Chapter 6

  “Hey, watch it!”

  The shove came with enough force to make Xander stumble, his boots scraping the uneven grass. He steadied himself quickly, turning toward the man—a wiry figure with sharp features and a scowl that seemed carved into his face.

  Xander righted himself, looking at the guy incredulously. He hadn’t meant to bump into him, but with the sheer amount of people it was almost impossible not to. Opening his mouth to apologize, he was cut off by a deeper voice.

  “Is there a problem?” Jor’dan’s voice carried like a low drum, calm but deliberate. He stepped forward from where he was following behind Xander, his presence towering over the man’s.

  The man’s scowl twitched, and for a moment, Xander thought he might push back, but then something in Jor’dan’s expression—or maybe the sheer size of him—made the stranger retreat. He muttered something incoherent under his breath and melted back into the sea of bodies. Xander knew he’d had to have been a foreigner, probably from Ashenmoor… they usually had attitudes as nasty as that. He’d dealt with a few at the shop yesterday.

  “You good?” Jor’dan glanced back at him, this time leading them forward as they moved through the crowd, each step like trudging through high water.

  “Yeah yeah.” Xander waved him off, shaking away the lingering irritation. It wasn’t really a big deal, he was infinitely more excited about the festival—a prick won’t ruin that for him.

  His mind quickly wandered to the events ahead. Usually they’d start off with a small light show, kicking it off with music and a few dancers. It was always a spectacle, but never predictable. Some years they opened with technological innovations; other years, they did the art competition first, saving the innovations until later to end with a bang.

  A bit of disappointment gnawed at his stomach. Reflecting back on his conversation with Johnil, he’d regretted not submitting his painting to the competition. He didn’t even care about winning, or placing in the top five. He just needed to put himself out there. The vow he gave himself in Johnil’s stall burned a deeper, hotter flame.

  “What are you most excited for?” He’d heard someone say a few heads next to him, pulling him out of his thoughts

  “Definitely the competition,” another answered, dripping with confidence. “I’ve got to be in the top five this year.”

  The laughter that followed faded into the air as a sharp chime rang out, cutting through the noise of the crowd like the crack of a bell. The effect was immediate—voices hushed, bodies stilled, and a collective silence settled over the square, thick and expectant.

  From somewhere unseen, delicate notes began to float through the stillness, soft and lilting like whispers carried on the breeze. A piano, its chords light as silk, painted a fragile melody that seemed to wind through the crowd. Moments later, a violin joined in, its richer tones weaving a thread of warmth into the song.

  Xander strained on his toes, craning his neck as he tried to peer over the wall of heads in front of him. Figures flickered at the edges of his vision, hints of movement on the stage that only stoked his frustration.

  “Damnit,” he muttered, shuffling closer alongside Jor’dan, but even with the slight gap they’d pushed through, it wasn’t enough. The shifting sea of bodies blocked his view entirely, and a flicker of irritation rose at the thought of missing the dancers.

  Jor’dan glanced down, his brow furrowing as he caught Xander’s expression. “You want a lift?”

  “Absolutely not,” Xander snapped instantly, not being able to see was embarrassing enough, but the very thought of being hoisted into the air like a toddler made his skin crawl. He did not want that ingrained into his memory.

  “Dude It’s not that serious.” Jor’dan shook his head, muttering something about stubbornness.

  Without a chance to protest, hands clasped around his middle and he found himself airborne—the park spreading out below like a living map. In a single smooth motion, Jor’dan had lifted him high, settling him onto his broad shoulders.

  Xander’s face burned and he tried his hardest not to look around to the crowd—the prickling sensation of imagined stares crept over him, hairs rising on the back of his neck. A small voice in the back of his head whispered that everyone was looking at him. Again, it probably wasn’t true, but it felt like it was.

  He wriggled slightly, trying to twist free, but Jor’dan’s hands clamped tighter around his legs, giving him a look that said ‘don’t move’.

  Xander grumbled to himself, though he could at least see the stage. The builders really did a great job this year. The stage’s floor was made of polished oak, an intricate arch curved over the platform, glimmering faintly with what had to be Solite.

  The music began to swell, layers weaving together as the tempo quickened. Xander tilted his head slightly, trying to pick out the instruments that begun fading into existence,

  A burst of flames on the stage caught his attention, revealing a young man with golden hair, his grin as dazzling as the inferno coiling around his outstretched hand. Before Xander could fully absorb the sight, another flash—this time cool and shimmering—brought forth a woman with flowing blue hair. Her entrance was as fluid as water, and with a graceful bow, she took the man’s hand.

  Xander couldn’t look away. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, yet natural. The dancers glided across the stage as though their feet barely touched the polished wood. The man’s steps crackled with energy, his movements alive with flickers of fire. The woman’s presence was a serene contrast, her sweeping motions like ripples over a still lake.

