The mist curled around his boots as he stepped between the broken pillars. He was not expecting company, certainly not a child. But there she was—a small girl with tangled hair, clutching a threadbare doll to her chest, her eyes wide and hollow.

Rellik stopped a few paces away, his gloved hand resting loosely near the hilt of his belt knife. He studied her in silence, expression as unreadable as the darkness behind him.

“…You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was low and, with no trace of softness, but also no malice. Just fact.

She didn’t answer, only hugged the doll tighter.

He exhaled slowly. For a moment, he considered simply moving past her. But something—distant, unwanted—uncoiled in his memory.

“Are you alone?”

Again, silence.

Rellik’s gaze drifted over the ruins, searching for any sign of movement. Satisfied that no ambush waited, he returned his attention to the child.

“Stay where you are,” he said quietly. “I won’t harm you. But if you run, I may not find you again.”

He took a slow step closer, cloak shifting behind him.

“…Tell me your name.”