WORKING AREA OF FATHER

The sun dipped low behind the high walls of Lumisgrave, casting long shadows across the polished stone streets of the Upper District. This part of the capital gleamed with nobility and peace, a place of security and privilege.

Evening lanterns had begun to glow — enchanted orbs floating beside every garden path and balcony, flickering gently like fireflies. Their warm light spilled across trimmed hedges, marble statues, and the elevated roads that wove through the Upper District's terraces.

Arslan walked slowly along the curved path leading to his family's home, his boots clicking softly on the smooth stone. Clad in his usual dark attire, his hood rested low over his head, shielding him from attention — though the people here already knew who he was.

The guards at the gate gave him a slight nod. No questions. No delay.

He stepped through the ornate blackwood door and entered the house .

The house smelled faintly of lavender and old scrolls. The walls were lined with books, maps, and small ornaments of distant lands. A few portraits remained — one of Arslan as a child, another of his mother, and one of a man whose features were like Arslan's… yet older, warmer.

In the sitting room, his mother sat beneath a hanging lamp. She was sewing — quiet and focused — though her hands trembled slightly. The moment she sensed Arslan's presence, she looked up.

"Arslan," she said, smiling. Her voice, though aged by grief and years, still held strength.

He nodded, stepping in and sitting across from her.

"I wanted to ask you something… about father."

The sewing needle paused in mid-air. Her breath caught, just for a second. Then she carefully placed the cloth aside.

"What do you wish to know?" she asked gently.

"Where did he work before?" Arslan's voice was calm but laced with curiosity.

She smiled faintly, looking down at her hands as if reaching through memory.

"Your father worked in a former research council facility. It was just outside the Lower District, on the border between the industrial quarter and the scholar's lane."

Arslan furrowed his brow. "What kind of research?"

She looked into his eyes — the same eyes his father once had — and said, "It was a place for developing chemical artifacts, research techniques, working on disease. Many who worked there were brilliant minds. Your father… was one of them."

There was pride in her tone.

"So… why did he leave the lab?"

Her face dimmed.

"There was a fire. Not a natural one. Some say it was sabotage. Others say it was a chemical experiment gone wrong. But the council covered it up. Many lives were lost. Your father survived, but he… changed. He refused to return to that place. He said… 'some knowledge is not meant to be unearthed.'"

The room went silent for a while. Outside, wind brushed against the window panes.

She looked at him again. "Why are you asking about him after so long?"

Arslan answered gently, "Because… I want to find him."

Her expression shattered.

Her lips parted, but no words came at first. Then, slowly, her hand covered her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I haven't seen him for sixteen years, Arslan. I don't even know if he's…"

He leaned forward, placing a hand over hers.

"We will find something. A clue. A memory. Anything. I promise you, Mother."

Her tears fell quietly. Not sobs — but soft weeping, like a cracked dam slowly leaking. She nodded, clutching his hand.

"You've grown into him. Every day you look more like your father."

"i will find him one day."

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the grief settle, letting the hope rise.

As the moon began to rise, Arslan stood.

His mother wiped her tears and managed a smile. "Be careful. I know you're Mythic now, but you'll always be my son."

He gave a small smirk. "Mythic or not, I still burn toast."

She chuckled — the first laugh of the evening.

He opened the door and stepped out into the night. The glow from the enchanted lanterns cast gentle shadows behind him.

The Upper District was quiet, peaceful. But beyond the serenity, Arslan felt something stir in the distance — not in the air, but in the world.

He looked up at the sky.

"I'll find you, Father," he whispered.

Then he turned, and walked back toward the Mythic Base — the road ahead long, unknown, and filled with buried truths waiting to be unearthed.