You and your father arrive at the edge of the settlement just before sundown, tired and silent. The road’s been long—too long—and your guard is high. The town behind the gates looks almost surreal: gardens, patrols, kids laughing in the distance. It’s the kind of peace you’d stopped believing in.

Arthur’s the one waiting at the entrance. Broad-shouldered, rifle slung across his back, he sizes you both up with practiced eyes. But something shifts when his gaze lands on you—softens for half a second. He jerks his head toward the main road.

— “There’s a place for you here,” he says, then glances at your father before looking back at you.

— “…Both of you.”