CRACK.
Vesperyn's eyes snapped open.
His heart was already racing before he fully understood why. The sound, wood striking wood, had dragged him out of something that wasn't quite sleep.
CRACK.
He'd been awake most of the night.
Lying there. Listening to every creak. Every whisper of wind through the trees. Waiting for Darian's voice to come back.
It hadn't.
CRACK.
"Darian, stop it," he muttered into the blanket, eyes still closed.
The words came out automatically. Muscle memory.
The moment they left his mouth, his stomach dropped.
He opened his eyes.
Wooden walls. Harlen's empty bed across the room.
The blanket was yanked away.
Vesperyn didn't move. Just stared up at the ceiling, too tired to react.
Harlen stood over him, practice sword in hand. He looked exactly like someone who hadn't slept, which meant he looked normal.
"Up," Harlen said.
Vesperyn's voice came out hoarse. "What time is it?"
"Training time."
"That's not a time."
"It is now."
Vesperyn sat up slowly.
Everything hurt.
His shoulder, the one the creature had torn into, throbbed with a deep, bone-level ache. The green paste had closed the wound, but the muscle underneath still remembered.
"Scars look good," Harlen said, nodding at his arm.
Vesperyn glanced down. Pink, puckered skin stretched across his shoulder, tender to the touch. The wounds had closed, but they'd left something behind, raised lines.
He'd have these forever.
Physical proof that this place was real. That everything that happened was real.
"Want to train," Harlen said.
Vesperyn's head snapped up. "You're joking."
Harlen's expression didn't change.
"I barely slept," Vesperyn said. "I can barely move. And you want me to—"
"Train," Harlen finished. "Yes."
Vesperyn stared at him.
Then he reached for the blanket.
"I'm going back to sleep."
Harlen didn't move.
"Funny," he said. "But this isn't a charity. You don't work, you don't eat, and the Echoes get a fresh snack tonight."
He turned and pointed with the sword. "Mash is on the table. Boil it. Bring it outside. Don't spill it—I'm low on salt."
Vesperyn cursed under his breath but didn't argue.
Ten minutes later, he stood over the hearth, stirring grey mash.
His hands shook slightly as he worked. He didn't know if it was due to exhaustion or the lingering effects of last night's adrenaline.
He filled two bowls and carried them outside.
Harlen was already on the porch, checking the treeline, methodical, like he was counting something.
Vesperyn set one bowl down beside him without a word.
Harlen took it. "You look like hell."
"I feel like hell."
"Good," Harlen said. "Means you're paying attention."
They ate in silence.
Vesperyn's hands still trembled slightly around the bowl. He pressed them tighter, willing them to stop.
Vesperyn watched Harlen between bites. The old man's eyes never rested. They drifted from tree to tree, like he was counting threats no one else could see.
Vesperyn set his bowl down carefully.
His hands were steadier now. The food had helped.
"I need to ask you something," he said.
Harlen kept eating. "Ask."
Vesperyn took a breath.
"Where I'm from," he said slowly, "there were no monsters. No magic. No... Echoes or any of this."
He gestured vaguely at the forest around them.
"Everything was normal." His voice caught slightly. "Safe."
Harlen chewed.
"I don't belong here," Vesperyn continued. "I came through a portal. Which means portals exist. Which means—"
He stopped.
Started again.
"How do I go back?"
The words hung in the air between them.
Harlen swallowed slowly. Set his bowl aside. Wiped his mouth with the back of one calloused hand.
Then he finally looked at Vesperyn.
"You don't."
Vesperyn's stomach dropped. "What?"
"You don't go back," Harlen repeated. "That's the answer."
"But....." Vesperyn leaned forward. "You don't know that. You don't even know where I'm from. Maybe there's a way, maybe if I find someone who....."
"Kid." Harlen's voice was flat. Final. "I've lived a long time. I've seen a lot of things. And I'm telling you—people don't leave this world once they're in it."
Vesperyn felt something cold settle in his chest.
"That's not true," he said. "My mother sent me here. She opened the portal. That means it's possible to....."
"Your mother," Harlen interrupted, "sent you away from something."
He held Vesperyn's gaze.
"Not to something. Away."
Vesperyn's throat tightened.
"There's a difference," Harlen continued. "And you're smart enough to know it."
Silence.
The forest sounds pressed in rustling leaves, distant bird calls that didn't sound quite right.
"So what," Vesperyn said finally, voice rough. "I just... stay here? Forever?"
Harlen shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe you find a way. Maybe your mother's people come looking for you."
He picked up his bowl again.
"But banking on it?" He shook his head. "That's how you die waiting."
Vesperyn stared at his hands.
His mother's face flashed in his mind. The way she'd looked at him when she pressed the ring into his palm.
*I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.*
"What if I don't want to stay?" he asked quietly.
Harlen took another bite of mash.
"Doesn't matter what you want," he said. "Matters what is."
He glanced at Vesperyn.
"You want my advice?"
Vesperyn nodded, not trusting his voice.
"Stop thinking about going back," Harlen said. "Start thinking about surviving forward."
He stood, brushing dirt from his pants.
"Because right now? You're in a world that will kill you if you're not paying attention. And if you're busy looking over your shoulder at a door that might not exist?"
He met Vesperyn's eyes.
"You won't see what's in front of you until it's too late."
Vesperyn sat there after Harlen went inside.
The bowl of grey mash sat untouched in his lap, cooling.
*Stop thinking about going back. Start thinking about surviving forward.*
He'd come here thinking this was temporary. A mistake. Something that could be fixed.
But what if it couldn't?
What if his mother had sent him here knowing he'd never return?
What if she'd chosen his survival over ever seeing him again?
His chest tightened.
He thought about Darian. About his father's head rolling across the floor.
They were gone.
And he was here.
Alone.
The word settled over him like a weight.
He'd been so focused on getting back that he hadn't let himself think about what "back" even meant anymore.
There was no home to return to.
Not really.
Even if he found a way, what would he be going back to? An empty house? Memories that would tear him apart?
Vesperyn squeezed his eyes shut.
*Survive forward.*
He didn't know what that looked like yet.
But Harlen was right about one thing—he couldn't afford to keep looking backward.
Not here.
Not in a place where everyone wanted him dead.
He opened his eyes and looked at the forest.
Fine.
If he couldn't go home, he'd learn to survive here.
And when he was strong enough—when he understood this world and how it worked—
He'd find Darian.
He'd make Kaiden pay.
And then maybe, maybe he'd figure out what "home" even meant anymore.
He picked up the bowl and forced himself to eat.
The mash tasted like ash.
He ate it anyway.