He fell.
The wind tossed him everywhere, spinning his body like a ragdoll caught in a storm. The golden sky had vanished, replaced by ordinary blue, ordinary clouds, ordinary light that felt foreign after so long in the Domain. His wounds were half shut, thanks to Alice's slow assimilation, but the pain was still there, grinding through his bones like broken glass.
What had happened was so fast. One moment he had been driving the spear through the thread. The next, the world had shattered and he was falling.
But something was right. Some confirmation. The sky was blue. He was no longer in that place. He did not know about the others. Fenwick, the yellow-haired boy, the magistrate, the vile cultists. He did not care about any of them. He hoped that at least Valen would be alright.
He fell down.
With a massive thud, he hit the beach. Sand exploded around him. The sound of broken cartilage and blood echoed across the shore. He yelled, a raw, animal sound that came from somewhere deep.
For a minute, he lay there. The waves washed up near his feet but did not reach him. Seagulls circled overhead, indifferent to his suffering. The sun was warm on his face, a sensation he had forgotten existed.
Then a white light engulfed him. Soft. Gentle. The pain receded like tide pulling back from shore.
He got up.
He looked toward the horizon. The beach stretched out in both directions, golden sand dotted with shells and driftwood. Fishing boats bobbed on the water. Seagulls cried out, their calls sharp and familiar. The air tingled in his nostrils, salt and seaweed and something else, something clean.
As he stood, a boy appeared beside him. He had not been there a moment ago. He was looking out over the ocean, throwing rocks into the water with a lazy, practiced motion. One skip. Two skips. Six skips. Then the rock sank.
Valen.
"You are a bloody mess," Valen said. He did not look at Lucid. His voice was casual, almost bored.
Lucid stared at him. The boy stood unscathed. His clothes were dry. His face was unmarked. He looked like he had just stepped out of a tavern, not like he had fallen from the sky.
'How did he survive? I fell from the air and he is fine? That is not fair.'
"Oh, I plunged into the water. I guess I was lucky." Valen shrugged. The cap was still on his head, pulled low over his eyes. Lucid could not quite see his expression.
It seemed as if everything was gone. The Domain. The auction. The golden light. All of it had collapsed, and here they were, standing on a beach like nothing had happened.
Valen turned to look at Lucid fully now. He picked up a rock and threw it at him. Not hard. More like an invitation.
Lucid caught the rock. Frustration and anger bubbled up inside him. He hurled the rock into the water with all his strength. It hit the surface and skipped. Once. Twice. More than twenty times. Then it disappeared over the horizon, still skipping, still moving, gone from sight.
Valen watched it go. His expression shifted slightly. Something like shock, or respect. He reevaluated Lucid with those golden eyes.
"Well, you are certainly strong," Valen said.
"Cut the bullshit." Lucid's voice was sharp. "Who are you really? The generous scoundrel? Calne? The humble merchant? I know what happened."
He looked toward the horizon. The water was calm. The ripples from his rock had faded. The seagulls continued their endless circles.
Valen grew quiet.
Lucid spoke again, his voice flat. "Well, I do not give a single shit."
He looked at Valen now, directly, his eyes hard.
"Why did you save me when I encountered Celeste?"
Valen thought about it. His expression turned thoughtful. Lucid continued throwing rocks at the water, watching them skip and sink.
"Hm. I do not know," Valen said finally.
Lucid scoffed. "You did it randomly?"
Valen nodded. There was no shame in his admission, just simple honesty.
"Anyways," Valen continued, "the Domain is still standing. I need your—"
"Absolutely not!" Lucid yelled.
He was tired of it. Tired of people suddenly sending him on missions. Tired of them conveniently wanting him to go along with their plans. No. Lucid was done with that.
Valen crossed his arms. "That was quick."
"Oh, I will reward you handsomely if you do it though. Fifty gold."
"Deal!" Lucid stood up, facing him. The word came out before he could stop it.
Valen smiled. It was a small thing, barely there. "I see you value money pretty well."
Lucid chuckled. It was a bitter sound. "Well, that is how our society operates. Plus I am kind of running out of funds. That queen I serve does not exactly pay well."
"Queen," Valen repeated. The word hung in the air.
Lucid stepped back in shock. His hand flew to his mouth.
'Nice. You have done it now. Idiot.'
Valen exhaled. His expression shifted again, something darker flickering behind his golden eyes. "Well, there are other problems as well. The Domain froze us. I am not sure about you, however. It seemed as if everyone froze. The cultists, the magistrate, and your friend Fenwick."
He listed the names, and each one felt uncomfortable in his throat.
Lucid noticed. He did not care.
"What about you?" Lucid asked.
Valen was caught off guard for a brief moment. His composure slipped, just for a second. Then it was back.
"Well, I just got lucky." He managed a breathless chuckle.
'Luck. Yeah. I totally buy that.'
Lucid interrupted him. "But if you freeze, does that not mean you die?"
Valen considered the question. His eyes narrowed slightly, calculating.
"No, Lucid. You do not die inside the Domain. You have currency and wealth inside there, and that currency and wealth derive from faith. If you freeze within there, you will resume in the normal world as if nothing happened. Believe it or not, time flows differently there as well."
He scratched his cheek, a gesture that seemed almost nervous.
"Well, if you freeze and you come to the real world, you will have no recollection of what transpired. And you will also lose a part of yourself."
Lucid thought about it. That was how they used it to their advantage. They made individuals enter it, unlucky ones, and stripped all of their wealth inside while they made stupid financial decisions in the real world.
'That is lucrative,' Lucid admitted to himself.
"Mercyros is still there. The relic is still there. The situation has not changed much." Valen's voice was calm, measured. "So you want me to enter it again?"
"You are a quick one."
Lucid looked toward the horizon. The sun was starting its slow descent. The fishing boats were returning to shore.
"Uh. Give me some time to think about it."
He walked away. He needed to see them first. Ayame. Arthur. He could not do this alone.
'Alone, huh.'
The word tasted bitter. He had spent so much of his life alone. Surviving alone. Fighting alone. But somewhere along the way, that had changed. He had people now. People who followed him. People who trusted him. People who would probably yell at him for running off again.
Valen watched him go. The cap still hid his eyes, but his posture had shifted. There was something coiled beneath the nonchalance, something sharp and waiting.
"Lucid," Valen called out.
Lucid stopped. Did not turn.
"Your friend. Fenwick. He almost drowned."
Lucid turned slowly. "What?"
Valen gestured toward the water. "When we fell, he landed in the shallows. Could not swim. I had to drag him to shore. He has been sitting over there, coughing up salt water, too scared to move."
He pointed to a spot further down the beach. Fenwick was there, huddled on the sand, his arms wrapped around his knees. His face was pale.
Lucid walked toward him. Fenwick looked up. His expression shifted from terror to relief to shame.
"I am sorry," Fenwick whispered. His voice was hoarse. "I froze. I could not move. I just... I saw the water and I could not..."
"Oh...Shut up... I've had enough of you..."
He continued Lucid's voice was flat. "You are alive. That is what matters."
Fenwick nodded. He stood up slowly, his legs shaking. He brushed sand off his clothes. He looked at Valen, then at Lucid, then back at the ocean.
"I should go," Fenwick said. "My I need to tend to my brother's grave..."
He waved. It was a small, awkward gesture. Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps unsteady on the sand.