System, please just shut up

The moon hung high and unblinking above Ardent Spire, swathed in a serene silver haze.

The great city shimmered beneath it, veiled in thousands upon thousands of glowing lights, every street soaked in luminous threads of mana-lanterns that floated like drifting stars.

Music echoed from crystal speakers embedded into the high walls of buildings, their tones soft, ceremonial, and deeply resonant, a perfect backdrop to the scene.

Laughter, light and unburdened, blended with the delicate chime of wind chimes strung between balconies. Children, their faces painted with whimsical moon sigils, danced freely between the floating ribbons of silver light, dressed in imitation mage-robes that billowed behind them.

Kael stood at the intersection of two major streets, a quiet sentinel amidst the unfolding spectacle.

He wore the faction-assigned light gray cloak, its silver clasp glinting faintly under the soft, diffused lantern light.

Theo stood beside him, arms crossed, his brow furrowed slightly—not with concern, but with that familiar, inward thoughtfulness.

"...You feel that?".

Kael nodded.

The air hummed, a tangible vibration against his skin. Not with danger—at least not yet—but with a profound weight, a palpable pressure beneath the surface of the celebration.

Mana danced in the wind in a way that felt… unbound, almost wild, an untamed river flowing through the city's veins.

"I thought tonight was the calm one," Kael said, scanning the horizon, his instincts on high alert despite the festive atmosphere.

Theo tilted his head, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. "Maybe we just forgot what calm used to feel like."

They both turned as a faint, resonant gong rang from the city center, its deep tone reverberating through the very ground beneath their feet.

The Procession of Threads had officially begun.

From beyond the nearest bend in the main avenue, a slow, majestic stream of shimmering lights poured in—hundreds of marchers, each holding long, floating mana-thread poles shaped into elegant, symbolic weavings: dragons, phoenixes, soaring lions, and the distinct emblems of the Seven Kingdoms.

Their steps were synchronized, a slow, deliberate march guided by the soft, enchanting music that ebbed and flowed through enchanted speakers like a living tide, washing over the crowd.

Countless smaller lanterns bobbed overhead, tethered by invisible force threads, dancing just above the crowd's eager reach.

Crowds pressed to the sides of the road, murmuring in awe, children pointing with wide eyes at the glowing spectacle.

The air shimmered with the combined light of thousands of mana-threads and the reflected joy of the onlookers.

One of the senior cadets further down their assigned sector, a voice calm and professional, called into their communicator rune: "Crowd density normal. Mana flow stable. No anomalies to report."

Jarik appeared from a nearby alleyway, seemingly materializing from the shadows.

He was chewing contentedly on a festival skewer, its sweet, roasted scent mixing with the festive air. "You guys look way too serious for a parade," he quipped, his grin wide. "Relax a little."

Kael raised a brow, a hint of his usual banter returning. "And you look like a tourist who wandered off the beaten path."

"I am a tourist," Jarik replied, unperturbed, taking another bite of his skewer. "The perks of returning from a month-long death run through beast-infested mountains. I've earned my ceremonial skewered meat."

Kael snorted, a low, amused sound. "Your trauma is delicious, apparently."

Jarik gave him a two-finger salute, completely unfazed, and turned his attention to the passing lights of the procession. "...Still, this is something else, isn't it?"

His voice held a note of genuine wonder.

And it was.

All around, the city had transformed.

The ancient stone buildings had taken on ethereal silver hues, as if painted by moonlight itself, with intricate lines of light tracing across their exteriors in elegant, flowing formations. Floating runes danced lazily in the sky above major intersections, pulsing gently to the underlying rhythm of the music.

On a rooftop nearby, a troupe of mana-dancers performed slow, graceful movements, their gestures spinning intricate trails of glowing glyphs that painted the very air, dissolving and reforming with each fluid turn.

It felt ancient.

Deeper than history.

Bigger than all of them, than any single individual or kingdom. It was a connection to something primal, fundamental.

Kael exhaled slowly, a profound sense of awe washing over him. "First time I've ever seen a city actually glow like this."

"It's not the city," Theo murmured, his eyes scanning the skyline, observing the arcane energies rather than the physical structures. "It's the mana. It's reacting to the moons' alignment. Everything's thinner tonight. Closer." He didn't need to elaborate on what was closer.

Kael didn't respond, a shiver running down his spine.

He could feel it too.

The Archive inside him—it stirred. Not dangerously, not with the oppressive weight of a new task or a critical warning, but… awake.

Like it was listening, waiting for something, its vast, inscrutable awareness attuned to the profound energies flowing through the world.

******

Across the city, far from Kael and his friends, the festival continued its vibrant ascent. A child's joyous laughter echoed through a narrow alley as she reached for a drifting lantern shaped like a miniature dragon. Her tiny fingers passed harmlessly through its glowing form, a magical illusion designed for wonder. She giggled, entranced by the shimmering light.

Elsewhere, an old woman wept softly, tears tracing paths through the dust and lines on her weathered cheeks, as she tied a ribbon of prayer to a silver pole—a time-honored tradition for those who'd lost someone during the past year, their grief mingling with the hopeful light of the festival.

Nearby, vendors shouted, their voices hoarse with effort, selling glowing dumplings that pulsed gently in rhythm with the background music, their steam carrying the scent of sweet rice and exotic spices.

A group of young students from small schools, their faces flushed with excitement, painted shimmering moonlight onto one another's cheeks with enchanted brushes, their laughter echoing. Every face glowed, illuminated by the pervasive mana-light.

The unity was real.

The sheer joy, the collective hope, the shared wonder—it was a powerful, tangible force. The city had never felt more whole, more connected, more alive. It was a breathtaking tableau of human experience, magnified by the flowing arcane energies.

But not all was as it seemed. Not all was part of the harmonious design.

In the deep shadow of an old, neglected fountain, tucked almost perfectly behind a vibrant layer of festival decorations—a large, decorative banner and a stack of empty crates—a figure slipped through the crowd unnoticed.

Their plain, dark robe offered no distinguishing features.

Simple, worn shoes made no sound on the cobbled street. And, most unnervingly, they had no discernible mana signature, a ghost in a city saturated with arcane energy.

They passed a procession marcher, their face impassive, and brushed their fingers lightly, almost imperceptibly, against one of the intricate mana-thread poles. The pole flickered, just for a second.

No one, caught in the awe of the procession, noticed. The figure kept walking, their steps slow and measured, blending into the flow of the crowd.

In their hand, invisible to all was a single glyph—black and angular, with edges that seemed to bleed softly into the air like smoke.

And in more areas around the city, more and more dark robbed figures moved.

Back in District Six, Kael, Theo, and Jarik continued their watch.

Jarik leaned against a stone wall, pointing lazily down the main road. "Heads up. One of the lanterns is flickering. Near the serpent-weaving."

Kael followed his finger, his eyes narrowing. Sure enough, one of the serpent-shaped lanterns, an elaborate weaving of mana-threads, pulsed oddly—like a stutter in a heartbeat, a glitch in the luminous fabric of the night.

It twitched, a visual error that made the intricate form seem to jerk. Then, just as quickly, it righted itself, resuming its steady glow.