Aiden’s Fortress – The Kingdom of Grief.

The heavy oak door creaked open as Lukas stepped inside, the scent of damp stone and faint torch smoke filling his nose. Aiden’s place hadn’t changed much—still draped in banners of dark green and gold, still too big for just one person.

And there he was.

Leaning against the far wall like he’d been waiting, Aiden smirked, arms crossed. His emerald eyes flickered with something between amusement and... something sharper.

"Lukas," he drawled, tilting his head. "Miss me already?"

Lukas clenched his fists, forcing a dry chuckle. "Hardly. Just came for my things."

Aiden pushed off the wall, boots clicking against the polished stone as he stepped closer. Too close. "Funny. Thought you washed your hands of me and my 'schemes.'"

"I did," Lukas said firmly, holding his ground even as Aiden loomed. "Doesn’t mean I left my sword behind."

A slow grin spread across Aiden’s face—dangerous, familiar. "Ahhh, right. The sword." He turned, gesturing lazily toward a chest in the corner. "It’s in there. Along with everything else you abandoned."

Lukas moved toward it cautiously. "No tricks?"

Aiden let out a laugh—short, bitter. "Would I do that to you?"

The chest creaked open. Lukas’s old gear sat untouched.

But when he glanced back, Aiden was still watching him.

Like a predator.

Like an old friend.

(Youre Lukas ! )