When Hugo opened his eyes that morning, for a long moment he simply lay still, staring at the ceiling.
He blinked at the faint morning light filtering in through the small window and let out a slow breath. His lips curved into a lazy smile.
"Guess I actually slept."
Turning his head, he spotted the lich still fast asleep in the corner — curled up on top of a pile of clothes, one tiny hand resting over his round belly. The little creature was snoring loudly, in a way that could only be described as weirdly human.
Hugo stared for a few seconds, then sighed. "Unbelievable."
He got up, washed his face in the tiny sink near the wall, and climbed the narrow stairs to the upper floor.
The smell of something warm hit him immediately — butter and toasted bread, faintly sweet. His mother was already bustling about in the kitchen, still in her faded apron. She looked more energetic than he'd seen her in months, almost radiant. The faint tiredness under her eyes hadn't vanished, but it was softened by the unmistakable brightness of pride.
She turned the moment she heard him. "Quick, sit down and have breakfast, Hugo. I told Uncle Barns you'd be coming in early."
There was such excitement in her tone that it almost made him laugh. He smiled instead — that small, bittersweet kind that came from warmth and guilt all tangled together. "Alright, alright, I'm sitting."
She ushered him to the chair like he was still twelve, fussing about the toast and pouring him milk before sitting across from him.
As they ate, she began to ramble.
Apparently, she'd already told half their neighbors about his "promotion" and the "great opportunity" that was finally coming their way. It was ridiculous, really — she had no clue what was actually going on, but her faith in him was absolute.
That was his mom. Prideful, stubborn, endlessly hopeful — a woman who had been humbled by hardship but had never quite lost the fire underneath.
And seeing that spark again made something tighten in Hugo's chest.
He just nodded, smiling faintly as she went on and on about how Uncle Barns was going to help him "get a proper placement," and how this was "the start of something new."
Halfway through breakfast, he suddenly froze. "Oh crap — I forgot something."
His mother blinked. "What?"
"I, uh… I'll be right back," he said quickly, grabbing a bowl of cereal before she could question him.
He jogged down the basement stairs again, the bowl in hand. The lich had woken by now, stretching in a lazy feline way, jaw cracking open in an exaggerated yawn. Its big eyes blinked drowsily as it noticed him.
"Ah— Master," it said, voice still groggy. "You're up early."
"Yeah," Hugo said dryly, placing the bowl on the table. "Here. Breakfast."
The lich tilted its head, eyes glimmering. "Is that… for me?"
"Yeah," Hugo said, a little awkwardly. "I noticed you've got, uh… an appetite."
Before he could blink, the small creature scampered up the table, tripped on its own robe, and fell face-first into the bowl.
"…"
The lich sat up inside the bowl, dripping milk, clearly unbothered. "Delightful," it mumbled, holding up a soggy cereal ring like it was some kind of artifact. "Master, this realm's food is… exquisite."
Hugo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, just don't drown in it."
He turned away to change, pulling on a clean shirt and a more formal jacket.
When he finished buttoning the last cuff, he looked over again. The lich was now licking milk off its claws, looking entirely too satisfied for something that technically shouldn't have organs.
"So," Hugo asked, "how are you planning to follow me around without, you know, people freaking out?"
The lich perked up, eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh, worry not, master. I shall rest within your body — a most convenient vessel."
Before Hugo could say 'wait, what?', the little creature floated upward, turned translucent, and flew straight into his chest. There was a faint blue shimmer — and then nothing.
The next second, a voice echoed in his head. "Ah, there we go! Cozy in here."
"..."
Hugo blinked a few times, then muttered, "I guess this works."
After saying goodbye to his mother — who fussed over his hair, again — he stepped outside.
The morning air was crisp, cool against his skin. The streets were already waking, with the distant rumble of hover-trams and the murmur of early commuters. He adjusted his jacket and began walking toward the main transit station.
It felt strange, moving through the world like this — after everything that had happened last night, the ordinary bustle of life almost seemed unreal. People chatted, traded, argued. Vendors called out prices. The sky was a soft gray-blue overhead, streaked with faint clouds.
Eventually, he caught the first community bus.
Then another.
Each stop took him closer to The Keep.
The Keep — one of Earth's five main Domains.
The name wasn't just symbolic. It was literal.
In this era, Domains were the backbone of civilization.
After the chaos from thirty years ago, nations no longer mattered. What rose in their place were Domains: militarized territories ruled by Vanguards — humanity's elite combatants, its leaders, its shield.
Each Domain operated like a self-contained continent, a blend of military base, academy, and sovereign power.
Five Domains ruled Earth now: The Keep, Citadel 7,Skyhold, Genesis, and The Verge — each one specializing in different disciplines, each one governed by a council of high-ranked Vanguards known as Pillars.
Below them were divisions — ranked branches responsible for training, deployment, and research. Beneath those, ordinary citizens who served, supplied, or simply survived under their protection.
And The Keep — Hugo's destination — was known for one thing: stability.
It wasn't the most powerful Domain, nor the richest, but it was the one of the oldest. Its members were disciplined, pragmatic, efficient.