On the edge of my consciousness, a faint, hairy tickle danced across my face. It was followed a moment later by the unmistakable rasp of a rough tongue licking my cheek, and I knew exactly what—or rather, who—it was. I cracked my eyes open, a sliver of vision against the bright morning light filtering in through a nearby window. Pip. She was right there, her little face inches from mine, whiskers twitching.

  "Good morning, Pip," I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. I wrapped her in a hug, pulling her warm, furry body against my chest. Her familiar scent was a comforting anchor in this strange new world.

  The night spent on the floor hadn't been as terrible as I'd expected. While there hadn't been a spare bed, Vana had been kind enough to provide a small mountain of thick, warm blankets near the hearth. The lingering warmth from the embers had kept the night’s chill at bay. I pushed myself up, feeling a few pops in my back as I settled into a cross-legged position, and lifted Pip onto my lap. She immediately curled into a perfect circle, a motor of purrs starting up as I began to stroke her soft, black fur. The simple, rhythmic action was meditative.

  “Morning,” Orin’s deep voice rumbled from the doorway. He’d just come in from outside, carrying an armful of firewood that he deposited with a soft thud into a wicker basket near the fireplace. The crisp, clean scent of the morning air clung to him for a moment, smelling of damp earth and pine.

  “Morning,” I replied politely, stretching my arms high above my head until my shoulders protested. Pip, disturbed by the movement, hopped gracefully off my lap. She trotted directly to the front door and began scratching at the thick wood with quiet insistence.

  Orin glanced from her to me, a question in his eyes. “Is she okay to go out alone?”

  Nodding, I explained, "She probably needs to take care of… cat business. She was cooped up inside all night, after all."

  He gave a short nod of understanding and moved to unlatch the heavy wooden door. Only a sliver of cool, grey light streamed in, confirming my suspicion that it was still very, very early. Pip didn't hesitate, slipping through the opening and vanishing into the pre-dawn gloom. Orin closed the door firmly behind her, the sound echoing in the quiet cabin. He then walked purposefully over to a cupboard and retrieved a leather pouch that jingled faintly with the sound of coins.

  “We’re leaving soon,” Orin stated as he fastened the pouch securely to his belt. His movements were clipped, efficient.

  I blinked at him, surprised by the suddenness of it all. I hadn't even been awake for five minutes, and we were already on the move? He must have registered my confused expression, because he added, “Don’t worry. We’ll eat something in the city. But it’s always better to get to the market early, so we don’t just get the leftovers nobody else wanted.”

  Ah. That made perfect sense, of course. The early bird catches the worm. I pushed myself to my feet, stretching again to work out the last of the stiffness from sleeping on the hard floor. Wandering over to the small window, I peered outside. In the growing light, I could see Pip stalking something with intense focus in the tall, dew-kissed grass near the barn, her tail twitching like a metronome. "Are we going alone?" I asked, my voice still a little rough.

  I waited for a verbal answer, but none came. When I turned around, Orin was just staring into the cold hearth, his expression unreadable. He finally looked at me and gave a single, curt nod. I raised an eyebrow, a silent question. Orin sighed, a heavy, weary sound that seemed to fill the small room. “Vana has to look after Willow, and Jory… Jory is continuing work on the well.”

  Okay? He was definitely in a foul mood this morning. His grief from the previous night seemed to have curdled overnight into a grim, unapproachable silence. His words were clipped, his shoulders tense beneath his simple tunic. Something was weighing on him heavily, and I decided it was best not to press him for more.

  Thirty minutes later, I was sitting on the front bench of a sturdy-looking wooden cart, Pip nestled comfortably and purring on my lap. Orin held the reins beside me, his gaze fixed forward. Vana, Willow, and Jory hadn't shown themselves before we left. The silent departure felt strange and a little unsettling, but a selfish part of me was relieved to escape the heavy atmosphere of grief that clung to the house. As the cart rolled off the farmstead and onto the dirt track, my gaze wandered over the golden wheat fields. The early morning sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, bathing the world in a soft, ethereal light.

  I stroked Pip gently, her contentment a small comfort against the man’s stony silence. I wanted to ask Orin ten thousand questions about Aegis, about this world, about everything. But he remained a silent statue, his face a grim mask, his eyes locked on the path ahead. The easy, if weary, farmer from yesterday was gone, replaced by this brooding stranger. Was it just Willow's worsening condition, or was there something more? Something about this trip to the city that was twisting him up inside?

