Chapter 24: Noisy FreedomThe moment the Garden Gang stepped through the massive, arched gates of the city, the quiet discipline of the road evaporated. They were instantly swallowed by a riot of color and sound. It was the eve of The Fall, and the Twin Cities were vibrating.

  Banners of crimson, gold, and teal snapped in the river breeze, hung from every balcony and mppost. The air smelled of roasting nuts, spilled ale, and the sharp, sulfuric tang of fireworks being tested in the distance. Music came from everywhere at once—drums from the lower districts, fiddles from the merchant quarter, and the brassy roar of horns from the great stone bridges that connected Nuvuski to its sister city, Mulukaos, across the sparkling expanse of the river.

  "Too loud," Miz’ri muttered, her ears twitching beneath her white linen hood. She adjusted her goggles, shrinking slightly against Talisa’s side. "Too many people. Too much... everything."

  "It’s amazing!" Talisa shouted over the din, her eyes wide and sparkling. She was spinning in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. "Look at the nterns! Look at all the masks! Miz, look, a juggler!"

  "Focus, Tali," Miz’ri grunted, hand resting on her sword hilt. "Crowds are just cover for pickpockets."

  But the Garden Gang seemed to have abandoned their professional paranoia the moment they hit the cobblestones. Gourdy, usually the stoic anchor of the group, stopped in the middle of the thoroughfare. He took a deep breath, his massive chest expanding, and a look of profound, terrifying sentimentality softened his scarred face.

  "Home," Gourdy rumbled. He looked across the river toward the hazy silhouette of Mulukaos. "Still smells like river-mud and fried dough."

  He turned to Artie. The Drow scout, usually the picture of cool, lethal detachment, looked like he was about to vomit. Artie was smoothing his vest for the tenth time in a minute, checking his reflection in a shop window.

  "Do I look alright?" Artie asked, his voice cracking slightly. "Is the cloak too much? Should I lose the daggers? I know you shouldn't bring bdes to a first meeting, but I feel naked without them."

  "You look fine, Artie," Gourdy said, resting a heavy hand on the elf’s shoulder. "Ma is going to love you, and all my sisters. They like anyone who can eat spicy food, you can tolerate a bit, and you have great table manners."

  "Your ‘Ma’ is a former pitboss of riverboat casino," Artie hissed. "She breaks kneecaps for fun. If she doesn't like me, I'm going into the river, at best."

  "You'll be fine, you worrywart." Gourdy chuckled, steering his panicked boyfriend toward the bridge. He looked back at the group. "Gang, we're off the clock. Artie and I are heading across the bridge. I need to show this city boy where real orcs are made. We’ll meet back at the Gilded Eel Tavern at the North Gate in 2 days, the tomorrow after next, for the next leg."

  "Two days?" Miz’ri blinked. "You’re leaving us?"

  "It’s a holiday, Cousin!" Artie called back, already being dragged away by the enthusiastic orc. "Wish me luck!" Artie said with a tenor of terror in his voice. They vanished into the crush of the crowd, leaving a sudden vacuum of capability.

  "Well," Baby Bok Choy chirped, spinning her staff. "That leaves the girls and the bones."

  She looked at Miz’ri and Talisa, her blue eyes narrowing with a mischievous glint. Then she looked at Herkel. The skeleton was standing stiffly in his disguise, his hat pulled low, looking entirely overwhelmed by the noise.

  "You know," Baby mused, tapping her chin. "I was going to find a dashing, mysterious stranger to dance with tonight. But why settle for a stranger when I have a tall, dark, and silent type right here?"

  She looped her arm through Herkel’s bony elbow. "Come on, Pappy. You and I are going to the masquerade in the High District. You have the perfect build for a tuxedo, and I'm going to say a Ram Mask. Fox for me, of course. I need a date who won't interrupt my monologue."

  Herkel rattled, looking at Talisa for help. "You and Great Grandmama Miriam used to like to dance, right?" Talisa ughed, waving him off. "You’ve been with me forever; let’s go have a day. Come on pappy, please?"

  The skeleton stood for a moment before nodding its head, putting a hand on Talisa’s shoulder. Offering a firm grip before extending his other bony hand to Baby who took it with glee.

