They were still in the pool, steam rising around them, the night quiet except for the crackling fire outside. Leon's last words hung in the air.
About where I come from.
Sylas tilted her head, curiosity evident in her silver eyes. The firelight flickered across her damp hair, catching the water droplets like tiny stars.
Sylas: You've never talked about it. Your world.
Lyra stretched her arms along the edge of the pool, completely at ease. Water rippled around her.
Lyra: What was it like? Before the dungeon pulled you here?
Leon was quiet for a moment, gathering thoughts he hadn't shared with anyone. Not because he was hiding them—there just hadn't been a right moment. A right place. A right group of people to hear them.
Leon: It was different.
Dorn: Different how?
Leon: No magic. No cores. No system.
---
He told them.
About cities that touched the sky with steel and glass. About buildings so tall they disappeared into clouds. About metal birds that carried people across oceans in hours instead of weeks. About boxes that held all the world's knowledge, accessible with a touch.
Lyra: No magic at all?
Leon: None. We explained the world through rules. Physics. Chemistry. If it couldn't be measured, it wasn't real.
Dorn: Sounds empty.
Leon considered that. Had it been empty? Sometimes, yes. Sometimes people felt alone even when surrounded by millions. But other times—
Leon: It wasn't empty. It was just… different. No monsters. No cores. No system. Just people trying to live their lives. Working. Eating. Loving. Dying. Same as here, just with different tools.
Sylas: Tools?
Leon: We called them technology. Things we built to make life easier. Carriages that moved without horses. Lights that didn't need fire. Devices that let you talk to someone on the other side of the world.
Lyra sat up straight, water sloshing.
Lyra: Talk to someone on the other side of the world? How?
Leon: It's complicated.
Lyra: You just say words and they hear them?
Leon: Basically, yes.
Lyra: That's magic.
Leon: It's not magic. It's—
Lyra: Sounds like magic.
Leon couldn't argue with that.
---
Sylas: Did you have wars?
Leon's expression shifted. The warmth in his eyes dimmed slightly.
Leon: Too many. Different kinds than here. We didn't fight with swords and magic.
Vex: What did you fight with?
She'd been quiet until now, listening from her corner of the pool. But something in her voice sharpened. Interested.
Leon: Guns.
Vex: Guns?
He tried to explain. Metal tubes that propelled small projectiles at incredible speed. Death from a distance. No magic, no skill—just aim and pull a trigger. Some could kill from farther than you could see.
Vex's eyes widened slightly. He noticed.
Vex: You could kill from far away? Without the target even seeing you?
Leon: Yes. Some guns could shoot accurately across distances that would take minutes to walk.
Vex: How fast?
Leon: The projectile? Faster than sound. You'd hear the shot after it hit.
Vex: How quiet?
Leon: Most aren't quiet at all. They're loud. But some—if you build them right—can be nearly silent.
Vex was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she asked more questions. How they worked. How they aimed. How they reloaded. Each question more detailed than the last.
Leon answered every one, watching her expression shift. She didn't smile—Vex rarely did. But something in her eyes changed. A spark he'd never seen there before.
Interest. Wanting.
She never asked for anything. Never would. That wasn't who she was.
But Leon filed it away anyway.
---
Lyra: So your world had wars like ours, just with different weapons?
Leon: Yes. And no. The scale was different. We could destroy entire cities with a single weapon.
Silence.
Dorn: Why would anyone build something like that?
Leon: Fear. Power. The same reasons people do anything.
Sylas: Did your world destroy itself?
Leon: No. Came close a few times. But no. We survived.
Lyra: Sounds exhausting.
Leon: It was.
---
The questions drifted after that. From serious to playful.
Lyra made him describe a "car" again—metal boxes on wheels that moved without horses—then decided it sounded ridiculous.
Lyra: So you just sat in a box and it moved?
Leon: Yes.
Lyra: By itself?
Leon: With an engine. It burned fuel to create power.
Lyra: That's just fire magic with extra steps.
Leon: It's not magic.
Lyra: Then how does it work?
Leon opened his mouth, then closed it. How did internal combustion work? He knew the theory, but explaining it to someone from a world with no concept of engines?
Leon: It's complicated.
Lyra grinned.
Lyra: That's what you say when you can't explain it. Which means—magic.
Dorn: So you just… talked to a box?
Leon: It's not a box. It's—
Lyra: It's a box. A magic box.
Leon: It's not magic.
Lyra: Then how does it work?
He couldn't explain. They all laughed at him—warm, teasing, affectionate.
Even Vex cracked a smile. Even Dorn chuckled, deep and rumbling.
For a while, they forgot about trials and towers and death. They were just five people in warm water, sharing stories, being together.
---
Lyra: What else? What did you do for fun?
Leon: Watched stories. On screens.
Lyra: Screens?
Leon: Flat surfaces that showed moving pictures. With sound.
Lyra: Like… paintings that move?
Leon: Exactly.
Lyra: How?
Leon: Magic.
She laughed, delighted.
Lyra: Finally you admit it.
Leon: I'm tired of explaining.
Sylas: Did you have music?
Leon: Yes. Lots. All kinds.
Sylas: What kind did you like?
Leon thought about it. Late nights in his dorm room. Headphones on, world shut out.
Leon: Quiet stuff. Songs about being alone. About missing things.
Lyra: That's sad.
Leon: Sometimes sad is good.
Dorn nodded slowly, understanding something the others might not.
---
The water cooled eventually. One by one, they climbed out, dried off, dressed.
Lyra was last, reluctant to leave the warmth.
Lyra: We're doing this again.
Sylas: It's not a nightly tradition.
Lyra: Yes it is. I'm declaring it.
No one argued.
They settled into the cabin—warm, tired, content. The fire crackled softly. Outside, stars wheeled overhead.
Leon lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling.
His mind drifted to Vex. To the questions she'd asked. To the look in her eyes when he described guns. She'd never asked for anything. Never would. That wasn't who she was.
But maybe she didn't have to.
He'd made axes for Lyra. Shields for Dorn. Daggers for himself. But Vex never asked. She took what she was given and made it work.
Maybe it was time to give her something she didn't ask for.
He closed his eyes, already thinking about how to shape metal into something new. Something that shot. Something that would make Vex the deadliest she'd ever been.
Tomorrow's problem.
For now, he slept.
---
End of Chapter 48