…
A week later.
Aridra felt different.
It wasn't dramatic. The streets were still dust and packed earth, the tents still patched, the walls still cracked. But there were new whispers in the wind, more wagons at the gate, more Cognis blue in the plaza, more talk that began with, "Did you hear…?"
Gold listened to it in passing.
He stood near the western gate, where the dunes sloped away toward the horizon. Behind him the city clattered and hummed. Ahead, the desert rolled out in pale waves, and to his side, the sky over Golst burned colder than anywhere else.
"What'ya doing here all alone?"
Fritt stood with a pack slung over one shoulder, cloak tied tighter than usual, bare feet half-buried in the sand. A pair of other Cinikin waited a short distance away, both with the same charcoal skin and ember eyes, talking quietly with a Restrani caravan master.
"Your kiln is finally done with you?" Gold asked.
Fritt snorted. "Other way around. They finally need me." He jerked his chin northward. "We've been testing some slag at the Kiln. Traces keep showing the same signatures, Cinikin flame. Not ours. Far north, past Golst's usual routes."
He grinned, though there was tension under it. "Flamebearers from my kiln are gathering. I'm supposed to lead them through Golst. See if there really are others of us left, or if the land's just playing tricks."
Gold glanced at the two Cinikin waiting, then back at him. "Dangerous."
"Yeah." Fritt's eyes warmed. "That's why they asked me."
For a moment they just stood there, sand grinding softly under the wind.
Fritt broke the quiet first. "Back in that palace," he said, voice dropping, "when you picked up that crown… I felt something."
Gold watched him steadily. "Everyone did."
"Not like that." Fritt shook his head. "I've been living in a storm since the Eclipse. My flame doesn't shut up, brother. It yells at me when something big happens." He tapped his chest. "You picked that thing up and for once it went quiet. Not because it was scary." He shrugged, searching for the word. "Because it was… listening."
He squinted at Gold, like he was looking into a forge. "You shouldn't live small," he went on. "Someone like you, with that kind of… pull? It'd be a waste to just keep taking escort jobs and patching ties in Underbog."
Gold's gaze drifted past him, to the roads leading out. "Maybe."
"I'm serious," Fritt said. "When I come back from Golst - and I will come back - if you're still hiding in trade routes and back alleys…" He clicked his tongue. "I'll drag you somewhere loud myself."
Gold huffed, the closest he came to a laugh. "You always were a nuisance."
"And you always did whatever stupid thing needed doing," Fritt laughed. "We make a good mess."
He stepped closer.
They leaned in, foreheads knocking together in that old, familiar gesture. For a few seconds, all the noise at the gate dropped away. Gold could feel Fritt's heart pounding like a drum in his skull - Fritt felt Gold's flame, deeper and steadier than it had ever been.
"Stay alive," Gold said quietly.
"You too, Sovereign," Fritt said back with a cheeky smile.
Gold watched until the Cinikin disappeared into the shimmering line where desert met sky.
For a moment, faint and distant, one of the golden threads inside his chest curved northward.
…
Back within the city.
He cut through the central streets, past the markets where new blue tents had been set up. A few now bore fresh Cognis sigils and hastily painted boards announcing 'Provisional Pylon Assessment'. Runners in blue sashes dashed about with satchels of notes. Retrieval teams were already forming.
Near the eastern road, he saw her.
Ferra stood beside a pair of sturdy wagons, sleeves rolled up, sweat across her shoulders. She was helping a merchant's crew load heavy crates - metal, by the sound of them. Her zweihander was strapped across her back, the hilt crossing over one shoulder, never far from reach.
"You're doing manual labour now," Gold said, coming up beside her as she hoisted one side of a crate.
She snorted and adjusted her grip. "Pays better than sitting in the training hall, waiting for jobs that don't come." Together they slid the crate into the wagon bed.
The merchant bowed his thanks and moved off, leaving them a brief pocket of space among the luggage.
"Are you leaving Aridra?" Gold asked.
Ferra looked out past the walls, toward the distant shimmer of the Flats. "Soon," she said. "This client's going toward the southern caravans. After that… I don't know yet."
She hesitated, then continued. "I've spent too long in this city," she admitted. "Cradle escorts, local runs. I told myself it was enough. Safe. Steady." She laughed once, quietly. "Then you dragged me into a drowned capital under a salt desert."
"That was Eyviria," Gold corrected mildly.
Ferra's mouth quirked. "Maybe. But you're the one who made it feel like the world isn't… normal." She rolled her shoulders, as if trying to shake off a weight that wasn't really there. "When you walked to that throne, it was like looking up and realising the sky had another layer above it."
She glanced at him sidelong, eyes serious. "I want to see more of that. The bigger parts. Even the ugly bits. I don't want to die thinking the world ends at Aridra's walls."
Gold held her gaze for a moment. "Then go," he said.
She smiled, a little embarrassed, and nodded. "I will."
The wagon master shouted something about schedules. Ferra snapped a quick salute. "If you ever need a blade and I'm within a week's ride," she added, taking a step back, "send word. I'd like to see what you do next."