  We traveled for what felt like hours through a landscape of gentle, rolling hills dotted with copses of birch and oak. Eventually, the track merged with a wider, more established road. Deep ruts in the hardened earth indicated this route was heavily used by wagons and carts. Soon, we saw other travelers—another cart ahead of us laden with barrels, a few lone riders on strong horses who trotted past with curt nods of greeting. In the distance, a colossal mountain range loomed, their snow-dusted peaks wreathed in morning mist. The road seemed to lead directly towards a dark cleft in the mountainside—a man-made passage bored straight through the rock.

  “Aegis lies beyond those mountains,” Orin finally spoke, his voice quiet but clear over the rumble of the cartwheels. “We’ll be checked at the entrance to the passage, and there are patrols inside as well. So, let me do the talking.”

  “Understood,” I answered, keeping it short and simple. Orin’s behavior was still deeply unsettling. Was Willow worse this morning? Had Pip’s presence not helped? The thought sent a painful pang through my chest. I couldn't bear the idea of giving Orin and Vana false hope about Pip's abilities, not when I barely understood them myself. It was best to keep quiet.

  I scratched Pip behind the ears, and she responded with a loud, satisfied purr that vibrated through my thighs. A familiar, cold worry coiled in my stomach. Lymphoma. Even now, in this new world, in this new body, the word alone could send a wave of icy dread through me. I could almost smell the sterile scent of the vet’s office, feel the crushing weight of the diagnosis. Could Pip get sick again here? And if she did… could she heal herself? Her power felt miraculous, but was it limitless? As always, a universe of questions and not a single, solid answer.

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  Time crawled by. The journey to the mountain passage took much longer than I’d expected. I glanced up at the sky; the sun was high overhead now, telling me we’d been traveling for several hours. As we drew closer to the passage entrance, we saw a couple of wagons being turned away by stern-looking guards, their drivers arguing before being forced to head back the way they came. A knot of nervous anticipation tightened in my gut. I’d only met a handful of people in this world, and my experiences had been… mixed, to put it mildly. I crossed my fingers, hoping for better luck in Aegis.

  “Halt! Driver, dismount and report to the registry!” one of the guards at the checkpoint shouted as we approached, holding up a gauntleted hand. He wore sturdy boots and a polished metal cuirass over boiled leather armor, a longsword hanging at his hip. At least four other similarly equipped guards stood nearby, their expressions impassive as they watched our slow approach.

  “You stay put and watch the cart,” Orin said curtly, handing me the reins before hopping down.

  Great idea. Give the reins to the twelve-year-old who has absolutely no idea how to drive a horse-drawn cart. I held the leather straps rigidly in my sweaty palms, terrified that the slightest twitch might send the horse bolting. The animal, thankfully, seemed utterly unconcerned and stood placidly.

  Orin returned after only a few tense minutes. As he climbed back onto the cart bench, I practically threw the reins at him. He took them wordlessly and gave them a light flick, urging the horse forward through the now-open barrier beside the registry hut.

  “Everything okay? Can we pass?” I asked.

  Orin just grunted a clipped, “Yes.”

  Urgh… the last few hours had been terse, but now he was really perfecting the silent treatment. Fine. Be that way. I still had Pip, who seemed to appreciate every scratch behind the ears with an enthusiastic purr.

  Her purring stopped abruptly, though, as we entered the mountain passage. The bright midday sun was instantly swallowed by the towering rock above, plunging the wide tunnel into a cool, damp shadow. Torches in iron sconces flickered at regular intervals along the walls, casting long, dancing shadows that made the tunnel feel alive and vaguely menacing. The passage floor was surprisingly smooth stone, worn down by what must have been centuries of traffic. What really struck me, however, was the sheer number of guards. Everywhere I looked—in small alcoves carved into the walls, on high ledges overlooking the road—there were watchposts manned by vigilant soldiers. Was Aegis attacked so often? Or were they just pathologically paranoid? I had zero desire to get caught in a battle the moment we reached the city.

  Sighing inwardly, I leaned back against the rough wooden seat. Time seemed to stretch and distort in the dim, unchanging tunnel. It felt like a never-ending corridor of rock, torches, and silent, watching guards. The path twisted and turned, sometimes sloping gently downwards, other times climbing upwards. After a long, rumbling descent, we began a slow, laborious climb toward what I prayed was the exit.

