"We really have to find out what he's all about"" Avin said as he made his was out of the coliseum and down the stairs into the market, on the way to he dormitories

Henry followed him. Lanterns leaned over alleyways like sleepy beasts as the two of them passed: a man hawking fried bread, a boy chasing after a runaway basket of apples, the low murmur of tradespeople finishing inventory. The market smelled of oil, iron, and distant seawater—ordinary things that tried to anchor Avin to an ordinary world. He let them. For a moment.

They both got to the dormitory, cleansed themselves and sat in the living room in silent.

" So Do you think the Prince's plan will work"Henry asked.. And Avin looked at him with a confused face

"You're the nerd here, you tell me"Avin chuckled slightly "I like when you feign ignorance just so I can get the spotlight". "Sure" Avin responded

Silence returned like a comfortable garment. Both men felt its weight differently. Henry's hands were restless on the arm of the couch; Avin's fingers laced and un-laced as if practicing a motion. The plan—the Prince's plan—sat between them like a cold stone they had to pass back and forth until one of them accepted it.

They were the first people to fight in the coliseum the following they, and though Avin did not show it, he was quite obviously nervous.

The idea that tomorrow's spar could rearrange his life—not just this hour, not just this day—throbbed under his ribs. In a world with gods and contracts and whispered prophecies, one mistake had consequences that folded outward like cracks in stone. It was a different kind of fear than he'd felt back in Clive's life. This fear tasted like obligation.

This was something that could affect his whole state of living and even his probability of actually surviving in this world and getting to get back to his own world.

He took a huge sigh, getting out all the doubt and worry that he had. The exhale emptied his chest and left only the rehearsal of what had to be done. Breathe. Move. Hit. Don't think too much.

"I'm just gonna go to bed"

Henry nodded and Avin stood up to go into his room, he fell onto his bed

And fell asleep, for the first time in a while, there was no dreams or visions or anything of that sort, and while this was better for relaxation, it was kind of unsettling as this could also mean something bad.

He slept as if the world had given him a reprieve: deep, heavy, without the Primordial's light or the book's whispering runes. To wake without a memory bleeding through should have been a blessing. Instead it felt like an unfinished sentence.

The night went by as if it was in a hurry.

Morning arrived like a push—sudden, brisk, and not gentle. Avin rose up, Well rested... Baggy eyes. There was still the shadow around his lids, a residue of things unresolved.

He went into the bathroom and popped some of the cleaning bubbles left for him by Henry. The cold water slapped at his face until the sleep peeled off in thin strips. He moved with the mechanical grace of someone trying to become a person again.

He went back to sit in his bed. The room held the soft, banal comforts of a dormitory: a small desk with ink stains, a chipped basin, a blanket folded the same way each morning by invisible hands. The openness of it felt like a familiar wall—safe because it had no secrets, unlike the arena.

He looked beside him at the suit case he had brought, opened up because he took his clothing out from it.

And he noticed the book he had brought with him.

"I wonder if anything had changed"

He got off the bed and took the book from the suit case. The cover was cool, a plain leather that absorbed the light without reflecting any. He opened it... And as usual, it was almost empty.

[I remember I wrote something in that book but I don't remember what, check project files to see]

Nothing new.

He let the disappointment sit like a small stone. The emptiness of the pages had always been a puzzle—an intermittent promise that sometimes filled, sometimes did not. He sighed and dropped the book on the bed and let himself fall on it again. The leather met his cheek like an accusation.

He looked up at the ceiling, currently just laying there with nothing in mind.

His view drifted onto the book again.. But then this time there was something written right on the front page.

He panicked for a small while in shock and got up, took the book and looked at it.

I I, t it said

WILL DO LIST

1.Enter Academy2.Stop *******3.????4.???5. Find The Piper

This was written in English, a language he was quite sure only he could read.

"What the-"He said as he looked at it "This makes no sense... Did the Primordial do this.. And why does it talk about the piper again... And why is that the only thing shown after two more that doesn't.. Why does it say Will do list instead of to do list.. It's like it's showing me what is going to happen rather than what I should make happen" he sighed and put his hand on his forehead, falling to the bed

The words buzzed in his head like flies. Find The Piper. The name thrummed with a tone Avin felt in his marrow. It connected to visions half-remembered and to the runic letter from the forest. The book writing in his hand. The Primordial's promises. It was as if the world had smoked out his fate and left it on paper for him to read.

He couldn't stand the feeling of being oblivious to something that is clearly centered around him.

