Lucas left Velmora just as the morning sun rose over the eastern hills. Golden light slowly washed across the rooftops and stone-paved streets behind him, revealing a city that appeared peaceful and orderly. From a distance, no one would have guessed that anything was wrong with the place. Merchants were already opening their stalls, workers filled the main roads, and life moved forward as it always had.
Yet Lucas never looked back.
The farther he traveled from Velmora, the heavier the feeling in his chest became. He had entered that city convinced that Samir needed to be stopped. He had expected to find destruction, suffering, or at least some evidence that Samir's path would inevitably lead to ruin.
Instead, he had found peace.
There were no robberies.
No arguments.
No violence.
Even the former soldiers who had once been haunted by trauma were finally able to sleep peacefully.
And for the first time since deciding to oppose Samir, Lucas began to question himself.
Was he truly right?
Or was Samir right?
The question followed him throughout the journey.
By late afternoon, Lucas arrived at a large crossroads connecting the western trade routes to the northern territories. Under normal circumstances, such a place would be filled with merchants stopping only briefly before continuing their travels. This time, however, something was different.
There were far too many people.
Dozens of wagons lined the roadside. Makeshift tents stretched along the hillsides, while smoke from campfires drifted lazily into the sky. Children ran through the crowded pathways, and several people busied themselves distributing food.
Lucas slowed his pace.
This was no ordinary encampment.
These people were refugees.
Their exhausted faces, worn clothing, and limited belongings made that painfully clear.
He approached a middle-aged man repairing a broken wagon wheel.
"Where are you all from?" Lucas asked.
The man looked up.
"Eldoria."
Lucas frowned.
He knew the name. Eldoria was one of the largest cities in the northern region, a prosperous trading center that had remained relatively safe and stable for decades.
"Then why did you leave?"
The man fell silent.
Fear was plainly visible on his face.
"Someone came."
Lucas did not need to ask who.
"Samir?"
The man nodded quietly.
Before Lucas could continue, an elderly woman seated beside a campfire spoke.
"We refused."
Lucas turned toward her.
The woman had long white hair tied loosely behind her back. Though she appeared to be well past sixty, her eyes remained remarkably sharp.
"Refused what?"
The old woman studied him for several moments.
"Salvation."
The answer left Lucas speechless.
The woman slowly rose to her feet.
"Come. There is someone who wishes to speak with you."
Lucas followed her through the camp. The farther they walked, the more he began to notice.
The people here still possessed emotions.
He heard a married couple arguing over food supplies. Nearby, a group of young men laughed around a fire. A small child cried after stumbling, while his mother comforted him.
They were still human.
Truly human.
The woman eventually led Lucas to a large tent near the center of the encampment.
Inside, a broad-shouldered man stood over a map spread across a wooden table. A long scar ran down the left side of his face, stretching from his temple to his jaw. Though age had begun to gray his hair, his body remained strong.
The man raised his head as Lucas entered.
His eyes fixed upon Lucas for several seconds.
There was surprise in them.
But also uncertainty.
"Strange..." the man murmured softly.
Lucas frowned.
"What is?"
The man continued staring.
"I can feel it."
Lucas immediately became cautious.
"Feel what?"
The man remained silent for a moment, as though confirming something within his own thoughts.
"Your presence."
A brief silence filled the tent.
Lucas did not like where the conversation was heading.
"What do you mean?"
The man exhaled slowly.
"Several years ago, someone came to Eldoria."
His gaze never left Lucas.
"And for some reason..."
"...you feel very similar to him."
Lucas remained silent.
"Who was he?"
The man slowly shook his head.
"We never learned his name."
He then extended his hand.
"My name is Ardan."
Lucas accepted it.
"I'm Lucas."
Ardan nodded.
"I was once the commander of Eldoria's city guard."
The man's expression darkened.
"Samir arrived three weeks ago."
Silence settled over the tent.
"At first, we welcomed him."
Ardan walked toward the table.
"He healed the sick."
"He comforted those broken by war."
"He erased trauma."
"He brought peace."
The man gave a hollow laugh.