  Their dance started with them moving in slow sweeping movements—Her hair seemed alive, swaying with each shift of her body, perfectly in tune with the music.

  As the tempo shifted, so did they. Slow, sweeping movements gave way to something sharper, more dynamic. The man’s fire whipped around him in bright, unpredictable arcs, while the woman’s water coiled tightly, then burst outward in elegant strikes. Each motion seemed to tell a story, building tension with every beat of the music.

  It wasn’t just a performance; it was a message. Fire and water, opposites by nature, shouldn’t coexist. And yet, here they were, moving together in perfect balance. It was a tale of defying boundaries, of challenging the impossible—not because it was easy, but because it was worth it.

  Xander felt the weight of the meaning settle over him, a quiet awe replacing his earlier embarrassment. The message wasn’t lost on the audience, either; the silence was electric, a testament to the spell the dancers had cast.

  When the music swelled one final time, the dancers spun together in a breathtaking finale before coming to a still, bowing deeply as the stage dimmed. The park erupted into thunderous applause. And Xander forgot himself entirely, shouting and clapping with an unrestrained enthusiasm, even as he remained perched on Jor’dan’s shoulders.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Mid-cheer, a sudden gust of wind swept over him, cool and sharp against his face. Xander blinked, his voice trailing off as confusion knit his brow. He tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky.

  What the…

  A dragon soared overhead, its body shimmering with liquid ink, leaving swirling tendrils in its wake. Xander’s jaw dropped. He knew that ability anywhere. Eric had to be out of his fucking mind—how did he even manage this? The dragon’s wings beat steadily, each stroke sending ripples of air across the crowd. The gasps and murmurs of awe around him echoed his own shock.

  He glanced down at Jor’dan, who stood frozen, mirroring his own disbelief.

  The dragon dipped lower, its enormous silhouette casting the stage in shadow. As it approached, Xander finally caught sight of Maurice perched atop its back, his pristine white coat standing out against the dragon’s dark form. A hand raised in a casual wave to the crowd, his grin unmistakable even from this distance.

  But Maurice wasn’t alone. The other Major cardholders sat behind him, each distinct in their own way. Their waves were just as charming—though Xander’s attention locked on Eric, standing sheepishly next to Lucil, who was all but jabbing her finger at him in an exaggerated gesture, making sure the crowd knew exactly who had created the dragon.

  As the massive creature reached the stage, it dissolved into a puff of ink, bursting into fine droplets that dissipated into the air. The cardholders landed in seamless motions, each one as graceful as their reputation demanded. Xander’s eyes darted between them, trying to take it all in—he’d never seen them all together like this before.

  The crowd seemed stunned into silence for half a beat before exploding into cheers so loud it made Xander’s ears ring. The energy in the park surged, a palpable wave of awe and excitement.

  Maurice strode confidently to the center of the stage, his hand raised. The roar of the crowd subsided, voices dropping to an expectant hush. All eyes were on him, the anticipation so thick it felt like it could shatter.

  “Now, now…” Maurice’s voice rang out through a crystal amplifier in his hand, smooth and warm like the start of an old friend’s story. His smirk widened. “How’s that for an entrance?”

  The crowd erupted again, laughter and cheers cascading across the park. Maurice chuckled, the sound amplified enough to roll through the park. “I’ll take that,” he quipped, pacing the stage like it was his personal arena.

  “Thank you, and welcome! For those who’ve been to the festival before, I’m sure you recognize my face.” He paused, gesturing behind him toward the other cardholders, his grin sharp with pride. “But for those of you here for the first time, let me introduce myself—and the extraordinary people who help make Solari the incredible place that it is.”

  Maurice said with a warm smile, gesturing toward the elegantly poised woman, “Joline—the Empress, a fitting card for one as caring as her.” Her shimmering blue dress caught the light, and the edges sparkled with crystals so intricate Xander couldn’t name them. She gave a gracious nod to the crowd, her serene presence filling the space. “Usually hosting alongside me are Eric and Lucil—holders of the Lovers card. Yes, plural,” Maurice added with a chuckle. Gasps rippled through the crowd, mostly from first-timers.

  Xander smirked, remembering his own reaction years ago. Growing up, he’d been taught that only one person could carry a Major Arcana card. Somehow, Eric and Lucil were the exception to the very rule, a mystery even the scholars couldn’t fully explain.

  “Stella and her brother Solomon—holders of the Sun and Star cards,” Maurice continued, gesturing to the duo. Xander couldn’t help but grin at the contrast between them. Stella, with her rugged demeanor and confident stance, stood out beside Solomon’s more subdued calm. Both had hair that shimmered faintly, golden as if kissed by sunlight.