The golden threads in his chest shifted. One curved southward, thin but persistent.
…
He found Eyviria and Kavi exactly where he expected - at a tavern on the plaza's edge.
It was early, but the place was already loud. Cognis cloaks mingled with local tunics, a few Spire folk even present by their crisp, embroidered sleeves. Rumors travelled fast, and the story of an underground city and a new Cognis lab travelled faster.
Eyviria's coat was nowhere in sight. She sat at a corner table with her sleeves rolled to the elbow, goggles pushed up into her hair like a headband. Her cheeks were flushed, not with embarrassment this time, but with drink. Kavi sat opposite her, halfway through some joke, both of them with mugs in hand.
"-and then he tried to insist the ore sang to him," Kavi was saying when Gold reached the table. "He was humming at the samples for three hours." He laughed out.
Eyviria wheezed a laugh, nearly choking on her drink. "I told them not to send Spire archivists to a field site," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "They get poetic when you leave them near magical rocks."
Kavi noticed Gold first. "Gold!" he called, waving him over. "Come, sit. We're celebrating being important."
Eyviria twisted in her chair, eyes bright. "We did it," she said before he could speak. "I got the letter this morning."
"The branch?" Gold asked, taking an empty stool.
"The branch!" she confirmed. "Aridra is now officially home to the Pylonic Applications Annex." She lifted her mug in a toast to nobody in particular. "I even got to pick the name."
Kavi snorted. "After they gave you a list of acceptable options."
"Yes, well," Eyviria said, unbothered. "They can call it whatever they like on paper. I know what it is." She ticked points off on her fingers. "Dedicated lab. Storage vaults. Cutting rooms. Three retrieval teams. Two research teams. A permanent mapping liaison with the Kalim household." She pointed vaguely toward the crater. "And official priority over anything pylon-related within the crater and its subsystems."
"That sounds great," Gold said.
"They're also insisting I take on apprentices from other departments." Her nose wrinkled, "They think I don't know they're sending spies."
"You're accepting them anyway," Kavi said, amused.
"I need hands," she replied simply. "Spies can count as hands if you keep them busy enough."
Her gaze drifted back to Gold, sharpening a little despite the haze of drink. "Your testimony helped," she said. "All of you. Ajit's maps, Kavi's samples, Ferra's account, Fritt descriptions, Aarav leaning on his contacts…" She shrugged. "Cognis loves results. We brought them a city full of them."
"And a Sovereign," Kavi added under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Eyviria's eyes flicked to him, then to Gold. "Speaking of. You keep calling me 'Eyviria' like I'm a senior council member."
Gold blinked. "That's your name."
She made a face, leaning forward, jabbing a finger at him. "Friends call me Eyv. You can, too."
Gold considered that. "Eyv," he repeated, as if testing it.
"Better," she said, satisfied. "And you," she added, smirking faintly, "are going to have to figure out what you want people to call you. Half of Cognis is already writing 'Gold' in their reports. The other half is trying to figure out if 'Sovereign' was a joke or some kind of title."
He said nothing to that. His fingers curled around his mug, knuckles pale.
"You'll draw eyes no matter what you choose," Eyv said, softer now. "That's not a threat. Just… a fact. Decide what you want those eyes to see."
She let the words hang there for a moment, then clapped Kavi on the shoulder. "Now," she announced, "we're going to drink until I stop thinking!"
Kavi groaned in mock despair. "Pray for me," he said to Gold as Eyv hauled him toward another round.
Gold slipped away as the noise rose again, leaving them to their celebration.
Outside, the air felt cooler, the sky over Aridra bruised purple with the approach of evening.
…
The Kalim estate was calmer than the city, but not quiet.
Servants moved through the halls with a new urgency, carrying scrolls, plans, samples. Couriers bearing Cognis insignia came and went through the front gate in a steady flow. The house had always been busy, but now it was bustling with people.
Gold found Aarav where he expected - on the upper balcony overlooking the city, hands resting on the stone railing. From up here, Aridra looked almost orderly, warm and bright. The central plaza was a knot of activity, the new blue tents like fresh brushstrokes among the older canvas.
"You can see the pit more clearly these days," Aarav said without turning. "Or maybe I'm just looking at it more often."
Gold stepped beside him, leaning his forearms against the railing.
"How was the tavern?" Aarav asked, a knowing smile in his voice.
"Loud," Gold said. "Eyv is pleased."
"She should be," Aarav replied. "What you brought back changes everything." He swept a hand out toward the city. "Underbog trade is finally stabilising. With a Cognis branch here, we'll have access to tools and mechanisms the other cities will beg for."
He listed them. "Lifts in the pit, first. Safer descent. We'll control the routes to the undercity. Retrieval contracts, mapping rights, pylon exports… Aridra won't just be a trading hub anymore. It'll be a pillar for the future."
Gold watched the distant movement of carts and materials at the crater's edge, early preparations, nothing more than wooden frames for now. "And you'll stand at the centre of it," he said.
Aarav hummed. "For a little while," he said. "Until my son grows into it. Or until the world decides to turn everything upside down again."
He looked at Gold properly, really looked.
