The peaceful rhythm of daily life was changing faster than Elias could grasp. His legs were stronger now, allowing him to run through the garden without stumbling. His words were more coherent, though still childlike, and his laughter mingled easily with that of his new friends—Milo and Rika—two children who had recently begun visiting the Smith home with their parents.
Milo was adventurous, always talking about sword fights and secret tunnels. Rika was quieter but observant, often catching things the others missed. Elias liked them both. Their presence brought a new kind of joy, but even his young mind sensed that something beneath the surface had begun to shift.
One warm morning, Kaela arrived early. She was usually full of light-hearted teasing and energy, but today her face was serious. She found Clara in the kitchen, kneading dough, and leaned in close.
"Albert's been summoned again," she whispered. "The Titans are moving closer."
Clara's hands froze over the dough. "That's the third time this month."
Elias, seated on a stool with a biscuit in hand, watched them. He didn't understand every word, but "Titans" carried a weight that needed no explanation.
Later that day, Erwin trained alone under the tall tree behind the house, striking the air with his wooden sword in practiced movements. His focus had deepened over the past few weeks. He barely smiled anymore, and Kaela often joined him, guiding his stance or adjusting his grip. Elias sometimes mimicked their movements with his own toy sword, though his was more for show than practice.
That evening, just as the sky bled into a dark orange and the family gathered by the hearth for dinner, a knock echoed through the house.
Albert stood, cautious but composed, and opened the door to reveal a tall man cloaked in forest green, dust clinging to his boots. His eyes were sharp, unreadable, and his cloak bore an unfamiliar sigil—one that didn't match the traditional emblem of the Wings of Freedom.
"I'm Lucan," the man said with a low voice. "Sent by the Survey Corps to assist Albert Smith. I bring reports from beyond the outer fields."
Albert nodded slowly. "Come in."
Lucan entered with little ceremony, removing his cloak and revealing a worn satchel stuffed with rolled parchment and iron markers. Kaela's gaze didn't leave him as he moved to the map table in the corner.
"There's been movement—Titans are shifting further south. We believe a cluster has broken off and is approaching Wall Rose's outermost edge," he said. "We need to reroute the upcoming supply line. You're the only one who remembers the old trader paths, Albert."
Albert glanced at his son and wife. "We'll do what we must."
Over the next few days, Lucan remained at the Smith home. He wasn't unkind, but his presence cast a strange shadow. At meals, he spoke little. When the children played, he watched—not with amusement, but as if assessing their value. Kaela, ever protective, kept an eye on him.
One evening, Elias awoke to the sound of the door creaking. From his place near the window crib, he peeked out. A lone figure moved across the yard toward the forest. The moonlight revealed Lucan, his cloak fastened, his boots soundless.
Elias clutched his toy sword and pressed his face to the window. He didn't cry out, but the image stayed in his mind.
The next day, Rika approached Elias during play. "Milo says he saw the tall man in the woods last night. Why would someone from the Corps go alone?"
Elias didn't know how to respond, so he just murmured, "He's hiding something."
Later that afternoon, Lucan returned from another 'walk' with muddy boots and a cut along his sleeve. When Kaela asked about it, he replied calmly, "Thorns in the forest."
But Elias didn't believe him. He remembered Kaela once saying that people who carried secrets walked differently. And Lucan's footsteps, though silent, were heavy with something unspoken.
As night fell once more, the Smith household seemed colder. The laughter of the children softened, and even Erwin's voice became more thoughtful as he sat by the fire with his maps and dreams of freedom.
Lucan stood at the window, watching the treeline.
"They're getting smarter," he muttered to Albert. "More coordinated. I don't know how long the outer defenses will hold."
Albert didn't flinch. "Then we prepare."
And in the shadows behind them, Elias—small, silent, yet far more aware than anyone suspected—watched, too.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but something inside him whispered: the world outside was stirring.
And soon, so would he.