The morning was sharp in Balmat, abnormal. There was a light mist over the cobblestones that curled around boots and carriage wheels like strands of smoke. Lindsay walked alone down through the village, her patrol coat blowing loosely in the air. Kraft had been taken ill overnight — an ague from having stood for so long in the cold for her return the previous night. Every step was accompanied by guilt.
The streets were quieter than they had been in days, the world seemingly waiting with bated breath. Lindsay's thoughts flashed back to last night's conversation — the prisoner, the kid, Chief Ivers' reaction. She didn't want to believe it, didn't want to think that something like that could happen.
"No wounds. Just fear."
She flung the memory aside and went on walking. The fog was clearing when a piercing scream shattered the silence.
"Help!"
Without deliberation, Lindsay sprinted for the noise. Her boots thudded onto the stone in a harsh crunch, her heart racing. She cut a corner of an alley and saw him — a guy with a knife, holding up a woman against the wall. Not in this area, she thought. Not here.
The robber's gaze flicked up to hers. "Let me go and she gets to walk away unharmed," he snarled.
Lindsay's breathing eased. She absorbed his stance, the space between them, the slight tremble in his wrist. He was nervous. Not a murderer.
"Fine," she told him, voice even. "No tricks."
He nodded once. But before he could move toward her, a flash zipped past him. There was the ring of metal, and the man collapsed to the floor.
The woman exclaimed and turned around. "Oh—thank you, both of you!"
Lindsay looked toward the shadows where the attacker had come from. A figure stepped out of the darkness. Her stomach clenched.
"You," she whispered.
The boy stepped into the light, robe still draped around him. Face blank.
"How—?"
"Teleportation," he replied, as if discussing a normal method of travel.
Lindsay kept her hand near her sidearm, still pounding. "You have a habit of showing up at inopportune times."
He gave a small nod. "You're welcome."
She couldn't help a small exhale. "Right. Thanks." Her posture softened, but not completely.
He watched her in silence. There was no malice in his eyes, but no comfort either. Just distance — endless, measured distance.
"I heard what happened yesterday," she said. "The prisoner. What they said about you."
He didn't speak.
"Ivers said they died of fear. That they saw something. Something that shouldn't exist."
He actually blinked. "That explains most of it."
"That's not an answer."
"Does it matter?"
She laughed, startling even herself. "Of course something like you would exist. Why not? We've got magic, gods, glyphs that enable me to converse with someone on the other side of the continent, and I'm surprised by you?"
He remained silent, but his eyes probed her face. Not judging — observing.
"I'm working today still," she said tentatively. "Would you… join me?"
He didn't move. He stared at her as if the offer was bizarre, alien.
Then, a beat later: "Only if I bring Marie."
Lindsay's brow furrowed. "Marie?"
He blinked out. Not a flinch, not a hint. Simply disappeared.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared — Marie grasping his sleeve, wincing at the light.
Lindsay's face softened. "Of course… Marie."
She looked at him again. "What about Reinhard?"
"Safe."
She breathed in. Unexplained relief. She let it out.
The rest of the morning was strange rhythm. Marie was a whirlwind of questions, asking things Lindsay didn't have time to process.
"Why's that tree shaped so strangely?"
"Are those really guards? Do they actually wear swords?"
"Can I please have a coat like yours? What's your name again?"
Lindsay spun around mid-castle tour. "Is she always this energetic?"
He nodded. "Yes."
He didn't smile, but there was something in his attitude — stillness — that wasn't present before.
They were in the midst of crossing the village square when she saw him — Chief Ivers. His intense eyes raked over the crowd before settling in on them. Lindsay cursed under her breath.
Ivers advanced. "Patrol Lindsay," he nodded, "and…?"
Marie sprang forward before Lindsay could try to say anything. "I'm Marie! And this is my big brother!"
Lindsay cringed.
Ivers stared at the boy, and the boy stared back.
No words. Just a long, cold look. The kind that stopped time.
Then — Ivers laughed. A genuine laugh.
"Well. I didn't expect you to be here."
Lindsay's confusion increased. "Wait—you've met him before?"
"On documents, yes. The King… doesn't much care what he is, provided he gets out of the way."
"And if he doesn't?"
Ivers' grin disappeared. "Then the Kingdom steps in."
The boy's voice cut in, harsh. "Then why is somebody putting a spell on me from the top of that roof?"
They turned. Nothing.
Lindsay's gaze narrowed. "Are you certain?"
He didn't answer. Just stared.
A figure got up on the rooftop. Hooded, distant — and then vanished.
Lindsay and Ivers both took off.
He looked at Marie. "Time to leave."
She nodded.
The two of them vanished.
And the square, again, was quiet.