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Inside the large evacuation tent, the air was still, but not heavy.
People were busy — folding spare cloth into bedding, handing out food, patching small tears in the fabric walls. Some children rested near their parents, heads tucked into blankets. The scent of dry hay mixed with faint ash.
Fred stood near a table at the center of the tent, arms crossed, eyes scanning the space like he was thinking something only he understood. His boots were still muddy, his coat half-dried from earlier, but he didn't rest.
He looked over to where Nathan and Mira sat near the back corner, both of them quiet, tucked away from the movement around them.
Fred stepped toward them, lowering his voice.
"You two stay here. Don't go wandering outside."
Nathan looked up. "Why?"
Fred didn't answer right away. He glanced toward the tent flap where sunlight bled faintly through the canvas.
"Something's in motion outside," he said. "Could be about the highnesses."
Mira blinked. "King Nalon and Queen Rhea?"
Fred gave a short nod. "News travels fast. And if what I heard earlier is true… there'll be movement from the squads soon. Just stay put."
Nathan nodded slowly.
Fred gave a quick glance to Grey and Aerois. "That includes you two."
Grey yawned dramatically. "Wasn't planning on breakdancing out the front door."
Fred didn't bother responding. He turned and moved back through the rows of makeshift bedding, passing tired faces and worn hands. A moment later, he pushed out through the main flap of the tent and disappeared into the growing light.
The soft rustle of blankets and quiet footfalls filled the space again.
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In a quieter corner, Nathan sat cross-legged on a rough wool blanket. Mira leaned beside him, knees tucked in, arms loosely around her legs. She looked tired… but calm. Her fingers brushed the edge of a folded cloak near her feet.
Aerois perched on an overturned crate, head tilted slightly, feathers fluffed just enough to show he was still alert.
Grey was sprawled on his side near the corner of the blanket, one leg twitching. A half-bitten chunk of bread lay beside him like a prize he wasn't ready to share.
It was peaceful. For once.
Mira picked at a thread on her sleeve, then glanced sideways at him.
"I'm serious," Mira said after a while, her voice quiet. ""You're not the only one who doesn't talk about the past much."
Nathan shifted a little, his arms resting loosely over his knees. "That's because... there's not much to say."
"Then… what do you remember?" she asked, her head tilting slightly. "From before the castle. Before the training. Before all this."
Nathan looked down at his hands.
"Bits," he murmured. "Small pieces. Sounds. A face I don't recognize. Sometimes… fire. Sometimes... I don't remember."
Mira blinked. "That sounds like a dream."
"Feels like one," Nathan admitted. "But it keeps coming back. Especially when I touch this."
He reached into his inner shirt and pulled the medallion from beneath. It hung dull in the low light — silver, faintly worn, but still holding a strange weight in his palm.
Mira leaned closer. "That's not just decoration, is it?"
"No." Nathan stared at it. "I don't think it ever was."
He turned the medallion in his fingers slowly, letting the light catch the surface.
"Sometimes," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "when I wear it for too long… it feels like something wakes up inside my head. Like something far away is watching me."
Mira's brow furrowed.
"Do you ever hear anything?" she asked quietly. "Voices or… like, a whisper?"
Nathan hesitated. "Not words. Just pressure. Like the air feels strange. It's been that way since I was little."
Aerois leaned in a bit, his bright green eyes narrowing. He didn't speak — not yet.
Grey cracked one eye open and yawned wide. "You two are killing the nap vibe," he muttered, mouth still full of sleep and crumbs.
Nathan ignored him.
"I don't think it's just a item," he said, fingers tightening slightly around the metal. "I think it's… part of something bigger, deeper. I just don't know what."
Mira nodded slowly. "Maybe it's from where you were born."
Nathan shook his head. "No one ever told me where that was."
They fell silent for a moment. Mira's gaze drifted toward the medallion again.
"…My mom used to wear something like that," she whispered, suddenly softer. "Not as old, not as shiny. But… she never took it off."
