I waited in my carriage near the gates of Aeloria, tapping my fingers impatiently on the armrest. Belmont and Henry were late. They had taken a shortcut and were on horseback, so they should have arrived before me. As I peered out of the window, I finally spotted them approaching, their horses kicking up dust in the fading light.

The moment they reached the carriage, I stepped out and eyed Belmont suspiciously. “What took you so long?"

Henry, sensing my irritation, quickly responded, “We were delayed, Your Grace. Some villagers in Verdantvale had fallen into the river. We had to help.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying Belmont closely. “Is that so?” I didn’t entirely trust his explanations, but Henry’s earnestness held a ring of truth.

With a decisive nod, I took the reins from one of the knights accompanying them and mounted the horse. “I’ll be riding in with you,” I said, handing the reins of the carriage horse to the knight. “Return the carriage to the mansion.”

Belmont’s brow furrowed with concern. “But, Your Grace, your health—riding might—”

I waved off his concerns, shrugging. “I don’t want to attract attention by taking the Ducal carriage into town.” As I spoke, I watched as understanding dawned in Belmont's eyes. I turned to the guards watching the gates, "You are to tell no one that we are here." I warned, glaring at them. The two knights nodded their heads and answered in unison that they understood and stepped aside, granting us entry into the city.

“Turn at the next corner!” I called back as we rode past the town square,  my voice echoing off the cobblestones.

Following my lead, we dove into a shadowy alley, a known shortcut to evade the curious eyes of the city folk still lingering on the main streets. We maintained our speed until I signaled with a raised hand to decelerate. Our pace slowed as we ventured into Dampshaw, the area of town where residents kept their faces hidden, slipping in and out of establishments in a clandestine dance. It was a seedy underbelly that even those who frequented it claimed never to visit.

We soon reached our destination—a two-story building made of dark teak, guarded by a burly figure. Belmont dismounted and approached the man.

“The argent luminary reveals the way to the concealed woods of yore,” he murmured.

The man gave a slight nod and gestured us around the building. A rhythmic knock broke the silence as Belmont tapped his knuckles against the back wall. A trapdoor opened at our feet, unveiling a stairway that plunged into the darkness beneath.

“Guard the horses and stay alert,” I instructed the burly man.

Together, we descended into the dark. The path was quickly illuminated by a row of flickering flames on each wall that kindled one by one, revealing a narrow corridor barely wide enough for us to stride side by side. Heavy nets of cobwebs hung above us, sticking to our clothing as we delved deeper.

“That girl at the river,” Belmont said, breaking the silence. “Did she strike you as… odd?” He posed the question to Henry.

Before the Knight's Captain could answer, we had arrived at a massive wooden door. My hand instinctively rose to knock thrice. A small slit in the door opened, revealing curious eyes that scanned us. I stepped forward into the light, and a flicker of recognition flashed across the onlooker’s gaze. The slit slammed shut, and the clinking of unlocking mechanisms filled the tense silence.

With a heavy creak, the door swung open, revealing a vast chamber carved out of rugged stone, with entangled roots snaking across the ceiling. Every wall had ceiling-to-floor bookshelves housing old grimoires, dusty scrolls, peculiar relics, and luminescent crystals.

I strode swiftly toward Aldric, standing by the altar. His eyes were closed, and his hands were suspended over a hand-drawn map of Aeloria and the surrounding area. In his right hand, a thin gold chain with a polished lodestone at the end dangled. The chain swayed back and forth over the map. I knew that it was seeking the location of the energy pulse.

“Where did you detect the anomaly, Aldric?” I demanded, impatience edging my voice.

The older man remained in his meditative trance at the altar, his aura undisturbed by our presence. Belmont turned to me, an expression of bewilderment etched on his face.

“He’s been like this since yesterday,” Ras answered as he fastened the last lock in place. “Nothing has broken his concentration or lured him away.”

“While I respect your dedication, Aldric, lack of rest won’t serve us well,” Belmont admonished, though the old man remained unperturbed by his words. 

“Why do you look so terrible, Ras?” Henry asked, noting the smaller man's disheveled appearance. 

Ras casually patted his face and hair. “Do I? Well, Elowen and I had a bit of a disagreement, and I haven’t been home in a few days…”

I tuned out Ras’s continued explanation, focusing instead on the altar, hoping for some sign or change on the map. Henry and Belmont, meanwhile, meticulously scanned the notes across the desk.

