They did not speak at first.
The palace doors closed behind them with a heavy, hollow boom — a sound that seemed to follow Brenner long after they had already descended the stone steps. The great Spirit Stone faded from sight, its pale glow swallowed by distance, and only then did the tightness in his chest finally ease.
Brenner released a slow breath.
"...gods above."
His shoulders sagged, stiffness draining from his back as though an unseen mountain had finally stepped away.
"That man," he muttered, shaking his head, "doesn't just look like trouble. He breathes it."
Caelumn walked at his side, his hands loosely clenched. The air beyond the palace felt lighter, but his chest still remembered the crushing pressure — the invisible weight that had tried to fold him into the stone itself.
Brenner glanced at him, his tone softening.
"You know," he said, a faint smile touching his lips, "when the chief asked your name and you actually answered… you nearly gave me a heart attack."
Caelumn turned to him, startled.
"I—I'm sorry. I didn't think—"
"I know," Brenner replied gently. "You weren't lying. But you said it like something you remembered." He exhaled. "If he'd thought you were hiding your past, that room might've become your grave."
Caelumn swallowed, his gaze lowering.
"Lila just… gave me the name. It felt wrong to say I had none."
Brenner slowed, then stopped.
Sunlight caught in Caelumn's pale hair, glinting against eyes that still carried a quiet, searching distance. For a long moment Brenner simply studied him — and then a tired, warm smile appeared.
"Well," he said softly, "I'm glad you have one."
Caelumn blinked.
"You are?"
Brenner nodded.
"A man without a name drifts. A man with one begins to stand somewhere." He huffed faintly. "Though I will be scolding Lila for nearly getting you crushed by a mountain with legs."
A small, nervous breath escaped Caelumn — something close to a laugh.
"She didn't mean—"
"Oh, I know," Brenner said gently. "I just wish I'd known when a stranger in my house without memories of himself suddenly became someone with a name."
He glanced sideways, eyes crinkling.
"Still… Caelumn suits you. Sounds like someone who'll cause trouble."
Caelumn smiled.
The scene shifts.
A narrow stone chamber lay hidden beneath cold blue lamps. Their light spilled across ancient walls, casting long, unmoving shadows. One cloaked figure stood at the center, hands folded, eyes unseen beneath his hood. He had been waiting.
Soft footsteps approached.
Two dark figures slipped into the chamber, moving carefully, as though afraid even their breath might be heard. The waiting figure's gaze sharpened beneath his hood.
"Has it been done?"
One of the newcomers swallowed.
"No… he jumped."
The waiting figure turned slightly.
"Jumped?"
"Into the sea… before we could finish him off."
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.
The waiting figure's voice cut through it.
"You didn't recover the body."
The first bowed his head.
"No. We searched the wreckage. The current was too strong. Nothing remained."
A trembling fist tightened beneath a cloak.
"You know what that means," someone whispered.
"We can't return without proof."
"Not without a body."
A quiet breath slipped into the chamber, thin and afraid.
"If he's alive…" one muttered, "…we're dead. He was the top priority — the one the target demanded eliminated."
The second shook his head slowly.
"Even if it takes years, we'll find him. Track him down. Bring back proof."
"Body or blood," the first said.
The waiting figure lifted his head, eyes glinting faintly beneath his hood.
"All for the Great One."
And in an instant, the chamber was empty — leaving only cold light and silence behind.