The sun had not fully risen when Lian Ardent climbed onto the scaffolding.
Steel groaned beneath his boots. Dust already coated his hands, his clothes, his lungs. The construction site buzzed with noise, men shouting over engines, metal striking metal in harsh rhythm. It was always loud here. Loud enough to drown thoughts. Loud enough to forget who he used to be.
"Oi, Lian," a voice called from below. "You sure you don't sleep at all?"
Lian didn't look down. He lifted another concrete slab as if it weighed nothing and slid it into place.
"I sleep," he said. "Just not much."
A few men laughed.
Rakesh wiped sweat from his forehead and squinted up at him. "Not much my foot. You pulled a double shift yesterday too. You trying to die young or something?"
Lian tightened his grip, muscles moving smoothly under strain that should have torn them. "Someone has to finish your work."
"Cheeky," Rakesh muttered, but there was admiration in his tone. "Still don't get it. You don't eat properly, you don't rest, and you never complain. Not once. You sure you're not a machine?"
Lian climbed down the ladder in one smooth motion. "Machines break."
Rakesh snorted. "So do men. Except you. Remember when that beam dropped on your shoulder last month?"
Another worker chimed in. "Yeah. We thought you were done for."
Lian picked up his gloves, expression unreadable. "I was fine."
"You were not fine," Rakesh insisted. "Bone should've shattered. Instead you came back the next day like nothing happened."
Lian shrugged. "Good bones."
They stared at him.
"And the fever," the other man added. "Everyone caught it. Everyone except you."
Lian pulled his gloves on slowly. "Luck."
Rakesh shook his head. "You don't believe in luck."
"That's because it doesn't believe in me."
The bell rang for break. Men dispersed, stretching sore backs, sitting on concrete blocks. Lian didn't join them. He stood apart, staring at a reflective metal sheet leaning against a wall.
He stopped just short of facing it directly.
Rakesh noticed. "You allergic to mirrors or something?"
Lian turned away. "I don't like distractions."
Rakesh frowned. "You're a strange one, you know that?"
Lian didn't answer.
The shift dragged on. Hours blurred together, marked only by the sun's slow climb and the ache in muscles that never quite healed the way they should. By late afternoon, the seal inside his veins began to burn.
Not sharply. Not yet. Just enough to warn him.
He finished his final load and stepped down from the scaffolding. The ground tilted beneath his feet.
Rakesh caught his arm. "Hey. You alright?"
Lian pulled free gently. "Just tired."
"You look pale."
"Always do."
Rakesh hesitated. "You should get checked. You never take sick leave."
"I don't get sick."
"That's not normal," Rakesh said quietly.
Lian met his gaze for a brief moment. Something old flickered behind his eyes, then vanished.
"Normal is overrated."
He left before anyone could say more.
The road home cut along the edge of the city, where streetlights thinned and trees thickened. Lian walked instead of taking the bus. He always did. Movement kept the pain manageable.
By the time the sun dipped low, the burning inside him had intensified. His breath grew shallow. Sweat soaked his shirt, cold against his skin.
Not here, he thought. Not now.
His steps faltered.
The world narrowed to sound and shadow. He veered off the road without realizing it, drawn by something cooler, quieter. The forest loomed ahead, dark and dense. No signs. No paths.
People avoided this place.
Lian stepped inside anyway.
The air changed immediately. Heavy. Charged. The seal reacted, pulsing like a wounded heart. He pressed a hand to his chest and staggered forward, branches scraping his arms.
Moonlight filtered through the canopy, pale and sharp. The deeper he went, the worse it became. Pain clawed through his veins, dragging memories with it.
Judgment. Silence. Exile.
He fell to one knee, gasping.
Then he felt it.
Energy.
Pure. Concentrated. Alive.
Voices murmured ahead, low and rhythmic. Lian forced himself upright and moved toward the sound, each step heavier than the last.
He broke through a curtain of vines and froze.
Three women stood in a clearing.
They were arranged in a loose triangle, bare feet pressed into the earth. Pale light spiraled around them, weaving through their bodies like breath. Symbols flared faintly beneath their skin, silver and white.
Cultivation.
Lian knew it instantly. Not from this world. Not from this age.
The light flickered.
All three turned toward him at once.
The first thing he noticed was that two of them were identical.
Same sharp cheekbones. Same silver eyes. Same dark hair falling loose down their backs. But their expressions were nothing alike.
One stared at him with open hostility, lips curling slightly as claws slid halfway from her fingers.
The other looked startled, concern flashing across her face before she masked it.
The third woman stood apart, head tilted, a slow smile playing on her lips as if she found him amusing.
Energy snapped off like a broken thread.
The hostile twin stepped forward, claws fully formed now, gleaming faintly. "Human?"
Her voice was cold. Deadly.
Lian raised his hands slowly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
The smiling woman laughed softly. "That's what they all say."
The gentler twin frowned. "Lyra, wait."
Lyra ignored her.
She took another step, eyes narrowing as she studied him. "No," she said slowly. "You don't smell human."
Lian swallowed.
The third woman circled him, barefoot steps silent. "Interesting," she murmured. "You're bleeding."
Only then did Lian realize warm liquid had soaked through his shirt. He pressed his palm against his side. It came away red.
Lyra's nostrils flared.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Then she smiled.
"No," she said again, voice low, almost reverent. "Something worse."
The gentler twin moved quickly, placing herself between Lyra and Lian. "Stop. He's injured."
Lyra didn't look away from him. "Do you know what you are," she asked.
Lian shook his head once. "Someone who shouldn't be here."
The third woman stopped in front of him, close enough that he could feel her warmth. She leaned in, inhaling slowly.
Her smile vanished.
Her pupils dilated.
"Well," she said softly. "That explains the forest."
Lyra's gaze sharpened. "What do you smell, Nisha."
Nisha straightened, eyes locked on Lian's throat. "Immortality."
The word fell into the clearing like a blade.
The forest shuddered.
Lian's vision darkened at the edges as the seal inside his veins burned violently in response.
Lyra took another step forward, hunger unmistakable in her eyes.
And far beyond the forest, something ancient turned its attention toward him.