I knew I was unconscious.

  Or at least—my body was.

  My mind was awake.

  Thoughts moved, turning over like embers in a dying fire. I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t gone. I was just… floating. Suspended in something that felt both calm and deeply unnatural.

  I had time.

  Time to think.

  A few days ago, I had no work. No purpose. Now, I was tangled in a storm of events, shifting pieces I barely understood.

  I started sorting them, piece by piece, organizing the chaos in my head.

  First Task: Find Sioh.

  That was the mission. That was what started all of this.

  But it was never that simple.

  There was too much surrounding it—too many shadows, too many questions. Who was Aurelia? What had really happened? And the biggest question of all—

  Was Sioh truly the first Coldian traitor?

  Unlikely.

  But plausible.

  Second Task: Kill a man.

  To even get close to unraveling the first, we had to complete the second.

  A name. Tjogg the Ship Mover.

  Nothing else.

  No history. No reason. Just an order—remove the target.

  That would be our first real job. But we’d need to reach Stonepeak first. That meant getting a boat.

  Third Task: Revenge.

  Personal. Unspoken.

  This one, I didn’t need orders for. This one, I didn’t need permission for.

  Manach and I shared this burden.

  Valinis de Conne. Lobos de Conne.

  Two powerful men. Too powerful. Unnatural.

  We weren’t ready. That much was clear. But I needed to know.

  Who were they? Where did they draw their power from? And, most importantly—

  How do we kill them?

  Stopping them meant only one thing—Manach and I would end their lives.

  Uncertainties.

  Even with everything clear in my mind, some things still didn’t add up.

  First. Was Manach even alive?

  He took the full force of that final blow. His body had crumpled like a broken doll. I had barely been holding on. Was I even alive?

  Second. The dwarf.

  Shivering. Freezing. Dying.

  I saw it with my own eyes—his body breaking down from the cold. And yet, when I collapsed, he was walking toward us.

  Walking.

  That didn’t make sense.

  Third. If Manach and I were both out, we couldn’t send a runic message back to the Cold.

  Which meant someone would come looking.

  Which meant we were on borrowed time.

  Which meant the moment we woke up, we were in danger.

  The Cold doesn’t tolerate failures. If our brethren found us like this, questions would be asked. We’d be interrogated. We’d be tracked.

  And just like that, we’d be back to square one.

  Fourth. The strangest thought of all—

  I had been running through everything in my mind, breaking it down, analyzing it.

  But I hadn’t asked the most important question.

  Where was my body?

  Was I lying in that cavern, waiting for death to take me?

  Or…

  Was something else keeping me alive?

  Even in this state, I felt tired.

  Not the exhaustion of wounds or combat. Something deeper.

  I had spent too long thinking, sorting through the wreckage of my mind. And now, it seemed, my body—or whatever remained of me—had decided.

  I shut down.

  I don’t know how long I drifted.

  Time stopped meaning anything.

  Then, the dream came.

  Vivid. Too vivid. Not the strange, fragmented kind of dream I sometimes had, but something clear. Structured.

  A place.

  I stood in a vast chamber. A grand hall, dominated by a table.

  Massive. Arcane.

  Veins of magic ran through it like living conduits, pulsing in shades of blue and violet beneath an expensive wooden surface. Emerald and ruby inlays shimmered in the dim light. Six throne-like chairs surrounded it—four on the sides, two placed at the head and foot.

  Everything reeked of power. Not just wealth—power. The kind of power that lingers in rooms where decisions are made.

  The walls were obscured. Not by shadow, but fog.

  I knew there were pictures hanging, ornaments decorating the space, symbols of some kind of history—

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  But I couldn’t see them.

  I could only feel them.

  A floating brazier hovered above the table, held by nothing. It radiated warmth, its platinum surface glowing with an arcane sheen, pulsing faintly in purple hues.

  I wasn’t alone.

  They were there—servants, maybe? They had no faces, just figures dressed in high-class attire, immaculate leather, and garments too fine for anything but royalty.

  They moved with precision, carrying food and drink that felt… mine.

  Mine, and yet—

  I was afraid of it.

  I directed them, telling them where to place things. Ordering. Commanding.

  Then, they vanished.

  I stood by one of the thrones.

  And she appeared.

  A woman, approaching from the fog.

  I couldn’t see her face. Couldn’t focus on her features.

  But my body knew her.

  A deep, unsettling pull—something like love, something like terror.

  My chest tightened. It was the same feeling I had when I stood before Shadathor—or at least, damn close.

  She spoke.

