The dense forest gradually thinned as they ascended into more mountainous terrain. Jagged peaks loomed ahead, their snow-capped summits piercing the clouds above.

The path narrowed and wound its way along steep cliffs, forcing them to slow their pace. Far below, a river snaked through the valley, its waters glinting in the afternoon sun. The air grew cooler and thinner as they climbed higher, carrying the scent of pine and wild herbs.

They passed by small villages nestled in the foothills, clusters of simple stone houses with thatched roofs. Farmers tended their terraced fields, coaxing crops from the rocky soil. Children paused in their play to stare at the two riders, their eyes wide with curiosity.

As they rode through one hamlet, an old woman hung washing on a line strung between two trees. She glanced up at them, her face creasing into a frown before she retreated inside her home.

The road twisted upwards, revealing breathtaking vistas at every turn. Lucian found himself captivated by the rugged beauty of the landscape. Drakon, however, remained stoic and focused on the path ahead.

They encountered a merchant caravan heading in the opposite direction, a line of heavily-laden donkeys led by weather-beaten men. They eyed them as they passed, hands straying to hidden weapons.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, they came upon a small plateau. A crystal-clear stream tumbled down from the heights, forming a series of small waterfalls before pooling in a natural basin.

Without a word, Drakon reined in his horse and dismounted. Lucian followed suit, stretching his stiff muscles after the long ride.

They led their horses to the water's edge, allowing the animals to drink their fill. Lucian cupped his hands and brought the cool water to his lips, savoring its crisp taste.

Drakon scanned their surroundings, assessing potential threats and defensible positions. Satisfied that they were alone, he began to unpack their gear.

Lucian gathered wood for a fire while Drakon set about preparing a simple meal. As darkness fell, they ate in silence, the crackling of the fire and the gurgle of the stream are the only sounds.

The stars emerged, bright and numerous in the clear mountain air. Lucian found himself gazing upwards, marveling at the vast expanse of the night sky.

"Get some rest," Drakon said. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

He nodded, unrolling his bedroll and settling in for the night.

The old Spartan took first watch, his silhouette backlit by the dying embers of the fire. His eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond their small camp, alert for any sign of danger in the night.

As the night deepened, Lucian stirred from his half-sleep. He glanced over at Drakon, who sat rigidly by the dying fire, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond their camp.

Lucian pushed himself up, his muscles protesting after the long day's ride. He cleared his throat and said, "Hey, old man. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll take first watch."

Drakon turned, his eyebrow raised. "You sure about that, boy? Night watch isn't exactly a cushy job."

"I'm sure," Lucian stretched his arms above his head. "Besides, you look like shit. When's the last time you actually slept?"

A low chuckle escaped the old man’s lips. "Watch your mouth. I've gone longer without sleep than you've been alive."

"Yeah, and it shows. Come on, I'm serious. You've been pushing yourself hard these past few days. We both know you need the rest more than I do right now."

Drakon hesitated, his pride warring with the bone-deep weariness that had settled into his body. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Alright, have it your way. But you wake me at the first sign of trouble, you hear? No playing the hero."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lucian said, getting to his feet. He moved to take his place by the fire, adding a few small branches to coax the flames back to life.

Drakon stood up, his joints creaking in protest. He paused, looking down at the boy. "Keep your eyes open and your ears sharp. Remember, if something doesn't feel right, trust your gut."

"I've got this. Get some rest."

"Alright."

As Drakon made his way to his bedroll, Lucian called out, "Hey, I'll even promise not to draw on your face while you're sleeping. This time."

"Try it and you'll be doing drills until your arms fall off."

The old Spartan settled onto his bedroll with a grunt. As he closed his eyes, he muttered, "Thanks, kid. Don't fuck it up."

"You're welcome. Sleep well, you cranky old bastard."

Drakon's breathing evened out almost instantly, confirming his assumption that he was exhausted. Lucian turned his attention to the night, his senses alert for any sign of danger.

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The fire crackled, creating shadows across the small clearing. In the distance, an owl hooted, its call vibrating off the mountainsides. Every so often, he'd rise to stretch his legs or add more wood to the fire.

As the night wore on, Lucian fought against the growing heaviness in his eyelids. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that was slowly creeping into his mind. The fire and the steady rhythm of Drakon's breathing seemed to lull him into a trance-like state.

"Come on, focus," he muttered to himself, pinching his arm hard. The brief jolt of pain provided a moment of clarity, but it quickly faded.

Lucian stood up, hoping the movement would help him stay alert. He paced the perimeter of their small camp. The cool night air nipped at his skin, but even that sensation began to feel distant and dreamlike.

He paused, leaning against a tree and rubbing his eyes. "Just a few more hours. You can do this."

