Lucien stared at the horse.
This world didn't have magical creatures, no hippogriffs, nifflers, or thestrals. But if he could form bonds with ordinary animals, if healing them created some kind of connection... That was an advantage.
Well, he thought wryly, if I can't learn advanced magic, at least I've got something else going for me.
Not the worst trade-off, all things considered.
"You ready?" Rick asked, moving toward the horse.
Lucien nodded and followed, the reins slack in his hand. The horse moved with him willingly, calm and trusting in a way that still felt surreal.
Rick swung himself up onto the horse's back, then reached down and hauled Lucien up in front of him. The position was awkward. Lucien's legs dangled while Rick's arms came around him to hold the reins.
"Hold on tight. And if you start slipping, tell me immediately."
"I haven't done this in years," he muttered, more to himself than to Lucien. He squeezed his legs gently, and the horse took a few steps. "Still got it, I guess."
"First time for me," Lucien admitted. "I thought it'd be harder."
Rick laughed. "Well, you're a natural then, cowboy."
He tipped his hat and gave the reins a light pull. "We're heading out. If anything feels wrong, you tell me. Got it?"
"Got it."
The horse let out a loud whinny, tossed its head, and broke into a canter.
The sound of hoofbeats echoed across the empty highway. Wind rushed past Lucien's ears as they picked up speed, and he let out a sigh of relief.
He had done it. He had convinced Rick to bring him along. If he had failed, the next part of his plan would have been nearly impossible. Because going into Atlanta wasn't just about helping Rick find supplies.
It was about Merle Dixon.
In the show, Merle had been left handcuffed to a pipe on a rooftop in downtown Atlanta. Abandoned by the group and surrounded by walkers, he did the only thing he could to survive. He cut off his own hand and escaped.
If Lucien could reach him first, maybe he could change that. Maybe he could spare Merle the trauma and alter the course of events just enough to matter. It was a gamble. Still, everything in this world was a gamble. The horse carried them steadily toward the city, and he settled in for the ride.
---
The transition was gradual at first.
Farmland slowly gave way to suburbs, where houses stood behind overgrown lawns and abandoned cars filled the driveways. Windows were dark and empty. As they went on, the suburbs thinned out and were replaced by industrial areas and warehouse districts.
And then, finally, Atlanta.
Rick slowed the horse as they crossed the city limits, his eyes scanning the streets.
He frowned slightly.
Lucien understood the sentiment. Atlanta wasn't just empty. It was dead.
The streets were wide and completely deserted, choked with abandoned cars that had been left wherever their drivers had given up. Newspapers and trash skittered across the pavement in the breeze. It was the only movement in a city that should have been bustling with life.
The skyscrapers loomed overhead. Glass windows reflected nothing but empty sky. It looked like the end of the world. Because it was.
Rick's grip on the reins tightened. "Stay alert. Walkers could be anywhere."
Lucien scanned the street. "I don't see any."
"That's what worries me." Rick's voice was low. "It's too quiet. They're here somewhere."
The horse's hoofbeats echoed loud in the silence. Lucien half-expected walkers to come pouring out of every building, drawn by the noise.
But nothing moved.
The city was a graveyard, and they were riding through it.
---
After a few minutes of silence, Lucien shifted in the saddle.
"Can we switch positions? I'd like to sit in back."
Rick glanced down at him. "Why?"
Lucien reached for his belt and pulled out one of the weapons he had made. It was a strange contraption of steel and rope. "Remember? I'm here to help."
Rick's frown deepened as he examined the weapon. It looked like a cross between a grappling hook and a throwing spike, with four sharp edges meeting at a brutal point. A length of tough nylon cord was attached to it, ending in a leather loop.
"What is that?" Rick asked.
"Throwing spike," Lucien said. "I can control it with the cord. Throw it, pull it back. Good for taking down walkers without getting close."
These were the weapons he had been developing ever since his Levitation Charm had gotten good enough to cast silently, without his wand. He'd been wrestling with a problem for days now: magic was useful, but only if he could use it without everyone thinking he was a freak.
Hiding it constantly was suffocating.
