The Starlight Carriage hummed through the void, its engines a constant low vibration that had become background noise to all of them. Lucid sat in the lounge, his chair positioned near the large observation window, his arms resting on the support rail. He watched the void outside, the endless purple expanse punctuated by drifting debris and the faint glow of distant rock formations. The light was dim and sourceless, casting strange shadows that shifted with the movement of the train. It was beautiful in a way that felt alien, a beauty that did not belong to the world of living things.
Frederick approached from the cabin, his footsteps soft on the metal floor. He stopped beside Lucid's chair and looked out at the void, his expression carrying a question he had not yet voiced. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed but attentive.
"What is the matter?" Frederick asked.
Lucid looked at him, then back at the void. He said nothing. The silence stretched, and Frederick took it for what it was.
"You are lying," Frederick said, his voice carrying a note of patient observation. "Or at least, you are not telling the whole truth. There is something on your mind."
Lucid did not respond. He watched the void, the way the light seemed to come from nowhere, the way the rock formations glowed with a faint internal luminescence.
Valen was asleep on the couch, his cap pulled low over his eyes, his breathing slow and even. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of deep sleep, undisturbed by the conversation happening nearby. Ayame sat cross-legged by the cabin hatch, her dark eyes fixed on the void, her expression unreadable. She had been sitting there for hours, motionless, watching the emptiness as if it held answers to questions she had not yet asked.
Lucid took in the distant air, the vast emptiness, the glowing rock formations, the small debris that drifted past like forgotten memories. He turned to Frederick.
"What is the void?"
Frederick considered the question. He did not answer immediately. He stood there, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the purple expanse outside.
"It is a place in between," he said finally. "A matter where even nations and people do not decide or get to decide what they are for. It is the space between spaces, the gap between what is and what could be."
Lucid absorbed the words. He sat there, his mind turning them over, and he sighed.
Alice spoke from within, her voice carrying that familiar note of teasing formality. "It appears that my mortal is asking some questions. You said you learned a lot during your time here with the crew. What happened? You are interested in the void now?"
Lucid mumbled under his breath, his voice barely audible.
"You said you researched ancient theological scripture," Alice continued, her tone light and mocking. "It does not hurt to ask, does it?"
Lucid did not answer her. He looked up at Frederick and nodded finally.
Frederick looked at him as if he had forgotten something painfully obvious. He looked uncertain for a moment, then he spoke, his voice carrying a note of discomfort.
"By the way, Lucid, when we arrive in Vex, not only are you to address me as Frederick." He paused, his expression growing more uncertain. "But do not strike up random conversations with people."
Lucid waited.
Frederick continued, his voice measured. "With the Transcendence, Vex is growing ever so tense, especially with the aftermaths of the rift happening. Since it is a homongous kingdom of only humans, I advise you to be careful."
Lucid sighed. He nodded, understanding what Frederick was insinuating. It was true that Lucid was not really any ordinary human. For starters, he had a massive fog over his face. He had not considered the times where people had outright insulted him, especially in Tyriana, but he had learned to grow used to it. If anything, if Vex was so homogenous and accepting of him when he had first arrived, it looked like they accepted him. But it had its ugly part, like the academy and the guards. It seemed like it depended on people.
Frederick did not mind it. Valen and Ayame did not notice, but they did not care either. Lucid thought about it. He guessed some people were against it, and some were not. There were all kinds of people with beaks and horns and tails in the Scattered Realms. There were even demons and elves. He thought about it and nodded.
He looked back at Frederick. Frederick extended his arm.
"Why do we not spar? It will be a while before we go to Vex."
Lucid took his hand. Alice sighed inside his head, her voice carrying a note of reluctant amusement. "This poor guy. Why do you not tell him that you are not heading to Vex?"
Lucid turned her out. He followed Frederick down to the first floor. At the back of the carriage, there was a training ground of sorts. The interior had all sorts of things, and amongst them were not only an office or cabin or something close, a bath, a shelf library, and a kitchen, but also a gym, something close to it.
The training room was spacious, with padded mats on the floor and wooden weapons mounted on the walls. The lighting was soft, casting a warm glow over the space. Frederick took a wooden baton from the rack. Lucid took one as well. Real weapons were not something that would be good for sparring. Frederick looked at him and nodded, evaluating him.
"You fight really well," Frederick said. "But does she have to watch?"
He looked across the training room and saw a woman cross-legged, watching, her arms folded. Lucid thought inside, 'Yikes, since when did she come here?'
Alice snickered inside his head, her voice carrying a note of genuine amusement. "Oh, it looks like your Oni companion follows you wherever you go."
Lucid did not respond. He looked at Ayame, who met his gaze with her usual unblinking calm. She did not speak. She did not need to. Her presence was enough.
Frederick took his stance, his baton raised. Lucid mirrored him, his body shifting into the familiar posture of combat. They circled each other, the wooden batons held loosely, their eyes locked.
Frederick moved first. He was fast, his strikes precise, his footwork careful. Lucid parried, his baton meeting Frederick's with a sharp crack. They exchanged blows, each strike testing the other, each movement calculated.
"You are holding back," Frederick observed, his voice carrying a note of challenge.
Lucid did not answer. He increased his speed, his strikes coming faster, his footwork more aggressive. Frederick matched him, his defense solid, his counterattacks precise.
They continued, the rhythm of their combat filling the training room. Ayame watched, her expression unreadable. Valen remained asleep on the couch, oblivious to the noise.
After several minutes, they stopped, both breathing hard. Frederick lowered his baton.
"You are good," he said. "Better than I expected."
Lucid shrugged. "I have had practice."
Frederick nodded. He looked at Ayame, who was still watching, her gaze fixed on Lucid.
"She cares about you," Frederick said quietly.
Lucid looked at Ayame. She did not look away. Her dark eyes held his, and in that moment, he felt something he could not quite name.
"I know," he said.
The training continued, the sound of wooden batons meeting filling the carriage. Frederick moved with a fluid grace, his strikes precise and measured. Lucid matched him, his own movements carrying the weight of his training and experience.
"You have been distracted," Frederick said between exchanges. "Your mind is elsewhere."
Lucid did not deny it. He parried a strike and countered, his baton stopping just short of Frederick's shoulder.
"Where is your mind?" Frederick asked.
Lucid lowered his baton. He looked at the window, at the void beyond, at the endless purple expanse that stretched in all directions.
"Tyriana," he said. "And what waits for me there."
Frederick nodded slowly. He understood, or at least he understood enough not to press further.
They resumed their sparring, the rhythm of combat a comfort in its simplicity. The void stretched outside, endless and eternal, and the Starlight Carriage carried them forward toward whatever waited ahead.
Ayame watched from her corner, her dark eyes tracking every movement. She did not speak. She did not need to. Her presence was a constant, a reminder that Lucid was not alone, that he had people who would follow him wherever he went.
The sparring continued until both of them were exhausted, their breathing heavy, their muscles aching. Frederick lowered his baton and extended his hand.
"Thank you," he said.
Lucid took his hand. "For what?"
"For the distraction. I needed it."
They stood there in the training room, the wooden batons hanging at their sides, and for a moment, the weight of everything that awaited them seemed to lift.
But only for a moment.
The void stretched outside, and the Starlight Carriage carried them forward.