“Find anything useful?” I ask as I turn toward them, having given up on receiving an answer from Aldric. 

Henry pointed to several sheets of paper covered in rough sketches of the city and hastily scribbled notes in the margins. “Nothing substantial,” he responded, squinting at the chaotic scribbles. “But most of the locations are within Aeloria or its immediate vicinity.”

“If it were inside the city, they would have made a discovery already. And it’s all open plains to the north until Verdantvale,” Henry mused aloud. He flipped through more pages, squinting hard at a few maps that looked to be quickly and haphazardly drawn. He came across a few where the energy points were further out from the city.

“What’s this?” He pointed to a spot south of the city. “Isn’t this Kyusa Forest?”

“And then the doctor said the lump on my head would disappear in a few days, but it’s been a month. But I’m sure it’s all fine,” Ras finished his monologue, finally realizing he had been talking to himself.

“Ras, what’s this on the map?” Belmont called out to him.

“Oh, umm, let me see,” Ras responded, then walked over to us. “Ah, that’s Elysarra’s Forest.”

“Elysarra’s Forest?” Henry raised an eyebrow. “When did the empire change the name?”

“It was renamed when the new Saintess appeared. The King granted it to the church as their ‘Holy Land,’” I answered with gritted teeth. 

Belmont turned to me with confusion etched on his face, "Why did you not tell me about this?"

"Because nothing could be done about it," I answer him bluntly. "Have you sent anyone to investigate the area?”

“We did, but they haven’t returned,” Ras answered.

“I see. And what about this area?” Belmont inquired, holding up another sheet with two marks northwest of Aeloria.

“That’s near Verdantvale,” Ras pointed to the northernmost spot. “You would have passed through it on your way here. And this,” he pointed to the marker southwest of the town, “is part of the Zandel Forest and River.”

Belmont and Henry exchanged knowing glances.

“On our journey here, we had to assist in a river rescue,” Henry stated.

“There was a girl, dressed peculiarly, clearly out of place among the villagers,” Belmont added.

“What did she look like?” I asked, my heart beating quickly in my chest. 

“She had long dark hair and tan skin. She also wore the oddest clothing. Not like what the other villagers were wearing. The young village girl I spoke with said she had just appeared the night before.” 

Could it be her?

“Perhaps…” Ras muttered, “Come with me. There’s something you might want to see.” He walked toward a bookcase, selected a tome, and it shifted to reveal another hidden door.

The narrow path barely gave us room to move without our arms grazing the cold, rough stone walls on either side. Dust clung to each step, rising like a fine mist with every footfall. Instead of torches or lamps, our ascent was illuminated by delicate luminescent crystals embedded in the walls.

Upon reaching the end of the stairs, a door emerged. Pushing it open, we stepped into the corridor leading to the lively pub that was filled with raucous laughter and the sound of clinking glasses.

Ras gestured with a sweeping hand toward the busy seating area. Belmont, Henry, and I exchanged perplexed glances, confusion deepening in our eyes.

“What’s the meaning of this, Ras?” Henry questioned, his voice echoing a tinge of impatience.

“Over there, in the corner,” Ras murmured, nodding toward a dimly lit corner where three hooded figures were seated, their faces hidden. The palpable tension between them and the other patrons did not go unnoticed by us.

One of the patrons, clearly intoxicated, walked over to them and clumsily splashed his drink over one of the cloaked figures. The other two hooded figures rose quickly, grabbing the offender and pinning him to a wall with surprising strength and speed.

Chaos quickly ensued as more patrons joined the fray. Henry leaped into action, trying to separate the warring parties physically. “Cease this at once!” he shouted, but his youthful appearance and unassuming attire did little to command respect. Instead, he quickly became sandwiched between the two groups.

Belmont smirked, shaking his head in amused exasperation. “Forever the gallant knight,” he murmured before stepping in. I stood back, watching from the corridor, my gaze not leaving the figure who had been doused in alcohol. Though their companions were clearly agitated, the drenched figure remained calmly seated. 

“What, pray tell, was the cause for such an uproar?”  I heard Belmont's voice boom. All faces turned towards him, immediately recognizing his unmistakable red hair.

“It’s these cursed Xoltecas!” the pinned man spat out venomously.

