The air at the small rural station was thick with the smell of coal smoke and damp earth. Ivan stood awkwardly beside the towering iron beast of a train, its steam hissing like a restless dragon. Amelia fussed with the collar of his tunic, her hands fluttering with a nervous energy.
"Remember to eat the food I packed first, before buying anything from the vendor carts. And don't talk to strangers—well, not unless they seem… official. And keep your satchel close…"
"Mom," Ivan interjected, his cheeks flushing as a few other passengers glanced their way. "I know. I'll be fine. I'm not a child anymore." He tried to sound confident, but his voice wavered slightly.
Amelia's eyes glistened. She pulled him into a tight, sudden hug. "I know you're not," she whispered into his ear. "But you'll always be my child." The whistle blew, a sharp, shrill sound that made Ivan jump. It was time.
He boarded the train, finding a seat by the window and sliding it open. He leaned out, waving as the train jolted into motion. Amelia stood on the platform, a solitary figure growing smaller and smaller, her hand raised in a final farewell until the train rounded a bend and she vanished from sight. Ivan slumped back into his seat, the reality of his journey settling in his chest, a mix of thrilling freedom and profound loneliness.
The countryside rolled by, a blur of green fields and distant woods. Ivan lost himself in the view, imagining the adventures happening beyond the horizon.
His reverie was shattered by a haughty voice. "You. Boy. This is my seat."
Ivan turned. A girl about his age stood in the aisle, dressed in a travelling gown of impossibly fine blue silk, embroidered with silver thread. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and her expression was one of bored entitlement. Two large men in tunics bearing a hawk crest stood imposingly behind her.
"I-I'm sorry?" Ivan stammered. "This is my seat. I booked it."
The girl, Alicia, didn't even look at him properly. She flicked her wrist, and a gold coin sailed through the air, landing on the bench beside Ivan with a soft clink. It was more money than his mother made in a month. "There. That should cover it. Now move."
A hot flush of indignation rose up Ivan's neck. He wasn't a beggar. He picked up the coin, his fingers trembling not with greed, but with anger. He held it out to her. "You shouldn't waste your money like this. The seat isn't for sale."
Alicia's eyes finally focused on him, wide with surprise. Being refused was clearly a novel experience. A faint blush coloured her cheeks. "D-Don't be a fool! Take the money!" she insisted, but her tone had lost its sharp edge.
"No, thank you," Ivan said firmly, turning to look back out the window, his heart hammering. He expected more arguing, but instead, he heard a frustrated huff. To his astonishment, Alicia slid into the empty seat next to him, folding her arms tightly. Her bodyguards took up positions in the seats directly across the aisle, their watchful eyes never leaving him.
An uncomfortable silence descended, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks.
***
Further down the carriage, the dust of the Sandstone Trail seemed to have permanently coated Kaelen's clothes and spirit. He sat slumped, the memory of the fire at Silver Creek playing behind his eyes like a nightmare. The sheer, crushing weight of the aura that had pursued them—it had been like standing before a tidal wave.
"It wasn't your fault," Eli said, his voice low. He was a sturdy man, his face weathered by sun and road, his gaze constantly scanning their surroundings. A faint, steady bronze glow emanated from him, a E-rank's instinctual, low-level mana reinforcement.
Kaelen clenched a fist, a weak, sputtering flicker of bronze mana—the telltale sign of a F-rank—dying instantly around his knuckles. "What does 'fault' matter, Eli? The inn is ash. That Inquisitor… he was Diamond-class. A-rank. What was I supposed to do? My best trick is making a pebble glow."
The rigid hierarchy of their world felt like a prison sentence. Eli, a respectable Bronze-class, was still hopelessly outmatched by the empire's elite. They were alive by sheer luck and Eli's quick thinking, not by strength.
"We're alive. That's our victory," Eli stated firmly. "And we have a heading. Alethea. They say the city's laws are its own. It's our only chance to understand why the Inquisition is hunting you."
Kaelen nodded, the movement weary. His eyes drifted across the carriage, landing on the two teenagers sitting in tense silence. A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Look at them. Full of dreams, probably heading to the capital for the Awakening Ceremony. They have no idea what's out there."
Eli followed his gaze. His eyes narrowed, not on Ivan, but on the girl. He took in the expensive dress, the haughty posture, and most importantly, the hawk crest on the bodyguards' tunics. He leaned closer to Kaelen, his voice a barely audible whisper.
"That's no ordinary girl. That's Alicia Luthor. The only daughter of the Marquess of the Northern Marches."
Kaelen's head snapped back for a closer look, his exhaustion replaced by sharp curiosity. The Luthor family was powerful, old nobility. "A marquess's daughter… on a common train? With only two guards?" he murmured. "That doesn't make sense. Unless…"
Eli finished the thought, his voice grim. "Unless she's running, too. Or someone doesn't want her arrival to be known."
In the tense silence of the carriage, the destinies of a humble dreamer, a noble, and two fugitives bound for a lawless city had unexpectedly intersected, all carried along the same iron rails toward the beating heart of the Lumenix Empire.