In his life as a knight, he had lost people in many ways. Some died from sickness, some infections from wounds, and others in completely unexpected ways. Perhaps thanks to that hurt, Venic knew comparing tragedies would not help. So, he stayed quiet, but he thought he knew how Valerlanta felt.

They set up camp and lit a small fire once the sun went down, but she still said nothing. The thief sat, staring at the flames, and her emerald eyes seemed duller.

What were the right words to say in this situation? Were there any?

Venic took turns glancing at her, then looking back to the coin he held. He wove the curved metal back and forth between his fingers, watching it rotate from a tree on one side to the king on the other. 

The coin was bowl-shaped, giving it the nickname petals. The shape made for easy stacking, but also distorted the images on the coins somewhat. On the inside of the coin, the tree looked squished, but on the outer, the king almost looked stretched. 

It was just the king’s profile, but it was recognizable as him. It had his gold and velvet crown just above his broad forehead, his high cheekbones, and combed back hair. The expression was serious, but they had included his wrinkles and smile-lines.

Tree, king. Tree, king. Over and over again he flipped it, a worry settling deeper and deeper into his chest.

Venic stashed the petal away in the side of his boot to keep Valerlanta from stealing it.

The thief in question was at least moving now. Valerlanta opened the bandages on her wrist and aggravated the wound to make it bleed. 

He watched as the blood seemed to be pulled against gravity, into her palm where it burned off into a pale white. It was like her blood was the oil of a lamp, and her magic was the flame. Venic thought it was a cruel cost, but even the king had a glove that would prick his fingers on command, so there must be no other way. 

Was it the same for magic users back home? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember.

Venic had been a young boy when he was sent to this kingdom, and the only magic user he could recall from before then was in the hazy memory of a street performer. The performer would make things disappear or reappear, but was that even magic? It had seemed so as a child, but so did many things.

“That looks like it hurts,” Venic said, and internally cursed himself for stating the obvious.

“It does,” she agreed, but she just seemed to focus more.

She winced, and Venic tore his eyes away, unable to watch anymore.

But he also could not just sit. If he could not be training, working, sleeping or preparing for the next day, he had to at least keep his hands busy.

It only took seconds before his foot started bouncing with building irritation.

‘I should tell her sleep might help her. Or maybe I should say that I am sure she made the right choice?’

Venic decided he would go mad trying to think, but he also refused to retrieve the coin again, so instead he brought out the puzzle ball.

It was black again, but he thought he could feel the faintest tremble under his touch. 

‘An orb from a long dead queen that steals magic blood to feed itself. Downright creepy.’

 Venic spun the rings over and over, but he could find nothing new than any other time he tried. No answer to figure out the symbols suddenly showed itself.

The knight might have been a swordsman at heart, but he also considered himself well-studied and quite good at puzzles. So, even though he knew many more better-educated professionals had tried and failed at his task, it still bothered him that the answers were somehow out of reach.

He had the sudden urge to throw the orb into the forest and be done with it.

Or perhaps hit it with a rock…—

“Here, let me try something,” Valerlanta said, holding out her hand.

Venic passed it over, and was startled to realize he did not even hesitate.

How long had it been since starting this journey together? Days? And they went from flinching at each other's movements to now sitting relaxed in the other's presence.

Valerlanta took in a breath before pressing her palm against the puzzle.

Click.

The orb illuminated with the lurid red and Valerlanta gasped in pain or shock, but did not seem to lose herself into it this time. Shadows danced in the scarlet light as she turned the ball this way and that.

Venic felt his heart slam, but then all startled feelings were suppressed by something stronger; fascination. There, within the orb, he noticed something. Venic moved in so close their brows nearly touched, and he placed his hands over hers and tilted the ball. 

“It is not the whole of the markings glowing,” he realized aloud. “The markings are a distraction.”

The real puzzle was the glowing dots within those markings, which only a magic user could activate.

Venic looked at her excitedly, and Valerlanta smiled back, but it was shaky and forced. There was something in those eyes that told him that she could not keep this up for long. It was draining her every second she held it.

He twisted the ball this way and that, turning the ball so he could see all sides.

There was a reason.

There had to be.

Just as soon as he thought he understood, he felt a tug at his mind. It was a strange tingle, as if drifting to sleep. It urged him to drift along with it, and as the surrounding forest faded away, he thought he saw a group of people⁠—

Realizing what was happening, Venic snapped his hands away.

“Blast.” He swore as the real world came back around him. Whatever that was, it nearly had him and he had only touched her hands, not the ball itself.

Valerlanta still sat trapped, her body gradually leaning. Was this part of the puzzle or a trap? The ball needed her magic to activate, but it was bleeding her dry without her even knowing.

“Val, stop!” He said, grabbing her by her shoulders and shaking her.

