The journey through Aluki's territory was strangely peaceful compared to everything Eryndor had endured before. The mountains remained vast and intimidating, but for once he wasn't walking them alone. Wizyan had become a constant presence at his side. Whether they were crossing narrow cliffs, sharing food beside a campfire, or simply watching the sunset after a long day of travel, the distance between them continued shrinking. Their friendship had grown naturally through hardship, trust, and countless quiet moments neither fully understood.
One evening, while resting beneath a sky filled with unfamiliar stars, Eryndor found himself staring into the flames of their campfire. His thoughts drifted far away from cultivation, sects, and ancient gods. Without warning, fragments of memories returned more vividly than ever before. He remembered another life. Another world. A family waiting somewhere beyond dimensions.
"I had a family," Eryndor said quietly.
Wizyan glanced toward him.
"You still do."
Eryndor shook his head slowly.
"Not here."
For the first time, he spoke openly about his past.
Before arriving in this cultivation world, he had lived a normal life. His parents were alive and loving. His father was a respected, moderate man known for his wisdom rather than wealth or power. His mother carried endless patience despite raising a huge family. Eryndor had grown up among five brothers and four sisters. Their home was noisy, crowded, and sometimes exhausting, but it was filled with warmth. Back then he never realized how valuable those ordinary days truly were.
He remembered being thirteen years old when he traveled with his father for the first time on a long journey away from home. His father had wanted to teach him responsibility and independence. They spent days traveling together, talking about life, family, and the future. At the time, Eryndor had thought those conversations were boring.
Now they were treasures.
"I can't even remember their faces clearly anymore," Eryndor admitted.
The confession hurt more than he expected.
Years in this world had slowly stolen pieces of his memories. Names remained. Voices remained. Feelings remained. But details faded like old photographs left beneath sunlight.
Wizyan listened quietly.
For once, there were no jokes.
No teasing.
Only understanding.
"You miss them."
Eryndor nodded.
More than words could describe.
For a long moment neither spoke.
Then Wizyan gently leaned his shoulder against Eryndor's.
Not romantic.
Not dramatic.
Just a simple gesture saying he wasn't alone.
Eryndor stiffened for half a second before relaxing.
A faint smile appeared on Wizyan's face.
"Your family sounds annoying."
Eryndor laughed unexpectedly.
A real laugh.
The sound surprised both of them.
"Yeah," he admitted. "They were."
The stars above seemed brighter afterward.
Yet deep within Eryndor's chest, beneath the cracked seal and the sleeping hunger of the Starved Throne, something warm remained alive.
The memory of home.
And beside him, though neither fully realized it yet, Wizyan had already become part of the family Eryndor was building in this strange world.
Far ahead, beyond the mountains, the palace of Aluki waited in silence.
And destiny waited with it.