He left no note. He said no goodbyes. He took nothing but what could be held in a faded cloth wrap, and eyes that no longer resembled the boy who had begun the training a month prior.
The air outside was not cleaner, but it was truer. No rules, no whistles, no psychological evaluations measured on screens. Just the street. And footsteps that knew not where they were headed.
Kairn walked. And walked. Then walked more than he should have.
On the first day, he reached the city outskirts, where the buildings thinned, the road began to crack, and the signs started to fall away.
On the second day, his body rebelled. His feet swelled. His stomach rumbled. Sleep came in short bursts, more like fainting than rest.
On the third day, he fell.
He was walking a path between two forests, the wind pushing the tree leaves as if cheering for something. But his ear no longer heard well. Hunger… exhaustion… solitude… they all conspired to drain the colors from his eyes. Then, simply, he stopped.
His knee gave way. He collapsed.
And for the first time in a long time… he allowed himself to cry.
Not because someone had hurt him. But because… he didn't know the next step.
He sat there, on the dirt, under the shadow of a tree whose name he never asked.
Everything was still. Even his thoughts.
On the fourth night, he dreamt.
He saw Niro, standing by a river, waving him closer. But the harder he tried, the longer the distance grew. And the louder he screamed, the more his voice was swallowed.
Then someone appeared beside Niro. His mother. But her features were indistinct. As if made of light. Or fire?
She told him:
"Seek yourself in others."
He woke, his heart pounding as if it would burst.
On the fifth day, he resumed walking.
But this time… he was no longer searching for a place. But for meaning.
He passed through a half-deserted village, asking about a lost young boy. No one knew his name. But he heard a story. About a boy named Niro, sighted in the South months ago, near the forbidden zones.
He wasn't sure it was him. But… it was enough to propel him South.
Days passed, then weeks.
Kairn began to change. His face became sharper. His eyes wider. His soul was still broken… but its shards began to reflect the light.
Everywhere he went, he heard stories.
Of mythical creatures. Of changed humans. Of whispering walls and laughing shadows.
And he would ask:
"The Nebrim… do they exist?"
Some would laugh. Some would fall silent. A few would tremble.
Each time, he left without an answer. But something within him… was being remade.
Kairn… was no longer running.
He was simply… waiting to remember who he was.
At the end of the second month of his journey, he reached an old warehouse, near an abandoned area.
Inside, he found something strange.
Drawings on the walls. Ancient writings. And… a name.
"Falmer."
Carved onto the wall. In the same handwriting as his name.
He froze.
Who wrote this? Who was here before him?
In the corner, there was a notebook. Dusty. Edges torn. But open to a single page:
"Fire does not burn what is made of it."
Kairn closed the notebook, and said nothing. But he took the sentence with him.
He stood for a few seconds before the phrase, as if it had said more than it wrote.
Then he began to open the rest of the pages, one after the other.
Every page… was empty.
Even the last page… was torn out.
But on the edge of the inner cover, in a sharper script, he found a phrase engraved with a sharp tool:
"He who is born between two ashes… belongs to no fire."
He read it, then repeated it softly.
"Belongs to no fire…"
He smiled faintly, bitterly, as if someone had told a joke about his life.
Then he sat on the cold floor, back against the wall, and opened his bag.
He pulled out his small notebook, the same one he had carried since his departure. He opened it… not a single page had been written on.
Until today.
He wrote the first sentence:
"I don't know who I am… but I know I don't want to be what others chose for me."
Then he paused for a moment.
And added:
"If I am of the ash… I will make something from it that does not burn."
The next morning, his footsteps set off again.
He was no longer weak as before. Not stronger, but… more steadfast.
He walked looking around as if the world was being reshaped before him. Leaning trees, ruined houses, forgotten ruins… all seemed to whisper to him:
"It is not over yet."
He passed a convoy of migrants. They offered him to join. He refused.
Then he met a blind man sitting by the road, chanting poems about "those born from an invisible fire."
Kairn asked if he meant the Nebrim.
The blind man laughed, and said:
"Everyone you don't understand… becomes a legend."
Then he extended his hand, and gently touched Kairn's face.
He whispered:
"Your face is burning, my son. But the fire is not fire… it is an old question."
Kairn did not understand. But he did not forget.
As the second leg of his third month drew to a close… the weather changed.
Erratic rains. Hot winds. An unstable sky, as if something… was breathing above it.
And one night, he woke to a sound.
A non-human sound.
But not a monster. Nor an animal.
The sound was… as if someone was crying inside him, not around him.
He stood, walked toward the source, but found no one.
Suddenly, he felt heat rise in his chest.
His right hand began to tremble.
But not from the cold.
But from something else… he did not understand.
He pressed against his heart, and fell to his knees.
He heard the sound again:
"You are not looking for Niro… you are running from yourself."
He screamed:
– "Who is it?!"
But no answer. Only the echo.
When the sun rose the next day, his eyes were weary.
But he continued his journey.
Now, he no longer wanted just an answer. He wanted a face. A place. A person.
Niro… where are you?
After four months of departure…
Kairn entered a border town, known as "Forgotten Kailas."
There, for the first time, he saw a wall covered with recent drawings.
Among them… a sketch of a child.
Shaggy hair, wide eyes.
And a title written above it:
"Wanted: The Child Niro. Last seen near Kailas."
Kairn did not scream. He did not smile.
He simply… clasped his hand to his chest.
He mumbled:
– "It's not all over yet."
Then he looked at the sky, and said:
– "Niro… if you're still out there… I'm coming."
And finally…
Dust got into his eyes, but he did not blink.
Then he walked down the broken street.
As if his footsteps… knew the way better than he did.
Beneath the dust of "Forgotten Kailas," time seemed not to move here. A city frozen, not by ice… but by betrayal. Faces were pale, houses half-open, as if everything in it was waiting for someone who would not return.
Kairn passed through the alleys without drawing attention. Or perhaps… because no one wanted to see anyone. Each person was engrossed in their temporary survival.
But he stopped before an old wall, where he saw many childish scribbles. Hearts, circles, strange faces.
But amidst them, there was one strange drawing.
A child's face… with the same shape as Niro, but next to him was the shadow of a tall, featureless man.
Written beneath it:
"He said the shadow protects me."
Kairn raised his finger, and touched the last letter.
He stood, feeling something hot move in his chest.
Not pain. Not even fear. But… something being born.
Then he heard a faint laugh. Childish.
He turned around immediately, but saw no one.
He ran in the opposite direction, entered a narrow alley, heard small footsteps… then nothing.
Everything vanished.
As if someone wanted to leave him a trace… without leaving an existence.
He returned to the drawing.
He sat facing it.
Then he whispered:
– "Niro… were you here?"
He closed his eyes.
He heard his own echo:
"You are getting closer. But to what?"
Then he remembered the blind man's words:
"The fire is not fire… it is an old question."
He opened his eyes again.
And began to draw beneath the drawing.
Only one word:
"Kairn."
Then he stood up.
And turned his back to the wall.
And smiled, for the first time in months.
Not a smile of victory. Nor even hope.
Just a smile that said:
"I… am still here."
And his footsteps set off again.
Further, deeper.
As if the wall was a door, not a painting.
And as if the city was not a destination… but a sign.
And with the beginning of that day's sunset…
The winds began again.
They played with the dust.
And with them, many scribbles were erased from the wall.
Except for two words:
"The shadow protects me."
And…
"Kairn."