At first, he'd just used the Levitation Charm to chuck rocks at walkers' heads. Then he'd gotten better, started using steel needles he could control precisely enough to pierce a walker's skull and retrieve. Three at once, if he concentrated.
But that was too obviously weird. A kid throwing rocks with perfect accuracy was one thing. A kid with telekinetic needles? That was a fast track to getting dissected by some government scientist.
The spike and cord gave him cover. He could use magic to throw it, guide it, and pull it back. To anyone watching, it would just look like he was unusually good at throwing things. Impressive for a kid, certainly. But not impossible.
People could accept a kid with freakish aim and good reflexes. The world had plenty of young athletes, sharp-shooters, prodigies who did things that seemed impossible. This fit within those boundaries.
The apocalypse had a way of forcing people to grow up fast. If he showed skills beyond his years, people would chalk it up to survival instinct and training. And that was the point. He wasn't trying to hide magic entirely, he just needed it to look like something else.
Because he was done holding back. What was the point of having magic if he couldn't use it when it mattered?
Rick's expression was skeptical. "You've used this before?"
"A few times. It works."
"Uh-huh." Rick didn't sound convinced. "And you want to sit behind me so you can throw these things while we're riding?"
"Yeah."
"No."
"Rick—"
"No, Lucien." Rick's voice was firm. "You sit in front where I can protect you. That's not negotiable."
"But I can help—"
"I know you want to help. But your job is to stay safe. My job is to keep you that way." Rick's tone softened slightly. "I appreciate the offer. But I'm not letting you fight if I can help it."
Lucien opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Rick's expression made it clear the discussion was over.
Fine. Plan B it was.
He'd just have to wait for an opening. When the situation got bad, and it would get bad, Rick wouldn't have a choice but to let him help.
"Alright," he said, tucking the spike back into his belt. "Your call."
Rick nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. Now keep your eyes open. If anything looks off, you tell me."
They continued deeper into the city. Rick was clearly on edge, his hand never far from the Glock holstered at his hip.
The streets were a maze of abandoned vehicles. Some had clearly been looted. Others sat untouched, their owners probably dead or turned before they could come back.
Lucien scanned the buildings for movement And yet, nothing moved.
"This doesn't make sense," Rick muttered. "Where are they all?"
"Maybe they followed the evacuation," Lucien suggested. "They might have gone where the people went."
"Perhaps." Rick didn't sound convinced.
They passed a storefront with smashed windows and an interior that had been gutted and stripped bare. Further down, a city bus sat sideways across two lanes, its doors open, seats visible through the windows.
"How far to the center?" Rick asked.
Lucien pulled out the map, studying it. "Not far. Maybe another mile."
Rick nodded. "We'll find a vehicle, gas up, and get out. In and out, quick and quiet."
That was the plan. But Lucien knew plans didn't survive contact with reality.
Especially not in this world.
---
They were passing a massive building with a glass facade when it happened.
A flicker of movement appeared in the reflection. Something fast and dark passed between the buildings.
Rick's head snapped up. "Did you see that?"
Lucien's heart jumped. "Yeah. What was it?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then the sound reached them.
Thump-thump-thump.
"Lucien," Rick said slowly. "Is that..."
"A helicopter," Lucien confirmed, pointing at it. "There!"
The shadow passed between two skyscrapers, visible for only a moment before disappearing behind the buildings. But it was real. Not a hallucination or a trick of the light.
A helicopter was flying overhead. That meant people were still out there. It meant organization. It possibly meant rescue...
Rick's entire demeanor changed instantly.
"Hold on!"
Before Lucien could respond, he snapped the reins hard and kicked the horse's flanks.
The animal surged forward and broke into a full gallop. Its hoofbeats thundered against the asphalt as it charged toward the spot where the helicopter had disappeared.
Lucien grabbed Rick's arm to steady himself. The city blurred around them.
"Rick..." he started.
"That's a helicopter!" Rick's voice rose slightly. "That means people! The military, maybe, or the government! We have to find them!"
Lucien wanted to tell him it was a bad idea. He wanted to warn him that charging blindly through a city full of walkers was exactly how people got killed. But he knew Rick would not listen. Not after seeing the first sign of organized humanity since waking from his coma.
The horse galloped on, carrying them deeper into the dead city.