"I mean… everyone's lost something. Right?"
Nathan nodded slowly.
Mira's voice lowered, almost to a whisper. "My mom. She… she got sick."
Nathan's expression changed, eyes softening. He glanced at her.
"I was six," she said. "It happened fast. At first, it was just coughs, then fevers. Then… she just didn't wake up one morning."
She stared ahead, not at him. Just at the space between her knees.
"I remember her hands," she added, voice unsteady now. "They were warm. Always busy — fixing things, brushing my hair, holding my shoulders when I cried."
Nathan didn't say anything, but his hand rested gently on the ground beside hers — not touching, just close.
"She wore this necklace," Mira continued. "It wasn't expensive or anything. Just a small circle of glass on a cord. Said it reminded her of the moon."
She blinked fast. "I tried to find it after… after she passed. But it was gone. Maybe someone took it. Maybe it fell."
Her head dipped slightly.
"I just wish I had something. Anything."
Nathan looked down at his medallion.
Quietly, he unlooped it from around his neck and held it out.
Mira stared at it, looking it softly.
"I still don't know what this is," Nathan said. "But it feels like it's connected to who I was. Or who I'm supposed to be."
He paused. "I think your mom would've wanted you to remember her the way she held your shoulders. Not with a necklace."
Mira gave a small, shaky smile.
"I remember how she smelled," she whispered. "Like dried herbs and warm fabric. Like home."
Nathan's voice dropped. "She sounds like the kind of person who would've stayed up all night if you were sick."
Mira nodded. "She did."
A soft moment passed between them. No music. No magic. Just two kids holding their past like something fragile they didn't know how to carry, but were trying to anyway.
From the side, Aerois watched in silence, his feathers lowered.
Grey didn't say a word either. He just shifted, ears flicking, eyes staying on the pair like he understood more than he let on.
Nathan's voice dropped. "I'm sorry."
"I'm okay," she said, brushing her eye with her sleeve. "It still hurts sometimes, though. Even if you think you're over it… it creeps back in."
Nathan nodded. "Yeah."
Mira shrugged, but her throat moved. "Grandpa says… some people are meant to watch over us from far away."
She glanced back at the medallion. "Maybe that thing is been watching you too."
Nathan didn't answer. He just held it tighter.
From the corner of the blanket, Grey let out a soft huff. His eyes were open now — not fully awake, but watching.
He didn't say anything at first. But something about the medallion… stirred something inside him.
He didn't know what.
Didn't know why.
Just that strange pull in his chest — like his fur didn't quite belong to him, like his paws weren't just paws.
He blinked and looked down at them. Then back at the boy.
"…Weird," he muttered.
Aerois looked sideways. "What?"
Grey scratched behind his ear. "That thing. It feels like déjà vu. But the kind that gets under your skin."
Nathan looked over. "You remember something?" he whispered.
Grey's ears flicked. "Not really. But I feel it. Like something old is watching through me too."
Mira blinked. "You're not just a normal rabbit, are you?"
Grey smirked, though it looked tired. "Never claimed to be."
Nathan looked back at the medallion, his voice quiet. "Maybe… we're all tied to something bigger."
Aerois tilted his head. "You say that like it's a good thing."
Nathan glanced at him. "I'm not sure yet."
And for a few minutes more, they sat like that — under a dim canvas roof, surrounded by the quiet hum of other lives, all of them waiting for something to begin.
Not just survival.
But a memory.
Something just beyond the silence.
Mira suddenly blinked, her brows knitting slightly. "Wait… did I just mention my grandpa while we were talking?"
Nathan turned his head toward her. "Yeah… why?"
She sat up a little straighter, brushing her hair from her face. "I don't know. Just… I forgot he was even here. He's probably out helping again. He never really rests."
Aerois gave a low chirp from the crate. "Old merchant man, right? Wears that patched-up scarf and carries half the world in his bag?"
Mira nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's him. He always sets up somewhere, even if it's not a market. Says he can't sit still while people are in need."
