The Dawn of Malice

Observers

The warmth of Ximena’s workshop embraced Lucian as he stood by the doorway, watching Erasmus and Ximena engage in animated conversation. It was a heartwarming sight to witness, the reunion of family after years of estrangement. Lucian couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment for his friend, even amidst the tumultuous times they all found themselves in.

He leaned against a workbench, a small smile playing at his lips as he observed the two of them catching up on lost time. The clinking of coffee cups and the murmur of their voices created a soothing backdrop, momentarily drowning out the chaos of the world beyond the workshop’s walls.

Erasmus’s laughter echoed through the space, the sound carrying a hint of nostalgia and genuine happiness. Ximena’s expressive gestures punctuated her words, her aquamarine eyes sparkling with energy. Lucian found himself momentarily lost in their interaction, a brief respite from the weight of their shared burdens.

As their conversation continued, Lucian’s gaze wandered to the tools and gadgets that adorned the workshop, each a testament to Ximena’s dedication and creativity. He felt a pang of admiration for her resilience, the way she had carved out her path despite the challenges that life had thrown her way.

Eventually, the conversation began to wind down, and Erasmus’s attention turned toward Lucian. A warm smile tugged at Lucian’s lips as he approached them, the camaraderie between them palpable.

“Lucian, my boy!” Erasmus exclaimed, extending his hand in greeting.

Lucian clasped Erasmus’s hand firmly, returning the smile. “It’s good to see you again, Erasmus.”

Ximena’s eyes met his, and she offered a friendly nod. “Lucian, you’re welcome to stay with us for a few days. It’s the least we can do after you helped us at Verdania.”

Lucian’s smile widened, genuine gratitude in his expression. “Thank you, Ximena. I truly appreciate it, but I’m afraid I can’t stay for long.”

Erasmus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Lucian’s gaze flickered to the window, his thoughts drifting to Caerus and the journey that lay ahead. “I need to catch up with Caerus. He’s on his way to confront some challenges, and I want to be there to support him.”

Ximena’s brows furrowed with concern. “Is everything all right?”

Lucian nodded reassuringly trying his hardest to sell the lie. “Yes, it’s nothing life-threatening, but he could use a friend by his side. Besides, we’ve been through a lot together, and I want to make sure he’s not facing these trials alone.”

Erasmus’s eyes softened with understanding. “Well, my friend, take this with you.” He handed Lucian a small leather pouch. “It’s a blend of herbs I’ve prepared. It should help ease your worries and keep you grounded.”

Lucian accepted the pouch with gratitude, his fingers brushing over the supple leather. “Thank you, Erasmus. I’ll make sure to put it to good use.”

“And please, Lucian,” Ximena stepped closer, her expression earnest. “If you change your mind or need any help along the way, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Lucian’s heart warmed at their genuine concern. “I appreciate that, Ximena. Thank you.”

As Lucian prepared to take his leave, Ximena offered to arrange transportation for him. However, he politely declined, giving the excuse that he wanted some time to think as he walked. While it was true that he needed space for his thoughts, the real reason was the nagging unease he felt within the confines of a vehicle.

With heartfelt farewells, Lucian left the workshop, a fresh loaf of bread tucked under his arm, and the leather pouch safely stowed in his bag. The chilly air of the city greeted him as he stepped outside, and as he set off toward the train station, his mind whirred with a mix of determination and anticipation for the road that lay ahead.

Lucian’s steps echoed against the cobblestone streets of Serendell as he navigated through the bustling city. The sights, sounds, and scents of the urban landscape enveloped him, a stark contrast to the recent events he had witnessed. He couldn’t help but marvel at the intricate blend of machinery that defined this metropolis, a testament to the ingenuity of its inhabitants.

Buildings of various architectural styles rose into the sky, a symphony of stone, glass, and metal that somehow coexisted harmoniously. Market stalls lined the streets, their colorful wares creating a vibrant tapestry that drew the attention of passersby. Lucian’s gaze flickered to each scene, his keen Laresian eyes absorbing every detail, every flicker of movement.

He approached one person after another, politely asking for guidance, but his inquiries were met with indifference or a hurried brush-off. Frustration gnawed at him, and he sighed in exasperation, chastising himself for refusing Ximena’s offer of assistance earlier.

