"Well then," Kaien suddenly said, breaking the silence with a tone that was almost mocking, "after all these heavy-handed speeches… good luck to anyone who manages to get any sleep."
He stood up, stretched his shoulders with a crack, then added with a crooked smile:
"How about a bit of music? A drop of harmony before the world comes crashing down again?"
Without waiting for an answer, he reached into his bag and pulled out a strange instrument: a kind of multi-pipe flute made of dark, time-worn wood, bound together with copper and aged leather. He spun it casually in his fingers, like greeting an old friend.
Gaël, intrigued, couldn't hold back his question.
"What's that?"
Kaien cast him a sidelong glance, amused.
"This? A mouth organ. The instrument of wandering Harmonists. Older than dirt."
He blew gently into one of the reeds. A low note rang out, deep, resonant, almost organic. Then came others, softer, sliding over one another like whispers of wind through ruined stones.
The blue fire flickered, not in threat this time, but as if it were listening.
Around them, the tension began to unwind, like a taut cord slowly relaxing. Maera folded her arms, saying nothing, but the tightness in her shoulders eased. Brann remained still, eyes half-lidded, as if he were listening despite himself, or perhaps wrestling with demons only he could see.
And then, something stirred.
A small shift inside Kaien's bag. A pair of rounded ears. A curious snout.
Nono.
The tiny creature awakened as if roused from some ancient dream, his large amber eyes shimmering in the firelight. In a silent motion, he leapt onto a nearby stone, close to the flames, and raised his tail.
And what a tail it was.
Gaël froze, breath caught in his throat, awestruck.
'How long is it? He could touch the stars with that thing if he wanted to…'
The tail rose slowly into the air, fluid as thought, light as breath. It unfurled in living spirals, serpentine in motion, weaving luminous arcs of pulsing blue light. The runes across Nono's fur lit up in response, pulsing gently with every note Kaien drew from his mouth organ. This wasn't merely a dance, it was a resonance.
Each breath shaped a curve, each curve a glyph, each glyph a whisper. An ancient language, written into the air, visible only to those who still knew how to see with their hearts.
Maera blinked, visibly unsettled.
"He… dances with the music?"
"He's writing it," Rai murmured, so Kaien wouldn't have to pause his melody.
Nono slowly turned in place, curling and unfurling his tail through the air, tracing perfect spirals. The fire seemed to follow his movements, bending in incandescent echoes. Gaël felt his fingers tighten unconsciously around the hilt of his sword, not out of fear or threat, but as if something immense and long-forgotten had brushed the edge of reality. A vertigo without fear.
Then, a melody began to weave itself, ethereal, as though the world around them was merely a secondhand echo to this primordial harmony. A thread between worlds. A lullaby for silence itself.
And then... The final note faded, like a sigh into mist.
Nono froze, his tail suspended in a final arabesque, shimmering like a glyph caught between the heartbeat of two worlds. Then, gently, he curled up. His tail wrapped around him with grace, and he slipped like a spirit into the shadow of Kaien's satchel, carrying with him the glow, and the incomprehensible.
Kaien lowered his instrument, a serene, almost sorrowful smile on his lips.
"There, a bit of beauty in the middle of all this chaos."
Brann grunted. Barely. "It changes nothing."
"No," Kaien replied as he carefully stored away the organ, "but sometimes, that's the only thing that keeps us from becoming like them."
For a few moments, they sat there around the fire, saying nothing more. The music still lingered, invisible, within their thoughts.
Gaël finally spoke.
"Does he… do that often?"
Kaien didn't answer immediately. He was watching the bag where Nono had fallen asleep, as if still listening for an inaudible note.
"When he feels like it," he said at last. "Nono doesn't obey, he accompanies."
Maera, arms crossed, stared into the flames, but her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"What he wrote… it wasn't just pretty. There was meaning, structure, and patterns that repeated."
Kaien nodded slowly.
"Lumkos feel emotions deeply. Nono's still young, what he draws doesn't always make sense yet. But it will."
Gaël, still transfixed, couldn't help but murmur, his eyes shining:
"His tail… it's enormous. Like a living rope."
Kaien burst out laughing.
"Oh yes! And it's not done growing. It gets a meter longer every year."
Gaël's mouth fell open in disbelief.
"A meter? Per year? You're joking…"
"Not in the slightest," Kaien replied, amused. "In a few years, he could wrap himself around a house. Or a luminic tower!"
"Or strangle you in your sleep," Maera added dryly, her tone just serious enough to be unsettling.
Gaël paled slightly, then saw the faint smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. He let out a nervous chuckle.
As the sharp edge of the joke faded, a gentle silence settled once again. Kaien, eyes lost in the embers, added:
"The old Harmonists used to say that Lumkos write what the world thinks but never says.Personally, I think they write what the world feels… but doesn't understand."
His words lingered in the air like a final note left hanging, impossible to grasp, yet undeniably there.
The blue fire crackled softly. The embers danced in gentle rhythm, and in that still moment, where even the shadows seemed to hold their breath, for the first time in hours… the silence wasn't heavy.
It was almost tender.
And deep within the folds of Kaien's cloth bag, a golden eye flickered open, half-lidded, gleaming faintly.
As if Nono, even in sleep, was still listening.