"We even believed he was a saint."
Lucas said nothing.
The story sounded painfully familiar.
It was Velmora all over again.
"But after several days, we began noticing something."
Ardan pulled an old medal from his pocket.
"I had a son."
His eyes settled on the weathered metal.
"He died in the war ten years ago."
Lucas could hear the grief hidden within the man's voice.
"After Samir arrived, the pain disappeared."
Lucas looked at him.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"I thought so too."
Ardan tightened his grip around the medal.
"But several days later, I realized I could no longer remember my son's voice."
Lucas remained silent.
"Then I forgot his face."
Ardan's voice sounded distant.
"And one morning, I stared at this medal for nearly an hour."
He lowered his head.
"But I couldn't remember why it was important to me."
The words immediately reminded Lucas of the old man in Velmora who carried a faded photograph without remembering who was in it.
"So you left."
Ardan nodded.
"We had no choice."
"Most of the city stayed behind."
"Why?"
"Because they were happy."
The answer carried a bitter weight.
Lucas understood.
For some people, abandoning pain was a price worth paying.
But not for everyone.
"Not everyone accepted the change," Ardan continued.
Lucas raised his head.
"What do you mean?"
Ardan offered a faint smile.
"There is someone you should meet."
As night approached, Ardan led Lucas to the northern edge of the camp.
There, a little girl sat atop a large stone, quietly reading a book. She could not have been older than eight.
When they approached, she looked up.
Her eyes were calm.
Far too calm for a child her age.
"Strange," she said softly.
Lucas frowned.
"What?"
The girl tilted her head slightly.
"You feel like him."
Lucas felt his heart quicken.
"Who?"
"The man who came to Eldoria."
Lucas looked toward Ardan.
The former commander simply nodded.
"She said the same thing when she first met him."
The girl's gaze remained fixed upon Lucas.
"He carried a great deal of sadness too."
For several moments, Lucas could not speak.
He had no idea how a child could say something like that.
Yet somehow, he sensed that Elia was not speaking about power.
She was speaking about something far deeper.
"You're Elia?" Lucas finally asked.
The girl nodded.
"Ardan said Samir couldn't affect you."
Elia closed her book.
"He tried."
"And?"
She looked down at her hands.
"It felt like someone was trying to take something from inside me."
Lucas held his breath.
"And you resisted?"
Elia nodded.
"Why?"
For the first time, her expression changed.
She hugged the book tightly against her chest.
"Because my sadness belongs to me."
The evening wind swept through the camp.
No one spoke.
"Sadness for what?" Lucas asked quietly.
Elia lowered her head.
"My mother died two years ago."
Lucas froze.
"I miss her every day."
She tightened her grip on the book.
"And I don't want to forget her."
The simple words struck Lucas far harder than he expected.
Suddenly, he remembered the people of Velmora.
They no longer felt pain.
But they were also losing their memories.
Their attachments.
Their reasons for loving.
Lucas slowly began to understand.
Perhaps Samir had not failed because his power was insufficient.
Perhaps there existed something within humanity that simply could not be erased.
Something that even a perfect Vessel could never truly understand.
Night deepened.
Campfires illuminated the encampment while distant laughter and conversation echoed through the darkness.
Lucas sat alone atop a large stone overlooking the camp.
Questions flooded his mind.
If Samir could change nearly an entire city, why were some people able to resist?
Why was Elia different?
And who was the mysterious traveler who had once come to Eldoria?
Footsteps approached.
Ardan stood beside him.
"There is one more thing you should know."
Lucas looked up.
"What is it?"
Ardan stared toward the campfires.
"The man who once visited Eldoria..."
He paused.
"Before he left, he gave us a message."
Lucas felt his heartbeat quicken.
"What message?"
Ardan looked directly into his eyes.
"'If the day comes when the world begins to lose its humanity...'"
He paused once more.
"'Seek Sanctuary in the North.'"
The night wind grew stronger.
Lucas felt something stir deep within him.
Sanctuary.
For the first time in his life, he had heard that name.
And somehow...
he felt that the answers he had been searching for were waiting for him there.