Grey stretched out with a quiet grunt. "Maybe he's near the food carts. Smelled stew coming from that way earlier."
Nathan looked over at Mira. "Wanna go check?"
She hesitated. "Mr. Fred said not to go out."
Nathan tilted his head. "We're not leaving the area. Just going out to check on your grandpa. He's part of your family."
Mira bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay. Just… real quick."
Grey was already on his paws. "If he's got food, I'm coming too."
"You're always coming," Aerois muttered, hopping down from the crate.
They stood, Mira adjusting her sleeve, Nathan slinging the medallion back around his neck. As they pushed gently through the tent flap into the daylight, the sounds outside grew clearer — armor clinking, voices rising in bursts, and the shuffle of boots over stone.
They stuck close to the paths between tents, Mira scanning every corner with careful eyes.
A few soldiers passed by them, nodding but not stopping.
"Over there," Nathan said, pointing to a shaded spot near the side of the supply carts.
A familiar figure sat on a crate, wrapped in a faded cloak and scarf, calmly boiling water over a small flame. Around him were bundles of herbs, cloth sacks, and three open satchels of handmade goods.
Mira's face lit up. "Grandpa!"
The old man looked up, then grinned warmly. "Ah… my little moonflower."
She rushed over, kneeling beside him. "You're still out here? Have you eaten?"
He chuckled. "I've had worse mornings. The soldiers needed some salve for blisters. And the little ones — they needed thread for their dolls."
Nathan followed, keeping quiet as he stood nearby.
The old man glanced up at him. "You're the boy she's been watching over."
Nathan blinked. "I… guess."
He nodded slowly. "You've got the look of someone carrying something old. Heavy and caring too."
Nathan didn't respond, but he smiled and his hand drifted instinctively toward his chest.
Mira reached into her grandpa's basket, pulling out a small bundle of dried lavender. "You still keep these?"
"For your mother," he said softly. "Always."
There was a pause — the kind that wraps people in shared silence, where words aren't needed.
"Things are moving fast," the old man said after a while. "People forget to breathe during times like this."
Aerois stayed quiet. Even Grey didn't interrupt.
Then Mira said softly, "Oh... we just wanted to check on you."
"And I'm glad you did," her grandpa smiled. "Now go on. Don't miss the sky changing."
Mira gave him a hug, holding tighter than usual. Nathan helped her back to her feet, and they turned slowly to head back — the sun now climbing higher, the sound of horns faintly echoing from the gates.
Whatever was coming next… they were no longer waiting alone.
As they turned to leave, Mira hesitated and looked back at her grandfather, concern tugging at her voice.
"Grandpa… what's going on out there? The knights, the squads… they're all heading to the gates like something big is happening."
The old man paused, glancing toward the sky where distant horns had echoed.
"Word spread fast this morning," he said. "They say King Nalon and Queen Rhea are returning."
Mira's eyes widened. "Here? Now?"
He nodded slowly. "That's what the riders said. The gates are being prepared, guards lined up in full gear. Not just for show, either. They're expecting something official… or dangerous."
Nathan stepped forward, brow furrowed. "Do they know we're here?"
The old man gave a gentle shrug. "Whether they do or not… someone's making sure everything looks proper. You don't get this much movement for just a welcome."
He looked at Mira, voice softer. "Whatever happens, you stay close to those who watch your back. Understand?"
Mira nodded. "We will."
He gave a small smile, then handed her a folded cloth pouch. "Take this. It's not much. Dried mint, some thread, and… a charm your mom once made."
Mira held it gently, her fingers trembling just a little.
"Thanks, Grandpa."
He gave her a wink, then turned back to his pot, stirring it with a calm that only age could bring.
As Mira and Nathan turned back toward the tent, the sounds of clanking armor and shouted orders grew louder in the distance.
Something was definitely coming.
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The sun had climbed higher now, casting clearer light over the encampment. Warm, dry wind passed through rows of wagons and tents, lifting stray bits of cloth and stirring the scent of soil and cooked grain in the air.
