Chapter 290: Dead End
The air settled.
One moment they were in the alley. The next, they stood on a rooftop overlooking the city. Finn’s knees buckled. Lucian caught him before he could fall.
"Easy," Lucian said.
Finn’s face was pale. His hands were shaking. He looked down at the tiles beneath his feet, then at the drop below, then back at Lucian.
"How did you—"
"Walked."
"That’s not walking."
"It is for me."
Finn opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No sound came out.
Lucian let go of him once he was steady. He moved to the edge of the roof and sat down, legs dangling over the side. The city spread out below them, a patchwork of dark streets and scattered lights. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
Finn stayed where he was, frozen.
"You can sit," Lucian said without looking back. "Or stand. Doesn’t matter to me."
"You brought me up here to throw me off."
"I brought you up here because you needed to breathe." Lucian glanced over his shoulder. "If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead."
Finn swallowed. He took a hesitant step forward. Then another. Eventually, he lowered himself to the tiles, keeping a healthy distance between them.
They sat in silence.
The wind picked up, carrying smells from the market district—roasting meat, fresh bread, something sweet. Finn’s stomach growled. He pressed a hand against it, embarrassed.
"When did you last eat?" Lucian asked.
"Yesterday."
"That’s a lie."
"Day before, then." Finn’s voice was defensive. "I don’t keep a calendar."
Lucian reached into his pocket. Finn tensed, expecting a weapon, a threat, something. Instead, Lucian pulled out a small loaf of bread. Still warm. Fresh.
He held it out.
Finn stared at it. "Where did that come from?"
"I made it."
"You made it."
"Yes."
"You’re a mage who makes bread."
"I’m a mage who makes whatever I want." Lucian shook the loaf slightly. "Take it or don’t. I don’t care."
Finn took it.
He ate like he hadn’t seen food in weeks. Because maybe he hadn’t. The bread disappeared in chunks, swallowed without chewing, gone before he could taste it. When it was done, he stared at his empty hands like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Lucian said nothing.
He just sat there, watching the city, waiting for something Finn couldn’t name.
"Why are you being nice to me?" Finn asked finally.
"I’m not being nice."
"You gave me food."
"Food is food. Nice is something else."
Finn frowned, trying to figure out the difference. He couldn’t. In his world, food was nice. Full stop.
"You said you’re looking for someone," Finn said. "Someone everyone forgot."
"Yes."
"How do you forget someone?"
Lucian was quiet for a long moment. The bell in the distance tolled again. Farther this time. Or closer. It was hard to tell.
"I don’t know," he said. "That’s what I’m trying to find out."
Finn hugged his knees to his chest. He looked small like that. Young. Even though he hadn’t been young for a long time.
"What was their name?"
"Evelyn."
"Was she family?"
Lucian’s jaw tightened. "Yes."
"What happened to her?"
"That’s what I’m trying to find out too."
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.
Nothing answered.
Lucian’s shoulders dropped. Just a fraction. Just enough for Finn to notice.
"She’s not here," Lucian said.
"Then why did you bring us?"
"Because sometimes you have to stand in the places they stood. Even if they’re empty." Lucian turned to face him. "It helps you understand."
Finn didn’t understand. But he nodded anyway.
They left the warehouse. The moon had moved, casting different shadows now. The water lapped against the piers. Somewhere, a bird called out in the dark.
"What now?" Finn asked.
Lucian looked up at the sky. The stars here were different from the ones in his world. Brighter. Closer. Like they were watching.
"Now we wait," he said.
"For what?"
"For a sign. A feeling. Anything."
Finn wrapped his arms around himself. The cold was getting worse. Or maybe he was just tired. Maybe both.
"Can you make food again?" he asked.
Lucian glanced at him. Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another loaf of bread. And a piece of cheese. And a small flask that smelled like water.
He handed them over.
Finn took them with trembling hands. "You really can make anything."
"Almost anything."
"What can’t you make?"
Lucian was quiet for a moment.
"Memories," he said. "I can’t make people remember."
He walked to the edge of the pier and sat down again, legs dangling over the water. Finn sat beside him, closer this time. He ate the bread and the cheese, drank the water, and tried not to think about how strange this was.
A god sitting next to a thief on an abandoned dock in the middle of the night.
"You’re not from this world," Finn said.
"No."
"Are you going to leave?"
"Soon."
"Will you take me with you?"
Lucian looked at him. "Why would you want that?"
Finn thought about it. About the alleys and the hunger and the cold. About the people who looked through him like he wasn’t there. About the future he didn’t have.
"Because there’s nothing here for me," he said.
Lucian didn’t answer right away. He looked back at the water, at the reflection of the moon, at the way the light rippled and broke and reformed.
"There’s nothing for me either," he said quietly. "Not anymore. Not until I find her."
"Then we’re the same."
Lucian almost smiled. "Maybe."
They sat in silence, watching the water, waiting for a sign that didn’t come.
