As dusk settled over Valon, Karl made his way down the cobbled path leading to Aris's house. The lantern above the door was already lit, casting a soft golden glow that stood firm against the creeping dark.
The little house sat nestled on the hillside, with slanted tiles and grapevines curling over the porch. The scent of food drifting from the windows made Karl's stomach growl, to his mild annoyance. He knocked three times—an old habit he couldn't recall where he'd picked up.
The door opened. Aris stood there in a simple, earth-toned dress, her hair tied back neatly. "You're earlier than I expected."
"Those who've lived through centuries tend to dislike making others wait," Karl replied, stepping inside.
The home had a warmth he hadn't known in ages. Flickering candles, the scent of baked bread, and the sound of her younger brother's laughter echoing from the kitchen. Aris gestured for Karl to take a seat at the wooden table, already set for three.
"Have you ever had a dinner like this before?" she asked, pouring herbal wine into his cup.
Karl paused to think. "A century ago, perhaps. I might have."
"Then let's make a new memory," she said softly, her gaze brushing over him as if seeking something buried deep.
When the main course arrived—roasted meat glazed in red wine—conversation paused. Only the gentle clink of cutlery filled the room, and a strange, quiet sense of comfort began to wrap around Karl. He realized then, how long it had been since he last remembered the taste of a home-cooked meal.
After dinner, Karl and Aris sat by the fireplace. The flickering flames painted their faces in amber hues, casting long shadows across the old wooden walls. Her younger brother had gone to bed. Silence settled into the room—soft, respectful, as though time itself paused to listen.
"How long have you lived?" Aris asked, her eyes fixed on the fire.
"Long enough for the things that once mattered… to grow distant," Karl replied, his voice low. "And you? What was your life like before we met?"
She was quiet for a moment before speaking.
"I grew up here in Valon, in a common family. My mother died when I was five. My father… he was a good man, but life made him hard. I used to wish I could leave this place behind."
Karl glanced sideways. Aris was smiling faintly, but her eyes carried the weight of years long gone.
"I joined the military the moment I was of age. Not because I liked to fight, but because it was the only way out."
"And then?" Karl asked.
"Then I learned the world beyond was just another kind of prison. The battlefield is just a village without homes—without family."
She paused, her voice softer.
"When I found my brother again and returned to Valon… I realized that the very thing I was running from was the only thing that kept me anchored to who I truly was."
Karl said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the flames, as if stitching together a forgotten memory.
"And you," Aris asked gently, "have you ever had a place… you called home?"
Karl didn't answer right away. He stared into the fire, his gaze lost in some distant memory.
"I once did," he said quietly. "But I can't quite remember it anymore."
"Where was it?" Aris asked, gently.
"On a mountain… snow-covered all year round. There was a wooden house, small. Every morning I could hear the stream running. Every night, I counted stars with… someone."
He paused. Aris didn't press.
"That house… it burned down one winter night. I survived, but I never went back. Maybe because I was afraid… there'd be nothing left but ash."
A soft breeze slipped through the window, making the flames dance like the uncertain breath of a fading past.
"I kept walking, looking for other places, other faces… but none of them ever felt like home again."
Aris placed her hand lightly on his. It was a small, delicate gesture, as though she didn't want to disturb the quiet.
"You don't have to be alone forever," she whispered.
Karl looked at her hand, then back at the fire. He didn't answer, but in his eyes—distant yet suddenly close—there was something that softened for the first time in a long while. Like the first snow melting in someone's hand.
After a long pause, Aris finally spoke. Her voice no longer carried only warmth—it was edged with quiet curiosity.
"This morning... I saw you board a ship by the harbor," she said, her eyes fixed on the fire. "That ship has never docked in Valon before. It comes and goes like a ghost. I used to think it was just a story."
Karl didn't answer right away. He turned his teacup gently in his hands, letting the rising steam warm his cold fingers.
"You think I'm hiding something?" he asked—not accusingly, just as a matter of fact.
Aris smiled faintly.
"No. I think you choose what to share... and what must wait."
After a moment, Karl spoke again.
"That ship isn't meant for ordinary people. It appears when someone needs to be taken to... places no one dares to go."
"And you're one of those people?" Aris asked—this time with sincerity, not suspicion.
"I'm not sure anymore. But someone needs me. Someone... important to the future of this world."
Aris fell silent. She lowered her gaze, her hair brushing softly against her shoulders.
"I suppose I shouldn't ask more," she whispered.
Karl shook his head gently.
"It's all right. You asked with honesty. And that... is worth more than any answer."
After a few moments of silence, Karl placed his teacup on the wooden table and exhaled softly.
"I might leave Valon... in about a week."
Aris flinched slightly but didn't ask why. She simply looked at him with eyes that somehow seemed to have known this would come.
"Will you come back?" she asked, her voice quieter than before.
"I'm not sure. But... if all goes well, perhaps."
The fireplace crackled on. Their shadows danced softly on the wall, flickering like quiet memories.
Aris gently clenched the fabric of her robe. "It's strange… how I've come to fear saying goodbye, even after such a short time."
Karl tilted his head, his eyes softening.
"Time isn't measured by days—but by what we share. And I believe... a few days in Valon are worth more than a hundred years alone."
As the fire in the hearth faded into glowing embers, Aris quietly stood.
"Let me walk you out."
She wrapped herself in a cloak and opened the wooden door. Outside, the night had fallen completely—cold and oddly peaceful. Karl stepped onto the porch, tugging at his collar against the chill.
"Thank you for dinner," he said. "And for... the conversation."
Aris nodded, her gaze lingering on him.
Just as Karl stepped down the stairs, he paused. "Oh, one more thing..."
Aris tilted her head.
"If I really have to travel far—to learn more about those symbols, the dreams, and the Soul Sun Order—I think I'll need a group. Someone who can fight. Someone who knows maps. And maybe... a doctor."
Aris raised her eyebrows, a faint smile appearing. "Are you suggesting me?"
Karl chuckled softly. "I said maybe. What do you think?"
She didn't answer right away. But the look she gave him said clearly... she'd consider it seriously.