Finn nodded slowly, like that made sense. Like he understood something about chasing answers that didn’t want to be caught.
He’d been doing that his whole life. Chasing a full stomach. Chasing a dry place to sleep. Chasing a reason to keep going when there wasn’t one.
"I could help," Finn said. The words came out before he could stop them.
Lucian turned to look at him. Really look. Those tired eyes scanning his face, his clothes, his too-thin wrists, his too-old expression.
"How?"
"I know the city. The old parts. The places people forget." Finn shrugged. "If someone was hiding here, or lost here, or... erased here... I’d know. Maybe."
Lucian studied him for another beat. Then he looked back at the city.
"Fine," he said.
Finn blinked. "Fine?"
"You can help. For now."
"That’s it? Just... fine?"
"Do you want me to negotiate?" Lucian’s voice was dry. "Make you prove yourself first? Pass some test?"
Finn shook his head quickly.
"Then it’s fine."
They sat in silence again. The wind picked up, colder now. Finn shivered. Lucian didn’t seem to notice the temperature at all.
"There’s a place," Finn said. "Down by the old docks. They say a woman lived there once. A real mage. Not like the capital ones. She helped people. Healed them. Asked for nothing in return."
Lucian’s attention sharpened. "When?"
"A long time ago. Before I was born. My mother used to tell stories about her. Said she disappeared one day. Just... gone. No one knew where."
"What was her name?"
Finn shook his head. "No one remembered. That was the strange part. My mother said everyone forgot her name, but they remembered what she did. The healing. The kindness. Just... not who she was."
Lucian went very still.
Finn noticed. "Is that... is that like your person?"
"It might be." Lucian stood up. "Take me there."
"Now?"
"Now."
Finn scrambled to his feet. His legs were still shaky, but he forced them to work. "It’s across the city. The old docks are abandoned. No one goes there."
"Good."
Lucian held out his hand again.
Finn hesitated. He knew what would happen if he took it. The air would ripple. The world would twist. He’d end up somewhere else without walking.
He took the hand.
The air rippled.
---
The old docks were exactly what Finn had said. Abandoned. Crumbling. Forgotten.
Wooden piers stretched out into dark water, rotted and broken. Warehouses slumped against each other like drunks. The only sounds were the lapping of waves and the creak of old wood settling.
Lucian walked to the edge of the nearest pier and stopped.
He closed his eyes.
Finn watched, uncertain. He didn’t know what Lucian was doing. Looking? Listening? Feeling?
After a long minute, Lucian opened his eyes.
"Nothing," he said.
"Nothing?"
"She was not here, she was not the one you were talking about."
Finn kicked at a loose board. "So it was a dead end."
"It was a direction." Lucian’s voice was calm, but there was something underneath it. Frustration. Weariness. "That’s more than I had an hour ago."
He walked toward one of the warehouses. The door hung loose on its hinges, creaking in the wind. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
Finn followed.
The interior was dark, dusty, full of broken crates and old fishing nets. A single beam of moonlight came through a hole in the roof, illuminating a patch of floor.
Lucian stood in that patch of light.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, head tilted, like he was listening to something only he could hear.
"Evelyn," he said.
The name echoed off the walls. Soft. Almost gentle.