As he turned yet another corner, a sense of weariness settled over him. He glanced around, hoping to find a friendly face that might be willing to help. That’s when his gaze fell upon an older lady, her hair silvered with age, yet her eyes held a kindness and wisdom that drew Lucian’s attention. He approached her tentatively, a desperate look in his eyes.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Lucian began, his voice carrying a note of urgency. “I’m a bit lost and was wondering if you could help me find my way.”

The older lady regarded him with a gentle smile, her gaze understanding. “Of course, young man. Serendell can be quite a maze if you’re not familiar with it. Where are you headed?”

Lucian explained his destination, grateful for the woman’s willingness to listen. She nodded in understanding and began to provide him with clear and concise directions. As they talked, Lucian found himself opening up about his recent journey and the challenges he and his friends had faced. The woman’s eyes softened with empathy, and she offered words of encouragement and wisdom.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “Had you chosen not to speak with me, I believe I’d be forever lost.”

The older lady patted his hand gently. “You’re welcome, dear. Just remember, you’re never truly alone on your journey.”

With a final nod of gratitude, Lucian continued on his way, following the directions the woman had provided. As he walked, a subtle unease prickled at the back of his mind, a feeling that he was being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he thought he caught a glimpse of a mysterious silhouette in the distance.

The figure seemed to melt into the crowd, disappearing. Lucian’s brow furrowed in suspicion, but he shook off the feeling and focused on his path ahead. There was much to be done, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by shadows.

After several twists and turns, he found himself standing before the grand train station, an imposing structure that seemed to reach for the heavens. The station was a spectacle in its own right, a fusion of classical design and modern innovation. Lucian’s eyes widened as he took in the enormity of the steam-powered engine that stood before him, its metal behemoth exhaling clouds of steam and emitting a deafening whistle.

Lucian’s sensitive Laresian ears twitched at the sharp sound, causing him to flinch involuntarily. He raised a hand to his ear, a slight wince marring his features. Unbeknownst to him, a shadowy figure in a trench coat had been trailing him since he left Ximena’s workshop. The man’s gaze followed Lucian’s movements, his eyes narrowing as the train’s whistle pierced the air.

In an instant, the man’s eyes flickered with a faint crimson light, a momentary glint of something otherworldly. His lips curled into a sinister smile as he observed Lucian entering the train station and boarding the awaiting train. With a subtle nod, the man melted back into the crowds, his presence almost imperceptible.

Inside the train, Lucian found a seat by the window and settled in, his thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation and introspection. As the train’s engine roared to life and the cityscape began to blur outside the window, Lucian’s gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery.

Little did Lucian know that his every move was being observed by a shadowy figure who had taken a keen interest in his journey.

Soon the rhythmic clatter of the train’s wheels against the tracks came to a gradual halt as the town of Lyndhythe emerged through the frosty window. Lucian’s breath misted as he peered out, his heart heavy with the weight of his thoughts. The journey had taken him further from Verdania, from Erasmus and Ximena, and closer to the elusive Caerus.

As the train doors slid open, Lucian descended onto the platform, his boots crunching on the cold gravel. His stomach rumbled in protest, reminding him that he hadn’t had a proper meal in hours since the ticket he’d bought did not come with a meal. The aroma of warm food wafted from a nearby station cafe, enticing him forward.

He walked into the cafe, the bell above the door chiming softly as he entered. The cozy interior offered a brief respite from the chilly morning air. Lucian found an empty seat near the window and took a moment to survey the menu. He ordered a hearty breakfast and leaned back, his thoughts drifting back to the events that had transpired.

A faint sense of unease prickled at the back of his mind, like a shadow lurking just out of sight. He subtly scanned the cafe, his gaze landing on a figure in a trench coat who seemed to be lingering at the entrance. Lucian’s instincts kicked in, his Laresian senses attuned to the subtle shifts in the environment.

The man’s attempt at blending in was obvious to Lucian, his movements too deliberate, his demeanor too tense. Lucian’s lips tightened into a thoughtful frown. He had been trained to observe and assess, to read the intentions behind a person’s actions. And he had learned to trust his instincts.

