The roads of the Yoman Empire were no longer paved with glory. Once-grand, marble-tiled causeways now bore the weight of ash, hoofprints, and desperate footsteps. Where imperial legions once marched in triumph, refugees now trudged in silence faces hollowed by famine, voices muted by grief.
In the distance, the city of Veltrinia once a thriving hub of fishing and pearl trade smoldered beneath a pall of smoke. Its aqueducts lay shattered, and the once-mighty temples of the Dragon Whale Limus stood half-buried in rubble. Only the creaking of carts and whispered prayers accompanied the dry wind that carried dust and the scent of old blood across the empire's war-torn countryside.
Along one of these battered roads, a small band of travelers moved with quiet resolve. Clad in weather-worn cloaks and bronze-trimmed armor, they bore no standards only purpose. Their names were spoken with reverence among the desperate: helpers, healers, protectors. To some, they were saints. To others, misguided idealists. But to each other, they were family bound not by blood, but by fire.
"Here, take this," said a soft voice.
A hooded young woman knelt beside two ragged children near the edge of a crumbled alleyway. She pulled a loaf of bread from her satchel, broke it in half, and handed a piece to each child.
"It's not much," she added gently, "but at least it's something."
"Thank you, nice lady," said the older child, bowing slightly before nudging his younger sibling forward.
"Thank you!" the smaller one echoed, then dashed to catch up.
"You sure that was a wise move, Olivia?" asked a voice to her right.
A tall man with ash-gray eyes walked beside her, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his short blade as he watched the children disappear into the alley's shadows. "Wasn't that your last loaf?"
"I can bear hunger," Olivia replied, rising and brushing the dust from her knees. Her tone was calm, resolute. "We'll find a tavern, or game to hunt, later. Those children don't have that choice."
Her companion exhaled sharply, brushing grit from his shoulder. "It's not just food they're short on. If they're lucky, maybe one of them's a latent Mystic. But without wealth or sponsors? They won't get spell ink, runes, or even a second glance. All they'll know is hunger, plague water, and dirt floors."
Olivia's eyes narrowed beneath her hood. "Then we'll help them because even if the Empire has forgotten them, we haven't."
"Spoken like a true disciple of Daidus the Rebeller," came a teasing voice from her left.
Another cloaked figure walked alongside her, his tone both amused and thoughtful.
"You always make it sound like a crime that I follow Daidus Lucius," Olivia replied, tugging her hood down as a salty wind swept over them. The sea breeze grew stronger, catching their cloaks and forcing them to lift their hands to shield their faces. The ruined town below came into full view.
They stood atop a gentle rise overlooking the outskirts of Veltrinia, its collapsed buildings and scorched walls bathed in late-afternoon light.
"Look at this place," Olivia muttered, her voice thick with frustration. "Once a jewel of the coast. Now? Reduced to this pathetic, hollow shell… all for greed."
"You think Yome and the Senate care about people out here?" she continued, turning to face her companions. "Every day, all we hear about is the Empire's glory the prestige, the unrelenting power. And yet, here's a city left to rot. And it's not alone. There are dozens, hundreds of towns like this across the Empire."
She stepped forward, raising a silver pendant from around her neck an intricately carved deer, its antlers branching like trees, with emerald gemstones set in its eyes.
"I refuse to sit by and let the upper crust grow fat on the backs of the common folk, while doing nothing to help them. This is the least I can do."
"A noble goal," said the man beside her Lucius, sharp-eyed and careful with his words. "But every time you speak like that, I can't help but think you're speaking from guilt."
Olivia froze. Flavian, the third of their group, gave a small nod of agreement.
"You are from a senator's family, Olivia," Lucius added, more gently now. "That doesn't invalidate your actions, but it does shape them."
"I know," Olivia snapped, defensive. "Maybe it is guilt. Or maybe it's my imagination, or deluded thinking. But I'd rather act from guilt than not act at all."
"No one's saying your efforts are wrong," Flavian cut in, voice calm. "We're just saying… maybe your hatred for Yome is clouding the way you see everything. You're not wrong to be angry but is that anger driving you… or guiding you?"
"And what if it is driving me?" Olivia asked, exasperated. "Is it wrong to hate something that's caused so much suffering?"
"No," Flavian replied evenly. "But hating all of Yome as a whole... that's where things get blurry. Not everyone in the Empire is the enemy. Even in the Senate, there are people suffering just like us."
A heavy silence followed.
"I know…" Olivia said at last, her voice quieter. "But I'm still human. And I am angry. I won't pretend otherwise. If I bottle that up, I might end up doing something I can't take back."
"Maybe," Lucius said softly. "But if you don't temper that anger, you might do something you'll regret all the same."
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Then the trio resumed their walk down the hill, the wind brushing past them.
After some time wandering the desolate town, the trio arrived at the pier a long stretch of weathered wood reaching out into the sea, creaking under the weight of time and salt. The scent of brine hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint smoke of distant ruins.
As they stepped onto the pier, Olivia's eyes caught a glint of something ahead. Something… shining. Without a word, she broke into a sudden sprint, her cloak flaring behind her as her boots thudded against the planks.
"Olivia!" Flavian called after her, startled, "What are you…..?"
Lucius followed quickly behind, exchanging a confused glance with Flavian before both men gave chase.
By the time they caught up, Olivia had come to a stop at the far edge of the pier, her gaze fixed on something just in front of her. She didn't speak at first, only pointed.
"Why did you run off so quickly?" Flavian asked, catching his breath.
Olivia didn't answer with words, just a single one. "Look."
The two men stepped forward, following her gesture.
There, resting motionless on the sun-bleached boards, was a butterfly unlike any they had ever seen. Its wings were massive each one the size of a dinner plate patterned with intricate designs of gold, obsidian, and violet. Every few seconds, it gave a slow, deliberate flap, not enough to take flight, but as if breathing… or observing.
Lucius narrowed his eyes. "That… that's not natural."
"It's enormous," Flavian murmured, his voice hushed with awe. "I've never seen a butterfly this size… and look at those patterns. They almost look like runework."
Olivia knelt down slowly, studying the creature with quiet wonder. "It's not fleeing. It's just… watching."
And indeed, the butterfly remained still, wings lifted slightly as it faced the trio, almost as if listening, almost as if it knew them.
Something about it felt constructed, yet alive. Something mysterious. Something not of this land.