  “And finally, myself—the Magician,” Maurice concluded, sweeping into a small bow that earned a round of appreciative applause.

  Maurice’s grin turned sharp, almost mischievous, as he raised a hand. “This year, we’ll kick things off with the art competition.” A murmur spread through the crowd, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. “And for those talented enough to make it into the top five…” He paused, drawing it out, letting the tension stretch to its limit. “We have a special surprise.”

  Xander shifted on Jor’dan’s shoulders, his curiosity gnawing at him. Usually, the festival handed out gold and a healthy dose of exposure to the winners—respectable rewards, sure, but nothing groundbreaking. A special prize? His mind raced..

  Maurice let the silence linger just a moment longer before dropping the bombshell. “The top five will receive personalized, one-on-one training with Eric—”

  The crowd erupted into chaos before he could even finish. Cheers, shouts, and outright screams of disbelief filled the park. Artists practically lost their minds. Eric wasn’t just one of the best painters in Solari—he was the best, period. A chance to learn directly from him? That kind of opportunity was priceless, worth far more than any pile of gold.

  Xander’s excitement fizzled, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He sighed, the disappointment stinging more than he wanted to admit. He sighed, trying to reassure himself that maybe next year they’d do something similar, but the thought didn’t do much to ease the ache in his gut.

  Maurice waited for the crowd to calm before continuing, “I know you’re all eager to see who made it into the top five, so I won’t keep you waiting.” He gestured to the side of the stage, where a crew stood ready. At his signal, they stepped forward, rolling out five canvases covered in thick cloth.

  The Magician gestured toward Eric, who stepped forward with an easy smile, his voice clear as he addressed the crowd. “Like Maurice said, I’d hate to keep you waiting—shall we?” He nodded toward a crew member, who unveiled the first canvas with a dramatic flourish.

  “For our number one spot, we have this breathtaking depiction of the World card—created by one of our very own!”

  Xander’s breath hitched. It was the same gorgeous painting he’d seen at the museum, the one that had both him and Jor’dan in a trance. He’d called it then—of course it was going to win. How could it not? The artwork depicted a celestial woman holding the cosmos, her form surrounded by swirling galaxies and radiant stars. The crowd erupted, cheers and whistles mixing with murmurs of admiration. Even those who weren’t artists seemed captivated by its beauty.

  “Jenette Crawford, if you could please take the stage?” Eric’s voice echoed across the park.

  For a moment, there was only the sound of the crowd, then movement. A young girl emerged from the throng, her loose overalls smeared with streaks of dried paint. She looked like she’d just stepped out of her studio—and she couldn’t have been older than Xander. His jaw dropped.

  As she climbed onto the stage, the cardholders greeted her with nods and waves of acknowledgment. Eric stepped forward, offering a handshake. “Congratulations on first place, Ms. Crawford. I must say, the work is marvelous.” His voice was warm, his smile genuine. “Would you like to share with the crowd a bit about your process? What does this piece mean to you? If you’re not comfortable—”

  Xander stared, agape, as the girl took the amplifying crystal from Eric’s hands and walked up to her piece—stance confident and self assured. A few chuckles and murmurs ripped through the crowd.

  “This piece is a reflection of my belief that the world card is out there!” The dichotomy between her appearance and her voice was sharp—the childlike appearance clashing with her booming voice.

  The crowd reacted instantly, gasps and whispers spreading like wildfire. Even the cardholders on stage exchanged glances, their surprise evident. Maurice looked as though he might step in, but before he could, Jenette pressed on.

  “Anyway,” she continued, her tone brisk, “I ground up some Solite dust and mixed it into my paints—that’s what gives the stars their shimmer.” Xander blinked, she was quick to move on. She gestured to the intricate details of her work. “Obviously, I wanted to emphasize the planets, so most of the dust was used for the stars around them to create the contrast. That’s it.”

  Xander blinked. The abrupt shift in her delivery caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny the brilliance of her explanation—or the simplicity of it. The crowd, initially stunned, broke into another wave of applause.

  Eric still seemed taken aback by Jenette’s abrupt tone, his movements slightly delayed as he accepted the crystal back from her. He leaned down to whisper something, gesturing toward her canvas. She gave a quick nod before stepping to the side, positioning herself beside her work with a neutral expression.

  “Uh… Well.” Eric cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Give it up for Ms. Crawford!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers once more. Despite her unpolished delivery, her talent was undeniable, and the awe surrounding her painting hadn’t diminished.

  “Moving on to our second-place winner,” Eric announced, his voice steady once again. He gestured to a crew member, who stepped up to the next canvas and removed the cloth with a practiced flourish.

  Xander’s breath caught in his throat, his blood set aflame.

  Eric’s voice boomed across the park, “Xander Santuna, to the stage!”