The fourth day began under a sky white as bone ash. The clouds did not move. The air was too still.

  The convoy moved slowly through the last valleys before the border, and little by little, the known world disappeared behind the rocks.

  Ahead, atop an ancient plateau, rose the walls of the Northern Outpost — an old construction, reinforced a thousand times, and yet still ready to collapse. The imperial banner fluttered timidly, as if it did not want to attract the Tower’s attention.

  When the company reached the gates, the soldiers on guard lined up. Some kept a rigid posture. Others didn’t even try to hide their fixed stare at the newcomers.

  Especially two of them.

  — “Is that him?” — whispered a bearded archer.

  — “The dark one…? And that girl with stormy eyes… her too.”

  — “People that rare must be of Kyros’s bloodline…”

  — “Or from another world.”

  Lukas walked beside Adriele, shield on his arm, gladius across his back. His bronze-burned skin stood out against all the steel, leather, and stone around him. The contrast was brutal — as if his very blood were a reminder of another age.

  Behind them, Leli stepped down from one of the wagons with the natural ease of someone who didn’t care about stares, but knew everyone was caught by her presence. Dark hair, vibrant eyes, skin as brown as Lukas’s… there was no one else like them there.

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  Valquíria noticed. She always noticed.

  — “They look at you like you’re a curse,” she muttered, passing by Lukas’s side.

  — “Or like they’ve never seen the Sun embodied in a body,” he replied, voice steady.

  Further ahead, the outpost commander appeared. Raul de Sant’Elmo, veteran of forgotten wars. His armor incomplete, his face marked by years of acid mist and clotted blood.

  — “Welcome to the end of the world,” he said flatly. “If you want advice… go back.”

  Valquíria stepped forward.

  — “We came for the opposite. To advance.”

  Raul looked at her, then at the siblings. When his eyes rested on Lukas, he frowned.

  — “You’re the son of the Sun, aren’t you?”

  — “I’m only what’s left of him.”

  Raul said nothing more. He handed over a sealed scroll with reports and stepped back.

  — “The Tower appeared. Those who saw it… lost sleep. And part of their reason.”

  Later, after inspections and reorganizing duties, Alenna and Valquíria sat on the western wall’s parapet, staring at the dark horizon where the Tower’s silhouette rose like a vertical wound in the sky.

  Valquíria cleaned her halberd’s blade with an oil-soaked cloth.

  — “He doesn’t react to praise. Doesn’t complain. Endures pain and provocation as if numbed. And yet… he doesn’t break.”

  — “Lukas?” Alenna smiled. “He’s stronger than he thinks… and more vulnerable than he admits.”

  Valquíria shot her a sideways glance.

  — “And why are you interested?”

  — “Because he’s rare.” Alenna twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “He carries the South’s color in his body, but the North’s silence in his eyes. A man like that… is usually crushed by the Empire’s demands. But him? He’s still standing. No seal. No official House. Just a sword… and the love of a little sister who idolizes him in silence.”

  Valquíria snorted.

  — “You talk about him as if you were already in love.”

  — “Maybe I am.” Alenna did not back down. “Or maybe… I’m just hoping someone like him survives. And proves to me that it’s still possible to love in this world without turning to dust.”

  Valquíria twisted the cloth harder than she needed. But said nothing.

  That night, the sky opened a little — just enough for everyone to see.

  The Tower.

  Rising beyond the mountains, black as the depths of a soul. No light escaped its gaps. No human structure reached so high. It was like an accusing finger pointing at the gods.

  And in that instant, Lukas felt it.

  As if something inside recognized his presence. As if it were calling for him.

  As if it whispered:

  "So you finally came."

  End of Chapter 6