  I heard nothing.

  Yet I knew she was speaking.

  I nodded. Instinctively.

  Others entered.

  Their faces were hidden. Masks.

  One of them turned to me.

  "Master Konneus, it is a pleasure to meet you."

  Konneus?

  The name hit like a dagger to the gut.

  That wasn’t my name. That wasn’t me.

  I opened my mouth to speak—

  And the world collapsed.

  Darkness swallowed everything.

  Then—

  A feeling.

  Not a dream. Not yet reality.

  My eyes opening.

  And I still didn’t know which world I was waking into.

  My vision was fogged.

  Heavy. Tired.

  Pain lanced through me, dull and anchored deep. My body felt weighted, as if pinned beneath stone. The first thing I saw was a ceiling, carved stone, polished and lined with marble markings—too fine, too well-made for anything ordinary.

  I tried to lift my head.

  It was like dragging a boulder with my neck.

  A voice cut through the haze—soft, muffled.

  "Please, don’t move."

  Female. But her tone was lost in the murk of my hearing. Age? Accent? I couldn’t place either.

  I listened. There was no point in not listening.

  I let time pass—ten minutes? Twenty? Long enough to start feeling my body again.

  When I tried to move, the bed shifted, rising up with me. That’s when I saw where I was.

  A medical chamber—but not just any medical chamber.

  Expensive.

  The kind only the wealthy could afford.

  An alchemical station stood nearby, cluttered with herbs, glass vials filled with liquids in too many colors, reagents I didn’t recognize. Opposite, a shelf of medical tools—surgical equipment, bandages, herbal pastes. And beside that, arcane instruments, the kind used in magical healing. I didn’t know much about them, but I knew money when I saw it.

  Someone had paid a fortune to keep me alive.

  A figure stood nearby—a woman.

  Blonde. Mid-twenties, maybe. Medical garments.

  Beside her, a man in iron armor, helmeted, carrying a longsword. Guard.

  A bodyguard.

  That made sense.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, voice calm. Genuine.

  “Fine,” I mumbled.

  I wasn’t fine.

  “Please, sir, I have to ask you some questions. It’s procedure. Please answer honestly. Can you do that for me?”

  I nodded.

  She started again, same question.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a mountain fell on me.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t react much, just absorbed the answer. “What’s your name?”

  “Koch.”

  “Okay, Koch. Nice to meet you. My name is Leliana. I am your caretaker.”

  She paused. Then:

  “Do you know what happened to you?”

  “Yes.”

  Too vividly.

  “Do you know how long you were out?”

  “No.”

  “You were unconscious for two weeks.”

  Two weeks.

  Where the hell was I?

  “Do you know who brought you here?” she asked. This time, her voice held something else—like she already knew.

  I thought back.

  “…Dwarf?” I muttered.

  She smiled, intrigued. Interested.

  “Good,” she said. “Do you know where you are?”

  I glanced around. The room told me nothing.

  “No,” I admitted. “Some kind of medical facility.”

  She nodded.

  “You are in the City of Lampis,” she said. “Now, rest. I will return with medicine, food, and anything else you need. After that, you may ask whatever you like.”

  It sounded rehearsed. Too clean.

  Before I could speak, she was gone, the guard following in step.

  And now, I understood why she had a bodyguard.

  Not because she didn’t trust me.

  Because I was in Lampis.

  And here, Coldian blood was worth less than nothing.

  Then why was I saved?

  Even if I was worthless to Lampis, I was still Coldian—and Lampis flew the Empire’s banner.

  Lampis.

  The City of Lanterns—or so I’d heard. Never been inside. Always around it. Always on the outside, using the docks outside its great walls. The city was different. Unique.

  It sat in Sheer Cold territory, yet it wasn’t ruled by the Sheer Cold Council. Not really. The docks—those were under Council control. But the city itself? Lampis was a fortress, walled off by Sheer Cold ice, cut off from the very people who protected it.

  I knew its history. Everyone did.

  Domino—the deity, the ruler of the Coldians—came here long before we existed. Before the Empire, before the Council, before we were anything. He lived here. Stayed. Thrived. Survived.

  They say he was helped. They say he was protected. From what, nobody knows.

  But when the Sheer Cold Council formed, Domino returned.

  And he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.

  Lampis took the deal. Protection. Independence. Trade.

  A city of humans, followers of the Religion of Dawn, worshippers of Lightrai, the goddess of light. One of the largest religions on Orbis. Maybe the largest.

  And its ruler, whoever he was at the time, used that deal. Used it well.

