As Cainan and Lynzelle made their way through the wide, crowded streets of Kalastith, the celebration still pulsing all around them, they were swarmed with attention.
Groups of witch hunters, citizens, and even a few knights in gleaming armor stopped to clap Lynzelle on the back, some laughing, some shaking their heads in disbelief.
Lynzelle asked Cainan, "Is it THAT much of a ruckus for you to be married to someone?"
"Yes."
"Why? Everyone is really shocked.."
"I don't usually associate myself with many people. And I don't really talk a lot. They think I'm some super edgy weirdo—."
"Awww so brooody!" Lynzelle teased as she pinched Cainan's cheek.
"Agh! Your fingers are strong as hell, you'll rip my face off!" He scoffed, moving her hand away as Lynzelle just let out a laugh.
A recent memory hit him sharply: the shadow-child standing beneath the tree, utterly silent, utterly still, made from pure darkness. No face, no voice. Just there.
'I can't get that out of my head. Was it a witch trick? Some leftover curse?' he thought grimly. 'Or something else? Fuck it still bothers me….Was it only watching me? No one else pointed it out or seemed to see it..'
He pushed it aside for now as they finally arrived before a grand two-story stone shop.
"Sable & Thorn: Wardens of Noble Wear."
Intricate black-and-silver lettering wound across the broad sign above the door, and even before they stepped inside, the scent of rare cloth, oils, and alchemical dyes drifted into the street.
The moment they entered, a small swarm of Dressers rushed to greet them — men and women dressed in uniform black attire, sleek and stylish, their outfits accented with chains, sashes, and stitched silver sigils representing tailoring houses.
At the forefront of them stood the Head Dresser, a poised, elegant man named Master Savrec Elmont.
Savrec wore an elongated black coat that swept the floor, embroidered with blood-red filigree and burnished steel buttons. His hair was pure white, slicked back into a sharp knot, and his gloved hands moved with the precision of a surgeon. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth and exact.
"Ah. Idrathars celebrated heroes," he said, eyes flickering across them with a quicksilver sharpness. "Welcome, welcome to Sable & Thorn. You must be dressed to match the fire that follows your name."
Savrec circled them once, analyzing, calculating.
"For her—something alive, vibrant, chaotic." Then, his eyes flicked to Cainan. "For him—something cold, cutting, structured. They must be complements of each other."
Lynzelle practically bounced in place, eyes sparkling. "Let's do it!" she said.
Cainan didn't say a word. He didn't stop her either. He just sighed inwardly and let himself be led deeper into the shop.
As they moved, several young female Dressers subtly broke from the group and began gravitating toward Cainan, their movements graceful, measured—and entirely too obvious.
One brushed her fingers lightly against his arm. Another leaned a little too close, breathing words about "how fitting strong shoulders were for noble coats." A third outright tried to grab his hand under the guise of measuring it.
They giggled behind hands and exchanged secretive glances. It wasn't exactly rare; Cainan had a reputation—strength, danger, mystery. It was a package that drew reckless attention.
Before Cainan could even bark at them to tell them he likes his own personal space, Lynzelle vanished.
One second she was admiring a mannequin, and the next, she was between them, arms thrown wide, her face a furious shade of red.
"OH IS THIS APART OF THE DRESSING?!" Lynzelle shrieked with jealousy, flailing wildly as if she were guarding treasure. "Grubby human hands…" Lynzelle said silently to herself.
Cainan blinked, caught so off guard he actually stumbled.
'Damn, she's taking the fake wife role really seriously,' he thought, a tiny smirk twitching the corner of his mouth.
He leaned close and whispered dryly, "Good job staying in character. They were too close."
But several of the Dressers who had been reaching for him stopped dead. Their trained, critical eyes caught the way Lynzelle's hands trembled. The way her body angled toward Cainan instinctively. The pure, raw jealousy that couldn't be faked.
They exchanged quick, knowing looks amongst themselves.
