012 Designed Separation and Unexpected Encounter

The more people there were, the more likely it was for accidents and separations to happen—this was common knowledge, something Theresa had learned early on and diligently tried to abide by. Yet when events slipped entirely beyond her control, all her efforts proved futile.

She had originally clung tightly to the fabric at Peidia’s waist, determined to endure until the surging crowd passed. But unexpectedly, Peidia’s protective hand suddenly loosened, and then her own grasp was wrenched away by a powerful force. Unable to resist, she lost her grip and, unsteady on her feet, was swept away from Peidia’s protection by the tide of people.

Someone had orchestrated this! Theresa was certain.

Standing still for a moment amidst her frustration, she hunched her shoulders and tried to weave her way through the crowd. Peidia had left her with a guiding scent, so she believed that once the crowd cleared, Peidia would quickly find her. Her task now was to avoid those who had intentionally led her away from Peidia, so as not to disrupt Peidia and Joannes’s wager.

Theresa was no fool; she didn’t believe such elaborate schemes to separate her from Peidia were simply the work of kidnappers or the like. Peidia bore the insignia of a Level 2 Mage—who among ordinary folk would dare provoke him? The likeliest explanation was that Joannes and his party had set this trap specifically for the wager, intending to disturb Peidia’s focus and thus affect the trio’s success in their quest.

Buffeted left and right by the throng, Theresa lost track of where she was, and had no idea when or where the crowd would disperse. She found herself standing at an unfamiliar street corner, gazing around in confusion before pursing her lips and lifting her sleeve.

As expected, a large bruise had formed about four inches above her wrists, slightly swollen—a clear mark left by someone’s forceful grip and pull. Theresa’s health was poor; her blood was weak, her skin fair and delicate, making her prone to bruising. Thus, the two dark marks were particularly striking.

She didn’t much mind the stark contrast, and after checking her wrists to confirm there was no dislocation or sprain, she felt somewhat relieved and began to analyze her situation.

Before the Autumn Festival, Archil had taken her through much of the city of Cervantes, with only two main residential districts left unexplored. Among them, the eastern noble district was where Maple Garden was located—she came and went daily, so it was familiar. Reasoning from this, she deduced that the crowd had pushed her from the southern and western border into the western residential area—a part she had never visited.

Knowing her location, Theresa felt little concern and proceeded slowly along the building walls. This area, not far from the southern district, carried a hint of the artist’s casual atmosphere. Buildings were irregularly arranged, with old low structures jumbled among newer townhouses. Moss grew thickly on the cobblestone streets, lending beauty but making footing treacherous. As she walked, she soon saw a group of children laughing and running out of a narrow alley—boys and girls, ranging from five or six to twelve or thirteen years old, likely kept home by parents forbidding them from joining the festival.

“Who are you?” a girl noticed Theresa amidst their play and ran up to ask.

“I got separated from my brother,” Theresa answered with a smile. “Could you tell me where the nearest carriage house is?”

The girl was clearly puzzled by the connection between being lost and a carriage house, and asked, “You’re lost, so why do you need a carriage house?”

“I want to rent a carriage to go home,” Theresa replied, still smiling.

The girl nodded in understanding, her eyes shining with envy. “We don’t have a carriage house here, but there’s a coachman up north—you could ask him.”

“Thank you.” Theresa bowed her head politely, her aristocratic manners immediately silencing the children from the poor district. They gaped at her, their play forgotten. Theresa, oblivious to their awe, only raised her brow slightly, stepped around them, and headed in the direction the girl had indicated.

Walking and calculating how long it would take Peidia to catch up, she was suddenly distracted by birdsong. She looked up and followed the sound, spotting a rather ancient house ahead. The low brick walls were covered with climbing plants, almost entirely obscuring the original color. Through the person-high wall she could see a courtyard filled with robust trees, their thick canopies casting deep shade and stretching over half the street.

Theresa paused outside the wall, listening to the birdsong within. Her mood lifted—the chirping was unusual, here and there, low and high, as if a chorus of birds was performing, full of charm.

After three or five minutes, the birds fell silent, and Theresa sighed regretfully, walking slowly along the wall until she reached the gate. Through the old ironwork she saw a winding path of cobblestones leading to a small fountain, the sound of water still discernible. The dense shade prevented her from seeing the main house clearly.

Regretting this, she shook her head and turned to examine the plaque on the wall beside the gate. It seemed quite old, corroded by damp until only the house number and half the owner’s surname were barely visible.

As she concentrated on the faded plaque, she suddenly sensed a strange rush of wind behind her. Before she could turn, a force struck her from the side, shoving her hard against the iron gate. Oddly, the tightly closed gate swung open at her impact; she tumbled into the courtyard and, as she sat stunned on the cobbled path, the gate swiftly closed behind her.

It took Theresa two or three seconds to realize her predicament. She turned back and saw the iron gate sealed, the wide street outside entirely deserted—she had, once again, been outmaneuvered!

Annoyed, Theresa stood and yanked at the iron gate, but the door that had so easily admitted her now remained immovable, no matter how she shook or struck it. Left with no choice, she accepted her confinement.

“Caw, caw, stranger, stranger…” a hoarse voice sounded behind her. Theresa’s heart skipped, but she steadied herself, pressing her back to the cold iron gate as if it could give her strength.

She turned to see a strangely shaped large bird perched on a branch above the path, calling loudly at her. Its wide, golden eyes glinted with peculiar mischief.

Theresa blinked, staring into those eyes, then tentatively greeted, “Hello, good day.”

“Caw, caw, stranger good day, stranger good day,” the bird flapped its wings, seemingly pleased with her initiative.

Though it was bizarre to converse with a bird, any communication was preferable to none. So Theresa continued, “Sorry to disturb you. I apologize for entering uninvited. Could you tell me how I might leave?”

“Caw, caw, stranger wants to leave, stranger wants to leave,” the bird repeated, then suddenly took flight, darting into the small grove. Theresa, frustrated, was about to pout when the bird stopped some ten meters away, turned back, and stared at her intently.

She met its gaze and, struck by inspiration, pointed to herself: “Do you want me to follow you?”

The bird said nothing, still watching her.

After a brief hesitation, Theresa stepped forward. At once, the bird began cawing excitedly, clearly delighted.

So the bird led the way, Theresa following closely, and together they entered the grove. Inside, she discovered the astonishing richness of the vegetation—it was akin to a miniature rainforest, from mosses below to towering trees above. Walking felt like traversing a jungle; the dense undergrowth made progress difficult, yet the bird moved as if it were at home, swift and unimpeded. Fortunately, the bird was patient, never minding her slow pace and always waiting ahead to guide her.

The longer she walked, the more puzzled Theresa became. How could such a small courtyard host a little forest, and why had it taken so long to cross?

Just as she wondered, a strange breeze brushed her cheek. She looked closely and saw, amid the green, a flash of red—a vivid blossom, startlingly bright. It was a flame-shaped creature with a round core, complete with nose and eyes, its body wreathed in what appeared to be burning fire, radiating palpable heat and flickering gently. As it approached, Theresa could make out its features.

“Cheep cheep, who are you? Cheep cheep, how did you come here?” The flame-shaped little thing let out a bird-like cry, leaving Theresa even more speechless—what sort of place had she wandered into…