Berry shifted uneasily after dinner, ropes biting into his skin.
The warm clearing, the glowing "sun," and the boy who acted as though nothing was strange—it all pressed against his mind until his thoughts spiraled into dangerous places.
If he could take that furnace—no, that artificial sun—back to a settlent, he’d have leverage.
Even if he was exiled, a man who brought salvation would be begged for forgiveness. Respected. Maybe even crowned.
But before he could finish weaving his fantasy, a small voice cut through his thoughts.
"You’re thinking of stealing it, aren’t you?"
Berry froze.
Lucian sat across from him, legs folded, expression calm. His dark eyes reflected the artificial sunlight, too sharp for a child’s.
Berry tried to school his face, but his racing heart betrayed him.
The boy didn’t wait for an answer.
"You wouldn’t be able to operate it. Even if you dragged it away sohow, it only works because I built it here. Right now, it can only power this little valley."
He gestured casually, as if swatting away Berry’s hidden thoughts.
"If you tried to use it elsewhere, the output would collapse, and you’d just be left with a useless pile of tal."
Berry’s mouth went dry.
’He... he saw through ?’
Lucian tilted his head, his voice light but edged.
"And even if you did steal it, I could just build another. But you? You’d lose what little trust you’ve earned. You’d be left alone again, without a place to return to."
The words stung deeper than Berry wanted to admit.
This brat wasn’t only guarding his territory—he was dissecting Berry’s intentions as though they were written across his forehead.
Berry forced a bitter chuckle.
"You talk big for a kid."
"I only talk what’s true. If you want proof, try it. But I promise you won’t like the outco."
Lucian replied evenly.
For the first ti, Berry felt a chill in this warm clearing. He looked at the boy differently now—not as a child, not even as a savior—but as sothing dangerous.
Dinner passed in silence after that, tension lingering in the air. When Berry had finished eating, Lucian stood, brushing off his hands.
"My na is Lucian."
Berry blinked, surprised by the sudden introduction.
"I’ve observed you enough. I think I can let you go now. But before that, you’ll need to sign a contract with ."
Lucian’s eyes narrowed, the glow of the artificial sun framing his small figure like an on.
Berry’s stomach tightened.
"Contract? What for?"
"To ensure your safety. And mine."
Lucian said. His words were simple, but they carried weight.
Berry let out a humorless laugh.
"And what makes you so sure I won’t betray you the mont I’m free?"
Lucian smiled. It wasn’t the smile of a child.
"Because I have my ways of making sure you don’t."
The way he said it—soft, certain, without hesitation—made Berry’s skin prickle. He realized then that Lucian wasn’t bluffing.
Whatever this boy was, he had the ans to back up every word.
A faint glow shimred into existence as Lucian pressed his palm to the ground. Strange symbols, like fire etched into air, circled outward.
Berry had seen scraps of magic before—rituals, blood pacts—but never sothing this precise.
"Place your hand here. You’ll find out soon enough."
Lucian instructed.
Berry hesitated. But what choice did he have? Bound, starving, without allies... if he refused, he’d lose the only place of warmth he had left.
Grinding his teeth, he pressed his palm down. The light surged, wrapping around his arm, and for an instant, Berry felt sothing burrow into him—like invisible threads stitching into his bones.
The glow faded. The ropes fell away from his wrists.
Lucian watched him calmly.
"There. You’re free."
Berry rubbed at his raw wrists, still trembling from the sensation.
"Just like that? No conditions?"
Lucian tilted his head.
"The contract is the condition. Try to harm , and you’ll regret it."
Berry swallowed hard. He didn’t ask what "regret" ant. He didn’t want to know.
Instead, he forced his voice steady. "Then what now?"
Lucian’s answer was absurdly casual.
"For now, we tend to the crops."
Berry stared at him.
"That’s it?"
"That’s it."
Lucian handed him a small hoe, as if the conversation about betrayal and contracts had never happened.
Berry blinked, then huffed a laugh.
"Fine. Better than starving in the snow, I guess."
He followed Lucian into the neat rows of crops. Strange vegetables sprouted in tidy patches, leaves broad and green under the warm glow of the furnace.
The soil slled alive, a scent Berry hadn’t known since childhood.
Lucian gave him short, precise instructions.
"Turn the soil gently. Don’t crush the roots. Water sparingly—this much. And keep watch for pests. If you see anything chewing, pluck it and toss it into the bin."
He demonstrated with a small ladle.
Berry listened carefully, committing every word to mory. But when he tried to follow the directions, everything blurred.
The soil clumped under his clumsy hands. The water splashed unevenly. His attempts at watching for pests ended with him yanking out harmless weeds instead.
Lucian didn’t scold him. He just nodded.
"Good enough. Keep at it."
Berry ground his teeth. He wasn’t learning anything useful. Just breaking his back while the brat leaned against a tree, arms behind his head, watching lazily.
It hit him then—Lucian had pawned off the chores onto him.
Berry almost snapped, but when he glanced at the boy again, the thought withered. Those sharp eyes still followed him, as though weighing every move.
Berry lowered his head and kept working.
The soil crumbled between his fingers, rough and real. Sweat beaded on his brow as he dug and turned. It wasn’t glorious. It wasn’t a warrior’s path.
But each motion pressed the truth deeper into him.
This valley, this furnace, this food... it all revolved around Lucian. And Berry, who had thought to steal, had ended up pulling weeds under a boy’s watch.
A boy who wasn’t really a boy.
When the day’s work ended, Lucian clapped his hands together.
"That’s enough. Rest well tonight."
Berry dropped the hoe, chest heaving. His muscles ached, his pride more so. But beneath it all, a quiet thought took root.
Maybe... just maybe... this place could be the start of sothing different.
If he could survive it.
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