The settlement was smaller than Eris expected.
A cluster of wooden homes, fenced gardens, and stone paths worn smooth by years of ordinary footsteps. Smoke rose from chimneys. Chickens wandered freely. Somewhere, someone was arguing about bread.
It was… painfully normal.
Eris slowed as he entered, unsure what to do with his hands, his posture, his everything. No glowing sigils. No shifting land. Just people living.
An old woman glanced at him from a porch. "Traveler?"
Eris nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
She pointed down the road. "Inn's that way. Don't track mud inside."
He looked at his boots. They were barely dusty.
Still, he wiped them on the grass.
Inside the inn, conversation hummed low and warm. No one paid him much attention, which somehow felt stranger than fear.
Until someone did.
"You walk like you expect the ground to argue with you."
Eris turned.
A girl about his age sat at a corner table, one boot propped on a chair, carving something into a piece of wood. Dark braids tied back loosely. Sharp eyes. Calm posture.
She hadn't looked up when she spoke.
Eris blinked. "What?"
She glanced at him now. "You're measuring every step. Like you don't trust the floor."
Eris shifted awkwardly. "Bad habit."
"Dangerous places?" she asked.
"You could say that."
She studied him for a long second—longer than most people dared.
Then she nodded once. "You're not from anywhere nearby."
"No."
"Good," she said, going back to carving.
Eris frowned. "Good?"
"People from here are boring," she replied. "They know how tomorrow goes."
Eris hesitated. "And you don't like that?"
She shrugged. "Tomorrow should have options."
Eris stared at her.
The Watcher's Trace did not react.
Not a flicker.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She paused, then answered, "Lysa."
"I'm Eris."
She smirked faintly. "Of course you are."
"What does that mean?"
"You look like someone with a name that sounds like trouble."
Eris couldn't help it—he laughed softly.
Lysa tilted her head, studying him again.
"You're running from something," she said.
"Yes."
"Good," she replied. "Means you're still ahead of it."
She went back to carving, then added casually, "You can sit if you want. I don't mind interesting company."
Eris sat across from her.
Outside, the village carried on, blissfully unaware.
Far beyond the hills, probability lines narrowed… then blurred again.
As if something had just entered the equation that couldn't be predicted.
And for the first time in a long while—
Eris felt like the future had blinked.