  "Oh my, what a gentleman! If only you could tell me all about your wife, Miriam, was it?" Baby winked. She dragged the ancient skeleton toward a shop selling high-end costumes. "Bye, kids!"

  And just like that, they were alone.

  Miz’ri stood in the middle of the street, buffeted by the flow of revelers. The sudden absence of the group—the ck of a mission, a threat, or a chaperone—felt jarring. She looked at Talisa.

  The girl was standing there, a small isnd of calm in the chaos. She wasn't looking at the crowd anymore. She was looking at Miz’ri. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and excitement, and her lips were curved in a small, expectant smile.

  "So," Talisa hummed, swaying slightly on her heels. "Fouty-eight hours. Just us."

  Miz’ri felt the silence in her head recede, pushed back by the overwhelming noise of the city and the sudden, terrifying freedom of the moment. She felt stiff, her hand still hovering near her weapon, unsure how to exist in a space that didn't require violence.

  "What do we do?" Miz’ri asked, feeling foolish. "I don't... I don't know how to do 'holidays'."

  Talisa reached out. Her hand, warm and steady, closed around Miz’ri’s cool obsidian fingers.

  "By golly, I never thought I'd see you stumped. I know what to do. We improvise," Talisa said, her eyes shining. "Come on, Miz. Let's get lost together."

  Talisa tugged, and for the first time in her life, Miz’ri didn't check for an ambush. She just followed.

  They drifted through the market district like flotsam on a tide of joy.

  For the first hour, Miz’ri was a twitching nerve ending. Every ugh sounded like a threat; every jostle in the crowd felt like an attack. She walked with her hand cmped on her sword hilt, her red eyes darting behind her goggles, scanning rooftops and alleyways.

  But Nuvuski was relentless. It wasn't trying to kill her but trying to feed her.

  "Try this!" Talisa insisted, shoving a stick of roasted, honey-gzed pork into Miz’ri’s hand. "It's still sizzling!"

  Miz’ri stared at the meat. "I don't eat street food. It’s unsanitary."

  "Come onnnnn, try it.," Talisa ordered, taking a huge bite of her own. “When else do we have time to live but now?”

  Miz’ri scowled at the very human, finite idea of joy. To an elf with a near-eternal lifespan, all the pleasures of the world need not be packed in every moment possible. But despite her hesitance, she took a bite. The fvor exploded on her tongue—sweet, savory, and rich with numbing spice she couldn't name. It was... good. Annoyingly good.

  "Remarkable," Miz’ri grunted, wiping grease from her lips still tingling in sensation.

  "See?" Talisa beamed. "Joy isn't fatal."

  They moved deeper into the festival. The crowd thickened near the Mask Seller’s stall. It was a kaleidoscope of papier-maché and painted wood—dragons, birds, demons, and beasts of myth. A tabby lynanthi, a feline humanoid, watched the two women’s eyes become caught. She spoke up with a sharp bark. “Happy Fall you two, have you decided who you want to be this year?”

  "What do you mean by that, Madam?" Talisa asked, more deciding as she pulled Miz’ri toward the stall. The feline woman took a step forward, grabbing a rge bck mask of a tiger-like creature with green painted around the eyes.

  “Well my dear tourists. The tradition of the Fall in Nuvuski marks when these nds got to decide their own identity after 1000 years of our identity being shackles and shame. You have to be yourself tomorrow - who do you want to be today? Aspire, dream, hope, py. Get out of your skin for a moment, friends.”

  Talisa just smiled wide at the sales pitch. "Oh so fun. Miz, who or what do you want to be?”

  Miz’ri looked at the masks. She usually wore a mask of indifference, but a physical one might be useful. It would hide her Drow features, stop the staring, and let her drop the constant, exhausting performance of being a monster.

  She reached out, her fingers brushing a mask painted like a Wolf. It was stark red with jagged white and yellow markings around the eyes—predatory, silent, and striking. "That one," Miz’ri said. “It speaks to me.”

  Talisa picked up a Rabbit mask. It was white, with soft pink ears and wide, innocent eyes. A spsh of purple stars danced across its pristine face. She held it up to her face, wiggling the nose. "Does this suit me?"

