A soft sound broke through the quiet.
It was subtle—barely more than the faint clink of ceramic against wood—but it was enough.
Laylin's eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, he didn't move. His vision was unfocused, his thoughts slow to gather as he stared up at a ceiling that was unfamiliar. The light was different here—warmer, softer than the dim emptiness of his cell.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Then turned his head.
Tessa stood beside him, placing a small cup onto the table at his bedside. Steam curled faintly from its surface, carrying a light, earthy scent.
Laylin watched her in silence for a second before letting out a quiet breath.
"I had the strangest dream…" he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep. "I was taken to another room… and this… angel appeared."
He shifted slightly, resting back against the pillow as the memory came to him.
"She washed me… and there was this light… and a song…"
His eyes drifted shut again, a faint smile forming as the echo of that melody lingered somewhere deep in his mind.
Tessa let out a short, amused laugh.
"That was no dream," she said. "And certainly no manifestation."
Laylin's eyes opened.
"That was Priestess Celia, from the cathedral in the capital."
The words struck him instantly.
He sat upright.
Too quickly.
The sudden movement sent a brief wave of dizziness through him, but he barely noticed. His eyes moved rapidly, taking in his surroundings for the first time.
This wasn't his cell.
The room was simple, but comfortable—a proper bed, a small table, a chair by the wall. And across from him—
A window.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, moving toward it without hesitation.
Outside, the city stretched out before him.
It was alive.
People moved through the streets in steady currents—some dressed in armor, others in simple clothes, merchants calling out as they displayed their goods, travelers weaving through the crowd. Weapons hung at hips and backs, glinting in the sunlight. Doors opened and closed as adventurers came and went from nearby buildings.
It was loud.
Busy.
Real.
Laylin stared, his expression shifting slowly from confusion to quiet awe.
Then something else occurred to him.
He looked down.
His ankle.
No chain.
He lifted his foot slightly, turning it, as if expecting to see it reappear.
Nothing.
His attention snapped back as Tessa spoke again.
"We were planning to wait until Thale returned before making any decisions," she said, her tone measured. "But Priestess Celia gave her word."
Laylin turned to face her.
"That you had nothing to do with the deaths of those adventurers," she continued, her gaze steady, "or the deaths of anyone else, for that matter."
The weight of those words settled over him.
Tessa crossed her arms lightly.
"So, in light of that, we've moved you out of your cell and into one of the staff rooms used by guild members when needed."
Laylin looked down at himself.
His hands.
Clean.
Not a trace of dirt remained. His skin looked almost unfamiliar to him, free of the grime he had grown used to. For a brief moment, the memory of her—of Celia—surfaced again.
The light.
The warmth.
Her face.
A faint blush crept across his expression, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat slightly.
"…I see," he said.
There was a pause before he looked back at Tessa.
"What do I do now?"
Tessa didn't answer immediately. She studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful.
"Right now," she said slowly, "you have no money. You can't speak, read, or write the common language of Helios. And Guild Master Thale hasn't officially released you."
Laylin's shoulders lowered slightly.
"In light of that," she continued, "the best course of action is for you to stay here. Learn the language. Learn to read and write properly."
Her tone sharpened slightly.
"Until Thale returns, you are not to leave the guild. And you will be accompanied by a guard at all times."
Laylin's expression dimmed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. Still, he nodded.
"…Okay."
He turned back toward the window.
His gaze drifted across the city once more, moving beyond the crowded streets and rooftops until it settled on something larger in the distance.
A cathedral.
Tall.
White.
Standing above the rest of the city like something untouched.
Laylin watched it quietly.
Then smiled.
⸻
On a distant street across town, a carriage moved steadily through the streets. It's wheels rolling over stone as the sounds of the city passed around it. Inside, the space was quiet, insulated from the noise outside.
Celia sat by the window, her gaze drifting over the passing scenery as sunlight filtered through the glass.
Across from her sat Marcus, his posture straight, his expression still carrying traces of earlier tension.
"My lady," he said after a moment, "why did you go out of your way to vouch for that boy?"
Celia didn't answer right away.
Marcus continued, his tone respectful but firm.
"Your debt to Master Thale is one thing. But putting your reputation on the line for someone like him…"
He hesitated slightly.
"…that is another."
Celia's gaze shifted from the window, settling somewhere distant as though she were replaying something only she could see.
"I have a feeling," she said calmly, "that he is not someone who will forget kindness, nor enmity."
Marcus frowned slightly.
"And that alone is enough?"
Her expression softened, just slightly.
"I also have a feeling," she continued, "that one day, we may need him to remember it."
Marcus leaned back slightly, clearly unconvinced.
"What could he possibly offer us?" he asked. "A boy who doesn't even know who he is!"
Celia didn't respond.
Instead, her thoughts drifted.
Back to the memory.
The vision she had seen.
A boy awakening inside a sealed box deep within an ancient labyrinth.
No past.
No identity.
Speaking a language that did not belong.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"…I wonder what Cardinal Darius will think," she murmured.
Her smile widened slightly as she watched the city pass by.