The first thing he felt was cold.

  Not the kind of cold that stings the skin or numbs the fingertips. This was deeper. Ancient. A cold that wrapped around his bones, seeped into thought, and froze time itself. He couldn’t feel his body, or the weight of breath, or the rhythm of life.

  He didn’t know what he was.

  He didn’t know he had ever been.

  Until something cracked.

  It was a sound, but more than that—a tremor. The darkness that had held him for so long trembled. Another crack followed, this time sharper, louder. Light bled through the void, a single bde of it splitting the ice that entombed him.

  His body twitched.

  The sensation was wrong. Everything felt wrong. Too small. Too heavy. Too… soft.

  Another crack, and then the prison shattered.

  He colpsed forward, falling onto stone. Cold air smmed into his lungs like fire. He coughed, gasped, choked. His fingers cwed at the frost-lined ground as spasms ripped through limbs that hadn’t moved in centuries.

  He didn’t know his name.

  But he was alive.

  The cavern spun around him—crystals of pale ice hanging from the ceiling, ancient carvings lining the stone, and a faint glow in the air that pulsed with quiet magic. His vision blurred, then steadied. His breath came in slow, ragged pulls.

  His hands were pale.

  His skin felt foreign.

  Footsteps echoed from the tunnel.

  He turned, unsteady. A light floated into view—an orb of soft blue, suspended in air like a captured moonbeam. Behind it came a figure: cloaked, hood down, a staff strapped across his back. Snow clung to his boots and the edges of his coat. His silver-blond hair stuck out at odd angles, and his cheeks were pink from wind and cold.

  He stopped a few feet away, blinking in surprise.

  “...Well,” he said. “You’re definitely not what I expected to find in a time-sealed ruin under a gcier.”

  The man on the ground tried to speak, but his throat yielded only a dry rasp.

  “Easy.” The stranger knelt and pulled a fsk from his satchel. He held it to his lips. “Drink first. Existential panic ter.”

  The water was cold, sharp, alive. He drank.

  It helped.

  His voice came as a whisper. “Who…?”

  “Me?” the stranger grinned. “Zayn. Wanderer. Adventurer. Licensed amateur schor. You?”

  He paused.

  His mind was a storm of fog and echoes. Names floated past, but none stuck. Then one sylble rang clear—not a memory, but a certainty.

  “...Nyx.”

  Zayn tilted his head. “Just Nyx?”

  “I don’t… know the rest.”

  Zayn’s grin softened. “Alright. Nyx it is.”

  Zayn coaxed a small fire from bits of charred bark and magic. He offered Nyx a fur-lined cloak and a crust of dried bread.

  Nyx sat beside the fmes, staring into them as if trying to remember what fire was.

  “You’re human, right?” Zayn asked.

  “I… think so.” He held up his hand again. “This body… it doesn’t feel familiar.”

  Zayn studied him. “Well, your eyes sure aren’t normal. No offense.”

  Nyx looked at him.

  “Slitted pupils,” Zayn said, gesturing. “Like a predator. Also, you glow. Slightly.”

  Nyx blinked.

  Zayn leaned forward. “Okay. I’m gonna ask a few questions, and you tell me if anything sounds familiar.”

  Nyx nodded.

  “Do you remember where you’re from?”

  “No.”

  “Do you remember the war?”

  “What war?”

  “...Any war?”

  “No.”

  Zayn scratched his head. “Alright. Do you remember what magic is?”

  Nyx hesitated. “No. But… I felt something earlier. When I stood up.”

  Zayn perked up. “Really?”

  “I reached out,” Nyx said slowly, “and the world answered.”

  Zayn whistled. “Well, that’s not ominous at all.”

  Nyx looked at him again, more intently. “You mentioned a ruin. And time seals. What is this pce?”

  “Oh, right.” Zayn shifted his pack, excited. “You’re sitting in what might be the oldest arcane tomb in Gcis. Maybe older. I tracked rumors of it from Zephra. Old maps, fractured texts—references to a ‘stillness beneath the ice where time weeps.’ Sounded poetic. And terrifying. So I came to check it out.”

  “Time weeps?”

  “Yeah.” Zayn smiled, eyes gleaming. “This cave? It’s saturated with temporal residue. Not many can sense it, but wind mages like me… well, we get lucky. This pce was sealed by a force that bent time. And you were the only thing in it.”

