**[STEVE – THORNVALE, MORNING – 172 DAYS REMAINING]**
— **STEVE! WAKE UP! THERE'S AN EMERGENCY!**
Dagon's voice exploded through the door like thunder, yanking Steve from a dream he wouldn't remember—only fragments of green eyes shining in the darkness and a voice whispering his name.
Steve jumped from the bed in pure reflex, his heart already racing before being fully conscious.
*Attack. Has to be an attack. Monsters? The Maestro? Nessira—*
— **BOY, MOVE IT!**
His feet tangled in the sheet. Steve fell face-first onto the wooden floor with impact that knocked the air from his lungs. He cursed quietly, disentangling himself, frantically searching for his sword—
It wasn't where he'd left it.
*Shit, where—*
— **STEVE!**
— **COMING!** — he shouted back, giving up on the weapon, grabbing the first shirt he found.
He dressed hastily. Wrong pants. Didn't matter. Boots without tying them properly. He stumbled to the door, yanked it open—
Empty hallway.
Steve stopped, panting, sweat already running down his temples.
*Where is he? What kind of emergency—*
He bolted down the stairs. His feet barely touched the steps. One hand on the railing, the other holding up pants that threatened to fall. He crossed the inn's corridor like a blur, almost knocking over a woman carrying a breakfast tray.
— Sorry! — he threw over his shoulder without stopping.
He exploded through the main door.
The morning light hit him like a punch. He blinked, raising his hand to shield his eyes—
And saw.
**Dagon. Keara. Jelím.**
All three standing calmly in front of the inn.
There were no monsters. No fire. No *anything*.
Just them. Dressed... formally?
Steve blinked again, his brain finally processing.
Dagon wore a clean dark blue tunic, without the usual travel stains. Keara had a simple but neat dress, hair tied with uncommon care. Jelím floated with a new cloak that didn't have the tears from battles.
And beside them, a young woman.
Immaculate white dress. Veil completely covering her face. Something wrapping her hair, hiding even the color. Upright posture, hands politely crossed in front.
Steve looked from one to another, confusion growing until it occupied all mental space.
— What... — he began, voice still breathless. — What's happening?
Dagon stepped forward, huge smile on his face. He clapped Steve's shoulder with force that almost knocked him down again.
— Very good, boy! — he declared, proud. — I see you paid attention and heard my call well!
Steve just stared at him.
— I thought we were under attack or something — he said slowly, as if explaining a simple concept to a child.
Keara laughed—a gentle sound that eased some of the residual panic.
— Calm down, Steve — she said, approaching. — Sometimes we need to breathe from so much action, don't you think?
Dagon nodded vigorously in agreement.
— Exactly! We're not Vikings, boy. We don't need to live fighting monsters twenty-four hours a day.
Theatrical pause.
— That's why we decided to take a more... down-to-earth mission today.
Steve repeated slowly, testing the words:
— A down-to-earth... mission?
— Yes! — Dagon gestured dramatically toward the veiled young woman. — Do you see this beautiful young lady here?
Steve looked. The young woman remained motionless, impossible to read any reaction through the veil.
— ...Yes? — he responded, uncertain.
— She's approximately your age — Dagon continued, smile widening dangerously. — Seventeen years old. So your mission will be to take care of her until six PM tomorrow.
Steve's brain froze.
Then rebooted slowly, processing word by word.
— What do you mean... take care of her? — he asked, voice rising slightly.
He looked at the others, seeking confirmation that he'd heard wrong.
— Isn't this our mission? We... all of us?
Dagon shook his head, still smiling.
— No, boy. This is **your** mission. We have other business.
He made a casual gesture with his hand.
— And since she's also seventeen, we thought you'd match perfectly. That's why it's your responsibility.
He spoke so calmly. As if commenting on the weather.
Steve felt heat rising up his neck.
— And you say that so casually... in front of her?
Dagon patted his shoulder again—gentler this time.
— It's because I trust you, boy — he said, genuine. — So make sure you take good care of her, okay?
He turned, beginning to walk. Keara and Jelím followed him.
Steve stood there, mouth open, trying to form a protest—
Jelím looked over her shoulder. The cracked white mask revealing only one eye that studied him with disconcerting intensity.
— Don't be aggressive — she said simply.
Steve tilted his head, confusion increasing.
— What do you mean?
But she'd already turned, continuing to walk.
That's when Dagon stopped. Turned completely. Maximum smile.
— Oh, and boy! — he shouted, voice echoing through the street. — **Make sure to use protection!**
Steve's face **exploded** in red.
— **WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!** — he shouted back, voice cracking. — **SHUT UP!**
Dagon's laughter echoed through Thornvale's streets as the three disappeared around the corner.
Silence fell.
Steve stood there, still flushed, hands covering his face.
*I'm going to kill that man. I'm going to kill him. Slowly.*
He let out a long sigh, trying to recover some dignity.
Then he remembered.
The young woman was still there. Standing. Probably having heard *everything*.
He lowered his hands slowly, forcing himself to look at her.
