The morning air in Retor was unusually crisp for the season. A thin mist clung to the cobblestones, curling around boots and carriage wheels like whispers of smoke. Lindsay walked alone through the town, her patrol coat fluttering faintly in the breeze. Kraft had taken ill overnight — a fever, the result of standing too long in the cold waiting for her return the previous evening. Guilt tugged at her with every step.
The streets were quieter than usual, the world seemingly holding its breath. Lindsay's thoughts drifted to yesterday's conversation — the prisoner, the boy, Chief Ivers' reaction. She didn't want to believe it, didn't want to accept that something like that could exist.
"No wounds. Just fear."
She shook the memory off and kept walking. The mist was beginning to lift when a sharp scream cut through the silence.
"Help!"
Without hesitation, Lindsay sprinted toward the sound. Her boots struck the stone hard, her heartbeat rising. She turned a corner into a narrow alley and saw him — a man with a knife, cornering a woman against the wall. Not here, she thought. Not in this part of town.
The robber's eyes flicked to her. "Let me go and she walks away unharmed," he barked.
Lindsay's breath slowed. She scanned his stance, the proximity between them, the slight tremble in his wrist. He was nervous. Dangerous, but not a killer.
"Fine," she said, voice steady. "No tricks."
He nodded once. But before he could move, a blur passed behind him. There was a sharp thud, and the man crumpled to the ground.
The woman gasped and turned. "Oh—thank you, both of you!"
Lindsay looked toward the shadows where the attacker had come from. A silhouette stepped out. Her stomach tightened.
"You," she said quietly.
The boy stepped into the light, his robe falling still around him. His expression unreadable.
"How—?"
"Teleportation," he replied, flatly.
Lindsay kept her hand near her sidearm, her heart still racing. "You have a habit of showing up at strange times."
He tilted his head slightly. "You're welcome."
She couldn't help a small exhale. "Right. Thanks." Her posture softened, but not completely.
He watched her in silence. There was no malice in his eyes, but no comfort either. Just distance — endless, measured distance.
"I heard what happened yesterday," she said. "The prisoner. What they said about you."
He didn't speak.
"Ivers said they died of fear. That they saw something. Something that shouldn't exist."
He finally blinked. "That covers most of it."
"That's not an answer."
"Does it matter?"
She laughed, the sound surprised even herself. "Of course something like you could exist. Why not? We've got magic, gods, glyphs that let me talk to someone across the continent, and I'm surprised by you?"
He said nothing, but his eyes searched her face. Not judging — studying.
"I'm still working today," she said after a pause. "Would you… join me?"
He didn't move. He stared at her like the question was foreign, strange.
Then, slowly: "Only if I bring Marie."
Lindsay frowned. "Marie?"
He vanished. Not a shimmer, not a trace. Just gone.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared — Marie clinging to his sleeve, blinking at the sunlight.
Lindsay's expression softened. "Of course… Marie."
She looked at him again. "What about Reinhard?"
"Safe."
She exhaled. Relief without explanation. She let it go.
The rest of the morning passed with a strange rhythm. Marie was a burst of energy, asking questions Lindsay barely had time to process.
"Why is that tree shaped like that?"
"Are those real guards? Do they have swords?"
"Can I get a coat like yours? What's your name again?"
Lindsay turned to him mid-way through the castle tour. "Is she always like this?"
He nodded. "Yes."
He didn't smile, but there was something in his posture — a quiet calm — that hadn't been there before.
They were crossing the village square when she saw him — Chief Ivers. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd before locking onto them. Lindsay cursed inwardly.
Ivers approached. "Patrol Lindsay," he nodded, "and…?"
Marie bounded forward before Lindsay could speak. "I'm Marie! And this is my big brother!"
Lindsay cringed.
Ivers looked at the boy, and the boy met his gaze.
No words. Just a long, chilling stare. The kind that made time stall.
Then — Ivers laughed. A genuine laugh.
"Well. I didn't expect to see you here."
Lindsay's confusion deepened. "Wait—you've seen him before?"
"Only in records. The King… doesn't care what he is, so long as he keeps to himself."
"And if he doesn't?"
Ivers' smile faded. "Then the Kingdom steps in."
The boy's voice cut in, sharp. "Then why is there someone pointing a spell at me from that rooftop?"
They turned. Nothing.
Lindsay's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"
He didn't answer. Just stared.
A figure stood up from the rooftop. Hooded, distant — then vanished.
Lindsay and Ivers both bolted.
He looked at Marie. "Time to go."
She nodded.
The two of them vanished.
And the square, once again, was quiet.