Savrec, meanwhile, showed no reaction. He simply cleared his throat, an elegant and dismissive sound, and with a wave of his hand, called them all back to order.
"This way, if you would," he said, his voice iron-smooth. "We have much to prepare and little time to waste."
He led Cainan and Lynzelle away, deeper into the heart of the shop where richer fabrics, finer accessories, and fitting rooms awaited.
The other Dressers, still whispering amongst themselves, followed closely behind.
The Head Dresser, Master Savrec, led Cainan and Lynzelle to a secluded section of Sable & Thorn, marked by arching blackwood pillars and glimmering enchanted glass. As they crossed the threshold, two tailored chairs rose from the ground itself, elegant and sleek, forcing the two to sit down.
In front of them, a grand stage unfurled, smooth as a mirror. Lines of Dressers—both men and women—formed on either side, ready to put on a show.
Savrec lifted a slim, silver baton like a maestro before an orchestra. With a sharp flick, the presentation began.
"Feast your eyes, witch hunters!"
One by one, female Dressers emerged from behind velvet curtains, each wearing gowns of intricate design:
—One wore a spiraling sea-blue dress laced with translucent silver webbing.
—Another wore a molten crimson ensemble with jagged black gemstone accents.
—A third wore pure white, wrapped with smoky chains of illusion magic drifting around her arms.
Lynzelle leaned close to Cainan, commenting openly.
"Too fancy," she whispered on the first.
"Too stiff," she judged the second.
"Ooh, I like that one," she murmured about the third, before immediately changing her mind with a wrinkle of her nose.
On Cainan's side, male Dressers paraded in tailored suits, cloaks, and battle-regal outfits:
—A jet-black suit with etched steel shoulder plates.
—A wine-red robe with gold threading depicting mythic beasts.
—A high-collared deep green tunic with leather harnesses woven in mystical runes.
Savrec conducted it all as if it were music, pivoting dramatically, shouting minor adjustments to posture and angle, snapping his fingers to summon subtle magical illusions enhancing the looks.
"Each ensemble," he intoned like a sermon, "designed to complement the companion next to you. Two pieces, becoming one composition."
Finally, both Lynzelle and Cainan found themselves, almost unknowingly, pointing at the same designs.
The outfits shimmered and floated forward:
For Cainan:
A black suit lined with intricate gold filigree that crawled like living vines across the shoulders and arms, subtle and powerful. The jacket bore a high mandarin collar, the gold forming a solar emblem on the back. A flowing black and gold sash looped around his waist, anchored with a lion-headed clasp. His boots were hewn of polished obsidian leather, runes barely visible when light hit them.
For Lynzelle:
A fitted black dress, battle-elegant, sleeveless with gold-threaded patterns of twisting flame and wings racing up the bodice and spiraling down into a flowing asymmetrical skirt. A slim golden choker wrapped around her neck with a single tiny ruby at the center. Her boots were heeled, black with golden flame motifs licking up the calves.
Savrec clapped once, snapping his fingers.
The clothes shimmered, dissolving their old wear into glimmering dust—then forming seamlessly around them.
Cainan instinctively looked at Lynzelle.
'…She's actually beautiful,' he thought reluctantly, bitterness gnawing at his pride. 'I hate even thinking about it, but… not even I can lie to myself. I just won't say the shit out loud.'
Lynzelle caught his stare and was looking away with a little hint of embarrassment.
Cainan quickly snapped his gaze to the floor, pretending to inspect his boots.
'Tch. Every time I look at someone it's like they SENSE I'm looking at them!'
Then, softly, Lynzelle whispered, "No one's ever looked at me like that before."
Cainan blinked. "What did you say?"
Lynzelle gasped lightly, laughing it off. "Forget it!" she said, waving her hand and spinning in place to inspect him critically.
"You actually look…handsome," she teased, voice playful but she was honest.
Cainan grunted and looked away again. "Thanks."
