The sun was high when Rivian stepped out of the clay house, shielding his eyes against the bright rays. The heat wasn’t like the dry warmth that came with the breeze of Lacrome’s summers. It felt heavier, smoldering. It wrapped around his body rather than basking him in warmth and light. The village ahead shimmered like a mirage, its towers of clay and copper twisting into the sky like vines.

  There are no monuments or sigils. There were tattered red flags with gold eagles placed atop each building. It was land that seemed free of crowns. That brought him back to the somber thoughts. He wasn’t king anymore. He wasn’t even sure what he was now.

  Leonora stood near the well, drawing up a wooden bucket of water. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing thin, branching scars along her forearms—burns, maybe. Old, healed, and layered like she’d seen her share of battles.

  “Still gazing at the sun like it might answe you?” She asked, not looking at him.

  Rivian let out a nervous chuckle, offering her a weak smile. “Back where I’m from, the sun was lick. Yours is…” He looked up again, blinking at the light. “Bold and loud.”

  Leonora hauled the back of water up on the rope rump, and began pulling it up to give it to the old woman standing on the clay house roof. She then chuckled at Rivian’s observation, dusting her gloved hands off.

  “Welcome to Varn. Lands of heat, sandstorms, and too many folks with their screws loose.” She introduced.

  He made his way to the well, sitting on the edge. “What is this place, really? The birds have crystal wings. There are beasts that hide within the dunes that don’t seem to have a shadow despite the sun being out. It’s like its own world.

  “Well, Sarinia is one world with twenty realms. Each realm has their own world with their own culture, lore and way of using magic. We all speak our own tongue, but share the common tongue.” She explained, taking a seat beside him.

  Rivian’s eyes widened in awe. A world with twenty realms was extremely difficult to understand. Sarinia was far bigger than he had initially thought. He was also grateful that he could speak the common tongue. The young man had heard the villagers interact with each other, and it was completely different to how he and Leonora had been communicating.

  Leonora finally looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “You talk like someone who’s seen a lot… and lost even more.” Rivian snapped out his daze, looking at the woman with bewilderment. She was astute. Well she had to be, she had to grow up fast for the sake of her sister. His hand instinctively moved to where Valebringer would’ve hung at his hip. Nothing. Just air and memory.

  “I came from a place called Sylon. It was a large continent made up of various kingdoms,” he said eventually. “I was… someone important there. I failed. Everyone.”

  Leonora didn’t interrupt. She just waited, listening the way a soldier might in the quiet before a battle.

  “There was a war. A Dark Lord. I tried to stop him, and I died for it. Or I should have.” He looked down at his hands. They still shook sometimes, when he remembered Aerion’s blade sliding into his chest. “But I woke up here. No sword. No crown. Just the sand and your sister’s face when I awoke in your house.”

  Leonora let out a low whistle, her expression forming one of pity. “Damn. And I thought my life was complicated.”

  A silence passed them again, not awkward this time, but tense.

  Then Leonora stood. “If what you say is true, then you’ve got two options. Stay here, play farmer, mayber help my little sis with her magic, if you know our magic system. Or….” she hesitated, her tone darkening. “You could follow the storm.”

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  Rivian looked at her incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “Storm?”

  She nodded, pointing toward the horizon. In the distance, a black wall of clouds was beginning to form. But it wasn’t like what a sandstorm would look like. It pulsed like a living thing. Occasionally, flickers of red lights danced within it.

  “Something’s been brewing past the Varnic Dunes. Traders have spoken about people going missing. Shadows moving without bodies. Our storms used to be just sand and wind. Now they have voices of their own. I’ve also gathered that this isn’t unique to our realm either. Something is happening in Sarinia and I don’t like it.” Her tone once again grew darker, her azure eyes narrowing the longer as she looked at the dark clouds.

  Rivian felt a cold chill cut through the heat.

  “I don’t know what you are, Rivian,” Leonora said, “but something tells me you didn’t just land here by chance. Maybe your fight isn’t over. Maybe you were brought here for a reason.”

  He looked again at the storm. It reminded him too much of Aerion’s darkness. But unlike last time, he wasn’t weighed down by a crown or a crumbling kingdom. He was just a man now. A swordless warrior. Perhaps that was enough.

  #####

  Later that night, Leonora led him to the village square. It was a small plaza with twisted lamp posts that burned with greenish-blue fire. Elders sat on stone benches, muttering about omens. Children ran barefoot through the dust, their laughter rising like sparks. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

  “I want to repay you,” Rivian said as they watched Lavinia chase a glowing beetle. “Not just for saving me. But… for giving me a second chance.”

  Leonora crossed her arms. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I want to learn. About this world. About its threats. And… if there’s something coming, I want to help stop it.”

  Leonora eyed him for a moment. “You know how to fight?”

  Rivian gave a grim smile. “I used to lead armies.”

  The young woman pulled her ginger into a low ponytail, then fixed her bangs and the strands that framed her face.

  “I wasn’t going to mention it at first, but your mana burns bright and gold. Light magic, huh?” She asked, turning to face him complete, a slight smile plastered on her face.

  Rivian nodded vehemently. “Yes, yes, that’s right. I used not to rely on my magic, thinking my sword was enough, and it was before….” He grimaced. Leonora placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “There’s no use of being stuck in the past. You were given another chance at life, and the only thing to do is move forward. How about you turn your king’s oath into a hero’s oath—something like that aleast.” She encouraged him.

  “But where do we begin?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. The woman stared at the blonde man for a second, then broke out into a wide grin.

  “Gaija.”

  “The old man you told Lavinia to collect books from?” He said.

  Leonora nodded vigorously. Her grin widening further. “He has all the magic books you’ll need to harness your magic,” she explained, “we’ll set out first thing at dawn.”

  #####

  The next morning, they set out at dawn. Gaija’s tower was carved into the side of a canyon, partially sunken and covered in climbing glass-vines. The inside was a winding maze of scrolls, strange artifacts, and glowing fungi that lit the air in blues and purples.

  The man himself was tall and willowy, his skin like cracked stone, his eyes like two pieces of obsidian. He didn’t look human, but he also didn’t look monstrous.

  “So this must be the man Lavinia was blabbering about?” He questioned no one, blowing on his smoke pipe. His soulless eyes continued to bore into Rivian, who remained firm in his eye contact. “Your name, kid?”

  “Rivian Lionheart, sir.”

  “There’s no reason to be so rigid. Just refer to me as Gaija.” The old man muttered, putting out his smoke pipe and refilling immediately. “Leonora told me you wanted to learn magic. Why?”

  “I failed to keep an oath, and seeing that there is something dark brewing within Sarinia is my chance to fulfil the oath to save and keep the peace.” Rivian explained, looking down at his hands, that was clear from the callouses he had worked so hard for. Gaija kept his gaze on Rivian. He then lit up his smoke pipe and took a long inhale.

  “Then you should follow Leonora as she goes back to adventuring. Train here, defeat whatever is nesting in our desert, then set out with her.”

  “But I have no sword,” Rivian said. “No allies.”

  “You fool! You have one ally. Leonora is too trusting, and it’s not always worked out in her favour. However, she trusts you enough to push you to come here, then she is an ally. And with her as an ally, you’ll have more.” Gaija walked up to the kid and towered over him. “As for your sword. We’ll forge one.”

  Rivian’s eyes widened, almost getting choked up by the kindness he had been shown since he had arrived. He then kneeled on one knee.

  “I promise to not disappoint.”