Fred walked with a steady pace past the organized commotion — townsfolk hauling supplies from the distant farms, men and women from various villages sharing efforts, exchanging quick nods or tired smiles as they worked.
The squads were active. He passed by Squad 3 near the water carts, Squad 5 unloading dried meat and spare boots. A few children weaved between soldiers and wagons, delivering messages or passing out bread.
Near the path leading toward the stables, Fred caught sight of Tomas moving in the opposite direction.
"Tomas," he called out.
Tomas turned. "Fred?"
They met halfway. Fred gave him a once-over — still sharp, still moving like a soldier despite the weight on his shoulders.
"What's going on?" Fred asked. "Is it happening now?"
Tomas nodded once. "Yeah. Word came not long ago. The Highnesses are close. Messenger said they passed through Greynorth just before sunrise. Might reach the gates before noon."
Fred looked to the distant stone towers beyond the settlement. "We'd better be at the gates before they arrive."
"No doubt," Tomas said. "And the squads are already forming up. Spartans too — the spear unit was heading down the main path earlier."
They started walking side by side, boots crunching over the packed dirt road.
Around them, more horses were being readied. Squad 2 galloped ahead, kicking up dust in their wake. Others formed clean lines near the flagpoles, armor gleaming in the sun, their red and silver sashes fluttering with the wind.
As they neared the main intersection, a squad on horseback pulled to a stop near them. One of the riders, a younger man with short hair and a stern brow, leaned forward in his saddle.
"You're with Fred, right?" the rider asked.
Tomas gave a quick nod. "That's him."
The rider glanced between them. "Orders say the boy needs to be brought to the castle once Their Highnesses arrive. They don't want any delay. Not even a breath too late. Understood?"
Fred raised an eyebrow. "And if there is?"
The man didn't blink. "We all know what happened last time someone disappointed the crown. No one wants that again."
Tomas narrowed his eyes slightly. "He's safe. He's not going anywhere."
"Good." The rider nodded, satisfied. "We'll hold at the gates. Expecting to form an escort line once they pass through."
Then the squad pushed forward again, hooves pounding into the earth as they vanished around the bend.
Fred exhaled. "They're serious about this."
"Too serious," Tomas muttered.
They moved again, past more gathering units. The Spartans — tall, silent, and composed — were already forming in rows just beyond the inner wall, their polished spears aligned with military precision.
Fred glanced sideways. "You think the boy's ready for this?"
Tomas gave a slow shake of his head. "He doesn't even know what's waiting. But… he's strong. He's got something in him. Not just training. Something deeper."
Fred looked ahead toward the castle towers now visible through the gate's upper arch.
"He's going to need it," he said. "Especially now that the crown's watching."
Together, they reached the outer edge of the formation, where dozens of armored soldiers stood in a wide V-formation, waiting under the crest of Atlon.
And in the distance — down the road leading through the outer farms and rising hills — a trail of dust marked the coming of royal carriages.
The Highnesses were almost here.
And the kingdom was holding its breath.
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Outside the kingdom's tall gates, the air was tight with expectation.
The soldiers were forming into their A-formation, armor clinking softly as lines straightened and shields were adjusted. The "A" stretched wide from the gates down the long stone path leading into the kingdom, its tip pointing toward the distant road. At the center stood Commander Galen, shoulders square, his voice sharp as he barked last-minute orders.
"Spearmen, keep your lines tight! Musketeers, steady your barrels—don't even twitch until I say so!"
The Spartans tightened their grip on their shields, the metallic ring of spear tips tapping into the cobblestones as they set their feet. Musketeers reloaded their rifles with careful precision, the smell of powder faintly carried by the breeze. Knights adjusted reins and armor straps, their horses shifting restlessly beneath them.
Fred stood off to the side near the base of the watchtower, his arms folded, eyes scanning the organized chaos. He wasn't in the formation—he had no role here anymore—but he stayed. Watching.
