By noon, the road stopped being forest.

  The trees grew thinner, farther apart, until the green broke into open fields, crooked fences, and paths carved by old wagon wheels. In the distance, thin columns of smoke rose straight into the sky.

  Not from fire.

  From life.

  Lucan walked a step behind Eldric.

  Slower than usual.

  There was… too much.

  Carts crossing the road.

  Voices he didn’t recognize.

  Clothes in colors brighter than the muted tones he was used to seeing.

  Smells layered together — warm bread, iron, animals, dust.

  This wasn’t like going out to train.

  This wasn’t nature.

  It was people.

  Too many.

  “Don’t stray,” Eldric said without looking at him.

  Lucan nodded, but his eyes didn’t stop moving.

  Children running between improvised stalls.

  A man arguing over the price of apples.

  A woman scolding her son for getting his hands dirty.

  No one was on guard.

  No one watched the rooftops.

  No one measured distances.

  They lived… without expecting something to attack them.

  That unsettled him more than any dangerous creature.

  Some people gave them brief looks as they passed. Not fear. Not exactly.

  Just… mild discomfort.

  Like a note slightly off-key in a song that should be simple.

  A woman leaving a bakery smiled politely as she crossed paths with him.

  Lucan took half a second to return the gesture.

  As if he had to remember how it was done.

  Eldric noticed.

  And said nothing.

  The town where they stayed the night was large enough to have a wooden wall and a two-story inn.

  Lucan lingered, watching children play with a rag ball in the square.

  They shoved each other. Fell. Laughed.

  One cried when he lost.

  No one died.

  No one shouted orders.

  No one talked about power.

  Lucan watched as if it were a scene from another world.

  “Come,” Eldric said.

  That night they didn’t sleep in the same room. The inn was full. Eldric found a space near the stable and lit a small fire outside.

  Lucan sat across from him, arms wrapped around his knees.

  The crackling of the wood filled the silence.

  For a while, they only watched the flames.

  Until Lucan spoke.

  “When we get there…” he said without looking away from the fire, “what am I?”

  Not who.

  Eldric lifted his gaze slowly.

  He took his time answering.

  “You’re not what they said you were.”

  Lucan tightened his fingers slightly against the fabric of his pants.

  “But you’re not what they understand either.”

  The fire popped.

  “Then what do I do?”

  Eldric held his eyes.

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  “Observe.

  Learn how the place moves.

  Learn how the people move.

  Then decide.”

  Lucan nodded slowly.

  As if storing those words somewhere inside where nothing was ever lost.

  After a moment, he asked,

  “Did you ever think about going back?”

  Eldric stared into the flames. Their reflection danced in his eyes.

  “No,” he said at last.

  But his voice didn’t sound certain.

  They reached the hill at dawn the next day.

  And from there, they saw it.

  Valthera.

  White towers rising above the walls.

  Banners moving in ordered lines.

  Stone bridges connecting tall structures.

  Symmetry. Control. Design.

  It wasn’t just a city.

  It was a system made of stone.

  Lucan went still.

  Very still.

  A faint tingling ran across his back, beneath his clothes, where his skin carried marks he didn’t remember receiving.

  Not pain.

  Presence.

  Eldric stepped beside him.

  “Are you ready?”

  Lucan didn’t answer right away.

  He looked at the city.

  Then at his hands.

  He opened and closed his fingers once.

  He breathed.

  “I’m already here.”

  And they started down.

  “So…” Lucan murmured, “this is where it all began.”

  Eldric glanced at him.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “This is where it continues.”

  Lucan let out a soft, nervous laugh, then looked back at the city. He remembered almost nothing. Shadows. Colors. A feeling of not belonging.

  But now it was different.

  He wasn’t returning as an abandoned child.

  He was walking back on his own.

  “Do you think anyone will recognize me?” he asked.

  Eldric shook his head.

  “People remember tragedies. Not children.”

  “That sounds… cruel.”

  “It’s practical.”

  Lucan lowered his gaze for a second.

  “Then… Lucan what?”

  Eldric took a moment before answering.

  “Lucan… Veyr.”

  “Veyr?”

  “An old surname. No political weight. No recent history. No one will ask questions.”

  Lucan nodded.

  “Lucan Veyr…” he tested the name quietly. “Sounds like someone normal.”

  Eldric watched him with a calm that was hard to read.

  “That’s what we need them to believe.”

  Valthera’s walls were taller than Lucan had imagined.

  The stones were carved with ancient lines of impossible precision. They looked like cracks… until the light shifted.

  Several runes flickered softly.