'How do I respond to that? Was thanks the only thing I was supposed to say? I don't wanna sound arrogant, so I guess thanks was the best route.'
Before the moment could grow any heavier, Savrec noticed new customers entering the boutique. In a flash, he snapped his fingers again, and the other Dressers swarmed away to serve them, leaving Cainan and Lynzelle standing alone by the glowing mirror-stage.
For a brief moment, there was only quiet between them.
Lynzelle exhaled slowly, a strange calmness overtaking her.
"Hey… Cainan."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Thank you," she said, voice lower, more serious. "Even if this is just for our fake marriage… thank you."
"For what…?"
Lynzelle's hands fidgeted slightly.
"In Hell, it's just war. Endless. Blood, screams, death… I escaped with an amulet my mother gave me. Lost it when I got here."
Cainan watched her quietly.
"My mother… she was human. She always told me about this world. Begged me to run before I got chained to the demon gods' wars. I don't know much about those things… they kept us locked out of their own hierarchy." She smiled sadly. "I just wanted to live. Not… just be something or someone's weapon."
Then she glanced up, her eyes glinting with mischief again.
"Want to know why I get excited when I fight? Why I smile when it gets crazy?"
Cainan nodded once.
"It keeps me alive and stuff. If that makes sense..it's complicated to explain."
Cainan's expression stayed guarded, but something shifted behind his eyes. "…Why are you telling me all this?" he asked quietly.
Lynzelle blinked, realizing she had said too much.
In a burst of awkward, manic energy, she threw her hands up. "It's for the mission, idiot! The more you know me, the better you'll act like my husband when it counts!"
Cainan snorted once in reluctant agreement. "Fair enough. Guess that's good strategy."
But as Lynzelle looked away, she couldn't silence her racing thoughts:
'Why did I really tell him that? I've never told anyone, not since Mother…Am I getting too comfortable? I can't just…trust him. I can't trust anyone right now until I've been here longer. He's using me and I'm using him. That's all. That's what we agreed to. He's still a friend of mine, nonetheless.'
Cainan, meanwhile, had his own thoughts spiraling.
'This fake marriage… it's a way to cheat fate. Break whatever miserable path is set for me.'
They were both just using each other. That's what they had to keep telling themselves.
A loud voice suddenly called from the boutique entrance:
"Cainan!"
Turning, Cainan saw them. His squad. His misfit team of Bloodhunters.
—Tojin, the youngest, a nervous 17-year-old with spiked brown curls, freckles dotting his cheeks, and dark blue eyes that always widened when seeing Cainan because he saw him as a mentor, though they were only 2 years apart.
—Aris, standing cool and silent, dark red hair braided into a long ponytail, a white blindfold covering her eyes, her pale hands folded neatly in front of her flowing white gown.
—Foxxen, the arrogant wolf humanoid, red-and-white fur bristling, wearing a sharp indigo doublet that barely concealed the huge sword strapped to his back.
—Raijin, the hulking soul-infused armor, red and grey steel gleaming, a tattered blood-colored cloak hanging from his broad frame, a faint humming sound emanating from his blood-forged sword.
—Zaara, shoulder-length black hair streaked with gold, golden runes pulsing across her arms, popping a candied fruit into her mouth with a lazy grin, her dark gold eyes glinting mischievously.
Each of them was dressed sharply in unique formalwear, clearly cleaned up for the upcoming banquet—but still unmistakably dangerous-looking.
Foxxen smirked and crossed his muscular fur arms.
"Yeah, we saw your ass get dragged in here."
The others laughed or smiled faintly as they approached.
"And you still haven't introduced your surprise wife to us," Zaara added teasingly, chewing her candied fruit lazily.
Cainan groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
'Shit. Here we go…'
Cainan sighed, casting a brief glance at Lynzelle before stepping forward. His hand moved with a hint of reluctance, gesturing toward her.
"This is Lynzelle," he said gruffly. "My… wife."