— I... sorry about that — he began, voice coming out higher than intended.
He cleared his throat, trying again.
— They're... well... they have a strange sense of humor and—
He stopped. Took a deep breath. Decided to start properly.
He ran his hand through his curly hair—a nervous gesture he made when insecure.
— What's your na— — he began.
— **Any.**
The voice cut before he finished. Clear. Confident. Without hesitation.
— My name is Any.
The tone carried a confidence Steve could never imitate. As if she knew exactly who she was and didn't need anyone's approval.
Steve blinked, slightly surprised.
He forced a smile—small, shy.
— Well... my name is Steve.
He waited for some reaction. Nothing.
Any remained motionless for a long moment. Then she pointed.
— Follow me to that point.
Steve followed the direction. She was pointing to a set of houses in the distance. Near the... palace?
He looked back at her, confusion returning.
— Yes... I can walk you there — he responded, even without understanding anything.
Any had already begun walking.
Steve followed her, still trying to process the whole situation.
---
Thornvale was waking up around them.
The city was larger than Steve initially realized when they arrived. The main streets—paved with irregular stones worn by decades of use—formed a complex network connecting distinct districts.
They passed the morning market. Vendors were already shouting prices, voices competing with each other. The smell of fresh bread mixed with freshly caught fish and spices Steve didn't recognize. Children ran between the stalls, laughing, stealing fruit when the merchants weren't looking.
Any walked with purpose. Didn't look to the sides. Didn't stop to observe. Just kept moving forward.
Steve tried to keep up, but was easily distracted.
There—a blacksmith hammering still-red metal, sparks flying. Further ahead—a woman selling flowers in impossible colors, some glowing faintly with residual magic.
Guards patrolled in pairs. They wore lighter armor than the soldiers of Nellis, but carried themselves with clear authority.
As they approached the area near the palace, the buildings changed. Less wood, more stone. Fewer patches, more decorations. The streets became cleaner. The people, better dressed.
Steve felt discomfort growing. He didn't belong there. That was obvious even to him.
That's when he heard it.
*"Come..."*
The whisper came from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously.
Steve stopped abruptly, turning his head.
— What? — he asked aloud before realizing he was talking to himself.
Any continued walking, without looking back.
*No. Not now.*
He shook his head vigorously, as if he could dislodge the voice. He hurried to catch up with Any.
He looked north instinctively. Beyond the city walls. To the distant mountains silhouetted against the sky.
*"Come to me..."*
The HUD flickered in his vision—not an error this time, but a rhythmic **pulsation**. Like a heartbeat.
**[CONNECTION: 5%]**
**[FRAGMENT_001: ACTIVE]**
**[MESSAGE RECEIVED]**
Steve squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the interface to disappear.
*Later. I'll deal with that later.*
He focused on Any ahead. She had stopped, looking at a shop window.
Flowers.
Dozens of them in elaborate arrangements. Red roses. White lilies. Something silver-blue that Steve had never seen.
— Hey, shy boy — Any said without turning.
Steve felt immediate irritation.
— I'm not shy.
— Yes, you are.
— **No** I'm not.
Any turned her head slightly—not enough to see through the veil, but enough to indicate she was watching him.
— Confident man, then — she corrected, tone suggesting she didn't believe it at all. — Can you buy me that bouquet of flowers?
She pointed to a specific arrangement—white roses mixed with something that glowed softly.
Steve reached for his pocket instinctively.
Empty.
The other pocket. Also empty.
*Shit.*
His wallet. He'd left it on the bedside table during the rush.
Heat returned to his face.
— Sorry — he murmured, looking at his own feet. — I don't have my wallet right now. I left in such a hurry that—
Any let out a sigh. Not loud, but audible. Carrying clear disappointment.
— I already imagined that.
She opened the small purse she carried. Took out coins. Entered the shop.
Steve stayed outside, feeling small.
*Why did she ask if she knew I didn't have money?*
*Why does she have money and even so...*
It didn't make sense.
Any came out moments later, holding the bouquet. The veil hid her expression, but Steve could *feel* the satisfaction.
They continued walking.
---
Three streets later, Any stopped again.
Jewelry store. Small, but elegant. Display windows showing delicate necklaces, elaborate bracelets, rings that captured light hypnotically.
— I want to go in here — Any declared.
It wasn't a question.
Steve just nodded, following her inside.
The interior smelled of polished metal and something sweet—incense, perhaps. Walls lined with dark velvet made the jewels shine more intensely.
Any moved directly to the bracelet section. Fingers sliding over options, examining each with attention that suggested real knowledge.
She stopped at a specific one.
Simple silver. No stones. Just metal worked in a pattern that resembled waves or perhaps flames—hard to say. But there was something... hypnotic about it.
— Can you buy this for me? — she asked, turning to Steve.
He looked at her. Then at the bracelet. Then back at her.
— You... already know I don't have money — he responded, voice coming out half defeated, half embarrassed.
Any tilted her head.
— Cheapskate — she declared simply.
Steve felt like he'd taken a verbal slap.
