Serian arrived in front of his parents' home. He looked at what he called their house.

  It was simply ruins, the remains of a building that once had three or four stories.

  To him, even through the cracked but still sturdy walls, he could see the remnants of a structure that had surely known its days of glory.

  He often wondered if the one who had built this place — even now, through its battered remains, still showing a hint of fallen majesty — had been a great man.

  As a child, he had never understood why he lived in such ruins.

  Why did he have to sleep on the ground?

  Why did four people have to share one single room?

  Why did he have to wear clothes that barely kept out the cold?

  Why was he forced to eat that strange, bitter-tasting herb?

  Still standing in front of the house, Serian started to sag, his shoulders drooping — a bad habit he had gotten rid of during childhood, thanks to the indirect advice of the father... of the other one.

  His parents were always surprised by the strange ideas and strange temperament he carried.

  How could he possibly think their home was ruined, when they were among the best off in Lormes?

  He lifted his eyes to the dark sky, heavy with threatening clouds, though he was used to such a sight.

  He chuckled.

  He took a deep breath of the cold air and pushed open the makeshift door of the little room.

  The first thing he saw was Andrée, his little sister, lazily sprawled on the straw mat, one foot dangling off the side.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He smiled and gazed at her, still asleep, her hair a wild mess.

  He needed to wake her.

  Andrée covered her face with one arm and gave a low, annoyed grunt.

  She had always been lazy, never wanting to do anything but have fun.

  And in Lormes, the most fun you could have was eating and sleeping.

  Andrée didn’t react.

  She just pulled her arm tighter over her face, turned her back to him, and kept snoring lightly.

  Serian smiled. He knew his sister too well.

  "You know, I had another dream... and this one’s really interesting," he whispered in her ear.

  Andrée jolted awake immediately, as if all her previous laziness had been just an act.

  She stared at him.

  "Serian, if you're lying..."

  "Andrée, calm down, be quiet! You'll wake them up," he hissed, glancing toward the back of the room.

  Andrée rolled her eyes.

  "We'll see who's making noise," she muttered mischievously as she stomped hard on his toes.

  Serian barely held back a pained yelp and shot Andrée a murderous look.

  He closed his eyes and only then let a grimace of pain slip onto his face, as if the hurt had just now reached him.

  "Alright, come on," he muttered wearily.

  She followed him outside, and together they slipped away from the main square, where all the survivors of Lormes had gathered.

  The square — whatever its original name had been, long forgotten by a people too ignorant to care — had lost all its former beauty.

  All that remained in its center was what once must have been a fountain.

  The survivors had set up camp here, in the center, because even if the barrier collapsed — as had happened many times before — the center was still shielded from the worst of the freezing winds.

  They could survive long enough for whoever was in charge of the barrier to fix it.

  Serian and Andrée moved through the ruins, agile as two shadowy figures.

  "So, spill it. What did you see?"

  "It was him. He was with his father, up on the mountain, right here in Lormes," Serian answered, his voice low and soft.

  "What? Here, in Lormes? That's impossible!" Andrée exclaimed.

  "Are you sure?" She stared at Serian, eyes wide.

  Serian nodded.

  "I'm sure. The city was a lot more beautiful, very lively. But I’m certain — it was Lormes."

  Andrée looked at him, still doubtful.

  "And what was he doing here?" she asked.

  "I’m not really sure. The dream was short. But he said he built purifiers here, in Lormes."

  "Purifiers? What are those?" asked Andrée, puzzled.

  Serian sighed as they continued trudging through the muddy path.

  "We probably could know... if we could remember the dreams we had when we were kids.

  Maybe then we’d have at least some basic understanding of the power they used."

  "Forget it, Serian. We'll find out eventually."

  "And you? Had any dreams lately?" Serian asked.

  "No, nothing. Anyway, you gonna tell me the rest or what?" Andrée said with a sly grin.

  "What do you mean? I told you the dream, that's all I saw before waking up."

  "Sure, I believe you! If that was all, you wouldn’t look so gloomy."

  "Is it that obvious?" Serian stopped walking abruptly, surprised.

  "It's written all over your face."

  He lowered his gaze and stood there silently for a moment.

  "Well... I saw a glorious Lormes, vibrant, alive, beautiful, and grand.

  And him... he looked at it all and called it a miserable city."

  "Serian! You saw where he lives now. Of course he would think that," Andrée said.

  She smiled as she looked up at the sky — or rather, at the barrier.

  "Yeah," she continued in a calm, soft voice, "we're pathetic."

  "Pathetic," he echoed.