  Miz’ri looked at the girl—soft, round, and vibrating with nervous energy. "It’s practically a portrait," Miz’ri deadpanned.

  They bought them. When Miz’ri tied the Red Wolf mask over her face, she felt a strange, physical relief. The goggles came off. The hood went down. Behind the painted wood, she was no longer the scary Dark Elf. She was just another reveler in the crowd.

  "Better, Miss Wolf?" Talisa asked, her voice muffled slightly by the Rabbit mask.

  "Different," Miz’ri admitted. She took Talisa’s hand again, and this time, her grip was less protective and more possessive. "Come on, Rabbit. Let's find some trouble."

  The afternoon blurred into a series of vignettes that felt like they belonged to someone else’s life.

  They watched a fire-breather on the corner of Silk Street. Miz’ri critiqued his form. "He's inhaling too early, he's going to singe his tonsils", while Talisa just cpped and threw copper coins.

  They stopped at a game booth where you had to throw rings onto the necks of gss bottles. Talisa tried three times and missed every single one, her aim comically bad.

  "It’s rigged," Talisa pout, crossing her arms. "The rings are too small."

  "Maybe for a human," Miz’ri corrected. She spped a silver coin onto the counter. "Watch and learn, ste'kol." With the terrifying precision of a knife-thrower, she nded five rings in five seconds. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

  The booth owner, a sweaty man with a mustache, looked terrified. "Take whatever you want, dy. Just don't hurt me."

  Miz’ri scanned the prizes—cheap stuffed bears, wooden swords, and gaudy jewelry. Her eyes nded on a neckce. It was simple silver chain holding a piece of polished prismatic gss that caught the sun and fractured it into a tiny, personal rainbow. "That one," Miz’ri pointed.

  She handed it to Talisa. The pilgrim held the gss up to the light, watching the colors dance on her palm.

  "It’s beautiful," Talisa whispered. "For me?"

  "You like shiny things," Miz’ri shrugged, feigning indifference. "Consider it your colr. So everyone knows you belong to me."

  Talisa didn't argue. She turned around, lifting her hair so Miz’ri could fasten the csp. As Miz’ri’s fingers brushed the warm skin of Talisa’s neck, the ughter of the crowd seemed to fade. The scent of Talisa’s hair—sweat and vender—filled her nose. She is happy, the kind but firm voice in Miz’ri’s head whispered. She is glowing. And you are the one who put that light there.

  But then, the shadow crept in. A darker voice answered. She smiles because she thinks you’re just grumpy. She thinks you’re a ‘project’, a broken thing to be fixed. But if she knew... if she knew about the Silence... if she knew that you are a hollow thing that consumes joy to survive... she would run screaming.

  Miz’ri’s hands trembled as she csped the neckce. She wanted to tell her. She wanted to rip off the Wolf mask and scream the truth—that she was broken, that she was an addict to sensation, that she was terrified that she didn’t know how to stop being either.

  But Talisa turned around, the rainbow gss resting against her colrbone, and smiled.

  "Thank you, Wolfie," she said softly. “Bunny likes her colr without a leash.”

  And Miz’ri, the coward that she was, just nodded and pulled her Wolf mask tighter. "Wolfie?” Miz questioned for a moment and then rexed with the thought. “You're welcome, Bunny. C-Come on.” offering a hand to lead Talisa.

  As the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks of the western mountains, Nuvuski transformed. The brassy, sunlight-drenched chaos of the day cooled into something intimate and glowing. Magic-nterns along the riverbanks hummed to life, casting long, dancing shadows across the cobblestones.

  Miz’ri and Talisa—the Red Wolf and the White Rabbit—found themselves drawn toward the river. The crowd here was thick but hushed, a river of people moving toward the water’s edge.

  Standing on a raised stone dais overlooking the docks was a Barker, his voice magically amplified to carry over the throng. He wore a coat of a thousand bells that chimed with every gesture.

  "Citizens! Travelers! Free souls!" the Barker cried, spreading his arms. "The sun has set on the old world, and the stars rise on the new! A hundred years ago, the chains were broken! A hundred years ago, we stopped looking at the ground in fear and started looking at the sky in hope!"

  A cheer went up, vibrating in Miz’ri’s chest.