  Nyx absorbed that in silence.

  Zayn tilted his head. “You really don’t remember anything? Not even a dream?”

  Nyx’s eyes narrowed. “I remember… wings. Fire. And falling. But it’s broken. I don’t know if it was real.”

  “Still more exciting than my st dream. It involved a bakery and a sentient rolling pin.”

  Nyx blinked at him.

  Zayn shrugged. “Don’t ask.”

  By the second day, Nyx could walk.

  His coordination returned quickly—unnaturally quickly, though he said nothing. Zayn watched him move with cautious awe, noting the way he kept bance, how still he could stand. Not normal.

  They prepared to leave the cave that morning. Zayn packed tools, scrolls, and a chunk of ice that shimmered with faint runes. Nyx stood near the exit, draped in the fur cloak, bare chest underneath showing lean, sculpted muscle and faint marks like scales that shimmered briefly when he breathed.

  Zayn caught him staring at a crystal embedded in the wall.

  “Something wrong?”

  Nyx looked at him. “You mentioned a ‘license’ earlier.”

  “Oh. Right.” Zayn hoisted his pack. “Magic license. You need one if you want to cast publicly. Or apply for guild work. Otherwise, you get hassled by local enforcers or bored guards looking for something to do.”

  Nyx frowned. “You have one?”

  Zayn smirked. “Barely. Got it forged by a friend in Umbra. Works unless someone scans it too hard.”

  “And guilds?”

  “Job networks,” Zayn expined. “People form parties, take missions, hunt monsters, map ruins, solve disputes, protect trade routes. Each continent’s got their own. Some are huge. Some are run out of a tavern back room.”

  Nyx considered that. “And you are… part of one?”

  “Sometimes.” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve joined a few. Got kicked out of most. I don’t really do well with rules.”

  Nyx nodded slowly. “I see.”

  “And if anyone asks,” Zayn added, “you’re just a guy from the Gcis border with a memory problem. Don’t say glowing cave or time residue.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because people freak out when you break the rules of the world,” Zayn said. “And you, my friend, look like you are the rule-breaking.”

  The light outside the cavern was blinding.

  Nyx shielded his eyes as the sun spilled across the snowfields beyond the gcial mouth. For someone who had just awoken from a timeless sleep, daylight felt like fire on his skin. The wind stung, but it was real, and that mattered.

  Zayn stood beside him, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed against the light.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Nyx blinked slowly. “It’s too bright.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Zayn started down the narrow, icy trail that zigzagged down the cliffs. “Come on. There’s a vilge a few hours west. Small pce called Tallen’s Reach. I know the barkeep. She owes me soup.”

  Nyx followed, his steps slow but deliberate. “Why does she owe you soup?”

  “I saved her from a blizzard wolf st winter,” Zayn said over his shoulder. “Well, technically I scared it off by yelling and flinging my boot. But hey, a win’s a win.”

  Nyx considered that. “What’s a blizzard wolf?”

  Zayn blinked. “Oh, right. You really are fresh.”

  “They sound dangerous.”

  “They are. Big, fast, and they blend with snow. Their howl can shake your bones. But they’re rare this far down the range.”

  Nyx looked around as they walked. “And these mountains?”

  “We’re on the edge of Gcis,” Zayn said. “One of the nine continents. Each one’s got its own environment, culture, magic leanings. Gcis is cold, quiet, mostly survivalist folks. But you’ll find all kinds of mages scattered across.”

  Nyx turned to him. “What are the others?”

  “Continents?” Zayn counted on his fingers. “Let’s see: Terra, Aquaelis, Zephra, Ignis, Thundra, Umbra, Sora, Aeon, and Gcis. That’s nine. Some are connected by nd. Others are surrounded by sea. Aeon’s… different.”

  Nyx’s gaze sharpened. “Different how?”

  Zayn shrugged. “Weird stuff happens there. Magic gets distorted. Clocks go backward. Entire cities vanish and show up again a day ter. Most people don’t go near it.”

  They walked in silence for a while, snow crunching under their boots. Nyx studied the pine trees lining the pass, their boughs heavy with frost. Somewhere far off, a hawk cried out.

  Then Nyx asked, “You said you’re a mage.”

