CHAPTER 327: CELESTIAL CHARMS — FOR LUCK, FOR BOND, FOR MEMORY

Instead of returning along the main route, they wandered down a quieter trail that branched off behind the amphitheater.

It led into the sculpture garden—though calling it that didn’t quite do it justice. There were no marble statues or engraved plaques, no frozen figures cast in bronze.

Everything here was formed from living elemental cores, held in delicate balance by stabilized magic.

A ring of flame circled endlessly, its tongues flickering but never growing larger or smaller, burning in a rhythm that felt both alive and calm.

Mist spiraled downward in a vertical column, caught mid-fall, suspended in a constant state of almost touching the ground.

A soft wind loop twisted through a curved arc, whispering only when someone walked close enough to disturb its flow.

They slowed near one of the pieces that drew Everly’s attention. Three elemental orbs—one of fire, one of shadow, and one of wind—floated in perfect, synchronized motion.

None collided, yet all revolved with a shared center, like forces that knew how to stay close without crossing into chaos.

She didn’t say why it stopped her.

She didn’t need to.

Ethan came up beside her, his steps unhurried, and Evelyn joined them a moment later.

"I like this place," Evelyn said softly, her eyes still fixed on the sculpture.

They stood there for a little while longer, and not because anything dramatic was happening. The stillness just felt right.

There was no reason to rush forward, no pull to fill the air with conversation. The lights from the amphitheater behind them had begun to fade into a quieter amber glow, gradually giving way to delicate paper lanterns strung between trees just ahead.

It started subtly—a shift in tone, a warmer cast to the light, the soft thrum of distant music, the gentle rise of mingling voices.

A smaller path to the right curved toward the source without signage or instruction. There were no barriers to guide them, just an unspoken invitation to follow.

So they did.

The trail opened into a broad, terraced plaza where student-run stalls lined the space in overlapping arcs.

Food, crafts, oddities—each corner had something new, something small and handmade.

Floating lights hovered above the crowd, flickering in time with soft music playing somewhere just out of sight.

A wide stone square anchored the space, full of movement yet somehow unhurried. Even the laughter here moved at a gentler rhythm, as if everyone had agreed to let the night move at its own pace.

A faded sign overhead shimmered slightly in the lanternlight: Astralis Evening Bazaar – Open Until Midnight.

Scents met them first—sugar-glazed bread, grilled spices, fruit steamed in herbal mist. No one called out, no one barked for attention.

Just students drifted, hands full of skewers or trinkets, voices rising and falling like background music.

Ethan didn’t speak, but Evelyn, still quietly looped through his arm, noticed how his gaze slowed slightly whenever they passed anything related to maps or journals.

It wasn’t much—just a longer pause near a booth displaying leather-bound sketchbooks and hand-drawn charts of Astralis’s mountain trails.

The ink looked faded with age, but the detail was precise.

She didn’t say anything, but she noticed; she always did.

They passed a booth where a girl with pink-dyed hair and a floating charm above her head leaned over a low table.

Her voice was light and full of challenge: "Guess your Affinity! One try per coin. Go on, make me work for it!"

Ethan’s pace faltered just slightly.

Everly caught it instantly. "You’re tempted."

He glanced sideways, his mouth tugging into a small, helpless smile. "You want to waste a coin just to mess with someone’s head?"

"Of course I do," she grinned.

They stepped forward.

The girl gave them a bright look, then narrowed her eyes at Ethan like she was tuning a frequency only she could hear. "Payment first," she said, gesturing toward a shallow bowl on the table.

He dropped in a coin. She closed her eyes, her fingers twitching like antennae picking up faint static. Then she froze.

Her brows furrowed. Her mouth opened, but no words came.

"Okay, what?" Everly prompted, grinning wider.

The girl squinted. "There’s... It’s like Lunar Type, but... It’s got echo signatures I’ve never felt before. Charm residue, but steady.

That’s not right... Celestial? Wait. No, that doesn’t explain the split threads." She looked up, expression scrunched in visible frustration.

"You’re sealed. But not sealed. You’ve got an active link, but I can’t find the root. What are you?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You done?"

She slumped forward in defeat. "I give up. You’re not even confused. You’re just... unfair."

Evelyn tugged gently on his arm. "Come on, mystery boy. Let’s not start a psychic meltdown tonight."

They moved deeper into the plaza, away from the brighter booths and into a section where the tempo softened again.

Instruments replaced speakers—flutes, lyres, soft percussion. Here, under drifting lights shaped like tiny moons and stars, a more intimate atmosphere took over.

The crowd thinned, but the silence felt full rather than empty.

One booth caught Evelyn’s eye—a clean table with delicate jewelry displayed on soft blue cloth.

Nothing sparkled too brightly, but each piece had character: handmade charms, quiet runes, threads braided in purposeful patterns.

A hand-painted sign read: Celestial Charms — For Luck, For Bond, For Memory.

Everly leaned closer, fingers brushing a tray. "They’ve got build-your-own kits."

"We’re doing it," Evelyn said immediately.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Since when are we into bracelet crafting?"

"Since now," Everly replied, already paying.

The shopkeeper passed them a small tray filled with threads, beads, and etched tokens, along with a quiet instruction: "It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to mean something."

They didn’t make anything extravagant. Evelyn chose a midnight-blue cord lined with frost-like runes.

Everly picked a warm red thread and small flame symbols. They knotted the threads together, each adding a single bead—one black, one pale gold.

It wasn’t flawless. But it held.

When Everly looped it around Ethan’s wrist and fastened it with a small metal clasp, he didn’t move. He just looked at it for a moment, rotated his wrist slowly, then let it settle.

"Not bad," he murmured.

Evelyn smiled faintly. "It’s yours now."