Pushing his half-eaten meal aside, Lucian rose from his seat and strode purposefully towards the exit. He knew he needed to act swiftly, to shake off this unwanted shadow. As he stepped out onto the bustling platform, he increased his pace, his strides long and purposeful.

The man in the trench coat maintained a cautious distance, his eyes fixed on Lucian’s back. Lucian’s jaw clenched. He needed to confront this situation head-on, to put an end to the cat-and-mouse game that was unfolding.

As he turned a corner into a narrow alleyway, Lucian’s heart raced in anticipation. The moment had come to make a stand, to force this unknown entity to reveal himself. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, his body shrouded in the shadows. His grip tightened around the hilt of his dagger, its blade glinting dimly in the muted light.

He didn’t have to wait long. The man in the trench coat emerged from the bustling thoroughfare, his steps hesitant as he glanced around, searching for any signs of his quarry. Lucian’s breath slowed, his focus homing in on the figure drawing nearer.

With a fluid motion, Lucian lunged forward, his gloved hand clamping over the man’s mouth as he forcefully pulled him into the concealed alcove. The man’s eyes widened in shock – his muffled protests stifled by Lucian’s iron grip. The cold steel of a dagger pressed against his throat was a stark reminder of the precariousness of his situation.

Lucian’s voice was low, a dangerous edge to his words as he leaned in, his eyes ablaze with intensity. “Who are you, and why have you been following me?”

The man’s eyes darted nervously, his attempt at speech thwarted by Lucian’s unyielding hold. Panic and confusion danced across his features, a stark contrast to the calculated manner of a seasoned stalker. Lucian’s suspicion deepened. This man didn’t seem to comprehend the danger he had placed himself in.

Gently, Lucian eased his grip, allowing the man to speak. The words that tumbled from his lips were a jumble of apologies and stammers, a clear indication that he had not anticipated this turn of events. It became evident that he had not realized the extent of his actions, nor the depths of his intrusion into Lucian’s affairs.

Lucian’s grip on the dagger loosened, his suspicion easing slightly. He studied the man’s bewildered expression, weighing the authenticity of his response.

Stepping back, Lucian allowed the man to speak, his stance still cautious but less overtly threatening. The man stumbled as he let in a deep breath, casting a final glance at Lucian before speaking.

“W-Why did you threaten me with a knife?” The man stammered.

Lucian’s voice was firm, laced with an edge of authority. “You’ve been following me.”

The man’s attempt to prove innocence was feeble at best. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lucian’s gaze bore into the man’s, his Laresian heritage lending him an intensity that was hard to ignore. “Save your lies. You’re here to find Caerus.”

“W-who?” asked the trembling man. And Lucian found that the situation seemed like it was more a result of misunderstanding than malevolence.

Lucian nodded his head to the side and the man took his leave entering the busy flow of pedestrians leaving the station. As the man retreated, Lucian’s gaze narrowed, a growing realization dawning upon him. He turned his attention back to the train station, his eyes settling on the snickering figure reentering the train just as its engines began to churn. The puzzle pieces fell into place. The man in the trench coat had been manipulated, a mere pawn in a larger game.

With a determined set to his jaw, Lucian stepped out of the alley, his mind racing with new questions and renewed purpose. He needed to uncover the orchestrator behind this charade, untangle the threads of deception, and discover the true motives that had set him on this path.

The train pulled away from the station, its departure marked by the fading echoes of its wheels against the tracks. Lucian’s gaze remained fixed on its receding form, his resolve solidifying.

The departing train’s rhythmic clatter and the plumes of steam seemed to mock Lucian as it gathered speed, threatening to slip through his grasp. His heart pounded in his chest, a fierce determination igniting his every fiber. With an unfaltering resolve, he let go of any pretense of secrecy, allowing his Laresian heritage to blaze forth.

Hair aglow-like embers and eyes shimmering with an otherworldly crimson light, Lucian’s aura radiated power. The air around him hummed an electric charge that danced along his skin. The whispers of his lineage were drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears, his focus singular and unyielding.

His muscles strained, pulsating with lifeblood and raw energy, as he poured every ounce of his strength into a desperate pursuit. Each step he took was fueled by a fierce determination to catch up to the speeding train, to bridge the gap between himself and the fleeting carriage.

