The stranger lowers his hood, revealing scales the color of fresh snow under moonlight. Not just white—silver-born.
Almost like royalty. Powerful.
My breath catches.
His eyes lock onto mine. For a moment, they shimmer—not with magic, but with emotion. A longing look, like he's been in mourning.
Then—
"Luceras…" he says it like a prayer. Like he's been repeating it for years. "By the Ancients… you're alive."
He starts toward me, arms slightly out. Like he wants to hug me. Like he knows me.
I freeze. My hand twitches toward the hilt on my back before I realize what I'm doing. My heart begins to race, and my chest aches like it's trying to beat its way out of my ribs.
My mind fogs. Thinking clearly suddenly becomes difficult.
My eyes narrow. "Do I… know you?"
He stops mid-step, taking a deep breath. His smile falters—but only for a moment. "I… I knew it might be like this. Your soul must've gone through hell. But you're still here."
I don't respond. I let the silence hang.
He fills it for me.
"You always had a talent for finding your way back from impossible places. I should've known you'd return. Even if broken." He sighs, shoulders dropping. "I just… I hoped we wouldn't have to do this again."
Return. Even if broken. Again?
Maybe that's the best way to describe the situation I'm in—and the way I feel.
He steps closer again, slower this time.
Careful, like he's approaching a wounded animal.
"It's me. Nova. You called me the annoying older brother you never asked for."
Nova...
A memory flickers.
A warm, sunny day. Two figures sit laughing under a tree—before a brilliant white light flashes in the distance, and the vision is torn away.
The name hits something deep in this body—like a sound stirring ashes that still hide embers. My chest tightens. A lump rises in my throat—one that doesn't belong to me.
But I push it down.
"I… don't remember much," I mutter, eyes shifting away. I can't bring myself to look him in the eye. "My head's been a mess since I woke up here. Pieces are missing. Blanks where faces should be."
It's not a lie. Not really. But it's not the whole truth either.
Nova's expression softens, like he expected this. Like he's already forgiven me.
"That makes sense. After everything… you probably… That kind of journey would fracture any mind." He trails off, stepping closer.
He places a hand on my shoulder. It's heavy with familiarity. Warmth—different from any heat I've felt before.
"I don't care how much you've forgotten. You're still you."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Not trusting Luceras' body not to react for me.
Yet it does.
Because behind us, a cry breaks through the wind.
A young voice. Sharp. Frantic.
I turn without thinking, feet already moving. Nova doesn't hesitate either, following me down the path behind the inn.
We find a boy—no more than seven—surrounded by scorched rubble and half-collapsed stone. He's clawing at a pile of wood, whimpering.
"My sister's in there! Please—she didn't move when the fire stopped—!"
I lurch forward. Muscles coil. Magic burns beneath my skin, like a muscle memory I never earned.
And then—
I leap.
The wood shatters beneath my strike, and my hands are already moving, lifting beams too heavy for me. My body reacts faster than my thoughts—faster than Jiro ever could.
But not faster than Luceras instinct.
The girl's small body is pulled from the rubble in seconds. Her leg's burned, but she's breathing. Still warm.
I cradle her gently, checking her wounds before turning back toward the inn.
Nova watches me in silence.
I don't meet his gaze.
Not yet.
Because I know what I'll see there.
Not suspicion.
But belief.
That I'm still the person he considers a brother.
"Stop," he says, walking in front of me.
A gentle wave of heat radiates from Nova's hands as he begins to chant. The language sounds alien—but it feels familiar.
"What is this feeling?" I ask, watching the girl's face as her breathing steadies, and the burn marks slowly disappear.
"This is the royal family's healing magic," Nova says softly. "Though it's not much different from normal healing magic."
Healing magic? I hesitate—I know what I want to ask, yet I still pause.
"There's… someone else who needs healing magic."
"Another villager?"
"No. Someone I met when I first arrived here."
He finishes his chant and meets my eyes.
"Lead the way."