Mid-Tide was the livliest festival for the citizens of Blurwell. Not only was it the mid point of the year, but it was the changing of magic as well. The ether of Kaliros moved differently in the later half of the year.

“The colors really are something special” Risili said to Knoll as she walked him through the market streets. “Obviously, the work of the Elves in Veesmore” she drawled sarcastically.

“Without a doubt” Knoll chuckled enthusiastically. It had only been a few weeks since their take down of the Pirate King that sent them straight back to the city where their fates collided, and now they headed straight for the climax of imminent danger. Risili seemed as if she could sense the doubt creeping into his face.

“Let’s just enjoy the festival today, tomorrow is the next days issue” she stated firmly. “We can’t forget why we are fighting” she gestured around her “without days like this, there is no Kaliros, no joy worth fighting for. This is our reminder what is worth saving.” The continent has seen so much turmoil since its creation, that now in its years of peace, there was a future for its people.