Hadrian approached Alia, stopping a meter away. Though he was certain she sensed his presence, she didn't turn; her gaze remained locked on the horizon, her long black hair whipping in the wind.

He let out a sigh, heavy with guilt, and took the final few steps to sit on the grass to her left.

For a long while, neither spoke. They simply stared at the endless stretch of water where the ocean met the blue sky in the far distance.

Finally, Alia turned to Hadrian, studying him with a furrowed brow and a lingering sense of familiarity.

"Who are you?" she asked.

A distant sadness washed through Hadrian, though the question didn't surprise him.

The last thing Alia should have remembered was the night he had turned her into a vessel. He had practiced his answer, yet he found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hadrian," he said, his voice stiff.

There was a stretch of silence before Alia nodded perceptively.

She turned back toward the grassland plateau, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Hadrian answered truthfully.

Alia's lips parted in hesitation before she spoke again. "Is it the same for you?"

With a heavy heart, Hadrian wrapped his arms around his knees. "What do you mean?"

"I… I feel like I've woken up from a hazy dream," she said, her tone thick with confusion.

Hadrian watched as her mind struggled to weave a cohesive narrative. His brow furrowed.

Alia's memory blind spots extended far beyond the last two months; large portions of her life seemed to be missing.

Did her time as a vessel damage her to this extent?

He wasn't entirely convinced it was just the vessel process. There was a fundamental difference between Alia and Haldon.

Alia had been teetering on the edge of death when she was turned into a vessel and if not for Hadrian perceiving her fading essence that night, she might as well be considered dead.

That proximity to death must have affected her mind, he realized.

He looked at her with pity, questioning if he had done the right thing.

When he had first bound her as a vessel and glimpsed her memories, the parallels to his own childhood had been impossible to ignore.

In many ways, they were the same person, victims of the world's cruelty.

Consciously, having the power to free her, he felt compelled to do so.

He had completed his revenge. Unlike Baruch or Haldon, Alia had been on the receiving end of the world's spite, just like him. She deserved the chance to spite the world back by surviving.

This freedom would be his gratitude to her, and a symbol of his defiance against fate.

"We should move," Hadrian said, standing up. "Find a city or something."

Once they found civilization, he planned to help her start a new life. Without her memories, and armed with the Rank Two cores he would leave her, she could survive well enough once he severed his connection.

Wherever they had been teleported, he knew it wasn't near the Free Cities. According to the school maps, the Free Cities were deep in the eastern interior of the human continent, far from any ocean.

He concluded that the range of the Rank Five mystical artifact had been warped by whatever Jasmine and the witch had unleashed outside Gritjor's walls.

Alia nodded slightly and rose to her feet.

Through his connection to Haldon, whom he had sent scouting ahead, Hadrian knew there was a dirt road nearby— a sign of civilization.

They walked for a short while before Alia came to an abrupt halt. It was as if a veil had been lifted; she suddenly became aware of a power churning deep inside her, coursing through indescribable channels.

Hadrian stopped, turning to observe her. Having channeled magic through her multiple times, her body remembered how to manipulate essence.

Following her instinct, a dancing flame ignited above her palm. She took a startled step back, her eyes darting to Hadrian in panic.

As they resumed walking, Hadrian didn't hide his knowledge. Feigning a guess, he explained that she was a Rank Two mage of the elemental path, warning her to be cautious about exposing her abilities.

The topic of magic filled the silence as they walked. Hadrian kept the pace slow, not wishing to rush her. After an hour, they reached the dirt road.

They had been walking along the road for thirty minutes when a two-horse carriage approached from behind.

Hadrian, utilizing the perception of a seabird high above, had already seen it coming and slowed their pace further.

The carriage rolled to a halt next to them. The driver, a lanky young man with brown skin, pulled the reins. A small wooden slider behind the driver's seat opened, and a high-pitched voice spoke from within, the tone unmistakably inquisitive.

Hadrian and Alia exchanged a glance; neither understood the language.

A language barrier, Hadrian thought with a sigh. This will make Alia's assimilation harder.

Still, if they found a major city, there was hope. Even in Gritjor, while Lynese was dominant, many tongues were spoken.

The driver responded lazily to the passenger. The carriage wobbled slightly as the doors opened.

A man wearing garments the color of white

sand stepped out, followed by a tall, slender woman in a light blue silk dress.

The woman had a lighter complexion, and her brown eyes narrowed as she assessed the two children.

Hadrian peered into their essence seas. Regular humans.

The woman spoke again in that foreign tongue. Hadrian shook his head and replied in Lynese, signaling he didn't understand.

The woman smiled with amusement.

Switching languages, she offered a greeting in Lynese, though her heavy accent suggested that was the limit of her vocabulary.

She exchanged a few words with her companion before turning back to Alia and Hadrian with a radiant smile, gesturing for them to enter the carriage.

Since they were mortals and heading toward civilization, Hadrian saw no reason to resist. He nodded to Alia, and she followed him inside.

Once they were seated, the driver snapped the reins, and the horses resumed their journey down the road.

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