As his fingers stretched out towards the passing train, he felt the searing wind against his skin, the force of its momentum almost knocking him off balance. His hand brushed against the cold metal of the carriage’s exterior, his heart leaping with hope as his fingers grazed the edge.

But fate had other plans. A sudden crack rents the air, a whip snapping with deadly accuracy towards Lucian’s outstretched hand. The whip-wielder revealed himself, a shadowy figure perched on the train car’s roof, their eyes meeting in a charged moment of defiance. Lucian’s gaze bore into the stranger’s, his own iridescent crimson eyes ablaze with determination and a fierce resolve.

“Lucian,” the figure called, “I thought you died. Happy to see you again, old friend.”

“I can’t say the same for you, Nepharae,” Lucian spoke between gasps of breath.

“Can’t catch a breath can you, Lucian?” Nepharae grinned sinisterly.

Nepharae raised his hand, whip arching back before shooting forward. The wind cracked with a deafening snap as the Laresian attempted again to strike Lucian as he grabbed at the carriage. With reflexes kicking in, Lucian reached out, his grip tightening instinctively around the lethal coil of leather. Planting his feet firmly on the ground, he braced himself against the force that sought to tear him away.

With a herculean effort, Lucian pulled with all his might, muscles straining against the resistance. The whip’s trajectory reversed – its momentum thrown into disarray. The attacker’s balance faltered, still holding on with an iron grip. Lucian’s grip remained unwavering as he pulled the whip along with his assailant, sending him stumbling forward and falling off the train.

With Lucian’s momentum, Nepharae lost control of his footing. The world around Lucian blurred as he and Nepharae tumbled down the hill, their bodies colliding with the earth and rocks. The impact jolted through their bones, each jarring collision sending sparks of pain radiating through their bodies. Lucian fought against the disorienting force of gravity, trying to regain his bearings as the ground seemed to spin beneath him.

Finally, the chaotic tumble came to a halt, the two Laresians landing in a tangled heap at the bottom of the hill. The sound of the train’s metal wheels on the tracks reverberated in his ears, a constant reminder of the perilous situation they found themselves in.

Blood trickled from a cut on Lucian’s temple. Gasping for air, Lucian pushed himself upright, his senses reeling as he tried to shake off the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Beside him, Nepharae stirred, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The glow of Lucian’s iridescent crimson eyes met his, and he saw the same determination burning within them. They were both warriors, both products of a lineage marked by power and struggle. Despite the disorienting fall, the fire that had ignited within them remained unquenched.

As they rose to their feet, their bodies swaying unsteadily, Lucian’s fingers flexed instinctively. His eyes met Nepharae’s gaze, his voice steady despite the adrenaline that surged through his veins. “I don’t know why you were following me, but I won’t let you interfere with my mission.”

Nepharae’s response was a low growl, a feral intensity in his eyes. “Your mission? And what exactly is that?”

He clenched his fists, his own eyes ablaze with an iridescent crimson light. “To protect those I care about, and to uncover the truth behind the web of deceit that has entangled the Laresian lineage for ages!”

“That’s not for you to decide! Traitor!” Nepharae screamed. “You were the greatest general the Laresian army had ever seen, yet you chose to do battle with your lineage.”

“An honorable battle!” Lucian clenched his teeth. “The Laresian army has lost its vision, the empire is lost under the leadership of the Blackthorne family!”

“And yet, you choose to defend a teenage clown that’s way over his head?!” Nepharae whipped his arms to his side, screaming. “I would have followed you to the gates of the underworld. I fought by your side at the battle of Thermopolis. But this? This is madness.”

“Enough talk.” Lucian dipped his head low, his eyes steady as he gripped his sword. “I will not have you question my beliefs. Neither I nor the world owes you an explanation.” Lucian threw his enemy’s whip at him, and he caught it mid-air. “But I will give you a chance, Nepharae… show me how you’ve grown.”

The tension in the air was palpable, as Nepharae slammed his whip from side to side, arching it back and forth, gaining momentum, ready to strike. As their eyes locked in an unspoken challenge, Lucian couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, now stranded in the port town of Lyndhythe, fighting an old friend.