Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

After their brief, tense encounter with Nero and Khione, Elreth and Azalea wandered deeper into the festival. The afternoon sun was warm, the crowds cheerful, and the air thick with the scent of roasted nuts and spun sugar. Elreth kicked at a pebble, still brooding. Azalea walked beside her, serene as a portrait.

”You’re no fun when you sulk,” Azalea said.

”I’m not sulking.”

”No, You’re sulking.”

Elreth stopped. ”Fine. What do you want to do?”

Azalea’s eyes swept the festival, landing on a booth where wooden rings were tossed over glass bottles. ”That.”

The booth was simple. Three rows of bottles, each painted a different color. The goal was to loop a ring over the neck of a bottle. Five throws for a handful of tokens. The prize for a perfect score was a giant stuffed dragon, green and scaly, with button eyes.

”I’ll go first,” Azalea said.

She paid the attendant, took the rings, and tossed. One ring sailed, wobbled, and settled over a blue bottle. The second over a red. The third over a yellow. The fourth over a green. The fifth over a purple. Perfect.

The attendant’s jaw dropped. He handed her the dragon. Azalea tucked it under her arm as if she won such prizes every day.

”Your turn,” she said to Elreth.

Elreth stepped up, paid, and took the rings. Her first toss circled the neck of a blue bottle, then bounced off. She frowned. Her second landed neatly over a red. Her third missed entirely. Her fourth caught a yellow. Her fifth—she held her breath, tossed, and the ring settled over a green.

”Three out of five,” the attendant announced.

’’You win a small prize.”

He offered a tiny stuffed rabbit. Elreth took it, her lips pressed together.

”You were distracted,” Azalea said.

”I wasn’t.”

”You were thinking about him.”

Elreth stuffed the rabbit into her pocket.

”Let’s move on.”

They found a shooting gallery next. Wooden targets shaped like monsters slid along a track. The rifles fired cork pellets. Azalea went first, sighted down the barrel, and shot with calm precision. Each pellet struck a monster’s center. The targets fell in a neat line.

”Perfect score,” the attendant said. ”You win a silver cup.”

Azalea accepted the cup, small and shiny, and added it to her growing collection. Elreth stepped up, her grip tight on the rifle. She fired. The first pellet missed. She adjusted. The next three struck true. The last went wide.

”Four out of five. You win a keychain.”

Elreth took the keychain—a tiny sword on a ring—and shoved it into her pocket.

”You’re still distracted,” Azalea observed.

”I’m not distracted. I’m warming up you know better.”

The next booth was a strength test. A large mallet, a pedestal, a bell high above. Azalea swung first. The mallet came down, the puck shot up, and the bell rang with a clear tone. The needle stopped just shy of the top.

”Impressive,” the attendant said. ”You win a sash.”

Azalea draped the sash over her shoulder—gold silk, embroidered with flowers. Elreth took the mallet. She planted her feet, swung, and the puck rocketed upward. The bell rang louder. The needle went past the top and bounced against the stopper. ℴℴ𝘮

”Maximum strength!” the attendant shouted. ”You win the grand prize!”

He handed her a massive stuffed bear, white and fluffy. Elreth held it with one arm, looking at Azalea.

”Beginner’s luck,” Azalea said.

Elreth almost smiled in response.

°°°

The afternoon stretched on, and the competition between them grew friendlier. They played a ring toss again, and Elreth scored perfect. Azalea missed one. Elreth won a miniature crown. Azalea won a necklace at a dart game. Elreth won a bracelet at a balloon-popping booth. Azalea won a scarf at a fishing game.

The prizes piled up. Elreth carried the white bear, the crown, the bracelet, and the rabbit. Azalea carried the dragon, the silver cup, the sash, the necklace, and the scarf. They looked like traveling merchants, their arms full of stuffed animals and trinkets.

”This is ridiculous,” Elreth said.

”Agreed,” Azalea replied. ”Let’s settle this.”

The final booth was a simple coin toss. A large glass jar filled with water. Floating on the surface were small metal discs. The goal was to toss a coin so that it landed on a disc. Whoever landed the most coins after ten throws won the whole day’s competition.

They set down their prizes on a nearby bench. Azalea went first. She flicked a copper coin. It spun, wobbled, and landed flat on a disc. The attendant nodded. Elreth flicked hers. It landed on a disc, then slid off.

”One to zero.”

Azalea’s second coin landed perfectly. Elreth’s second landed and stuck. Two to one. Third round: both landed. Fourth: Azalea missed; Elreth landed. Three to three. Fifth: both landed. Six: Azalea landed; Elreth missed. Seven: both missed. Eight: both landed. Nine: Azalea landed; Elreth landed. Ten: both landed.

The attendant counted. ”Seven for the lady in the sash. Seven for the lady in the red hair. A draw.”

Elreth and Azalea stared at each other. Then Elreth laughed—a real laugh, surprised and genuine. Azalea chuckled, her usual serene mask cracking into something warmer.

”A draw,” Elreth said.

”Fair,” Azalea replied.

They gathered their prizes and walked toward the fountain, finding a bench in the shade. The sun was lower now, the light golden. Elreth set the bear beside her. Azalea draped the dragon across her lap.

”That was fun,” Elreth admitted.

”It was,” Azalea agreed. ”We should do it again.”

”Tomorrow?”

”Tomorrow.”

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the festival swirl around them. The crowds thinned as evening approached, the lanterns beginning to glow. Elreth looked at the tiny rabbit in her pocket, then at Azalea’s perfect dragon.

”Hey,” she said.

Azalea turned.

”I’m sorry. For before. For being distracted.”

Azalea’s expression softened. ”There’s nothing to apologize for. Love makes fools of us all.”

Elreth snorted. ”I’m not in love you snake.”

”Of course not.”

They sat a moment longer, then rose, gathered their prizes, and walked back into the festival. The day was not over. There were more booths to see, more games to play. But the competition was done, settled in a draw that felt less like defeat and more like friendship.