Lynzelle stepped up with a manic sparkle in her eye but executed a perfect, graceful bow, her voice bright but formal.
"A pleasure to meet you all! I'm Lynzelle! And please—treat me kindly, or I'll have to rearrange your spines~!"
There was a blink of silence before Zaara burst out laughing.
"Oh, I like you already!" Zaara said, looping an arm casually around Lynzelle's shoulders. "We're gonna be best friends, no choice in the matter."
She grinned slyly at Cainan. "I've been around this idiot since he first made Bloodhunter. I've basically been his big sister for years."
Cainan gave her a mortified side glance, jaw tight. "Zaara...gross.."
"Ah, Suck it up. Being a baby,' she said cheerfully.
Then the introductions came one by one.
Foxxen stepped forward, arms crossed. His tail flicked arrogantly behind him.
"Foxxen. Best sword in the damn Empire. Grew up in the Glyzenu Tribes before they got wiped out. You want something dead, you come to me."
He then whispered to the others, saying, "How was that?! Badass introduction right?!"
They just shook their heads.
Lynzelle clapped her hands once, her eyes wide. "Oooh, you're feral and you brag. I like it!"
Foxxen barked a laugh. "She gets it."
Raijin gave a stiff, metallic bow, his armored form humming softly.
"Raijin. Once human. Died… was given a second chance in this armor. I like flowers and rivers and small birds."
Lynzelle's mouth opened in surprise before she clasped her hands together in awe.
Tojin shuffled awkwardly forward, rubbing his arm.
"I-I'm Tojin. Um. Was a farmer. Then witches… tried to use me in some ritual. Cainan saved me."
Lynzelle crouched down slightly to his height with a wide manic grin.
"Aww. He looks so young though."
"I'm 17-." Tojin nearly fell over himself, moving himself away from the center of attention.
Lastly, Aris simply dipped her head.
"Aris. I see the truth beyond vision. I walk with fate's whispers."
Lynzelle just gave a low, almost respectful whistle.
"Cainan..she's so mysterious.."
For a few seconds, there was peaceful silence.
Then—chaos.
In a blink, Foxxen, Raijin, and Zaara tackled Cainan, pinning him to the wall. Tojin yelped and jumped aside, and Aris merely folded her arms, not reacting.
"What the hell, Cainan?!" Foxxen barked. "Why didn't you tell us?!"
Zaara ruffled his hair aggressively. "You got married without telling your own squad?!"
Raijin's armored face loomed close. "Are we not family…? That sucks..""
More voices piled on:
"Was it a secret wedding?!"
"Is she secretly cursed?!"
"Are you cursed?!"
"Do you need an annulment?! We'll get you one!"
Before Cainan could even open his mouth to form a word, Aris stepped forward and raised a hand.
Silence fell.
Aris spoke with her quiet, low-toned wisdom.
"This world is dangerous. Speaking of precious things out loud invites ruin."
She tilted her blindfolded gaze toward Cainan.
"He likely kept her secret to protect her from witches… from all the enemies that would salivate over hurting him. After all, we are threats to the darkness itself."
The others shifted, glancing awkwardly at each other. The fire in their accusations dimmed, replaced by grudging understanding.
Foxxen scratched his ear awkwardly.
"Doesn't mean we gotta like it…" he muttered.
Zaara sighed dramatically.
"But… okay."
Cainan finally pushed himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders with an annoyed grunt.
"Tch. Tackling me and shit. Animals. But..I apologize," he said simply, voice low but sincere. "I should've trusted you all sooner with this."
He placed a fist flat over his heart.
The others followed, mirroring the Bloodhunter squad's secret gesture—hand over heart, fist clenched, symbolizing loyalty without chains.
Zaara yanked Lynzelle into the group, Raijin grabbing her other arm.
"You're one of us now, psycho." Zaara said gleefully. "You gotta do it."
Lynzelle stared in manic confusion, then eagerly slapped her hand to her chest, mimicking them.
