Chapter 5:
Shadows of another life: The golden dawn
A journey of more than half a month without Arian and now in the city where resides the best academy of the continent. At least Rowan was nearby, polishing his armor by the window, steel catching the afternoon light.
The city had swallowed them whole.Lucien leaned on the sill, watching the tide of people below, trying to imagine Arian among them—pale, frail, yet grinning despite it all.
He shook himself from the thought and reached for the device.
The communication crystal fit neatly into his palm, etched with runes that shimmered faintly green when he pressed magic into it. Costly, yes, but the Veynar coffers could bear it. His parents would expect word.
Rowan set his armor aside and rose. “Ready?”Lucien nodded, heart giving a nervous jump. He whispered the activation phrase. Light bloomed, mist gathering, and then his father’s face sharpened in the glow—stern features, graying hair, golden eyes that missed nothing.
“Father,” Lucien exhaled, bowing his head. “We’ve arrived safely in the Academy City. Rowan and I are lodged at the White Hart Inn. No trouble on the road, though…” His gaze flicked to the shadows of memory—smoke, a shattered carriage, Caelith’s haunted eyes—but he smoothed his voice. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Lord Veynar studied him for a long moment before inclining his head. “Good. You look tired, but whole. That is enough.”
Lucien’s lips curved wryly. “Mother would say the same, though with less severity, I think.”
“Your mother is worried enough already.” His father’s gaze hardened. “Lucien, there is something you must know. You asked about Arian. He departed some days after you left.”“—yet he is not.” The words fell like cold stones.
For a heartbeat Lucien forgot how to breathe. His fingers tightened around the crystal. “What do you mean ‘not’? He must be on the road—delayed, perhaps—”
“We will discuss it further if needed,” Lord Veynar cut in, his tone final. “For now, focus on your examination. Rowan will ensure you are prepared. Do not falter.”
The glow flickered, and the image vanished, leaving Lucien staring at his warped reflection in the crystal’s surface.
Rowan’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Don’t dwell too deep yet. Wait until we know more.”
But Lucien’s chest had already tightened with unease.
---The next days blurred in a haze of restless pacing and Rowan’s steadying presence. To keep Lucien occupied, the knight proposed they explore the city.
“The best way to settle nerves is to move your legs,” Rowan insisted, tugging him out into the clamor of streets before Lucien could protest.
It worked—somewhat. They wandered the markets where glass beads glittered like captured starlight, tasted honeyed bread still steaming from the ovens, and watched performers juggle sparks of flame in crowded squares.
Yet Lucien’s destination was clear.
The weapons quarter of the city was alive with hammer-strikes and the hiss of quenching steel. Shops lined the cobbled streets, banners fluttering, blades gleaming in sunlight. Lucien’s eyes caught on a long, narrow window displaying rapiers, their guards etched with curling vines.He remembered the weight of a sword in his hand, the sting of bruises, Rowan’s booming laugh when he finally landed a strike. And deeper still, he remembered his father’s gift:
The sword that rested even now in its scabbard at his hip. On his sixteenth birthday, the old man had handed it to him with a rare smile. Protect yourself, even if you cannot protect others. Live, Lucien. That is enough.
Lucien had taken the words to heart—though part of him burned to protect more than just himself.
Rowan bargained briefly with a smith, testing the balance of a blade, while Lucien lingered outside. That was when he spotted a familiar flash of violet hair across the street.
“Caelith?”The Elorien boy turned, blinking, a slim volume clasped to his chest. His expression softened at the sight of Lucien, though his posture remained careful, reserved.
“Lucien. Sir Rowan.”
Lucien’s grin came easy. “So this is where you disappeared to. Not much of a swordsman, are you?”
Caelith lowered his gaze. “Not… particularly.” His voice was quiet, almost apologetic. “But the bookstores here are beyond compare. Some collections rival even noble archives.”
Lucien tilted his head, amused. “A scholar’s heart, then.”Caelith gave a faint smile, shy but genuine.
“You’ll vanish into the Academy library the moment we arrive,” Lucien said. “I’ll have to drag you out for meals.”
“Perhaps,” Caelith admitted softly, eyes alight.
When evening drew near, they parted at a crossroad, Caelith vanishing into the crowd with a small bow. Lucien turned toward the inn with Rowan, warmth still lingering from the boy’s rare smiles.
But it shattered when Rowan intercepted him at the door, face grim.
“Lucien. A message.”
---The communication crystal pulsed, urgent. Lucien seized it, expecting his parents’ familiar faces. Instead, the image sharpened into Lady Runerth, Arian’s mother. Her voice trembled, though her posture was composed.
“Lucien.”
His heart lurched. “My lady. Is Arian—did he arrive—”
“No.” Her hands clenched tightly in the glow. “We lost contact days ago. His bird returned, but no word from him. His carriage… we found it smashed near the Forest of Dusk. Shadows everywhere. His father searched with our knights.”
Lucien’s mouth went dry. “And Arian?”
Her eyes shone with grief she struggled to restrain. She lifted a small object to the crystal’s view: pale gloves, frayed at the edges. “These were all we found. The gloves you gifted him.”Lucien’s chest caved in. His breath hitched, words strangled in his throat.
“We pray he still lives,” Lady Runerth whispered. “If he reaches you, send word at once. Please, Lucien. For his sake.”
The light faded, leaving silence.
Lucien stared at his trembling hands, the ghost of Arian’s laugh echoing in his mind. Then he surged to his feet. “I have to go. He’s out there—alone—”
Rowan caught his arm, grip firm. “Stop. If you leave now, you’ll miss the examination.
Without entrance, you cannot remain here.”
“To hell with the exam!” Lucien snarled. His vision blurred. “Arian could be dying while I sit in this city doing nothing—”“Lucien.” Caelith’s voice was soft but steady. He had come quietly, standing in the doorway. His icy blue eyes met Lucien’s, calm even in sorrow. “If he lives, he will come here. If you go blindly, you may never find him—and lose your chance at the Academy besides.”
Lucien froze, shaking.
Rowan’s grip eased, but his tone remained firm. “Wait. Give him time. If he does not arrive by the exam’s end… then we go. I swear it.”
Lucien pressed trembling hands to his face. The fight drained from him, leaving only hollow ache.
---The days crawled, each one heavier than the last. Lucien haunted the city gates, scanning every carriage, every pale-faced traveler, half-hoping, half-dreading.
Arian never came.
The night before the exam, Lucien lay awake, staring at the ceiling beams. The inn was quiet save for Rowan’s steady breathing in the next room. His hand found the earring he always wore—a gift from Arian, twin to the one his friend wore still, if he lived.
“Arian…” His voice broke in the darkness. “You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than I thought. You’ll make it. You have to.”
His chest ached. He clutched the earring tight, fighting tears until exhaustion finally dragged him under.Dawn light crept across the floorboards. Rowan entered quietly, pausing at the sight before him. Lucien sat slumped at the table, eyes shadowed, hair mussed from a sleepless night. The boy looked older somehow, the weight of grief and determination pressing down on his shoulders.
Rowan set a hand gently on his shoulder. “Lucien. It’s time.”
Lucien lifted his head, golden eyes burning with something fierce beneath the exhaustion.
“Let’s finish this exam. And then—then we’ll find him.”
Rowan nodded once. “That’s the spirit I know.”
Lucien rose, sword at his hip, Arian’s earring gleaming faintly in the morning sun.
And together, they stepped out into the waiting city, toward the Academy gates where destiny loomed.•••
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