Tomas jogged up to him, pausing long enough to catch his breath. "Feels like the entire kingdom's here," he muttered, sweeping a glance over the lines.
Fred grunted. "The Highnesses wouldn't settle for anything less."
"Yeah," Tomas said. He hesitated, lowering his voice. "Do you think they'll… ask about what happened? Last night, I mean."
Fred's gaze hardened as he looked down the road. "They won't need to ask. They'll know."
Nearby, Jarek, Kellin, and Eren stood shoulder to shoulder, shifting uneasily in their armor.
"This feels like a trial," Jarek said under his breath, running a hand over his cropped hair.
"It is," Eren replied grimly. "You think they'll forgive us for losing the village?"
Kellin's jaw tightened. "We didn't 'lose' it. A flying serpent leveled it before we could even organize. Then the dead rose from the ashes like some curse straight from the pit. No one could've—"
"Keep your voice down," Jarek hissed, cutting him off. "Do you want Galen to hear you whining? We're already hanging by a thread."
Eren glanced around the crowd nervously, then asked quietly, "Where's Ellis, anyway? Shouldn't he be with us?"
Kellin replied quickly, "He's back at the main tent, making sure Nathan doesn't vanish again. Fred told him to stay close."
"Smart," Jarek muttered. "Someone's gotta keep the kid grounded."
Varun stood a little ways from them near the watchtower steps, hands clasped behind his back as he stared down the road. He didn't join their conversation. His eyes were distant—still haunted by the image of the faceless creature from the night before. The way it had turned, no eyes, no mouth, yet somehow it had seen him, as if it had been aware of the telescope trained on it from the ridge. He still felt that chill at the back of his neck.
Jarek followed Varun's gaze. "He hasn't said a word all morning," he whispered.
"Would you, after seeing that thing?" Eren muttered.
Before anyone could respond, horns sounded in the distance.
The formation stiffened instantly.
Down the long stone road, the royal horse cart appeared, framed by a column of royal escorts. Musketeers and knights rode alongside on horseback, forming a protective wall around the cart. Their banners fluttered faintly in the breeze, catching the sun as the rumble of wheels and hooves grew louder.
"Straighten your lines!" Galen's voice carried down the formation. "Eyes forward!"
Fred's gaze narrowed as the cart drew closer. He recognized the man driving it.
"Zenshin," he muttered, almost to himself.
Tomas glanced at him. "You know him?"
"Messenger," Fred said. "Been shuttling people between kingdoms for years. I've crossed paths with him a few times." His voice lowered slightly. "But I don't remember him ever looking that… blank."
Zenshin's face was unreadable as he held the reins, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on the road.
Inside the cart, King Nalon sat straight-backed in his seat, one hand resting on the carved wooden armrest. Beside him, Queen Rhea's posture was just as composed, though her expression softened as she looked out the curtained window at the sight of her soldiers in perfect formation.
"They've put their best face forward," she said quietly.
"As they should," Nalon replied. "The people need to see order after last night."
Her gaze lingered on the soldiers for a moment before she turned back to him. "Do you think Nathan is…?"
Nalon's jaw tightened. "We'll know soon enough," he said, though there was something in his voice that betrayed the worry behind his words.
Queen Rhea reached over and brushed her fingers lightly against his arm. "He's strong," she whispered.
Nalon gave a short nod but didn't respond.
The cart rolled closer, the tension in the air thickening with every hoofbeat.
Back in the formation, Kellin swallowed hard. "This is it," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Eren adjusted his grip on his spear. "I swear, if they decide to dismiss us for last night…"
"Shut it," Jarek muttered sharply.
Fred shifted his weight slightly, scanning the lines. He could feel the unease rippling through the soldiers—even if no one dared show it on their faces.
Tomas stepped closer to him. "Do you think they'll ask for Nathan right away?"
Fred's brow furrowed. "They might," he said. "And if they do, we'll need to make sure he's ready."
The royal horse cart was only a hundred yards away now, the golden crest of Atlon gleaming on its side.