The sight made Cainan freeze for a beat. He remembered what Lynzelle had confessed—not just about Hell, but wanting to live.
And now she was smiling—truly smiling.
He stared longer than he meant to.
Zaara immediately latched onto Lynzelle's arm.
"Okay, tell me, what embarrassing crap has Cainan done?!"
Foxxen barked a laugh.
"Yeah! What freaky stuff have you two gotten into, huh?!"
Zaara immediately smacked him in the arm.
"Shut it, flea-tail! Stop with that freaky shit!"
Foxxen howled dramatically, clutching his bruised arm.
Meanwhile, poor Tojin stood about ten feet away, terrified, twitching every time Lynzelle even looked at him.
When she noticed and smiled brightly, Tojin let out a grunt and tried to hide behind a nearby suit of armor, drawing more laughter.
Off to the side, Aris approached Cainan quietly.
"Congratulations," she said softly.
Cainan sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.
"Look—"
But Aris cut him off, voice even.
"You once told me you were scared of falling in love. Said fate would only ruin it for you."
Cainan tensed, jaw clenching.
Aris tilted her head.
"Did you get over that fear?"
There was a long, silent pause between them.
"…Yeah," Cainan muttered after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks."
'Still lying…'
Aris gave a faint nod.
"I'm proud of you, brother."
She didn't know the truth—this wasn't real.
Still, something heavy sat in his chest as he watched Lynzelle being crowded by his squad, her laughter bright, wild, alive.
….
The group finally wandered outside into the cobblestone streets, trying to figure out how to kill time before the banquet started at moonset.
"Hunting?" Foxxen suggested.
Everyone said, "No." in unison. But Lynzelle said, "Yes!"
The evening was turning, the sky ripening into deep purples and heavy blues.
As they debated, a figure in a long coat of stitched leathers, brilliant ink-stains, and a porcelain mask swept toward them, waving animatedly.
The figure bowed with theatrical flair.
"A moment of your time, great warriors!"
Cainan's eyes narrowed.
The area still roared with life—music, fire, and the murmur of celebration. Yet in the middle of it all, there was a Painter, the Painter stood wringing his hands, his porcelain mask-like face catching the lantern light strangely, making his wide grin seem a little too real.
"We've run out of Colors," he announced dramatically, voice cutting through the laughter.
Zaara immediately smirked.
The entire squad burst into laughter—Zaara, Lynzelle, Foxxen, even Raijin chuckling through his armor's vocal slits.
Only Cainan stood stone-faced, arms crossed. Aris simply watched, quiet and contemplative.
Tojin had been laughing too—until he glanced at Cainan's expression. Immediately, he stopped mid-snicker and cleared his throat awkwardly.
Lynzelle tilted her head, still half-laughing.
"How does a Painter run out of colors?" she asked, curious, voice bouncing.
The Painter gave a theatrical bow, as if awaiting that very question.
His voice dropped low, almost reverent:
"Tucked deep in the mist-shrouded valleys of Kalazeth… lies Vesvalis, the Hidden Palette. A village spun from brushstrokes and raw pigment. Our homes—our bodies—are creations of stitched paint and broken porcelain. The very world shifts and breathes by our hand. Streets hum with living songs of color. Windows weep golden light into rivers down the alleys."
He leaned forward slightly, his mask-like face inches from Lynzelle's fascinated face.
"But all beauty fades if left untended."
"Oooh..dark…"
He twirled once, sleeves fanning out like splattered rainbows.
"Tonight is the banquet, yes? Celebrating your great victory against the witches today. Everything must be perfect! The food! The music! Even the decor!"
Then, almost somberly:
"But… we've run dreadfully short of Colors." He paused, letting that sink in. "Without fresh hues, our magic withers. Our town dims. We… dry up."
Lynzelle's smile faltered slightly, absorbing the weight behind his whimsical words.
The Painter lifted a hand, tracing a wisp of gold in the air before it flickered and vanished into ash.
