The storm had finally passed, leaving the air thick and metallic. The streets outside still dripped from the downpour, the sound of water falling from rooftops blending with distant gulls. Inside the narrow house, a single lantern burned on the table, its flame swaying with every breath of wind.
Aros sat in silence, cleaning his knife with a piece of cloth that was already more rust than fabric. Across the room, Diana leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying him.
"You haven't said a word since they left," she said. "You really think she'll be fine?"
Aros didn't look up. "She's stronger than she looks."
"She's a child," Diana replied. Her tone wasn't accusing, just tired. "A frightened one. You saw her face when that light erupted."
Aros ran a thumb along the blade's edge. "Fear doesn't mean weakness. It means she still knows what she's doing."
Diana pushed away from the wall and came closer, lowering her voice. "Broko's scared of her, that's all. But I can tell he doesn't hate her. He just doesn't know what she is. None of us do."
"She's just a girl with a gift she doesn't understand," Aros said. "That's all."
Diana studied him for a moment longer. "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."
He didn't answer.
The quiet stretched, filled only by the soft crackle of the lantern. Then a heavy knock shook the door. Broko tensed, his hand going instinctively to his belt knife. Aros rose and opened it.
A tall man stood in the doorway, wrapped in a long coat of dark green wool. His beard was neatly trimmed, his boots too clean for this part of the city. When he saw Aros, his eyes lit up with disbelief.
"By the gods," he said with a laugh. "Aros Stterice. You're alive."
Aros blinked, searching the man's face. "Gustave?"
"The same," Gustave said, stepping inside before Aros could react. His voice filled the room, smooth and confident, the kind of tone that turned lies into promises. "You look older. Harder. The stories said you vanished after Valeo's death."
"Stories say a lot of things," Aros said, closing the door behind him.
Gustave glanced at Diana and gave a small, courteous bow. "Forgive my manners, madam. Old friends reunite poorly."
Diana nodded warily. "Seems that way."
Gustave's smile didn't falter. "I'll borrow your friend for a moment, if I may."
He led Aros into the adjoining room: a cramped space filled with old fishing nets and maps of the coastline. The lantern light caught on Gustave's rings as he clasped his hands behind his back.
"I never thought I'd see you again," Gustave said. "After you slit the king's throat, I assumed the Priesthood tore you apart."
"They tried," Aros replied dryly. "I left before they could."
"I always knew you'd survive," Gustave said with a hint of admiration. "You had that look, like a man who's already died once and didn't much care to do it again."
Aros leaned against the table. "Why are you here, Gustave?"
"Because i still belive. As you did once. And now, i'm here to tell you the fire you started didn't die." Gustave smiled faintly. "The rebellion lives. It's spread farther than you can imagine. The Priesthood's losing its grip, piece by piece. People are waking up."
Aros looked at him, unmoved. "And what happens when they wake? They'll look for someone to rule them. Another king. Another Valeo."
Gustave chuckled, stepping closer. "That's already been taken care of."
He turned toward the doorway and gestured with his hand. "Come in, Alexander."
A young man entered: broad-shouldered, with the kind of composure that didn't belong to a soldier but to someone born knowing others would bow. His face was pale, his features almost delicate… and for a heartbeat, Aros forgot to breathe.
It was Valeo's face. The same jawline, the same cold blue eyes.
"Impossible," Aros muttered.
Gustave's grin widened. "Aros Valean, meet Alexander of Dromo. The late King Valeo's younger brother. The rightful heir."
Alexander bowed his head slightly. "It's an honor to meet the man who freed my brother from his sins."
Aros's hand tightened around the edge of the table. "Freed?"
"Death is a kind of freedom, isn't it?" Alexander said smoothly. His voice carried the calm certainty of someone used to being obeyed. "You struck down a tyrant, but every kingdom needs a heart. The Priesthood replaced the crown with their faith, but faith can be broken. A crown, once reforged, endures."
"You want another king," Aros said. "That's your solution."
Gustave stepped in, voice full of quiet triumph. "Not just a king, Aros. A believer's king. One who'll restore balance between faith and rule. Between men and the Light."
Aros looked between them, the smiling noble, the serene heir, and felt something cold settle in his chest.He had killed one king to end a tyranny, and now they wanted him to kneel to another. The faces changed, but the pattern didn't.
"Tell me," he said slowly, "what makes you think your balance won't rot like the last one?"
Gustave's smile faltered just slightly. "Because this time, you'll be part of it."
Aros stared at him in silence.Then he turned toward the door. "No. I've done my part."
He walked out before either could stop him.
In the other room, Diana and Broko looked up as he passed."Who was that?" Diana asked.
Aros didn't answer. He just reached for his cloak, his expression unreadable.
Outside, the wind had shifted. The city smelled of salt, smoke, and something else, change.