As the carriage wheeled towards the Moonfrost keep, Vencian's thoughts drifted to Kair's words from the yard. Training as Lucian had been a choice.
The disguise had begun as a tool. If he was to stand in Vencian's place, he needed to fight as if the name were his own. But it was never only about impersonation.
Without a way back to his world, survival came first, and Lucian's mask gave him the freedom to prepare for it.
He had once dismissed the thought of learning to fight. Conspiracies, assassins, and plots belonged to other men's lives. Then a single strike had taken Talor, Larik, and the deaths of Caesor and Moses followed. The world reminded him how quickly it could tilt.
He still told himself he had inherited memories, not emotions. Yet when the news of Caesor and Moses had reached him, his chest had tightened. Whether it was anger at his peace being shattered or something else, he preferred not to think about it.