  “Wind mage,” Zayn confirmed. “I got my affinity when I was eight. Nearly blew my tutor’s wig off trying to conjure a breeze.”

  “Affinity?”

  “Yeah. Everyone who uses Aethera—magic—has an elemental leaning. Mine’s wind. Some people get fire, earth, water, etc. It’s usually based on your family line or where you grew up.”

  Nyx looked thoughtful. “What if someone is born in one pce but raised in another?”

  “Then it gets more complicated,” Zayn said. “Some people develop dual affinities. Rare, though. Most people just light candles or keep warm with sparks. Full casters like me are uncommon.”

  Nyx was quiet, absorbing everything.

  Zayn looked back. “You didn’t flinch when I mentioned Aethera. Does the word mean anything?”

  “It feels familiar,” Nyx said. “But I don’t know why.”

  “Could be muscle memory. Some part of you remembers what your mind forgot.”

  They reached a clearing and paused to rest. Zayn pulled out a fsk and took a swig before handing it over.

  Nyx took it cautiously, then sipped. It burned—but in a satisfying way. He coughed.

  “Spiced snowfruit liquor,” Zayn said with a grin. “Not bad, right?”

  Nyx cleared his throat. “It’s… intense.”

  “Like most things in Gcis.”

  The wind shifted.

  Zayn paused mid-step and held up a hand. “Stop.”

  Nyx froze, alert. The forest around them had fallen eerily quiet. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.

  Zayn lowered his voice. “We’re not alone.”

  Nyx scanned the trees. “I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s the point.”

  A low growl rolled through the air. Then another, closer. From the treeline, a shape emerged—rge, fur thick and matted, its body flickering faintly between solid and mist.

  Zayn swore under his breath. “Wind wolves. Damn it. I thought we were still north of their territory.”

  “Wolves that use… wind?” Nyx asked.

  “Not quite. They phase in and out of the Aether. Hard to hit. Fast. And almost always hunting in groups.”

  A second one slunk from the opposite side of the trail.

  Nyx’s stance shifted unconsciously—weight banced, one foot back. His breath slowed.

  Zayn raised his staff. “Let me handle this.”

  But the wolves didn’t wait.

  One lunged.

  Zayn twisted, thrusting his staff forward. A burst of compressed wind smmed the creature back into the snow—but it rolled and recovered, already circling again.

  The second darted at Nyx.

  He moved on instinct.

  Time bent.

  The world slowed—not for long, just enough. The wolf's leap stretched out before him like a hanging thread of motion. Nyx stepped to the side smoothly, almost gliding, and extended a hand without thinking.

  Energy pulsed from his palm—raw and unseen. The wolf was caught mid-air and hurled sideways into a tree with bone-cracking force. It hit the ground limp.

  Zayn turned, eyes wide. “...You sure you don’t remember being trained for this?”

  Another wolf emerged from behind them.

  Zayn spun and fired a slicing arc of wind, but it only clipped the creature’s fnk. It yelped, staggered—then vanished in a shimmer of light.

  “Shit. It’s shifting!”

  Before it could reappear, Nyx raised both hands. The air around them shimmered, rippled—then bent. The creature blinked into reality again just as gravity shifted beneath it.

  A pressure wave smmed it into the ground.

  Then silence.

  Snowfkes drifted between the broken branches.

  Nyx stood in the clearing, chest rising and falling slowly, his hands trembling just slightly.

  Zayn stared at him.

  “You just froze time. Twice.”

  Nyx’s voice was low. “I didn’t think. I just… knew.”

  Zayn let out a slow breath. “Okay. So... we’re definitely not telling anyone about this.”

  Nyx looked at the fallen wolves. “What were they doing this far north?”

  “Good question,” Zayn muttered, already examining the closest body. “Could be shifting hunting routes. Could be drawn to something.”

  He gnced up at Nyx.

  “Could be you.”

  They resumed their journey. The trail widened and began sloping downward, the forest thickening. At one point, Zayn pointed to an old marker stone carved with swirling runes.

  “Terran style,” he said. “Means we’re close to the valley pass. Civilization, here we come.”

  Nyx kept gncing at every ndmark, every squirrel, every shimmer of wind through trees. His eyes were constantly moving.

  “You really don’t remember any of this?” Zayn asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re acting like you’re seeing the world for the first time.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  Zayn chuckled. “You’re weird, Nyx.”