"You've changed," he said.
Gold raised an eyebrow. "I've had worse bruises and come back the same."
"I'm not talking about your scars," Aarav said. "Before, you felt like a man who carried more weight than he realised. Strong, yes, but unsure. Like you were always bracing for something that never came."
He tilted his head. "Now, when you enter a room, everyone else feels guided to you."
Inside, the golden threads stirred.
He focused on them, not on the city, not on the desert. For the first time since the crown, he realised he could feel not just their pull, but their direction, their texture.
One thread stretched north - hot, wild, familiar. Fritt's flame, already a little dimmer with distance but still unmistakable.
Another curved inward, coiled close - a bright, precise spark in the city's heart. Eyv's silver fire, humming with imagination.
Others flickered around Aridra like lamps - Aarav's steady ember, Gauri's younger blaze, restless but anchored.
And beneath them all, deeper than the city, deeper than the undercity, something else.
Faint.
Far.
But it was there.
A warmth he knew as well as his own hands. A presence that had haunted his dreams and waking steps for fifty years.
Amara.
He couldn't tell where she was.
Aarav pushed away from the railing with a small groan. "Old bones," he muttered. "I'll leave you to your staring. Gauri's been looking for you all afternoon. I told him to find you here."
He patted Gold on the shoulder once, then disappeared back into the hall.
Gold stayed where he was, eyes resting on the dark line of the crater as night bled into the sky.
"Amara," he thought. The name felt less like a wound.
"Gold!"
Gauri sprinted out onto the balcony, breath slightly short from taking the stairs too fast. He'd changed in the week since their return. A new pendant at his throat bearing the Kalim crest, a little more weight in his gaze. But he was still Gauri.
"There you are," Gauri said, then immediately corrected himself. "Sorry. Here you are, sir."
Gold's mouth twitched. "We've had this conversation," he said. "Just Gold."
"Right, Gold." Gauri said, and took a breath like he was about to walk into an interview.
He stopped himself, gathering his thoughts. "I've been thinking," he began, which was not reassuring coming from a boy whose ideas were vast and wild.
Gold waited.
"When you walked into the plaza a couple days ago," Gauri said, "people froze."
Gold sighed. "I did nothing."
"Exactly," Gauri said, eyes bright. "You didn't do anything. And they still felt it. Word's spreading. The Cognis are whispering. The mercenaries are guessing. The merchants are telling stories. They're already calling you things."
Gold raised an eyebrow. "Things?"
"The Sovereign! They don't know what you did down there. Not really. But they feel something great from you like I do."
He stepped closer, hands curling into fists at his sides. "You said once you were lost. That you didn't know why you were here." His voice became softer. "I don't think that's true anymore."
Gold looked out at the city, then back at him. "What are you asking, Gauri?"
Gauri swallowed. "Not asking," he said. "Proposing." He drew himself up a little straighter, as if presenting before a council. "I want to form a group. Not an army," he added quickly. "A… circle. People who believe in you. People who listen when you speak and move when you decide to move."
He searched for the words. "There are too many factions, too many petty powers. People cling to anyone who looks like they know where they're going. But you do know! Or at least" He smiled faintly, "you walk like you're going somewhere important."
Gold paused, slightly moved by his last words.
Gauri pushed on. "Call it whatever you want. A following or a school" He suggested, "We'd be your hands. Your eyes. Your voice in places you can't be."
"You've thought about this a lot," Gold said.
"Since the day you came back with that crown in your hand and your presence…" Gauri shook his head. "The world is changing. Aridra is changing and it needs someone to protect it, to inspire it. You can either let everyone else decide what you are to them… or you can decide first."
He hesitated, then added, a little shyly, "I had a name for us. Uhhh, Just a draft."
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Gold said.
"Golden Disciples," Gauri said quickly, as if saying it fast would make it less ridiculous. Then he winced. "We can improve it…"
Silence lingered for a beat.
Gold's first instinct was to laugh it off. To tell him he was being dramatic. To remind him that he was just a man with a sword and too many scars.
But the threads in his chest pulsed, each one connected to someone who had already, in their own way, chosen to follow his path at least once.
Fritt, marching toward Golst.
Ferra, stepping beyond Aridra's comfort.
Eyv, carving a new branch, a future.
Aarav, rebuilding a city in a new world.
And somewhere far… Amara.
He exhaled slowly.
"Not yet," he said at last. "The world itself doesn't know me yet."
Gauri's shoulders slightly dipped, but he didn't look entirely discouraged.
"But keep your thoughts," Gold added.
Gauri blinked.
"For when I decide," Gold said. "If I'm going to let anyone follow me, I don't want them tripping over their own feet because I lead badly."
A slow, wide smile spread across Gauri's face. "Yes, sir," he said, then corrected himself with effort. "Yes, Gold!"
He bowed and left, his thoughts almost escaping his own imagination as he ran away.
Gold stayed on the balcony a while longer.
The night deepened. Stars prickled out above. The wind from the desert carried a touch of cold now, promising Golst's far-off chill.
The Sovereign watched the horizon and weighed his first steps.
…
…