Sensing Belmont’s authority in the room, the hooded figure still seated quickly exchanged a few words in an unfamiliar language with the two standing, and they released their grip. The pinned man stormed past them to his table.

“Everyone, resume your revelry. One round for everyone,” Belmont declared magnanimously, adding with a mischievous glint, “And put it on Sir Henry’s tab.”

The entire room erupted in subdued laughter and chatter, the tension dissipating, all while Henry shot Belmont an exasperated look.

I watched as Belmont turned his attention back to the table occupied by the hooded trio, and a perplexing curiosity swelled within me. Their hoods created an unnatural darkness over their faces; it was as if the material possessed a unique quality that hid away their identities.

Ras rushed toward their table. “Oh dear, your hood is all drenched. Allow us to offer a small token of apology for the unfortunate events of the evening,” he chimed in with an exaggerated sweetness in his voice.

Before Belmont could react, Ras, in one swift motion, removed Belmont’s cloak and offered it to the drenched figure.

“Indeed, please accept it,” Belmont forced out, his voice tight with restrained irritation.

The drenched hooded figure’s slender fingers reached out gracefully to accept the offer. With a gentle motion, she untied her hood, revealing herself. My breath caught in my throat as a cascade of dark hair, woven with ribbons into a braid, framed a stunning face with eyes that seemed to mirror the night. She was clad in a soft blue top that contrasted beautifully with her tan skin. 

It's not her.

With a nod of gratitude, she draped Belmont’s cloak over her shoulders and pulled the hood over her head. The two companions by her side whispered something to her, and with a last glance, she exited.

With a wave and an almost cheeky smile, Ras said, “Do visit again!” His voice was dripping with insincerity.

As the door closed behind them, murmurs spread across the pub. “Good riddance,” grumbled the man who had initiated the altercation earlier. Several patrons grunted in agreement.

Beckoning, Ras led us back toward the concealed entrance. Belmont, unable to contain his irritation, gave Ras a light smack on his head as we stepped into the dimly lit corridor.

“Ow, my bump!” Ras exclaimed, rubbing his head.

“Why my cloak, Ras?” Belmont snapped, his frustration evident.

Before Ras could explain, Henry interjected, “Did you notice she bore a striking resemblance to the girl from the river?”

Belmont pondered for a moment. “There are similarities,” he conceded. “But the girl by the river wasn’t draped in such finery.”

“True,” Henry mused, “but their attire had a similar quality.”

“That drunk man mentioned they were Xoltecas. When exactly did they arrive in Aeloria?” I turned toward Ras as he opened the hidden door leading down to the chamber, his fingers tracing the worn edges of the entrance.

“They appeared two days ago, scattered across the shoreline beneath the Elysarra Forest. They were grasping onto lifeboats and other remnants of their ship. They must have been caught in a brutal storm.”

My brow furrowed as my thoughts raced to piece together any knowledge I held about the distant land of Xolteca. It was a realm whispered about in legends; tales spoke of their resplendent cities gleaming in gold. Yet, it lay so far across the vast ocean that few dared to journey there. Those who ventured and returned did so as changed men, murmuring of wondrous treasures, magic, and terrifying creatures. After such harrowing expeditions, however, one couldn’t help but wonder how much of their tales resulted from delirium.

Henry’s voice broke through my musings. “The Xoltecas rarely venture from their homeland. The last time they were on our shores was over five hundred years ago. What could have prompted such an unexpected voyage?”

Ras sighed, his eyes showing a hint of worry. “That is the mystery. Their sudden appearance has raised many eyebrows.”

“Regardless of their reasons, our immediate concern is detecting this energy disturbance,” I stated firmly upon reentering the secret chamber. I approached Aldric, still hunched over the ancient altar.

“Seems the old mage hasn’t made any new progress,” Belmont remarked, peering at the unmarked map.

Suddenly, three distinct knocks echoed, prompting Ras to hurry to the door.

“Ah, that should be Jansen and Eliot back from Elysarra,” he said as he peered through the tiny slit in the door before methodically undoing the series of locks. Two figures entered as the door creaked open: one with golden locks cascading down to his waist and the other with light brown hair cropped close.

Henry was always one to prioritize information and wasted no time. “Report. What have you discovered?”

Jansen, the taller of the two men, met Henry’s gaze. A shadow of concern clouded his violet eyes. “The church has found something.”