  Almost imperceptibly.

  Lucan felt something move across his skin.

  Eldric did too.

  But neither looked up.

  They kept walking.

  A guard raised a hand.

  “Names.”

  “Eldric Thorne,” he replied.

  Immediate recognition. Straighter posture.

  Then the guard looked at Lucan.

  Lucan held his gaze with measured calm.

  “Lucan Veyr.”

  The new name settled in the air like an identity that wasn’t borrowed.

  The guard assessed him for a second. A boy taller than expected for his age. Watchful eyes. Quiet.

  He nodded and let them pass.

  Lucan let out his breath once they were inside.

  “That wasn’t so hard…”

  “It never is at the beginning,” Eldric replied.

  The city was an assault on the senses.

  Colored fabrics hung between buildings. The smell of fresh bread mixed with hot metal from the forges. Children ran between stalls. A musician played something lively on a corner.

  Lucan turned his head only slightly, trying not to look impressed.

  “They’re loud,” he murmured.

  “They’re alive,” Eldric answered.

  Lucan looked at him for a second.

  That phrase again.

  Valthera breathed differently than the town.

  Less chaos.

  More direction.

  The streets were wider.

  The clothes finer.

  The gazes more calculated.

  Lucan walked in silence, but now he wasn’t just looking with curiosity.

  He was comparing.

  People who carried boxes.

  People who would never touch one.

  Layers.

  The world had layers.

  And he didn’t know which one he was allowed to exist in.

  Eldric noticed.

  And didn’t say it.

  They continued through stone streets until the market stalls thinned and the buildings grew larger. Banners bearing Valthera’s emblem hung from polished walls.

  The heart of the city.

  When they stopped in front of the main building, Lucan felt something he didn’t expect.

  Nerves.

  “You alright?” Eldric asked.

  Lucan nodded.

  “I just… don’t want to do something wrong.”

  Eldric studied him for a few seconds.

  “You already survived the worst. Walls aren’t the enemy.”

  And they climbed the steps.

  Alaric received them standing in a wide hall with no unnecessary ornament.

  There was more gray in his hair. More lines in his face.

  But his gaze was still firm.

  His eyes moved from Eldric… to Lucan.

  And stayed there.

  “So…” he said quietly, “this is him.”

  Lucan stood straight.

  “Sir.”

  Alaric exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  He approached slowly, as if afraid the moment might break.

  “Do you remember anything about this place?”

  Lucan shook his head gently.

  “Not much.”

  Alaric nodded. He didn’t seem surprised.

  “That might be for the best.”

  There was a silence… heavy with things Lucan didn’t understand.

  “We’ll assign you temporary quarters,” Alaric continued. “And a basic evaluation. Nothing formal yet.”

  Lucan nodded.

  “You’ve grown.”

  Lucan held his gaze.

  “That happens when you don’t die.”

  A faint smile crossed Eldric’s face. Brief. Controlled.

  Then, hesitating only a moment, Alaric placed a firm hand on Lucan’s shoulder.

  It wasn’t political.

  It was personal.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  Something shifted in Lucan’s chest.

  Warmth. Strange. Unfamiliar.

  “You sent me with the right person,” he said.

  Alaric nodded once.

  That was all.

  And it weighed more than a hug.

  That night, Lucan sat on the bed in his new room.

  It was bigger than anywhere he had ever slept.

  And still, he didn’t feel comfortable.

  From the window, Valthera glowed.

  No crickets.

  No wind through trees.

  Just a constant murmur.

  As if the city were breathing.

  He lay down without changing.

  Staring at the ceiling.

  Awake.

  Elsewhere in the complex, a door closed.

  Eldric and Alaric stood alone.

  “The runes reacted,” Eldric said.

  “I know.”

  “Before he crossed.”

  “I know.”

  Silence.

  “Activity in the north,” Alaric added. “Ancient ruins… lighting up.”

  Eldric didn’t blink.

  “There’s no proof.”

  “I don’t need proof to recognize patterns.”

  A heavier silence fell between them.

  “If it’s him…” Alaric said at last.

  “Don’t name him,” Eldric cut in coldly.

  Alaric looked at him, and for a second he was just a tired man.

  “You always defended him.”

  “He was a child.”

  “He was a risk.”

  Eldric stepped forward.

  “And now you have another.

  The difference is that this time I won’t let fear make the decision.”

  The words hung between them. Old wounds. Old guilt.

  They said nothing more.

  They didn’t need to.

  Outside, the city kept humming.

  Unaware that the past it thought was buried…

  had just started moving again.

  End of Chapter 3