Sera's hand was cool, but firm.
She pulled Aiden through the woods, walking quickly, each foot landing in the gaps between the tree roots, making almost no sound. Aiden followed, out of breath, his steps snapping dry twigs like a string of firecrackers. He noticed Sera's shoulders twitch slightly, as if she were enduring something, but she didn't look back or tell him to be quiet.
After about a quarter of an hour, the woods thinned. Ahead lay a dry streambed, its bottom covered with pebbles and dead leaves, the banks overgrown with brambles. Sera stopped, crouched at the edge of the streambed, swept her gaze around, then beckoned to Aiden with a curl of her finger.
"Down."
She slid down the bank first, landing on the pebbles as lightly as a cat. Aiden followed, his feet slipping, stumbling down and nearly falling. Sera reached out and steadied him by the shoulder.
"You worked in an old bookstore and never learned how to walk?" Her voice was flat, but Aiden caught a hint of teasing.
"Bookstores don't require walking," Aiden said, panting. "Just standing."
Sera didn't answer. She walked along the streambed, pushing aside hanging brambles to reveal a hidden recess—a small hollow in the side of the bank, its opening covered by a gray‑green canvas tarp. She lifted the tarp and motioned for Aiden to enter.
The hollow was small, barely big enough for two people to sit side by side. A layer of dry grass covered the floor; in the corner lay a cloth bag and a water flask. The air smelled of earth and hay, with a faint hint of blood.
"You live here?" Aiden asked.
"A temporary base," Sera said, sitting down and laying her sword across her knees. "There are seven such bases north of the outer gate. This is one of them."
Aiden sat across from her, his back against the cold earthen wall. The light inside the hollow was dim; only a small patch of light filtered through the opening, falling on Sera's mask. She still hadn't removed it, but she had pushed back her hood, revealing short dark brown hair, slightly disheveled, as if it hadn't been properly tended in a long time.
"You're from the Society for the Preservation of True History," Aiden said. It wasn't a question—it was a confirmation.
Sera looked at him.
"Old Karl told you?"
"He only gave the name, nothing else." Aiden reached inside his shirt and pulled out the ledger, opening it to the page where Old Karl had drawn the map. "He said to go to the capital and find 'Annals,' that she was with the Society. And then he—"
His voice caught.
Sera didn't press. She took a piece of hardtack from her cloth bag, broke it in half, and handed the larger piece to Aiden.
"Eat."
Aiden took it and bit into it. The hardtack was very hard, as if it had been dried in the sun for three days, making his teeth ache. But he ate it anyway. He hadn't eaten since the evening before; his stomach had long since shrunk into a knot.
"What is the Society?" he asked between chews.
Sera was silent for a few seconds, as if organizing her thoughts.
"You know that most of the history written in the textbooks is false," she said. "The Society is a group of people who don't believe the textbooks. We gather evidence of the history the Church has altered, restore the truth, and then—"
"And then?"
"And then we find a way to bring the truth back to light." Sera's voice was soft but resolute. "Not just to know the past, but to ensure that the future isn't built on lies."
Aiden's chewing slowed.
"How many of you are there?"
"Not many," Sera said. "Fewer than two hundred, scattered across the cities of the kingdom. In the capital, there are about thirty core members. The rest are spread across various trades—secondhand booksellers, teachers, craftsmen, merchants, even a few inside the Church itself."
Aiden's fingers stopped.
"Inside the Church?"
"Not priests," Sera said. "Clerks, archivists, janitors. Their positions aren't high, but they have access to many things. Half of the Society's information comes from inside the Church."
She paused.
"The other half comes from eyes like yours."
Aiden looked up at her.
"People with the 'Eye of History' are very rare," Sera said. "Since the Society was founded, we've only encountered three. One is dead, one was Old Karl's wife, and the third is you."
"Who was the one who died?"
Sera didn't answer. Her gaze shifted to the canvas tarp at the entrance; sunlight through its gaps cast a thin line of light across her face.
"My father," she said.
Aiden didn't press. He remembered what Sera had said in the woods—"Old Karl isn't the only one the Church has burned."
"He was also in the Society?"
"He was one of its founders." Sera's voice dropped even lower. "Twenty years ago, he and Old Karl's wife discovered a door in the underground ruins. He said that behind that door lay all the erased truths. But before he could open it, the Church found out."
"How did he die?"
