It was an afternoon in Simharian.

The capital city was bathed in a golden glow, and although it could be hot for some people, the temperature was perfect for the Simharians.

Golden flags danced in the wind as perfume-laced air curled around everyone’s senses. The sound of laughter and chatter filled the surroundings as everyone kept moving as they were supposed to.

To the ordinary folk walking the streets of the capital, there was nothing out of place—no grand procession nor an announcement of royalty.

But a group of people were walking past the crowd under a spell called the shadow veil, unnoticed by everyone.

No one could see them or sense them.

They were Alex, Zahara, Lilia, and Mira, moving through the vibrant city like ghosts of a world that had once breathed flame and silk.

Now, however, another figure had joined them.

Sophie.

She walked beside Alex, her light blonde hair fluttering gently, royal blue eyes soft with delight as they landed on a street musician playing a twelve-stringed simcha harp.

Although she could only manifest for a short time, her presence seemed to breathe balance into the group—her energy calm and serene, like the hush between heartbeats.

It was a rare moment when all of them could be together, and she didn’t want to miss it.

Even if it was for two hours, she wanted to enjoy her time.

“I missed this,” she murmured as she reached out, letting her fingers ghost across a blossoming vine growing on a sun-warmed wall. “It’s warm. Not just the place… but the people.”

Zahara smiled as she walked a few steps ahead, half-turning toward her. “Simharia thrives on warmth. We call it Jaanasaar—the soul fire. It’s in everything. Even in the way we sell sugar dates.”

Alex chuckled, his arms lazily behind his head. “You’re starting to sound like a tour guide.”

“I take pride in my city,” Zahara replied, her eyes dancing. “And in my man, who I get to show it to.”

Her words made Alex chuckle and peck her lips lightly, much to her delight.

Mira, walking beside Sophie, close but not touching—her silent admiration apparent—saw it all like others, and her eyes moved away from the things she had been looking at.

Be it the pottery vendor or a child feeding crumbs to painted pigeons, in front of Alex’s kiss, nothing else mattered.

‘I also want one,’ she mused inwardly, her fingers twitching. After a hesitant pause, her fingers brushed against Alex’s sleeve as if wanting to ask for it but couldn’t.

Alex, feeling her touch, glanced back at her, giving her a small nod.

Mira pouted, but her expressionless face made it look normal, so Alex couldn’t tell.

In the end, she exhaled, almost soundlessly, letting it go.

Lilia, meanwhile, had a scroll out, pretending to write notes with invisible ink. “You know, the temple district is over this way,” she said casually. “Would be a shame to leave without documenting how Alex almost cried eating that sun-chili thing.”

“I didn’t cry,” Alex said flatly.

Zahara giggled. “He cried.”

Even Sophie was smiling now, a soundless chuckle in her throat. “I did warn you.”

Well, he didn’t cry, but he wouldn’t deny that it took him by surprise.

After all, it was, by far, the spiciest thing he had ever eaten.

After this little episode, they passed through artists’ alleys, incense markets, and hidden rooftop cafés with stained-glass floors.

They even ducked into an abandoned watchtower. There, Mira found a sleeping cat and refused to move until it woke and nuzzled her hand.

All of it was wrapped in the veil of magic, unnoticed by the world that bustled around them.

Until it wasn’t.

They were at a bridge overlooking a lotus-filled canal when Zahara suddenly paused. Her expression shifted.

A sound—quiet, buried beneath the din of street musicians and murmuring crowds.

A low keening note, like wind dragging across a hollow shell. No one else would have noticed. No one but her.

Alex saw her stiffen, and his eyes narrowed. “Zahara?” He asked. “What is it?”

Mira’s head tilted, alert. Sophie’s body leaned slightly forward, catching the change in air. Lilia closed her scroll.

Zahara didn’t speak at first. Then, she said, “I heard a call.”

“What kind of call?” Lilia asked, her tone sharpened.

“A name call. Me. But not with words… It’s not normal,” Zahara muttered, brows furrowed. “It’s a summoning whistle. Camouflaged in city noise, but old… Simharian tradition. Very few know it.”

Alex’s gaze darkened. “Who?”

He wanted to know who was behind it. ‘Have the nobles already started making their move?’

“I don’t know,” Zahara replied, her voice low. “But it was directed at me.”

Sophie stepped closer. “Should we follow it?”

Alex gave a single nod. “Yeah. Let’s find out what this is.”

They turned, leaving behind the echoing laughter of the market, moving deeper into the quieter parts of the city.

The sound became more distinct as they walked—an odd, rhythmic whistle, mimicking birdsong at first but layered with something… intentional.

Eventually, cobblestones gave way to wildflowers and moss.

They entered the forest.

The trees thickened, and the sun flickered through the high canopy in dappled patches.

Birds rustled in the distance, but aside from that, the forest held a stillness that wasn’t natural. The deeper they walked, the louder the call became—and then suddenly stopped.

They reached a clearing.

It was ringed with stones, almost ceremonial in structure. The grass was low and swaying, the center patch empty—waiting.

The silence now was absolute.

Alex’s body tensed. His eyes scanned the treeline.

A flicker. A crunch of a twig.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words came, they emerged.