The soldiers held their breath.
The horns sounded again.
And the gates of Atlon Kingdom opened wide to welcome its King and Queen home.
The wheels of the royal cart rattled softly over the cobblestones, but Zenshin barely heard it.
His gloved hands gripped the reins with practiced ease, shoulders rigid, posture perfect — the kind of driver who could have been mistaken for a carved statue. But behind the calm mask of his face, something else simmered.
He could feel the tension of the soldiers around him, smell the fear that clung faintly to their polished armor. And beneath it, there was something sweeter.
Doubt.
A tiny smirk threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth but never surfaced. His eyes remained empty, steady on the road ahead.
The medallion.
He didn't know exactly why, but he could sense it now — faint, like the prickle of static in the back of his skull. That boy carried it. The object that could unravel everything if it fell into the wrong hands.
Zenshin's gaze flicked briefly toward the castle towering in the distance. The pieces are all moving into place. It's only a matter of time.
He shifted slightly on the driver's seat, the leather of his gloves creaking softly as he adjusted his grip. The faintest wisp of something unnatural leaked from him, clinging to the air — subtle enough that none of the soldiers would notice, but enough to make the horses twitch in their harnesses.
"Steady," he murmured, his voice low and flat. The animals quieted instantly, their unease smothered as if swallowed by a void.
Zenshin's expression didn't change.
He simply kept driving.
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Back in the main evacuation tent.
Nathan blinked as a strange chill crawled up his neck.
He looked down instinctively, fingers brushing the medallion against his chest. It had warmed — not burning, but a steady pulse of heat that made his heartbeat quicken.
Mira noticed him shift and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"I… don't know," Nathan muttered. He lifted the medallion slightly, turning it in his palm. Its surface seemed to hum faintly, though only he could feel it.
Grey's ears twitched. "Reacting to what? Nobody's even doing anything. We're in a tent surrounded by people eating dried bread and soup."
Nathan shook his head. "No… it feels like… like it's trying to pull me somewhere."
Mira looked uneasy. "Pull you where?"
"I don't know," Nathan whispered. His brow furrowed as he clutched the medallion tighter, trying to block out the strange pull in his chest.
Suddenly, the sound of horns echoed from outside.
Mira jumped slightly. "What was that?"
Before Nathan could answer, the tent flap lifted, and Ellis stepped inside, carrying a leather strap of gear over one shoulder. He looked hurried, his face still flushed from moving around.
"Signal horns," Ellis said quickly as he strode past them, grabbing a short sword and a satchel from near the crate. "The arrival horns. The Highnesses are back."
Mira's eyes widened. "King Nalon and Queen Rhea?"
Ellis nodded, already adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "Yeah. They just cleared the last checkpoint. Won't be long before they're through the gates."
Nathan stayed quiet. The medallion's warmth had grown stronger at the exact same moment the horns rang, sending another quick pulse through his chest.
Ellis noticed his silence and looked at him. "You okay? You look pale."
Nathan forced a small breath out and nodded. "Yeah… I'm fine."
Grey squinted. "Liar."
Ellis glanced at Grey, raising a brow. "...Did that rabbit just—"
"Don't ask," Mira cut in, waving her hands. "You'll just get a headache."
Ellis gave them both a look like he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Anyway… Fred'll probably want you close when the Highnesses arrive," he said, stepping toward the flap again. "So stay ready."
He was already halfway out the door before Mira could ask, "Wait—what's going on outside? Why are the knights moving like that?"
Ellis paused just enough to answer, "They're forming at the gates. Big reception. You'll see."
And then he was gone again, the flap falling shut behind him.
Nathan's hand stayed pressed against the medallion. The pulse had steadied now, slow but constant — like it was waiting for something.
Mira hugged her knees a little tighter. "It's just the Highnesses arriving, right? That's all?"
Nathan nodded again, though his voice was far from certain. "Yeah… that's all."
But deep down, he wasn't sure.
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To be continued
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