"Painters must capture wild Colors—sprite-like beings embodying pure hues. Without them, Vesvalis… crumbles."
Zaara folded her arms. "Okay, but seriously… this a prank? I'm the one who likes to joke around with crazy shit, this sounds like something I would come up with."
The Painter shook his head, the jingling of stitched beads in his coat the only sound.
"I assure you, dear warriors, it is no jest."
Foxxen squinted suspiciously. "Why not go yourselves?"
"Ah, if only we could!" the Painter cried, spinning once more.
"But you see, the act of running—expending energy—drains us. Hastens our end. We must prepare the banquet and keep the remnants of Color alive. Should we chase the wild Colors ourselves… we'd dry up before sundown. One by one.." His voice dropped lower. "And tonight must be special. Tonight, we celebrate not just life… but vengeance. For the witches who twisted and defiled our creations. Idrathar has offered us a place at his side for this, and we must not fail. We are truly honored."
Cainan, half-listening, already stepped forward.
"Fine. I'll go," he muttered, more eager to escape the swarms of hugging, drunken nobles than truly moved by the plea.
'Anything to get a break away from here..'
The Painter immediately brightened.
"A thousand strokes of gratitude!"
Foxxen squinted at the Painter, "Thatttt sounded a little weird."
Zaara agreed with Foxxen, elbowing his arm slightly, "HAHA! You caught that too?!"
Aris said silently, "Horrible carnal minds you two have."
Zaara peeked over at Aris, "Wow, you're fun."
"Thank you."
The Painter produced a parchment—no ordinary one, but a sheet stitched from shimmering, flexible canvas. The map upon it wasn't drawn with ink, but painted with layers of vibrant, moving color. It was alive, shifting subtly as Cainan unrolled it.
The rivers of green glistened, forests hummed with faint sounds, and the roads pulsed faintly. Tiny painted sprites zipped around on it, showing where the wild Colors could be caught.
It was intricate. Enchanting.
Cainan studied it seriously, before tucking it under his arm. "Be right back."
"I'll go," Zaara said, stretching. "Not like we've got anything better to do till' the banquet. Count me in."
The others nodded in agreement.
As they moved toward the stables, Lynzelle bouncing slightly at the excitement, Tojin trotted nervously alongside Cainan.
"Uh… um… will Lady Selvaria mind?" he asked timidly.
At her name, Lynzelle blinked, looking between them.
"Who's Lady Selvaria?"
Zaara snorted. "Only the scariest Bloodhunter in the Empire. The highest rank. Well she's the leader of the witch hunter branch after all. If you so much as breathe wrong near her, she'll know and probably curbstomp you mid air."
Foxxen added with a chuckle, "And she's Cainan's old mentor. Tough as hell. Still scares him."
Cainan shot him a glare but said nothing, confirming it more than denying it. "Things have changed now. She stands no chance against me."
Raijin, ever the soft voice of calm, spoke. "As long as we return before the banquet begins, there will be no reprimand..I'm glad."
Lynzelle tilted her head, half-impressed.
"She sounds fun."
Cainan silently said to Lynzelle, "Lady Selvaria is EVIL. She torments her witch hunters into shape and will brutally hurt her own loved ones until they're as strong as her. Watch what you say around her, because if she tries to fight you, either I'd have to step in and challenge her, or you have to just embrace what she does."
Lynzelle smiled, "Haha, don't worry. I'll be super respectful to the point where she'll make me Lord Lynzelle!"
"If you actually pull that off, I'd be even more scared of you than I am now."
Watching from the shadow of a marble arch, Knight Captain Camelot stood with arms folded, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the group mount up and head toward the gates.
There was a faint, unshakable suspicion in the way he watched Cainan and Lynzelle move together.
'Something's not adding up..'
The Painter waved enthusiastically as the squad rode into the deepening evening.
The sky burned with a thousand bloody hues—and the hunt for living Color had begun.