There was no response.

Cursing, he ripped the ball from her grasp and tossed it. As it hit the ground, darkness filled the clearing as the firelight again became the brightest source.

Valerlanta wavered as if to fall, but he held her upright as she came back to herself. Shivering, she blinked at him and that dazed look slowly faded into recognition as the vision lost its hold on her.

“I don’t want to do that again,” Valerlanta told him flatly.

“You won’t have to,” he assured her. “Are you well?”

As if just realizing how sickly she must appear, Valerlanta straightened her back and raised her head. “I am fine.”

“Right,” Venic said, disbelieving, but letting it go. “Well, you should know your efforts paid off. We figured it out.”

“What?”

“The puzzle ball.” 

She sat a little taller, and he was startled to realize how close she was. That mask of hers that covered half her face was right before him, and within the center of the holes were eyes that were hopeful seas of green.

“We did?”

His smile widened. “Shall we make sure?”

Valerlanta nodded eagerly, so he retrieved the ball and turned the rings over in his hands. 

“When you fed the ball with magic, only spots on the markings lit up. They were the true puzzle, and they matched the stars; the constellations. If I remember right...—” He pressed in two of the symbols on a ring, and both clicked into place and stuck there.

They exchanged excited expressions.

“Well, don’t stop now,” Valerlanta urged. “Keep doing whatever it is you are doing.”

He twisted the second ring.

“They were constellations I recognized,” he explained. “I used to teach constellations and their stories to my friend’s daughter, and this story was one of her favorites. The story of the fox and the raven.”

It was a sad sort of story, starting with a piece of meat falling from a wagon heading to the king. It had a delicious smell that soon attracted the attention of a fox and a raven. 

Knowing the raven could easily fly away with the meal, the fox cunningly said, “Oh dear, not a raven! Surely it will fly away up onto that hay pile over there where I cannot reach it as soon as I get close!”

And so, overhearing the fox, the raven swooped over, picked up the meat and flew over to the hay and sat atop it croaking in delight. It was just after that when the farmer came out and tried to shoo the bird away. Angered, the raven fought for his perch. As it did, not only did the meat fall, but so did the pile of hay, falling over into a nearby fire. Much to the dismay of the farmer, the hay caught fire before he could stop it, and spread to his field. 

Uncaring, the raven turned back to get his food, only to find it in the fox's mouth as it ran away.

“Woe is me!” The raven squawked from the air. “The fox has caught my meal! Surely it will run into those bushes that are too tangled for me to fly in!”

And it was no sooner after he said that when the fox hurried into the bushes that tightly weaved together like knots. Deeper and deeper, the fox ran into the bushes until it came to a cave. Curious, the fox went inside and felt it was very warm.

“This will be a wonderful place to eat!” the fox decided, settling on a rock; only it was not really a rock. He sat on it and the rook shook beneath him. Startled, the fox did the first thing he could think of and dug his claws into the rock to keep from toppling off. There was an annoyed screech. He was not on a rock, but had duh his claws into the eyelid of a dragon.

Yelping in fear, the fox ran from the cave and was chased by the dragon. It smashed the bushes as it followed, nearing closer and closer. Then, just when the fox was about to be caught, the fox scurried down a hole, leaving the meat behind in its haste.

Enraged that the fox got away, the dragon took to the air and released his fury on a nearby town, destroying the house of an old lady.

When the fox emerged again, the meat was gone, and it saw the raven flying off again. The fox knew the raven would not believe his lies again, so instead, the fox ran into a field of archers practicing. Yipping excitedly, the fox waited until the archers turned his way, then ducked into hiding. 

The archers took notice of the raven and shot it down.

Before the humans could find it, the fox quickly used his nose and found both the raven and the meat.

“Help me,” the raven said, an arrow through his wing, but the fox ignored the bird. Instead, the fox took the meat and went to leave, ignoring the bird’s pleas. “Help me! Help me! Help me!”

The fox was only just about to get away when the raven’s cries alerted something the fox did not expect; a group of hunters and their dogs.

The moral of the story was supposed to be about how greed ruins the lives of those around you first, then ultimately comes for yours as well. 

The orb was clearly giving a final warning with these constellations, but there was no time to think of such things now.

The fox and raven, the farmer, and the old lady — all those ruined by the greed for one item — lined up and clicked into place.

The ball hummed in his fingers then split in half so suddenly, he nearly dropped both pieces.

“There!” Valerlanta called, pointing. There, Venic found a perfect keyhole in the flat of a half.

He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Looks like we need a key.” Valerlanta said, and finally gained some of her mischievous sparkle back to her eyes.

“Good thing we are heading for one,” he said, and she lit up even brighter.

“Palenwood?”

“Palenwood.”

And more and more, he wished it did not have to be.