"If this is true.." He muttered.

"Then that means I get into the academy? No matter what I do?"

Avin, or rather Clive was never one to believe in things like fate and all those, but in a word like this when people can fly and there is proof that their gods actualy exists... He had no choice but to believe it even the slightest bit.

He let belief slide in like a needle—careful, just enough to anchor, not to bind. Fate could be useful if wielded like a tool rather than surrendered to like prayer.

So Atleast from all this confusion and unfamiliarity, he still had something to smile about.

"Avin, I think you should be ready by now!"Henry's voice penetrated from behind the door.

A cadence, friendly and impatient. The kind that expects action and gives no time to craft excuses.

Avin sighed and answered... "I'm coming"

He moved with deliberate slowness, like a man reassembling himself. He took both his swords and strapped them at their prospective places [also look through project files].

Each strap clicked into place, a small and certain sound. The familiar weight of steel at his hips grounded him more effectively than the book ever could.

And head out.

"Oh. Didn't expect to be here this early"Henry said

"You literally just called for me"

"Yes but I was expecting you to be late so I called for you before time"

"I'm not the type of person to be late, do I seem like the type of person to be late?"

Henry slowly nodded his head

"well I'm not the type of person to be late"

The exchange would have been comical in any other world. Avin allowed himself a thin smile. He was not the punctual man he claimed to be back in Clive's life, but in this place minutes and seconds were propaganda. Being early was armor.

He actually was the type of person to be late. He just didn't have a phone or Computer to distract him and make him late.

They both took a seat in the Couches in the living room.

After a while of just waiting,

"Don't you think we should get going?Avin asked

" I thought Theo would come for us by now."

" is that what you both planned?"

" no, not really"

"What?"

Avin sighed and facepalmed

"So we are here just sitting down not knowing when we are going?"

"The whe even doesn't even start by this time"

Avin sighed again.

The trio of small frustrations piled into a single, irritated shrug. He hated waiting. Henry hated being under-informed. Theo—wherever he was—was punctual in a way that made both of them feel like children.

"So how are you going along with the deciphering?"

"Oh yeah"

Henry said as he jumped up, and immediately left to his room.

He came back holding the letter they had gotten from the cloaked guy and another piece of paper.

He came and sat down next to Avin.

"I was able to get the meaning of most of the words and add them together, but they are some symbols that I couldn't get anything from.. But it makes sense now"

He gave Avin both the letter and what he had written.

And he proceeded to read.

"The Time for the revolution has comeBe sure to perform your duties and prepare for our arrival as we had plannedWe will arrive at the *** of Poseidon's moon [translate the" Poseidon's moon/month to Latin if possible]Make sure nobody knows of this.. And if you get caught... Eliminate the eye that caught you"

[translate every mention of "month" into Latin]

Henry had underlined sections, scribbled glosses in the margins, and attempted Latin where symbols blurred. Avin read along, each phrase a small domino in some plan already in motion.

Avin looked at Henry.

"Revolution? When is this?"

"It doesn't state the specific date but the month they're talking about is the month we are in right now... For a son of time, you sure do lose track of it"

Avin clicked his tongue.

The idea of a revolution—an organized, bloody rearrangement of power—felt enormous and improbable until it did not. Reality has a way of shrinking the improbable to a scale personal enough to touch. Here, their hands might be on the rope.

"Shouldn't someone know about this?"

"There is no way to get to a high enough figure for that.. And even if we did, they wouldn't believe us... The only person that could help is"

The same person came to mind, they slowly rose their head to look at each other.

Then a door suddenly appeared in front of them, it opened and Theo came from it.

"It is time" he said

Avin and Henry smiled at each other.. Their plan was certain to them... They had to get the prince to believe them.

Their smiles were small, private things—less triumph, more relief. A plan needed a conduit. The prince could be that conduit if convinced. If not, the letter's warning would remain an arrow shot into the dark.

The dormitories were quiet, it was clear that all the people who had to go had already left and they were waiting on the contenders. The coliseum's bell pealed in the distance. Somewhere beneath the noise, a revolution was being inked into the margins of history.

Avin thought of the Piper and of the Primordial and of the runes on a dagger and the cloaked man who moved like a shadow with a laugh in his throat. He had the weight of a will-do list t and the thin certainty of a plan in his mouth.

They would show the prince the proof. They would drag attention to the right places. They would turn whispers into alarms. They would act.

Whether the gods wanted it or not, Avin had decided he would be the one to cross items off the page.

To be continued.

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