Thalia knelt by her father's cold forge and pulled a worn book from beneath the anvil stand. The cover was cracked leather, stamped with his maker's mark, and the pages smelled like smoke and oil. She read his careful handwriting twice. A curse had been laid on her at birth. Something about time. Something about a debt. A name she did not know. Her father had written one instruction at the end. Find Kael Wilder. Cross Eryndor. Reach the Aeris Fragment in Grismoor. She copied the strange words onto loose paper and tucked them inside her coat. The cottage felt smaller now, the forge already going gray. She packed bread, a knife, and the journal. By dusk she was walking the road to the next town, repeating the mercenary's name under her breath. She did not know what he looked like. She did not know if he would listen. She only knew where travelers stopped. The tavern sat at the edge of the next town, its windows glowing yellow against the dark. Thalia pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, into smoke and low voices. She did not have a plan. She had a name, and she would start asking.