— I'm not—
But she'd already turned, calling the vendor.
She bought two. Identical.
She placed one on her own wrist. Then extended the other to Steve.
— It's a gift from me — she said, voice softening for the first time — for accompanying me.
Steve looked at the bracelet. Then at her. Then at the bracelet again.
Something tightened in his chest.
He accepted it carefully, as if it could break.
— I... thank you — he managed to say, voice failing slightly. — Really, I... you didn't have to... but thank you.
He placed it on his wrist. It fit perfectly.
He looked at his own arm. Then at hers.
Matching.
Any was already leaving the store.
But Steve could swear he'd seen—just for a second—her smiling under the veil.
---
The walk continued.
But something had changed.
Steve didn't know how to explain it. He just felt... lighter? Less uncomfortable?
He looked at the bracelet occasionally. Touched it with his thumb.
*No one has ever given me a gift like this. Not without a reason. Not without expecting something in return.*
Guilt hit unexpectedly.
*Dagon trusts me. Keara treats me like a son. And I lie to them all.*
*I hide the power. Hide the connection with Nessira. Hide that I'm changing.*
He looked north again. The mountains seemed closer. Or maybe it was his imagination.
*"Come..."*
He shook his head vigorously.
*No. Focus. Present. Here.*
That's when he felt it.
Any took his hand.
The touch was sudden. Firm. Her fingers intertwining with his with confidence that didn't ask permission.
Steve's brain **shut down**.
Every thought evaporated instantly. Nessira. Dagon. The mission. Everything.
Just pure sensation.
Her hand was smaller than his. Warmer than he expected. The skin soft against his—calloused from sword training.
His heart began to beat erratically. Loud. Too fast.
*She's holding my hand. Why is she holding my hand? What does this mean? What do I do? Squeeze back? Let go? Say something?*
Any continued walking normally. As if nothing had changed. As if holding hands was the most natural thing in the world.
Steve tried to regulate his breathing. Failed miserably.
He looked down—at their intertwined hands—then forward quickly when he realized he was being too obvious.
*Calm down. Act normal. Be normal.*
He wasn't normal. None of this was normal.
But he also didn't want it to stop.
---
The palace loomed ahead now.
Enormous. Imposing. Towers rising above the walls, flags fluttering showing a coat of arms Steve didn't recognize—something with a lion and crossed swords.
Guards in polished armor flanked the main gate.
Any slowed down. Then stopped completely.
Steve stopped with her, still holding her hand.
That's when he heard.
Voices. Movement behind the gate.
The doors opened.
A young man came out.
Tall. Perfectly arranged brown hair falling with studied care. Clothing that screamed money—navy blue tunic embroidered with golden threads, short cape fastened by an elaborate brooch. Upright posture that only came from years of forced etiquette.
But the eyes...
Blue. Like Any's—Steve noticed that immediately.
And they carried something more. Hope. Vulnerability. **Love**.
The young man saw Any.
His entire face lit up. A smile appearing instantly, genuine, transforming aristocratic features into something almost... beautiful.
— Any! — he began to say, voice carrying relief. — Finally! I was—
He stopped.
Because he saw.
The hands. Intertwined.
The smile faltered.
Any turned.
Not to the young man. To **Steve**.
She pulled both his hands, turning him to face her completely.
Steve barely had time to process.
She raised her hands. Removed the veil in a fluid motion.
The revealed face stole the air from his lungs.
Beautiful. Not just pretty—**beautiful**. Flawless skin. Blue eyes shining with intensity that seemed to pierce through him. Black hair falling in perfect waves when she removed the covering.
Steve froze, eyes wide.
Then she pulled.
Any's lips touched his.
The world **stopped**.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Sound disappeared. Vision blurred at the edges. Only the warm, firm pressure existed, the slightly sweet taste like honey, the smell of flowers she carried enveloping everything.
Steve's brain **shut down** completely.
Every thought evaporated—Nessira, Dagon, the mission, the system, **everything**. Just pure sensation flooding every nerve.
His eyes closed by themselves. His body went rigid, not knowing how to react, not knowing if he should react.
It lasted three seconds.
It felt like an eternity.
When she pulled away, Steve stood there. Eyes still closed. Mouth still parted. Brain rebooting slowly like a crashed system.
That's when he heard.
— **...Any?**
The voice came broken. Small. Carrying betrayal, pain, absolute incomprehension.
Steve's eyes opened.
He turned his head slowly.
The young man stood where he had been. But he didn't look the same anymore.
Color had drained completely from his face. Eyes wide in shock that was still processing. Mouth parted, words dying before forming.
His hands trembled slightly at his sides.
— Why... — he managed to whisper.
Any released Steve's hands.
She walked calmly to the young man. Each step measured. Controlled.
She stopped in front of him.
— **We're done, Lord Adrian** — she said, voice clear, emotionless. — I thought that would make it clear.
The young royal then, hearing this, became furious and shouted for guards to arrest them both.
Steve, hearing this, simply acted on pure instinct, grabbing Any's hand and thus beginning the escape.
Fleeing from the guards.