Twelve figures emerged from between the trees and behind rocks, each wearing animalistic masks carved of bone and polished wood: lions, jackals, cobras, and birds with eyes that gleamed crimson.

Robes of faded crimson and black draped over light armor, weapons sheathed but close. They moved with practiced unity.

They had been discovered.

It seemed someone had placed detection spells in the surroundings.

‘They were prepared,’ Mira thought as she took a single step closer to Alex, her fingers curling around the edge of his shirt.

Lilia’s gaze sharpened, calculating.

Sophie didn’t move—her eyes stayed on the masked figures, her expression unreadable. Zahara’s breath caught for a moment.

Alex’s voice was cold when it came. “We’re surrounded.”

The leader, a tall figure wearing a mask shaped like a white tiger’s snarling face, stepped forward.

“Zahara Nemeanor,” came the voice, distorted through the mask. “Welcome home.”

Was it a warm greeting? It didn’t seem like one.

They were probably going to have to face this group, whose power was still unknown to them.

Alex summoned Verathian, ready to fight as another masked figure—one with the lion mask—stepped forward, standing beside the other as if they were equals.

Alex raised Verathian, the sword’s edge humming softly and glowing with latent energy.

He didn’t point it forward yet, but the warning was clear.

Then—

“Would you cut the act now?” Zahara suddenly spoke up, her tone exasperated.

Her voice sliced through the tension like a scythe.

The lead figures—White Tiger and Lion Mask—jerked in surprise. One took a step back. The other’s fingers twitched toward their weapon out of instinct.

“What?!” The tiger-masked one snapped. “How did you—? Our masks—did they—?” He started patting his face in panic, trying to check for cracks.

“No cracks,” the lion added. “Still in place. You can’t see through bone and painted glyphs, right?”

Zahara sighed, folded her arms, and tilted her head. “Please. I don’t need to see your faces to know my own brothers. I heard your voice, Bahir. You still do that little growl when you get worked up. And you, Kael… your ‘intimidation voice’ still sounds like you’re holding in a laugh.”

A pause. Then the white tiger mask lowered his head slightly. “Damn it…”

Kael, the lion-masked one, pulled his mask off and revealed a tanned face with wild golden curls and warm amber eyes—eyes twinkling with embarrassment. “…We practiced the entrance for so long.”

Bahir, the white tiger, removed his mask next, sighing like a deflated windbag.

His jaw was square, his hair darker than Zahara’s, tied in a military braid, and his crimson eyes glared—not with anger, but with the frustration of a magician whose trick had failed on its first showing. “We even rehearsed the speech.”

“I told you we should keep our dialogues short,” Kael muttered.

“You wrote it!”

“You delivered it!”

Behind Zahara, the group of spectators looked… stunned.

Alex blinked. Once. Twice. “Wait. These guys are your brothers?”

Zahara smiled sweetly. “Mm-hmm. Twins. Older by three years. Equally dramatic. And terribly bad at keeping secrets from me.”

Mira let go of Alex’s shirt, only to move to Zahara’s side and stare with wide eyes.

Then back to the brothers.

Then back to Zahara.

She poked Zahara once on the arm, then made a vague motion between Zahara and the twins as if trying to say, ‘Really? These dramatic clowns? Yours?’

Lilia, meanwhile, looked like she was deciding between laughing and drawing diagrams. “So… the whisper-call summoning? The forest ambush? The twelve-mask mafia circle? That was just a prank?”

Kael held up both hands. “No, no, not a prank. A… test. Yeah. A sisterly test.”

Bahir nodded like a soldier about to die with honor. “We wanted to make sure she hadn’t gone soft since leaving the capital.”

Sophie chuckled softly. “You almost gave us a heart attack.”

Alex relaxed, Verathian vanishing in a shimmer of gold and black. “I mean… I almost stabbed one of you.”

“We had detection wards up!” Kael huffed. “They should have warned us when you got close.”

Bahir side-eyed the robed figure nearest him. “Kalim, what happened to the detection spell?”

The masked man in question shrugged. “I forgot to charge the rune stones.”

“You what—” Bahir clutched his forehead.

Zahara just pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Simharia’s finest.”

She didn’t know how these brothers of hers were feared by many.

Then it happened.

A sudden flash of movement from the outer ring of masked figures.

No warning. No shout. No hesitation.

One of them—a masked figure with the shape of a serpent and dark robes flaring—lunged forward, their blade drawn in a blur of steel and shadow. They bypassed Bahir and Kael entirely, heading straight for Zahara.

Alex moved first, faster than a thought.

Verathian reappeared in his hand with a crackle of force, intercepting the strike just before it reached Zahara’s neck. Sparks flew.

Zahara didn’t flinch. Mira was already beside her again. Lilia was mid-spell. Sophie raised her hand.

“Stand down!” Bahir roared. “That’s an order!”

The serpent-masked attacker didn’t stop.

Their body twisted unnaturally, blades reshifting for a downward cut—no hesitation, no sign of awareness.

“Damn it—he’s not listening!” Kael said, drawing his own weapon. “Something’s wrong!”

The energy around the attacker was off. Too fluid. Too cold.

It was as if he weren’t a human but a machine.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep