The Jungle didn't sleep; it vibrated. But tonight, Suryapura was shaking the very roots of the world.
The Solar Festival was in full swing.
The entire city was lit by thousands of floating paper lanterns, drifting through the canopy like fireflies. Drums—massive, waist-high drums made of stretched thunder-lizard hide—beat a rhythm that synced with your heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The air smelled of roasted meat, jasmine, and gunpowder.
"This is unsafe," Orion noted. He was still in his water bubble, floating a few feet off the ground as he navigated the crowded street. "There is open flame everywhere. And people are swallowing swords. Why are they swallowing swords? That is terrible for digestion."
"It's a celebration of Yang energy," Caspian explained, keeping a protective hand on Orion's bubble so he didn't float away into a tree. "Fire represents life, passion, and cultivation power."