But his body had other ideas. The exhaustion of the day's events, combined with the quiet of the night, was taking its toll. Lucian's knees began to buckle, and he slid down the trunk of the tree, still fighting to keep his eyes open.

He tried to focus on the sounds around him - the whisper of wind through the leaves, the distant call of a night bird. But these noises began to blur together, becoming a soft, indistinct hum in his ears.

Lucian's head nodded forward, jerking back up as he caught himself. "No, no, no," he mumbled, his words slurring. "Gotta stay awake..."

He reached for his water skin, thinking the cold liquid might help. But as he fumbled with the cork, it slipped from his grasp, rolling a short distance away.

Lucian attempted to stand, to retrieve the water skin, but his limbs felt heavy. He managed to push himself to his hands and knees, crawling towards the fallen container.

"Just... gotta... reach..."

But he never made it. Halfway to his goal, Lucian's arms gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, his cheek pressed against the cool earth. A small part of his mind screamed at him to get up, to keep watch, to protect the camp. But that voice grew fainter and fainter as sleep overtook him.

In seconds, Lucian was out cold, his body sprawled awkwardly on the ground. His sword lay just out of reach, forgotten in his descent into slumber.

Lucian's consciousness drifted, caught in the hazy realm between waking and sleeping. Suddenly, he found himself immersed in a vivid dream, or perhaps a long-buried memory.

He heard rapid, labored breathing close to his ear. The world around him bounced and swayed as he realized he was being carried. Small arms - his own, but much younger - clung tightly to a woman's neck. His mother's scent enveloped him, a mix of lavender and fear-tinged sweat.

They were running. From what, he couldn't see. His view was limited to what lay behind them - a blur of trees and shadows in the fading light. The pounding of his mother's feet on the forest floor seemed deafening in his ears.

"Over here!" a man's voice called out from behind them. It was distant but growing closer.

His mother's pace quickened, her breath coming in ragged gasps. They veered to the left, ducking under low-hanging branches that whipped past, leaving stinging marks on exposed skin.

Suddenly, they were descending. Lucian caught a glimpse of moss-covered stones as his mother scrambled down into some kind of hollow or cave. The world went dark around them, the air growing damp and cool.

His mother's voice, whispered: "Shh, my love. We must be very quiet now."

The dream began to fade, the edges of his vision growing fuzzy. Just as the last remnants of the memory slipped away, Lucian jerked awake with a start.

His eyes flew open as he tried to orient himself. It was still night, the fire burning low nearby. He blinked, confused by his position on the ground. Hadn't he been on watch?

"Finally awake," a familiar voice called out from behind him.

Lucian spun around, his hand reaching for his weapon before his sleep-addled brain caught up. There, sitting comfortably by the fire, was a face he recognized.

"Linus?" Lucian sputtered, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The man chuckled, warming his hands by the fire. "Thought I'd drop in for a midnight snack," he said with a wry grin. "You boys picked a nice spot to camp. Mind if I join you for a bit?"

Lucian stared at him, still trying to shake off the lingering effects of his dream and figure out how he'd managed to fall asleep on watch. "I... uh... how long have you been here?"

"Long enough to know you make a terrible guard. Lucky for you, I'm not here to cause trouble."

Lucian sat opposite of Linus, then cast a quick glance at Drakon, who remained deep in slumber, before turning his attention back to their unexpected visitor.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Linus said. "Bad dream?"

Lucian ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drawn to the dancing flames. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

Lucian shook his head, then paused. "It's not that simple. It wasn't just a dream. It felt like... a memory. Something I'd forgotten long ago." He looked up at Linus. "How are you here, anyway? You seem to keep popping up out of nowhere."

"I get around," Linus shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The road is my home, you might say.

"Ok, seems a bit weird."

"How so?"

"Well, I don’t see a horse with you."

"Like I’ve said, the road is my home. I know it like the back of my head."

"Ok, whatever you say."

A deep silence settled over as Lucian's gaze remained fixed on the flames. So many thoughts swirled through his mind, each one more perplexing than the last. Why had memories from his past suddenly resurfaced? And why did they seem to intensify whenever Linus was near? Was it a mere coincidence or something more sinister at play?

"So, this dream-memory of yours. What was it about?"

Lucian's brow furrowed. "Why would I tell you that? I barely know you."

He smiled and said, "I assure you. I'm more connected to you than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know about your past. More than you might remember yourself."

Lucian felt his breath catch in his throat. He searched the man's face for any sign of deception. But Linus remained impassive. His mind raced, torn between curiosity and caution. How could this stranger claim to know about his past?

"Ok, prove it. Tell me something about my past."

"Is that a test ?"

"Call it whatever you like," Lucian said. "If you really know something about it, then spit it out. I'm listening."

"Careful now, you know what they say," Linus leaned forward. "Those who seek to uncover the past often find more than they bargained for."

"I'll take that risk."