The plains of the Verdant Expanse stretched endlessly beneath the twilight sky, shadows stretching long and pale. Lucien and Kairo stood atop a gentle hill overlooking the valley, the wind—or the absence of it—allowing their cloaks and shadows to flow unnaturally, bending to their will.
For a rare moment, the air between them was calm. No attacks, no dramatic entrances, no testing of limits. Just the quiet, expansive world before them, alive with the faint hum of distant cities and hidden power.
Kairo glanced at Lucien. "You rarely speak of… anything beyond survival and combat. Do you ever… rest?"
Lucien's pale eyes reflected the fading sun. "Rest is a luxury. But… sometimes observation can serve as a kind of rest." His voice was soft, almost reflective. "Even here, one can learn much by watching how the world moves without intervening."
Kairo tilted their head, sensing a shift in tone. "And what do you see now?"
Lucien exhaled slowly, shadows subtly stretching across the hilltop. "I see life. Ordinary lives. Merchants haggling, children laughing in the fields, nobles unaware of the storms beyond their walls… It's… peaceful. Fragile, but peaceful."
For the first time, Lucien's expression softened. "It makes me think of my mother."
Kairo's eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity piqued. "Your mother? I did not know…"
Lucien's gaze drifted, distant. "I remember her sometimes… before the White. Before the corruption. She was… brilliant. Tender, fierce in her own way. But something changed. Something I cannot yet understand. And perhaps… that is why I survived where others did not."
Kairo remained silent, allowing the rare vulnerability to hang in the air. Moments like these were not common, even among the most extraordinary.
Lucien continued, voice low: "I've wondered if fragments of her remain… or if what I remember is just a shadow of what she once was. Either way, I carry her in me. Every decision, every battle… it is all part of understanding what I must become."
The sky deepened to indigo, stars beginning to peek through. Shadows of night stretched long across the plains, yet Lucien remained unmoving, lost in thought. Kairo said nothing, letting the silence and weight of his words linger.
Then, from the distant horizon, a tremor passed through the air — subtle at first, almost imperceptible, yet unmistakable to those attuned to presence. Shadows rippled unnaturally, responding to a force that pulsed with familiarity yet alien power.
Lucien's pale eyes narrowed, cloak rippling unnaturally. "…It cannot be," he murmured.
Kairo stepped closer, voice calm but alert. "What is it?"
Before Lucien could answer, a figure appeared at the edge of the plains, descending from the sky with a grace and weight that made the earth itself seem to acknowledge them. Shadows bent, the air hummed, and a faint aura, almost like the residue of the White, radiated outward.
Lucien's breath caught — recognition, fear, and disbelief intertwining.
"It… it's her," he whispered, voice barely audible. "My mother…"
Kairo's eyes widened. "You… she survived?"
Lucien shook his head slowly, pale lips tightening. "Not exactly… She's… changed. Corrupted by the void in ways I cannot yet understand. And she's not alone."
From the distance, more shadows began to coalesce. Figures, unlike anything Lucien had encountered — neither fully human nor fully void-born — moved with deliberate intent. Their presence was overwhelming, echoing with the resonance of void power.
Lucien's heart tightened, but his expression hardened. "The White… it wasn't the only place she touched. And whatever this is… it's bigger than anything I've faced."
Kairo's hand rested lightly on Lucien's shoulder. "Then it seems… our journey is only beginning."
The night deepened. Shadows stretched, whispers of power roared faintly across the plains. And in that moment, the true scale of the world—and the stakes tied to Lucien's family—was revealed, leaving the horizon trembling with what was to come.