The morning sun crept through the shattered windows of the old tower, casting long streaks of golden light across the dusty stone floor.
Lucas stirred first.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the warmth of the sun. For a second, he forgot where he was. No snow. No monsters. No howling wind. Just silence—and the faint sound of breathing nearby.
Lyss sat at the edge of the room, legs crossed, watching the sunrise through the broken frame of a window. She hadn't bothered waking him.
"Didn't expect to sleep that well," Lucas muttered, stretching.
She turned slightly. "You needed it."
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His muscles still ached, but not like before. It was… tolerable.
"We got anything left to eat?"
"Barely," Lyss said, tossing him a small strip of dried meat from their supplies. "No water either. But I guess we'll survive another day."
Lucas chewed on the meat in silence. Tough, salty, and not exactly filling—but better than nothing.
After a few minutes of chewing and quiet, he stood up and looked around the room. The cold stone walls, the faintly glowing embers from last night's fire, the remnants of what looked like an old wooden table collapsed near the corner.
"Guess this is what peace looks like," he muttered.
Lyss gave a faint chuckle. "Ugly peace, but yeah."
He cracked his neck and looked toward the stairwell. "You wanna see the rest of this place?"
She stood. "Might as well. We've earned the right to be curious."
The second floor of the tower creaked with every step.
Time had not been kind to this place.
Lucas stepped over a collapsed chair, its legs splintered and eaten by rot. A heavy layer of dust blanketed everything. Spiderwebs hung in corners like ancient banners, untouched for what felt like centuries.
"Someone lived here once," he said quietly, running his fingers along a half-intact bookshelf. Empty, save for a single cracked wooden bowl.
Lyss walked past him, peering into what might've once been a bedroom—now just a stone alcove with a ruined bedframe and a rusted lamp lying on its side.
"There's nothing valuable," she noted. "No supplies. No markings. No journals."
Lucas snorted. "No surprise there. Would've been too easy."
He moved toward the far end of the floor, where a narrow corridor led to two more small rooms. One had the remains of a collapsed ceiling. The other was so overtaken by moss and lichen it felt more like a cave than part of a tower.
Still, something about it all felt… peaceful.
Not welcoming, exactly.
But not hostile either.
Just forgotten.
They met again near the stairs leading up, and Lucas tilted his head.
"Top floor?"
Lyss nodded. "Let's see what's up there."
The spiral stairs groaned under their weight as they climbed.
Unlike the lower levels, the third floor had no walls—just the remnants of crumbled stone and support columns barely standing. The ceiling was gone completely, allowing sunlight to spill in freely from above. Snow clung to the edges of the broken floor, melting slowly in thin rivulets.
Lucas stepped out first and immediately felt the breeze brush against his face. Cold, but not biting. Fresh.
He walked to the edge and looked out.
The world below stretched into mist and jagged peaks. Endless stone ridges and slopes, valleys hidden beneath clouds. It was the kind of view you'd expect to find in a dream—vast, unreachable, unreal.
Lyss stood beside him, her arms folded over her chest.
They didn't speak at first.
It was enough just to see something that wasn't snow or rock or death.
After a while, Lucas sat down on a slab of stone that used to be part of the wall.
He glanced up at the open sky.
Bright. Endless. And, for once, not purple.
"I've been stuck in shit holes most of my life," he said, voice low. "Didn't think I'd ever be up somewhere like this."
Lyss didn't answer, but she sat beside him.
Neither of them smiled. Neither of them needed to.
They just stared at the sky.
The wind passed softly between the broken columns, stirring Lyss's hair as she looked up at the sky. The last traces of sun dipped beneath the distant horizon, and stars began to blink into view—cold and steady above them.
Lucas leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.
After a moment, he spoke.
"Teach me."
Lyss blinked, slowly turning her head toward him. "Teach you what?"
He didn't look at her.
"To fight. Properly."
A pause.
Then she smirked. "Thought you already knew how."
Lucas scoffed. "I know how to swing a weapon and not die. That's it."
Now he looked at her.
"I don't wanna be someone who just survives by luck. I want to know what the fuck I'm doing when something charges at me. Not just react like a headless idiot."
Lyss studied him.
Then nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
Lucas waited for her to speak again, but she didn't.
So he added, a little more quietly, "Not asking to be strong. I just don't want to die like a useless piece of shit."
Still, he kept his tone flat—casual.
As if none of it mattered.
But Lyss saw through it.
She tilted her head slightly.
"I'll teach you. But there's a condition."
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Here we go."
"When we get back… you'll come with me. Help me with my mission."
He opened his mouth to protest—but stopped.
He hesitated.
Then sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.
"…You'll tell me what it is?"
"When the time's right."
He grunted.
"Figures."
The sky was completely dark now.
Thousands of stars shimmered above them—cold lights in a world that had tried, over and over again, to kill them.
Lucas leaned back on his elbows, eyes fixed upward.
The air was thin but clear. No clouds. No shadows moving in the mist. Just open space, stretching into forever.
Beside him, Lyss remained seated with her arms around her knees. Her gaze was steady, unreadable. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Lucas let the silence settle, let the chill brush against his skin.
And then, beneath the starlight, he closed his eyes just for a moment.
'I'll survive this place. Every part of it. No matter what it takes.'