  Nyx tilted his head. “That’s not a bad thing?”

  “Not always.”

  They crossed a small bridge over a frozen stream. The path beyond split—one trail leading toward a ridge, another down toward smoke rising in the distance.

  Zayn gestured. “Tallen’s Reach. Should be there before dusk.”

  Nyx didn’t respond immediately. He was staring at the trail.

  “Something wrong?” Zayn asked.

  “This pce feels… wrong,” Nyx murmured. “Like something used to be here. Something big.”

  Zayn looked around. “You remember something?”

  “No. Just a feeling. Like I was here before. But not like this.”

  Zayn was quiet. Then, softly: “You don’t feel like a normal person, Nyx. Even if you were just some rare-born mage from a ruined bloodline, you’re different.”

  Nyx turned to him. “What do you think I am?”

  Zayn didn’t answer right away.

  “I think,” he said, “that I’m gd you’re trying to be normal.”

  By the time the rooftops of Tallen’s Reach came into view, the sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting long golden light over the valley. Smoke rose from chimneys. Carts rolled down slushy roads. The wooden palisade fence around the town looked more decorative than defensive.

  Nyx stood at the crest of the hill, watching.

  “People,” he said. The word felt strange in his mouth.

  Zayn nodded. “They’re loud, unpredictable, mostly annoying. But some are worth the trouble.”

  They descended the slope toward the gate.

  The gates of Tallen’s Reach creaked open without much ceremony.

  A pair of guards leaned against a wooden post, too busy arguing over dice to notice the two cloaked figures entering the town. Nyx gnced at them, noting the metal badges on their arms—silver with three notches. He nudged Zayn with a questioning look.

  “Local militia,” Zayn expined in a murmur. “They keep the peace unless someone’s pockets get heavy enough to make them look away.”

  The town smelled like smoke and stew and damp wool. People bustled through the muddy streets wrapped in furs and heavy coats. Most wore simple tools or charms on their belts—small stones, shards of bone, or carved wood infused with faint magic.

  Nyx kept his hood low.

  The number of faces was dizzying. He didn’t fear them, but their energy overwhelmed him. So much movement. So much noise. It was like watching a river split into a hundred different currents.

  “What are those?” Nyx asked, pointing discreetly at a merchant who was adjusting a glowing orb hanging from a metal hook.

  “Glowglobes,” Zayn replied. “Little spheres that store light magic. Keep streets lit at night. Pretty standard in poputed areas.”

  Nyx watched the orb flicker to life, illuminating the stone beneath it with golden warmth.

  Zayn grinned. “You’re like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time.”

  “I don’t understand how the world works,” Nyx said pinly.

  “Yeah, but you’re honest about it. That helps.”

  They passed a bakery, a scroll vendor, a cart selling warm cider in cy cups. Nyx paused when he caught the scent of roasted chestnuts, his stomach twisting in curiosity and something close to hunger.

  “You want some?” Zayn asked.

  Nyx hesitated. “I don’t know if I like it.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Zayn bought a small pouch of chestnuts and handed one over. Nyx bit into it, chewed slowly, and tilted his head.

  “...Strange texture,” he said.

  Zayn popped two into his mouth. “That’s what makes ’em good.”

  The tavern stood at the corner of the main square—a squat, two-story building with a faded sign hanging over the door: The Thistle & Ember. Warm light spilled through the windows, and the sound of a fiddle filtered into the street.

  Inside, it was cozy and loud. A hearth crackled against the far wall, casting flickering shadows across stone and timber. A bard pyed near the fire while patrons drank, ughed, and argued over dice rolls.

  Nyx stayed near the door, tense.

  Zayn cpped him on the shoulder. “Rex. No one’s looking at you.”

  “They are,” Nyx murmured.

  Zayn raised an eyebrow. “That obvious, huh?”

  “It’s not just sight,” Nyx said. “They feel… sharp. Like bdes drawn in a crowd.”

  Zayn turned serious for a moment. “Okay. Keep your hood on, don’t do anything magical, and try not to stare at the guy covered in tattoos unless you want to get punched.”

  They made their way to the counter, where a broad-shouldered woman leaned over a ledger, one eyebrow raised before Zayn even opened his mouth.

  “Thought you were dead,” she said dryly.

  “Only a little,” Zayn replied. “Two beds, one meal, and a clean room if you’ve got it.”