"The same way you're thinking," Sera said. "At the stake. In the square before the Holy Light Cathedral."
Her fingers brushed lightly over the hilt of her sword—a small movement, but Aiden saw it.
"I was seven years old," she said. "I hid in the crowd and watched him burn. The Church called him a 'heretic,' said he 'tried to overthrow the thousand‑year foundation of the Holy Light Church.' Everyone around me was cheering."
Her voice was flat, like still water. But Aiden noticed that the knuckles gripping her sword had gone white.
"How did you join the Society later?"
"They found me," Sera said. "Old friends of my father. They taught me swordsmanship, taught me how to disguise myself, taught me how to live under the Church's very eyes. When I was sixteen, I ran my first mission—stealing an execution list from a Church archive. My father's name was on it."
She raised her head and looked at Aiden.
"There were thirty‑seven other names on that list. Old Karl's wife was among them."
Silence.
The light outside the hollow was slowly shifting, moving from one side of the opening to the other. Aiden heard birds calling in the distance, one after another, as if answering each other.
"You want me to join the Society," Aiden said.
"It's not what I want," Sera said. "It's what Old Karl wanted. He told you to find 'Annals' because Annals is a core member of the Society. He knew that if you just took the ring and went looking for the truth on your own, you wouldn't survive three months."
"Three months?"
"The Church's reach is greater than you imagine." Sera reached out and drew a rough outline on the ground. "This is Tricolor Flag City, this is the capital. You think the Church is only in the cathedrals? No. The Church controls all the schools, all the courts, all the censorship offices. Every city has a branch of the Judgment Hall, and every main road has its spies. That little path you took, you thought it was safe? They've already marked all the small roads north of the outer gate on their maps."
Aiden thought of the symbol on the stone slab at the fork.
"That symbol—a straight line with a circle above it—what does it mean?"
Sera's hand paused.
"Where did you see it?"
"At the fork. At the entrance to the left road, buried under the earth, a stone slab with that symbol carved on it."
Sera put down her sword and pulled a folded piece of parchment from her cloth bag, spreading it out. It was a hand‑drawn map, the lines crude but the details clear. She pointed with her fingertip to the northeast.
"That symbol is the Judgment Hall's 'hound mark,'" she said. "It means 'target may pass this way, deploy surveillance.'"
A chill ran down Aiden's back.
"They knew I would head north?"
"They didn't know which route you would take," Sera said. "But they knew you would leave through the north gate—because south is the sea, west is the desert, and east is the Church's headquarters. You only had one direction to run."
She folded the map and put it back in her bag.
"So you don't need to answer me now," she said. "After you reach the capital, meet Annals, see the Society for yourself—then decide."
"What if I don't join?"
"Then I'll take the ring back, put you somewhere safe, and let you start over." Sera's tone was calm, neither threatening nor persuasive. "But you've already seen those things. You won't want to start over."
Aiden looked down at the ancient ring in his palm. The double‑serpent pattern was almost invisible in the dim light, but he knew it was there, as if etched into his skin.
"I'll join," he said.
Sera looked at him, a faint glimmer of something hard to read in her dark brown eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm not sure," Aiden said. "But Old Karl told me to find you. I trust him. That's enough."
Sera was silent for a few seconds, then extended her hand.
"Welcome."
Aiden took her hand. This time, it was a little warmer than before.
"Now." Sera let go, stood, lifted the tarp, and glanced at the sky outside. "We have half a day's walk ahead. On the other side of Gray Ridge there's an abandoned hunter's cabin where we can spend the night. By noon tomorrow, we should reach the capital."
She bent to pick up her bag and sword, then moved toward the entrance.
"Oh, and one more thing." She stopped and turned her head. "Besides seeing historical visions, what else can your ability do?"
Aiden thought for a moment.
"That's all for now."
"After you reach the capital, Annals will teach you how to use it," Sera said. "Your ability isn't just for 'seeing.'"
She lifted the tarp and stepped out.
Sunlight flooded through the opening, making Aiden squint. He stood, tucked the ledger and the damaged scrolls back inside his shirt, and slipped the ancient ring onto his left little finger—neither too large nor too small, fitting snugly against the joint, as if made for him.
He followed Sera out of the hollow, his footsteps crunching on the pebbles.
In the distance, the low outline of Gray Ridge traced the edge of the sky. Beyond it lay the direction of the capital.
He didn't know what awaited him there.
But he knew he was no longer alone.