  Lampis became the trade hub—the bridge between the Sheer Cold Empire and the rest of the world. The ruler took the biggest cut, left the smallest margins for the Empire’s protection fees. No Coldians allowed inside. No Lychen either. Only humans, merchants, tourists.

  We protected them.

  And they hated us for it.

  I never knew why.

  Once, this place had been nothing—just a village. Now it was a colossus. And rumor had it, a Trade La Grande was opening here.

  A Trade La Grande.

  The biggest market in the world. A place where anything—anything—could be bought or sold.

  Wherever one appeared, wealth followed. Filthy wealth.

  Only two existed in the world—Riveround City, in the east, controlled by merchant lords, and Mispel City, a sprawling megalopolis, the beating heart of crime, intrigue, power, and trade.

  Now Lampis was about to join them.

  The name Lampis itself came from its lanterns.

  A story—ancient, vague. In the darkest hour, the city had only one lantern left. One light in the void. One beacon of hope. And by its glow, the people survived.

  A city of light, in a world that was anything but.

  And yet, with all those thoughts running through my head, only one mattered.

  Where was Manach?

  Minutes passed.

  Then the door opened.

  Leliana entered, her bodyguard trailing behind.

  She carried a platter—meat, vegetables, fruit, water, and tea. A proper meal. And I hate to admit it, but I almost cried at the sight.

  She set the tray on a small table near me, then adjusted the bed so I could sit up.

  The guard took a seat across the room, uninterested. Didn’t even look at me. Whatever reason he was here—whether to protect her or keep an eye on me—he clearly didn’t care.

  Leliana, though.

  She smiled, bright and genuine, and for some reason, that put me at ease.

  “This is all I could get. They don’t normally give out food like this for a patient in serious condition.”

  A serious condition.

  Or a Coldian.

  I chewed, swallowed, then murmured, “By that, you mean Coldian?”

  She hesitated. “No, I didn’t—”

  I cut her off. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” I sighed, pushing my irritation down. “I’m grateful for this. Truly. But I have a lot of questions.”

  I wanted to be warm, to show appreciation. But I wasn’t built for that. A lifetime as a High Elf, then a Coldian—neither race was known for kindness. It wasn’t in my nature.

  Leliana saw my effort, and she smiled again.

  “I know. Ask away.”

  I thought for a moment, then said, “The other Coldian that was with me—was he brought here?”

  Her expression shifted.

  “Yes. But he’s still in a comatose state. Urgent care. Critical.”

  “Will he make it?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  Genuine. Real.

  I studied her. “You’re just a caretaker, yet you speak like a doctor.”

  A flicker of frustration crossed her face.

  “To be frank? Not a single doctor in this whole facility—no, the whole city—wanted to treat you.” Her voice was steady, but there was something underneath. “The Coldians outside the city had no medical teams available. You were too far gone to be moved or teleported. So I took you under my care.”

  She straightened.

  “One day, I’ll call myself a doctor. But for now, you’re stuck with an ordinary caretaker.”

  I didn’t care about titles.

  “Thank you.” I meant it. Even if I hated the situation. No magic. No alchemy. Just primitive medicine. It was pathetic.

  “The dwarf,” I said, shifting the topic. “He brought us with a human, I presume? Did they tell you how we survived the trip from the Southern Hinterlands to Lampis?”

  She nodded. “Yes. They said a group of woodland elves helped stabilize you for the journey.”

  It sounded rehearsed.

  But genuine.

  Hinterland elves—escaped slaves and mercenaries. Desperate to get on the Empire’s good side. They wanted resources. Protection. And they were willing to work for it.

  Saving a pair of Coldian survivors? That carried weight.

  I pushed further. “Where are the dwarf and human?”

  “Somewhere in the city. They said when you wake, you’ll find them.”

  She didn’t trust that answer. Neither did I.

  One last thing.

  “Final question,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Why did your people let us enter Lampis?”

  Leliana’s smile faltered.

  “I don’t know.”

  She turned slightly, glancing at her guard.

  Uncomfortable.

  Then she cleared her throat. “I have other patients to tend to. Finish your food. When you’re ready, call for me. I’ll bring what you need to walk, and I’ll take you through the city.”

  I frowned. “Why? I have no business in Lampis.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said lightly. “But I have a personal request. And I need to speak to you—somewhere else.”

  There was hope in her voice.

  Another task.

  I wasn’t interested. But I owed her. She saved me. She was saving Manach.

  I needed to see him.

  “Sure,” I said.

  The guard approached.

  Something about him put me on edge.