  “You sharing with the tall one?”

  Zayn looked back. “He’s quiet.”

  “I like quiet.” She pulled a key from beneath the counter. “Upstairs. Don’t set anything on fire.”

  Zayn handed her a few coins and led Nyx to the stairs.

  Their room was small but warm. A pair of bunks, a cracked mirror, a washbasin, and a shuttered window looking out over the square. Nyx removed his cloak and stood in front of the mirror, examining his reflection.

  “I look… normal,” he said quietly.

  “Just keep your mouth shut and eyes down, and no one will know otherwise,” Zayn said, dropping his bag on the floor. “Here.”

  He tossed Nyx a folded shirt and a simple bck tunic.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to look less like a prophet emerging from a mountain vision quest.”

  Nyx changed silently, the clothes fitting snugly over his frame. When he turned again, Zayn nodded.

  “Better.”

  Nyx looked down at his hands again. “Why do I feel like I’ve worn armor?”

  Zayn arched an eyebrow. “You remember that?”

  “Not exactly. Just… the way these clothes move. They’re too soft.”

  “Could be a memory fragment,” Zayn said. “Those come back weird. Images. Instincts. Sometimes you remember how to fight before you remember your name.”

  Nyx sat on the edge of the bed. “You mentioned something earlier. Galecrest Tower.”

  Zayn blinked. “Oh—right. It’s a university in Zephra. The best pce to study magic on the continent. Expensive as hell. I couldn’t afford it.”

  “There are schools for magic?”

  “Yeah. Big ones, too. Every continent’s got one. They train elite casters, researchers, political advisors. Some even produce royal court mages. If you graduate from one of those, the world opens up.”

  Nyx looked down. “So you… didn’t go?”

  “Nope. Taught myself. Got kicked out of three guilds and accidentally set fire to a talking book once. Now I mostly freence.”

  Nyx raised an eyebrow. “You’re not very stable.”

  Zayn ughed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

  Later that evening, Zayn went downstairs to get food. Nyx stayed in the room, watching the snow fall through the cracks in the shutters.

  He didn’t like the feeling.

  This town was too loud. The people moved too quickly. His instincts itched. Not from danger, but from tension—like something important was watching, just out of sight.

  He was still staring at the snow when Zayn returned, two bowls of steaming stew in his hands.

  “Hope you like rabbit,” he said, handing one over.

  Nyx took a bite. It was rich, peppery, and tender. He blinked.

  “This is good.”

  “Yeah,” Zayn said through a mouthful. “One of the reasons I come here.”

  A knock echoed at the door.

  Zayn froze.

  Nyx stood silently.

  Another knock—then a muffled voice.

  “Evening,” a man called from the hallway. “Sorry to interrupt. Just a routine guest check from the local guild contact.”

  Zayn shot Nyx a gnce. Then called back, “Just a minute!”

  He walked to the door, opened it slightly.

  Outside stood a man in a dark coat lined with wolf fur. No armor. No weapon visible. Middle-aged, neatly trimmed beard, eyes sharp but rexed.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said with an easy smile. “I heard Zayn was in town and wanted to say hello. We crossed paths in Umbra once.”

  Zayn forced a grin. “Always a pleasure.”

  The man gnced past him, catching a glimpse of Nyx sitting calmly inside.

  “You traveling with someone new?”

  Zayn nodded. “Name’s Nyx. Just met him. Quiet guy. Memory loss. Fell out of a ruin near Gcis. Thought I’d keep an eye on him.”

  The man smiled politely. “Interesting.”

  There was a pause.

  “Well,” the man said, “safe travels. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Zayn nodded, then slowly shut the door.

  He waited a moment, then locked it.

  Nyx looked up. “He didn’t believe you.”

  “No,” Zayn said. “But he didn’t not believe me either. Which is more dangerous.”

  Nyx leaned back. “You think he’s from a guild?”

  “He’s definitely from a guild,” Zayn muttered. “But he was pying it cool. Probably trying to get a read.”

  Nyx frowned. “Then we should leave.”

  “Soon,” Zayn agreed. “Let’s eat first.”

  They left before dawn.

  Zayn had been up for hours, pacing the small room with silent footsteps while Nyx sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the window.

