themselves from appearing too undignified or desperate. “Is that a lotus in the engraving? Our kingdom adores the lotus, you know. The flower of peace and harmony,” she nodded at the water beyond the pavilion. White flowers rose from the water on thick stems, petal tips brushed pink, arrayed splendidly around the base of every pavilion. “They're only supposed to bloom when it's warmer in the summer, but the ones in this lake bloom all year.”
“How is that?”
“Oh, the Water God lives at the bottom of this lake, and blesses the water with his magic,” said Garnet.
“The real reason,” Walden added dryly, “is that the Royal Palace takes in a lot of sunblood apprentices, and the constant use of Soleki warms the water enough for the lotus blooms to survive in winter.”
Garnet pouted. “Booo, don't ruin the mysticism!”
“It's not like you really believe in it,” retorted Walden.
“No, but it's nice to think of,” Garnet clasped her hands together dreamily. “Have you ever been to a Soul Ball before, Lady Zoleil? Do you know the story behind it?”
“No and no.”
“Oh, then you must. It's one of the most well-known traditions in Wataron,” Garnet said, clasping her hands together almost dreamily. “According to the legend, once upon a time, there were a pair of fishers who loved each other very much. However, one day, the man's wife, when out fishing alone, met with an accident on the river and drowned. When his wife didn't return, the man set out to look for her, even though there was a storm abound. He carried two lamps on his boat so that they would each have one on the trip back. When he could not find her, he threw one of the lamps into the river, letting it sink to the bottom so that his wife may find her way to the surface on her own.
“However, while he was on the way home, the boat capsized in the storm and he drowned. Moved by their tragic love, the Water God who lay at the bottom of the river put the soul of the wife in one sunken lamp, and the soul of the husband in the other, then fused them into one, so that their souls could rest peacefully together.”
“.......”
“So, what do you think?”
“...Pretty depressing for a festival of love,” Ennanis admitted.
“Well, there's always something beautiful about tragic romance,” Garnet said. “Another version of the tale goes that the man had actually jumped off the boat himself in his heartbroken despair, taking his lamp with him.”
“Now that,” the angel said, “just seems stupid.”
Garnet laughed. “My, aren't you blunt! But whether the story is true or myth, love and grief has been known to make people do very stupid things.”
“Like killing yourself for someone who's already dead,” Walden said.
“Yes, exactly like that.”
At that moment, a fanfare of horns sounded. Everyone fell quiet, and turned to look as the royal rulers of Wataron came down the bridge from the palace to give an opening address. The king and queen took turns speaking: thanking everyone for attending, praising the kingdom for its perseverance in the face of the recent storms, and finally bidded everyone to enjoy the festivities.
With the ball officially opened, everyone seemed even more eager than before. People talked in louder voices, while some grabbed each other and began to dance, swaying to the beat of the live flute music. Royal attendants wheeled in more carts full of more drinks and food: delicate dumplings, grilled pomfret flecked with ginger and green onion, platters of shrimp and prawns layered with slices of lemon, and many more. There was a separate table just for dessert, bowls of soy pudding and bean slurry and sugary cakes perched upon silver-tiered teatrays. The trays were festooned with blooms of jasmine and lily. Once again Ennanis was caught off-guard by the ostentatiousness of it, a far cry from the undecorated meal trays of Mount Casca's mess halls.
Garnet happily refilled her glass of wine while Walden and Ennanis helped themselves to the food. Ennanis took a bite of prawn, chewing. It wasn't as good as the food Emperor Prometheus had brought from Paradise, but it was still excellent fare.
People had begun to drift out from under the pavilions onto the bridges to mingle. So did Walden Vabolt and Garnet Lapice, saying hi to familiar faces and chatting them up. Ennanis stayed by Walden's side, silent and tall and occupying her face with seaweed rice rolls.
Then a familiar voice cried out, “Ennanis!”
Ennanis turned and nearly dropped her roll.
“...Sabira?”