  Finally, after what felt like another hour, I saw it—a growing pinprick of brilliant light at the end of the tunnel. And then, as we emerged from the darkness and back into the full, blinding daylight, I saw it.

  Aegis.

  My breath caught in my throat. It wasn't just a city; it was a statement of power. A brutal, grey bulwark of stone nestled in the heart of a lush green valley. Forests, fields, and sparkling rivers crisscrossed the valley floor, feeding into a large, placid lake that shimmered near the city walls. Surrounding it all, like the protective arms of a titan, stood the gigantic, snow-capped mountains we had just passed through.

  Even the most massive structures I’d ever seen back on Earth—skyscrapers that pierced the clouds, sprawling stadiums, colossal dams that held back entire rivers—seemed like insignificant toys compared to the sheer, impossible scale of this city. Mouth agape, eyes wide, I tried to soak in every detail. The city walls were immense, impossibly high and thick, punctuated by formidable towers that seemed to scrape the sky. From our position on the road, I could only glimpse the tops of taller buildings within, including what looked like the spire of a massive cathedral or temple. If the defenses were this magnificent, what wonders did the city itself hold?

  The closer we got, the more idyllic the surrounding valley seemed. People were fishing by the lake, farmers worked diligently in their fields, and children ran laughing through the grass. It looked like a painted paradise.

  But my cynical, twenty-five-year-old mind immediately kicked in. If everything is so peaceful and perfect… why the gigantic, terrifying walls? The mountains and the guarded passage already made any conventional attack seem nearly impossible. Were the walls just relics, witnesses to a much more brutal past?

  "Orin," I asked the silent driver beside me, unable to contain my curiosity, "what are these gigantic walls actually for?"

  He answered without turning his head, his voice utterly flat. "For protection."

  Well, kiss my ass. I could have figured that much out myself. Sighing again, I let my gaze fall back on the city ahead. The entrance gate was just as imposing: a colossal double gate of dark wood reinforced with thick metal bands, set beneath a massive stone archway equipped with a heavy portcullis. And guards. Lots of them, heavily armed and armored, patrolling the ramparts above and standing watch below. They really didn't mess around with security here.

  I decided to try one more time. "Is there anything I should know? About entering the city?"

  And who would have guessed… "Let me do the talking," Orin repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Fine. After a few more minutes, we arrived directly before the main gate. The guards below tensed as we approached, their hands moving instinctively towards their sword hilts. Trouble? Over a farmer and a kid on a simple cart? What was with the rampant paranoia?

  "HALT! Dismount and state your business!" one of the guards barked, his voice amplified by the stone archway.

  I already had my hand outstretched, ready for Orin to dump the reins on me again. He did so, wordlessly, before climbing down. He walked over to a guard standing slightly apart from the others and began talking quietly. After a moment, I saw Orin reach into the leather pouch at his belt and press a few coins into the guard's waiting hand. A bribe? Or maybe it was a standard gate tax?

  A moment later, Orin was done. He climbed back onto the cart and took the reins. One of the guards waved us forward. As the cart rolled slowly towards the gate, a deep, groaning sound shook the very earth beneath us. The massive portcullis began to rise, and the colossal wooden gates started to swing slowly inwards, revealing the city within.

  Wow… My eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated astonishment. A huge, involuntary grin spread across my face. I couldn't help it.

  It was a riot of life and color. Half-timbered houses with brightly painted shutters lined the cobblestone streets. Banners and garlands were strung between buildings, fluttering in the breeze. And the people! Hundreds, maybe thousands, filled the wide street. People of all ages, genders, and ethnicities, dressed in everything from simple tunics to elaborate, embroidered robes. And they were… happy. Genuinely, infectiously happy. They were singing, talking animatedly, laughing, gathered around food stalls that sent plumes of smoke smelling of roasted meat and sweet pastries into the air. Children chased each other through the crowd, their shrieks of joy echoing off the walls. The sheer volume of life, joy, and energy packed into one place was overwhelming. This city… it felt like a paradise. I’d never seen so many happy people together in one place in my entire previous life.

  But the man beside me was not one of them. As he guided the horse through the throng, Orin’s face was a mask of exhausted, bleak sorrow. His hands were clamped so tightly on the reins his knuckles shone bone-white. His jaw was set so hard I could see the muscles twitching in his cheek. In a city bursting with life, he looked like a man walking to his own execution.