  “I don’t like how that guy looked at you,” Zayn said as he tightened the straps of his satchel. “Didn’t ask anything obvious, didn’t push — which means he’s suspicious.”

  Nyx didn’t answer immediately. He was still repying the man’s voice in his head. Calm. Controlled. Friendly in a way that felt too practiced.

  “Do guilds have authority over people like me?” he asked.

  “Not officially,” Zayn said. “But if someone starts tossing around unregistered magic or breaking rules… well, let’s just say they’ve got a way of making people disappear.”

  Nyx stood. “So we vanish first.”

  “Exactly.”

  They slipped out of the tavern through a side door that led into a narrow alley dusted with snow. Zayn led them past shuttered stalls and crates stacked with salted meats, navigating like someone who had done this kind of exit before.

  As they passed the square, Nyx paused for a second, eyes drawn to the faint flicker of magical light atop a wooden pole.

  “Glowglobe,” he murmured.

  Zayn gnced over. “See? You’re already learning.”

  But Nyx wasn’t looking at the globe. His gaze had shifted toward the fountain at the center of the square — frozen over now, but its base was carved with symbols. He stepped toward it, drawn by instinct.

  Zayn turned. “Something wrong?”

  “There’s something buried under here,” Nyx said.

  Zayn frowned. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” He pced a hand on the ice. “But it’s old.”

  Zayn sighed. “You’re not allowed to dig up public fountains, even if you’re some kind of… magical memory-ghost.”

  Nyx gave him a look.

  Zayn threw his hands up. “Fine. File that under ‘reasons we should not be in towns for too long. Let’s move.”

  The road south curved between snow-ced hills and frozen streams. Once the town was behind them and the rising sun painted the horizon gold, the tension in Zayn’s shoulders eased.

  He walked with a practiced rhythm, his staff strapped to his back, every few minutes gncing over his shoulder just in case. Nyx, meanwhile, moved as though he had always known how to travel—quiet footsteps, eyes scanning the environment, instinctively choosing the clearest terrain.

  “You don’t move like someone with amnesia,” Zayn remarked after an hour of quiet walking.

  Nyx raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sleep like someone without paranoia.”

  Zayn snorted. “Touché.”

  They walked for a while more.

  Nyx broke the silence again. “Where are we going?”

  Zayn adjusted the strap on his shoulder. “Southwest. Toward Terra’s border. I know a town near there—Drymeadow. Quiet pce. Fewer eyes. Good pce to regroup.”

  “What’s Terra like?”

  “Earth continent,” Zayn said. “Big mountains. Forests. Deep valleys. The people are grounded, literally and figuratively. Most of the best smiths come from there.”

  “And their magic?”

  “Earth magic, mostly. Some get stone, some metal, some pnt-based variants. It’s a sturdy kind of magic. Less fshy than wind or fire, but solid.”

  Nyx nodded slowly. “You know a lot.”

  Zayn grinned. “I talk a lot. There’s a difference.”

  They crossed a frozen brook, the ice cracking under their weight but holding. On the other side, a grove of leafless trees cast long shadows across the snow.

  Nyx suddenly stopped.

  Zayn halted beside him. “What?”

  Nyx tilted his head. “There’s something… familiar about this pce.”

  Zayn scanned the area. “We’ve never been here.”

  “No. But I have.”

  He stepped forward, brushing gloved fingers over a gnarled tree trunk. His brow furrowed.

  “Like a memory?”

  “No. More like a whisper. A thread pulling at something I don’t yet understand.”

  Zayn exhaled. “You really love saying cryptic things, huh?”

  Nyx didn’t answer.

  Instead, he looked up at the sky.

  Clouds were gathering. Thick. Slow-moving.

  “Storm’s coming,” he said.

  Zayn blinked. “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  Zayn stared at him a moment, then pulled up his hood. “Guess we’d better find shelter before you tell me the clouds are whispering secrets too.”

  Nyx actually smirked.

  They camped that night under a stone overhang tucked into the side of a hill. Zayn sparked a fire with a snap of his fingers and a pinch of dried root dust. Nyx watched the fme grow, his violet eyes reflecting the glow.

  As they ate from shared rations, Nyx broke the quiet.

  “You trust me?”

  Zayn looked up. “That’s a loaded question.”

  “Then answer carefully.”

  Zayn leaned back against his pack. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’ll become. But I know this—when we were attacked in the wild, you didn’t run. You didn’t panic. You protected us.”