  "Before we light the sky," the Barker continued, his voice dropping to a melodic chant, "we remember the gods who watched the Fall. To the Weaver, who spun the thread of our escape! To the Traveler, who guided us to these banks! And to the Lady of the River, who kept our secrets when the masters were listening!"

  Miz’ri flinched at the mention of Silence. She felt Talisa’s hand tighten around hers.

  "Write your weights upon the paper!" the Barker commanded. "Write the things you wish to leave behind, and the things you hope to find. Let the fire consume the past, and the wind carry your future to the stars! Ring your bells for freedom!"

  The air suddenly erupted with the sound of thousands of small copper bells—the same ones they had been gifted on the road. Cling-clong-cling! The sound was bright, sharp, and communal.

  Talisa pulled Miz’ri toward a stall selling the nterns. They were delicate things made of thin rice paper and thin wooden frames, each with a small wax candle at the base.

  "We each get one," Talisa whispered, her voice thick with the gravity of the ritual. She handed a charcoal stick to Miz’ri. "You have to write your wish on the side. It’s the rules."

  Miz’ri stared at the bnk paper. Around them, people were writing feverishly—names of lost loved ones, prayers for wealth, simple words like Peace or Home.

  Talisa didn't hesitate. She hunched over her ntern, shielding her text with her shoulder. Her charcoal moved with purpose. When she finished, she looked up, her Rabbit mask tilted curiously at Miz’ri.

  "Stuck?" Talisa asked softly.

  "I don't have any wishes…" Miz’ri muttered, the word feeling heavy and sweet on her tongue. "I have objectives. And most of them are currently standing right in front of me."

  "Then write about the objective," Talisa nudged her. "Write what you want for us."

  Us. That word felt sharp, uneasy. Miz’ri turned away, a sudden, sharp ache blooming in her throat. She looked at the bnk paper and thought of the void inside her. She thought of the cold, hungry silence that usually lived where her heart should be. She thought of how easily she could destroy the girl standing next to her if she let that hunger out completely.

  Her charcoal scratched against the paper, desperate and fast.

  I wish Talisa still wants to be with me when she learns my truth.

  She folded the paper fp over the writing before Talisa could see.

  "Ready, Wolfie?" Talisa asked.

  “Ready to begin, Bunny.” Miz’ri replied.

  Together, they lit the candles. The nterns filled with hot air, tugging at their fingers like living things. On the count of the Barker’s bells, thousands of glowing orbs rose from the riverbank simultaneously. It was like the stars had decided to fall upward. The sky became a sea of amber light, drifting slowly over the dark water of the river toward the sister city of Mulukaos.

  Talisa leaned against Miz’ri’s shoulder, her Rabbit mask resting against the Wolf’s arm. "It’s beautiful, isn't it?"

  Miz’ri looked up. The light of the nterns reflected in the prismatic gss neckce she had bought for Talisa, throwing tiny rainbows across the girl’s throat.

  "Yes," Miz’ri said, but she wasn't looking at the sky.

  The physical tension between them, usually a sharp, jagged thing, had smoothed out into a low, thrumming heat. They were standing so close that Miz’ri could feel the rhythm of Talisa’s breath. The noise of the festival was still there—the bells, the cheering, the music—but it felt like it was happening to someone else.

  In the glow of the nterns, Miz’ri felt the weight of her secrets pressing against her ribs. She wanted to tell her. She wanted to be known. Talisa reached down and ced her fingers through Miz’ri’s, her thumb rubbing over the dark elf’s knuckles in a slow, rhythmic circle. It was an anchor. A promise.

  "I think I'm done with the crowd for a bit, Wolfie" Talisa whispered.

  Miz’ri’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm. "Me too, Bunny”

  The riverbank began to empty as the nterns drifted further toward Mulukaos, a trail of artificial stars mirrored in the bck water. The crowd was moving toward the central pzas where the midnight drums were starting to thrum, but Miz’ri and Talisa moved against the current.

  They passed a street vendor’s cart, the smell of fermented grain and honey heavy in the air.

  "Vandi Gold! Best liquor in the South!" the vendor barked, waving a tray of small, amber-filled cy cups. "One coin to forget your name, two coins to forget your sins!"

