The city was not really a city. It was a pile of broken homes and leaning towers with no names. Smoke rose from the cracks in the stone roads. People moved like ghosts. None of them looked up.

Ian walked through it with his hood up. His wings were hidden. His steps were slow. He asked no one. But he listened.

Everyone had a story. All the stories had one name in them.

Christian.

They said Christian knew things no one should know. They said he once spoke with a dead god and lived. They said he did not age. They said he once found a dragon’s real name and sold it for a piece of candy. Ian did not care about the stories. He only cared if Christian knew Varnak.

A priest stood by a broken temple. His robe had stars on it. Not drawn. Real stars that moved in the cloth like water.

“You look lost” the priest said.

“I am looking for Christian” Ian answered.

The priest gave a small nod.

“I know him” he said. “He comes and goes like wind but he will speak to you if your question matters. Ask him about truth. Never ask him about gold.”

Ian looked him in the eye. “I need to ask about Varnak.”

The priest raised a brow then pointed at the hollow tower behind the temple.

“Go to the top. Wait. He will come.”

So Ian climbed. The stairs were broken. The wind howled. He sat near a hole in the wall and waited.

And Christian came.

He did not walk. He was just there. Thin body. Light eyes. A coat that looked like it was made of mist. He had no weapons. Just a book that never opened.

“You want to ask about Varnak” Christian said. He smiled but the smile felt wrong. “That is not a safe name.”

Ian stood up.

“I need to stop him. I need to know more.”

Christian looked out the broken window.

“He cannot be tracked by normal ways. No spell can follow him. No mark can bind him. He walks outside the line of time. But… he has one weakness.”

Ian stepped closer. “What is it?”

Christian closed his eyes.

“He must feed every seven days. Not on food. On regret. He visits places where people scream into the dirt and ask why. He drinks their grief. Without it he fades. He becomes less.”

Ian asked himself So he eats pain. How do I even use that against him?

Christian opened his book. The pages turned without his hand moving.

“Years ago he fed on a village that lost their sun. The sun vanished from their sky and never came back. The village is still there. Still dark. Still crying. He goes there sometimes.”

Ian felt something shift in his chest.

“Can you find him?”

Christian shook his head.

“No. But I know someone who might.”

“Who?”

Christian’s voice dropped.

“Her name is Elen. She is blind. But she sees things the stars do not. She once followed a shadow into death and came back with its name. If anyone can find Varnak… it is her.”

Ian looked at the broken sky outside.

So the path leads deeper. I have to meet her next. I have no choice.

…

The sun was dull that day. Not hidden. Just tired. The roads were dry and full of holes. The wind carried dust and little else.

Ian walked them all.

He asked everyone he saw. Old men sitting by the road. Women hanging dry clothes. Young boys throwing stones at birds. He showed no wings. He used no force. Just words.

“Do you know someone named Elen?”

Most just shook their heads. Some laughed. Some said the name felt wrong. Like a dream they almost remembered.

Ian kept walking.

Is this useless? he asked himself. Is she even real?

His feet hurt. His back ached. His throat felt like sand. The day kept going but never got brighter.

Then he saw a well. The stone was chipped. The rope was broken. A young man sat near it eating a piece of fruit.

Ian walked up to him. “You heard of Elen?”

The man looked at him and chewed slowly.

“No” he said. Then after a pause, “But I know someone who knows someone who might know.”

Ian almost asked if it was a joke. But he didn’t.

“Where?”

The man pointed west. “Three houses past the leaning windmill. Look for an old woman with no hair and one good tooth. Her name is Mira. If she likes your voice she might tell you where to go.”

Ian nodded and left. He walked past the windmill. The blades did not turn. He found the house. It was not really a house. More like a box with smoke coming out of the roof.

He knocked. The door opened after a long wait.

Mira stared up at him. Her one tooth stuck out like a knife.

“You got a good voice” she said. “What do you want?”

“I am looking for Elen.”

She squinted.

“Walk north until the trees turn blue. Touch the third tree with your left hand. Whisper her name. Then wait.”

Ian did as she said. The forest was quiet. The trees did not look blue at first. But they did under the right light. He found the third one. Touched it with his left hand.

“Elen” he whispered.

He waited.

The ground felt softer. The wind stopped. Then someone stood behind him. He turned slowly.

She had no eyes. Her hair was silver and thin like thread. She wore a long dark robe that touched the ground even though her feet did not.

“I am Elen” she said.

Ian felt something in his chest shift again.

I found her. Finally. Now I just have to make her help me.

The forest stayed quiet. No birds. No wind. Only the sound of Ian’s breath.

Elen stood still. Her eyes were shut but not because she chose it. There were no eyes to open.

“You want me to find Varnak” she said. “I can. But not for free.”

Ian stared at her face.

“What do you want?”

Her head tilted slightly.

“You must carry something for me. Not now. But later. When the sky breaks and the world turns cold I will call for you. You must come. No matter where you are. No matter what you are doing.”

Ian asked himself What kind of thing is that? What would I even carry?

But he said nothing. Only nodded.

“Good” Elen said. “Then come with me. We need someone else. Someone who can stop what you cannot.”

They walked without talking. Trees turned thin. The ground became sharp. At the edge of the woods was a wide flat plain full of glass. Not made. Burned. As if a great fire had passed long ago and left the world frozen.

In the center stood a small tent. Smoke rose from a pipe in the ground. No door. No guards. Just stillness.

“His name is Bram” Elen said. “He was touched by the Deep. He does not feel fear. He cannot be made to feel regret. He has no grief. No pain. No weight in his heart.”

Ian frowned.

Why does that matter?

Elen turned her blind face toward him.

“Varnak feeds on pain. But Bram has none. He walks like stone. He cannot be drained. And more than that…”

She reached into her robe and pulled out a long nail made of black ice.

“He can strike with this. It is a thing from the Deep too. It freezes the soul. Even Varnak cannot heal from it.”

The tent flap opened. A man walked out. He was not tall. Not wide. Not young. Just there. His eyes were pale but not blind. His arms were wrapped in cloth like he had burned long ago.

“This is Bram” Elen said.

Ian looked at him. Bram looked back.

Nothing moved on his face.

This man feels like a stone left out in the cold Ian thought.

Bram spoke.

“I will help you kill the priest. That is all. I do not care why.”

Ian gave a small nod.

Elen stepped back.

“Now we go” she said. “I know where he is now. He feeds again. And we are not far.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep