Relin's house stood nestled atop a modest terrace in Mhaerun's higher quarter—a district veiled under the tender glow of celestial fox lanterns. The exterior was carved from duskenwood, a rare pale-bluish bark that shimmered subtly under moonlight, its patterns swirling like wind-traced calligraphy. Vines of trailing moonblossom coiled around the front columns, their blossoms unfurling as night deepened, glowing softly with inner light.
As Nocth stepped into the quiet threshold of Relin's abode, his gaze was immediately drawn to the silent sentinels flanking the entrance: four stone statues, worn by time and cloaked in mystery. Their shapes were obscured—part feline, part vulpine, with too many eyes and tails to count. They seemed to shift slightly under his gaze, as though they resisted being understood.
But Nocth had changed.
With the soft activation of his perception—a result of the 154 veins now pulsing within him—the veils of illusion unraveled. He stared, and the truth stared back. What had once seemed ambiguous now resolved into awe: a six-tailed fox with emerald fire in its eyes, crouched like a lurking predator; a seven-tailed variant mid-pounce with snarls frozen in stone; and finally, a regal, otherworldly creature carved in ivory stone. She stood tall with fur like the purest winter snow, her eight tails fanned behind her like a royal mantle. Her eyes, carved with uncanny delicacy, gleamed with an expression that was neither statue nor spirit—but something... present. Something that knew.
Relin halted behind him.
His eyes narrowed, flicking between the statue and Nocth.
"You can see them," he said, his voice half wonder, half alarm.
Nocth nodded slightly.
Relin's mouth dropped open, as though about to speak. But before he could utter a single word, Anni piped up from beside them, grinning mischievously.
"Papa, close your mouth! A fly might sneak in again like last time!" she chirped.
The tension broke like shattering crystal. Relin sputtered, coughed, and laughed quietly, while Nocth allowed a rare, small smile to play on his lips.
---
The interior of Relin's home was warm and soothing in contrast to the mystique outside. The walls were carved with clean elegance, adorned by hanging scrolls and watercolor paintings of foxes in varied forms. One depicted a silver fox moving gracefully through mountain fog. Another captured a fiery red fox mid-leap, claws extended, eyes blazing. A third was subtler—an illusionary purple-hued fox curled in a swirl of mist, gazing seductively toward the observer.
And then there was the central painting, framed in translucent auroral stone: a breathtaking white fox with eight tails, her pose regal and timeless. Her eyes radiated calm and control, dignity and allure. There was power in her serenity, and something noble in her stillness—a matron of some mythic ancestry. Even her painting seemed to hum faintly with celestial pressure.
Nocth sat at the polished duskwood dining table beside Anni, while Relin set down the final platter. The dishes were almost too beautiful to eat. Steamed lotus-dragon roots in jade sauce, sky rice with essence of starlight dew, fire-seared pheasant slices dusted with aurora pepper, and soft, glistening dumplings stuffed with moon-basil and meat from a beast Nocth didn't recognize but whose aroma sang to his senses.
As they began, Nocth took in the warmth of the flickering fox-lanterns lighting the corners of the dining room, each dancing with low, playful hues. The ceiling was painted with a rolling night sky in soft ink, with delicate starlit runes trailing across it.
He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. The room was cozy. Safe. Not the safety born from power, but the safety that came from something... rarer.
Family.
Anni leaned forward, reaching across the table with a smile as pure as morning mist. She plopped two more dumplings onto Nocth's plate.
"You need to eat more! You're growing—Papa says training on an empty stomach is a crime!"
Relin chuckled. "Indeed. That's a sacred law."
Nocth found himself nodding. He felt full already, but for some reason, he picked up his chopsticks and ate anyway.
A quiet part of him stirred.
A memory.
Brief, dreamlike.
Imius. That smile. The distant laughter.
A hand, warm and worn, tousling his hair while a strange meal cooked over a glowing pit.
A deeper, shadowed memory.
A man with calm eyes, unreadable like the night sky, calling him "son" once. Just once.
It was gone before he could chase it.
Relin broke the silence, speaking without raising his gaze. "That statue outside... that eight-tailed one. What did you see, truly?"
Nocth answered honestly. "Majesty."
Relin gave a soft, knowing nod. There was respect in his eyes now, but also wariness. Perhaps even reverence.
Anni giggled. "That's Grandma!"
Nocth blinked. "What?"
Relin nearly choked on his rice, coughing and waving off the statement. "It's... not quite that simple. Don't listen to her."
Anni grinned wider. "That's what you said once!"
Nocth leaned back slightly, watching them. There was something grounding in this moment. Something rare.
Here, he wasn't a boy burdened with the power of the Dreaming veins. He wasn't a threat, nor a mystery. He was... a guest. A presence. Someone worth feeding, smiling at, and maybe even worrying about.
The food tasted richer after that.
Nocth chewed slowly, letting the warmth of the hearth mix with the warmth rising in his chest.
It was fleeting.
But perhaps this was what it meant to live.
And perhaps—just perhaps—this was something worth protecting.
Even if the dream wouldn't last forever.