  “I froze time,” Nyx said. “That’s not normal.”

  “No, it’s not.” Zayn looked him in the eye. “But you could’ve used that power for anything. You didn’t. That means something.”

  Nyx nodded slowly. “You’re not afraid of me.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Zayn said. “You’re dangerous. But you’re also lost. And I think the world’s going to need you.”

  Nyx looked at the fire again. “You speak like someone who’s seen prophecy.”

  “No. Just patterns.”

  A long silence passed.

  Then Nyx said, “I’m gd you found me.”

  Zayn blinked.

  “Not just because I would’ve stayed buried,” Nyx continued. “But because I think… if someone else had found me first… I wouldn’t have been the same.”

  Zayn stared at him.

  “Don’t go soft on me now,” he said after a pause. “I’m already too attached.”

  Dawn arrived slowly.

  The fire had burned down to embers. The storm Nyx had predicted rolled through quietly in the night, leaving a fine dusting of snow that glittered in the morning light. The world outside their shelter was silent—untouched, hushed.

  Zayn stirred first, blinking groggily as he sat up and rubbed warmth into his arms. He looked over to see Nyx already awake, sitting perfectly still, back straight, eyes fixed on the horizon.

  “You always sleep like a statue?” Zayn asked, voice gravelly with sleep.

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  Zayn yawned. “Right. Of course not. Forgot you’re the mystical type.”

  Nyx didn’t respond.

  Zayn stretched, reached into his pack for a dried fruit bar, then paused. “You okay?”

  Nyx’s expression was distant.

  “I… remembered something.”

  Zayn immediately sat up straighter. “Yeah?”

  Nyx nodded slowly, as though uncertain the memory had really happened.

  “There was a mountain,” he said. “Massive. Not snow-covered. Bck stone. Lava in its veins. There was a city at its base—golden spires, obsidian gates.”

  Zayn’s brow furrowed. “Ignis, maybe. Fire continent. That kind of description fits.”

  Nyx’s voice was quiet. “I was flying above it. Watching it burn.”

  Zayn blinked. “You were… flying?”

  Nyx turned to him. His eyes glowed faintly in the morning light. “Wings. Scales. Heat on my skin like armor. The sky was mine.”

  Zayn didn’t speak.

  Nyx lowered his gaze. “I don’t know if I was the one who destroyed the city… or the one who was trying to save it.”

  “Could it be a dream?”

  “No.” Nyx stood slowly. “It wasn’t a dream. It was… real. A piece of something forgotten.”

  Zayn stood as well, dusting snow from his cloak. “Okay. That’s good. You’re remembering. That’s something.”

  “Or it’s dangerous,” Nyx muttered.

  Zayn slung his pack over his shoulder. “Most of the best things are.”

  They broke camp quickly. Zayn scattered the ashes and brushed snow over the coals. Nyx stood with his cloak billowing slightly in the breeze, eyes still drawn south.

  “I think,” he said quietly, “that more pieces will come back.”

  “Then we follow the path,” Zayn replied. “Piece by piece.”

  Nyx turned to him. “Why help me?”

  Zayn hesitated.

  “You remind me of something,” he said finally. “A story that hasn’t been written yet. And I want to see how it ends.”

  They walked through the snow-covered forest until the trees thinned and the hills opened into rolling white pins. In the far distance, faint silhouettes of mountains marked the beginning of Terra.

  They walked without speaking, the wind curling around them, the sun rising slowly overhead.

  Nyx inhaled deeply.

  The air tasted familiar.

  His name still eluded him—only "Nyx" echoing in his mind. But something else stirred below the surface. Something vast. Something ancient.

  Not fear.

  Not hope.

  But memory. Heavy and waiting.

  He looked over at Zayn.

  “Will you stay?” he asked.

  Zayn raised an eyebrow. “With you?”

  “Yes.”

  “For now,” Zayn said with a crooked grin. “But if you start glowing uncontrolbly or turning into a lizard, I reserve the right to panic.”

  Nyx almost smiled. “Understood.”

  They kept walking.

  Behind them, Tallen’s Reach vanished into the haze.

  Ahead, the world stretched wide.

  They didn’t know what waited in Terra.

  Or what they would become.

  But the journey had begun.

  And the old gods were waking.