The sun had started to sink by the time Aero counted his last coin.
The light in the aristocrat town changed when that happened. The bright white lamps softened into gold, and long shadows stretched across the clean stone streets. People hurried more now. Boots passed faster. Fewer stopped.
Aero took that as his sign.
"We should go," he said gently.
Lina nodded, already climbing onto his back. She fit there like she belonged, arms loose, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.
Aero packed his things carefully.
Brush first.
Cloth folded twice.
wooden box closed tight.
He was tying the strap of his small bag when something caught his eye.
A faint blue light.
At first, he thought it was a reflection—maybe from a screen or a passing machine. But the light didn't move when he did.
It was coming from his chest.
Aero froze.
The glow pulsed softly beneath his shirt, right where the small locket hung against his skin. The one the stranger had given him long ago. The one Aero almost forgot was there most days.
His fingers trembled as he touched it.
It was warm.
"Lina," he whispered. "Don't move."
"Okay," she said immediately, sensing the change in his voice.
Aero slipped the cord over his head and held the locket in his palm.
It was glowing now—clearly. A calm, steady blue, like a piece of the sky that didn't belong on the ground.
"…That's new," he murmured.
He stared at it for a long time.
Nothing happened.
The town kept moving around him. Boots passed. Machines hummed. No one noticed a small boy standing still with light pooling in his hands.
Aero turned the locket over, confused.
"Did I break it?" he whispered, more worried than curious.
His thumb brushed against a small seam on the side. Without really deciding to, he pressed.
The air in front of him flickered.
Then—
Light unfolded.
A thin, floating shape appeared, hovering just above the locket. Lines formed first, pale and glowing, stretching outward. More lines followed, connecting, crossing, shaping something that made Aero's breath catch.
It was a map.
Not like the ones he'd seen painted on old walls or printed in books he couldn't read. This one was alive—shifting gently, glowing brighter at certain points. Shapes of land. Broken sections. Familiar curves.
The Eurasian Frontier Zone glimmered faintly.
Aero stared.
He didn't know what maps were supposed to do. He didn't know directions, or scales, or symbols. Letters meant nothing to him—just shapes that other people understood.
But he knew this place.
His chest felt tight.
"…Home?" he whispered.
The map didn't answer.
Lina leaned forward, peeking over his shoulder.
"It's pretty," she said. "Is it a picture?"
"I… I don't know," Aero replied honestly.
He watched the glowing lines pulse slowly, like a heartbeat. Some areas were dim. Others shone brighter, almost calling.
Aero felt very small all of a sudden.
He had survived by walking, working, remembering corners and paths with his feet, not his head.
This thing felt like it belonged to a different kind of world.
One that expected him to understand.
His thumb found the side of the locket again.
He hesitated.
Then he pressed.
The hologram folded in on itself, light shrinking, lines collapsing until there was nothing left but the quiet blue glow of the locket.
Then even that faded.
Just metal again.
Cold now.
Aero closed his fingers around it and let out the breath he'd been holding.
"…Later," he told it softly. "I don't get you yet."
He slipped the locket back under his shirt, retied the cord, and lifted his bag.
Lina rested her chin on his shoulder.
"Can we go home now?" she asked.
Aero nodded.
"Yes," he said. "Let's go home."
Behind them, the town lights flickered on.
Ahead of them, the ruins waited.
And against Aero's chest, hidden and quiet, something had begun to wake up.