“Magic, you say?” Hamford stroked his beard, his expression thoughtful. “Didn’t feel like any magic I’ve come across before.”

Ithil gave a knowing smile and unfurled a large, intricate map, followed by a few scrolls. “I’ve been tracking it. There was a surge of magical energy that day.” He tapped the map with a long, graceful finger. “Here, in the middle of the sea,” he pointed to a marked spot, “and here, near the forest bordering the Middle Kingdom.”

Hamford leaned in closer, eyes narrowing as he studied the locations. “This is something the royal trackers should’ve picked up on, no?” His brow furrowed with suspicion, the weight of the discovery dawning on him.

Ithil began pacing, the hem of his robe brushing against the floor. “Yes, but they didn’t. Someone cast that storm, Hamford. The coordinates line up too perfectly for it to be a coincidence. The question is: who has enough power to do this? And why?”

Hamford’s mind whirled. He had known storms, fierce ones too, but this was different. He could feel the magic in it. “An attempt on the prince’s life, you think? Or… someone after Nix?”

Ithil paused, studying the dwarf closely. “Hamford, can I trust you?”

Hamford met his gaze squarely, his jaw tightening. “Can I trust you?” he countered. “What do you know about Nix, really?”

For a moment, they stood in silence, sizing each other up, both aware of the unspoken tension between them. Despite Hamford’s outward caution, he already trusted the elf more than he’d like to admit. There was something in Ithil’s steady demeanor that inspired confidence.

Ithil let out a quiet chuckle. “Smart of you to be cautious.” He adjusted his glasses. “Nix has come to me for help before. There’s something about him, something good—he has a powerful heart. I can sense it.”

Hamford crossed his arms. “Then you already know you can trust me.”

The elf’s sharp eyes twinkled. “Nix has a rare ability. He can use water magic.”

Hamford’s jaw slackened in surprise. “Water magic? I thought that was a myth!” He rubbed his temples, recalling the tales his father used to tell about the legendary Water King. “He saved the prince back on that island… I didn’t think much of it then, but now…”

Ithil nodded. “Few remember, but those of us from the old races—like you and me—still hold onto the stories. Nix doesn’t even realize the full extent of his powers, I think. But others do, and that’s why he’s in danger.”

Hamford's mind raced. “Who could know? Who would want him dead?”

“That, I haven’t figured out yet,” Ithil admitted. “But whoever it is has a great deal of power. Only someone of royal blood, or perhaps someone with ties to the old races, could cast a storm that size.”

The dwarf sat back, the implications sinking in. “I always thought Nix looked familiar… now I know why. Sunna and Nix—gods, they’re practically mirror images.”

“Sunna,” Ithil murmured. “The Water Queen. She and the Water King were legends in their own right. You wouldn’t remember them clearly, being so young when they died.”

Hamford raised a brow. “Young? I was five, elf. You act like you weren’t a child yourself.”

Ithil cleared his throat, looking mildly embarrassed. “I was older than you by a century or so.”

“A century!” Hamford exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up. “That still makes you a baby by elven standards.”

Ithil smirked. “Compared to you dwarves, I suppose. But let’s focus. What does this storm have to do with you being locked up?”

Hamford stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Whoever’s behind this must want to cover it all up. Blaming me makes sense. I was the oldest on that ship, the only one who might remember anything from back then. If Nix and the prince had died in the storm, they would’ve hung me for treason. Neat little package, isn’t it?”

The elf’s eyes darkened. “You were a scapegoat.”

Hamford let out a slow breath. “And they almost got away with it.” His mind wandered to Nix. The boy had no idea what kind of storm he was caught in, both literally and figuratively.

“There’s more,” Ithil said, unrolling a glowing map that pulsed with energy. He pointed to a dark spot on the sea. “This storm’s energy... it's growing. Someone cast it, and it’s back. Worse this time.”

Hamford leaned forward, studying the dark, swirling cloud of energy marked on the map. “That’s the sea we sailed through before. But this… this is darker. Stronger. Can you track it?”

“I’m trying,” Ithil murmured, casting another spell. The map flickered and glowed brighter. A smaller dark energy appeared, almost hidden, moving diagonally toward the sea from the docks of Elysia. It lingered only briefly before the entire map burst into flames, charring to a crisp in seconds.

“What the hell was that?” Hamford yelled, leaping from his chair.

Ithil stared at the ashes in disbelief, adjusting his glasses. “That’s… never happened before.”

Hamford’s eyes were wide with shock. “Someone doesn’t want us finding out what’s going on.”

Ithil nodded, his voice grim. “There’s someone out there casting very dangerous magic, and they’re more powerful than I’d like to admit.”

Hamford glanced at the elf, respect growing in his chest. “You’re damn good at this magic business, Ithil. But if there's someone out there stronger than you… we’re in for a rough ride.”