  Miz’ri snorted, pulling Talisa past. "Don't even look at it, Bunny. One sip of that and I’ll be carrying you home over my shoulder before the fireworks even start."

  Talisa ughed, the sound bright and a little daring. She adjusted her Rabbit mask, her eyes fshing with mischief. "Oh, please Wolfie. I learned my lesson after the 4th cup."

  "For such an ample girl," Miz’ri countered. "You’re quite the lightweight. A very cute, very loud lightweight."

  Talisa stopped walking, tugging on Miz’ri’s hand until the dark elf turned around. The girl leaned in close, the prismatic gss neckce catching the dying glow of a nearby torch.

  "I've had my life’s fill of Vandi Gold," Talisa whispered, her voice dropping into a register that made the hair on the back of Miz’ri’s neck stand up. "But I’ll never have enough of that sweet Teazalnan Dark."

  Miz’ri felt the air leave her lungs. "Is that so?" Miz’ri murmured. Her thumb, still hooked in Talisa’s hand, traced a slow line up the girl’s inner wrist. "The Dark is dangerous, It’s easy to get lost in it."

  "You're right, it's just so easy to get lost in your darkness, whatever am I going to do?” Talisa challenged pyfully.

  “You follow where that sweet darkness takes you.” Miz’ri said as she scanned the street, her predatory instincts pivoting from protection to pursuit. She spotted a narrow stone gap between a spice merchant’s warehouse and a shuttered tavern—an alleyway draped in thick, velvety shadows and the scent of dried cinnamon.

  She pulled. Talisa followed, her breath hitching in a way that wasn't fear.

  The moment the light of the street vanished behind them, Miz’ri spun. She caught Talisa’s wrists and pressed them back against the cold stone wall, pinning the girl with the weight of her body. In the dim light, the White Rabbit mask looked ethereal, almost ghostly. But the eyes behind it were vibrantly, hungrily alive. Miz’ri growled, her face inches from Talisa’s. "Do you have any idea what I could do to you back here?"

  "I know exactly what you could do," Talisa breathed, her chest heaving against Miz’ri’s. She didn't struggle against the hold on her wrists; she leaned into it. "Why else am I still here when I've had so many opportunities to run?”

  "You think you know me," Miz’ri hissed, her grip softening even as her heart hammered. "You think I'm just lonely. I'm broke, Talisa, I'm a void. I’ll devour you, your body and soul and still be hungry."

  "Miz'ri, stop trying to hide behind your mean little threats and self-deprecating barbs; I see right through them. I see how scared you are. It’s like you don’t trust yourself, but I don’t know why. But I see how much you just want to feel safe.” Miz’ri’s heart pounded, red eyes wide as her soul felt stripped bare. “I see you use people for safety. Me included, before unwillingly, well now I consent to being devoured, whenever you need to feel sated and safe." Talisa whispered.

  She twisted her hands, not to escape, but to ce her fingers through Miz’ri’s. She pulled Miz’ri’s hands down, forcing the dark elf to drop the dominant posturing stance. Talisa reached up, her fingers trembling as they hooked under the edge of the Red Wolf mask.She pushed it up, resting it on top of Miz’ri’s head, letting it fall away. Then, she reached for her own Rabbit mask and discarded it. It cttered to the damp cobblestones, forgotten.

  They stood for but a heartbeat before Miz'ri surged forward, her dark lips colliding with girls in a messy passion. Talisa stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Miz’ri’s neck, and pulled her down. The kiss wasn't like their nights in the tents. There was no protocol here. No 'Ste’kol', no 'Ehmtua', no calcuted seduction or attempt at corruption. It was frantic, messy, and desperate.

  Miz’ri groaned, a low, broken sound in the back of her throat. Her arms, which had been so used to holding Talisa in pce, now simply held her close. She wrapped them around the girl’s waist, lifting her slightly, trying to pull Talisa into her own skin, as if she could graft their souls together in the shadow of a warehouse.

  The Silence, the cold, hollow ringing that had defined Miz’ri’s existence for centuries, wasn't there. There was only the heat of Talisa’s mouth, the frantic rhythm of their hearts, and the feeling of being seen—not as a monster, or a savior, or a tool, but as a person who was allowed to want.