Ethan spoke to Lyra about going away for a while and then left Lyra I charge while he went back to earth. He closed his eyes as he thought pf his home on earth.
Ethan woke to the sound of a city—Earth's heartbeat: honking horns, distant chatter, sirens in the distance. The transition from Avalon to New York was always jarring. The contrast was too sharp. In Avalon, everything moved with the rhythm of nature. Here, everything rushed, clashed, screamed.
But this time, he didn't return with only survival in mind.
He came back with a plan.
And gold.
The bank didn't ask questions.
Not when Ethan brought in the second pouch of Avalonian coins, each piece antique and untraceable. He'd spent weeks researching, learning which banks or dealers accepted raw gold and how to quietly convert it into assets without raising eyebrows.
By the end of his first month, he'd transformed gold into liquid funds. Discreet. Legal enough. Clean on the surface.
And with it, he launched Lucent Vault, a boutique jewelry store nestled in SoHo, specializing in "heritage gold" and "myth-inspired pieces."
The secret? Half of it was heritage gold, real Avalon gold melted down and remade.
Business boomed.
Wealthy clients came drawn by the store's mystique. Celebrities posted photos with Lucent Vault's rings and necklaces. Ethan stayed behind the scenes, keeping his name off headlines, but the revenue poured in. He invested in designers, marketing, and storefronts in LA and Tokyo.
But his heart?
Still in Avalon.
Every dollar earned was fuel for something bigger.
Two months later, he returned to Avalon under a moonlit sky his duffel bags replaced with steel crates transported via a reinforced portal frame he'd pieced together using repurposed tech and sheer determination.
Joren greeted him, eyes wide as the crates were unloaded from the shimmering gate behind Ethan.
"What is all this?"
Hope.
The crates were filled with:
-Steel rebar and concrete mix
-Earth-made tools; shovels, saws, wheelbarrows
- High-grade tarps and roofing materials
- Solar-powered lamps
- Basic plumbing fixtures
- Water filters and purifiers
- Blueprints for defensive walls
Within a week, construction began.
Ethan coordinated it like a general, with Lyra as his right hand and Tavren assisting in translation and planning. He taught the villagers how to mix cement, how to brace timber, how to lay a foundation for stronger homes.
It began as a concept—a 10-foot wall made of reinforced stone and Earth-imported materials, encircling the heart of the village. Within it, they built new roads from crushed stone, improving travel between houses and farmland. The forge was rebuilt. The old town hall replaced with a new stone structure, roofed in Avalon lumber sealed with waterproof resin Ethan brought from Earth.
And above the gate?
They carved a symbol into the arch: a tree with two roots, one reaching into the earth, the other into the sky.
The Tree of Realms.
No one knew its full meaning yet but they all felt it was important.
Especially Ethan.
It started during a meeting with the builders. Ethan stood overlooking the gate design, explaining the support structure when the world seemed to... shift.
He blinked and for a second, he wasn't looking at the village.
He saw Ashen in flames.
The sky was red. The wall broken. Black banners flew above the rooftops. Shadows moved through the streets.
He blinked again and it was gone.
The builder was still talking. The gate still stood unfinished.
But the vision shook him.
Was it memory?
Premonition?
Later that night, as he walked the perimeter of the new wall alone, the visions came again.
A child running through the gate, chased by soldiers.
Lyra, older, leading people through a broken mountain pass.
And himself standing beneath the Tree of Realms, holding something that glowed like starlight.
The whispers in his head grew louder.
"You are not just a traveler."
"Time lives in you now."
"The more you build, the more you bind yourself to this world's fate."
By the end of the second month, the transformation of Ashen was undeniable.
Children played on newly paved streets. Farmers used steel tools to till faster. Water flowed cleaner. Food was stored safely. And for the first time in generations, Ashen felt strong.
But Ethan knew better.
The Serpent Court had retreated, not vanished.
And the visions of fire and loss were not warnings to ignore.
They were guides.
Messages written in the very fabric of time.
And now… he could hear them.
The language of time was no longer foreign.
It whispered of war.
Of choices.
Of power and consequence.
And of a root deeper than any wall could protect.