The young emperor led him to his chamber. There, with a sudden motion, he opened… a wall. Nortal froze, stunned—he had never known of this hidden passage. Inside the secret room, Malthus lifted a set of ragged clothes from an old chest. Casting off his royal garments, he dressed in the rags, transforming instantly into a poor peasant.

“Well?” he asked, handing Nortal another bundle of clothes. “Will you come with me?”

Nortal grinned as he caught them. “Of course. Do you think I’d miss an adventure like this?”

Malthus tossed the clothes to him.
“What is this place—and those clothes, where did you find them?” Nortal asked as he changed.

While closing the chest, Malthus explained that such rooms were hidden throughout the tower, along with secret passages to be used in times of need. The clothes, he said quietly, had belonged to his father. Many times, the old emperor had worn them to slip unnoticed from the palace, walking among his people to understand their struggles firsthand. It was how he had learned to rule wisely—by seeing the world through their eyes. Malthus had often gone with him, and he had sworn that when his time came, he would do the same.

After preparing every detail of their plan, they set out. There was no time to waste.

Just outside the tower, a large crowd had gathered. Someone was addressing them. The two men slipped in among the people to listen. Malthus recognized the speaker at once—just as he had suspected. It was Ayrton, the most powerful of all pirates. His family was feared throughout the seas and had long been the deadliest enemies of Zantoran’s royal line.

Long ago, after the unification of the knights, one of Malthus’s ancestors had made a pact with Ayrton the First—called “the Bloodhanded.” The pirates had sworn not to attack the empire without cause, in exchange for a royal marriage: the emperor had wed the pirate’s daughter. It had been a sacrifice that bought decades of fragile peace. But now, generations later, that bond was gone. The pirates sought to claim not just the continent—but the entire world.

“…It is time you claim your freedom!” Ayrton roared. “You’ve obeyed the emperor long enough! What has he ever done for you?”

“That’s enough,” Malthus whispered sharply to Nortal. “Let’s go—before someone recognizes us.”

But Nortal hesitated. Something felt wrong. It was all too easy. Too convenient. His eyes swept over the crowd, searching for any familiar face. He felt Malthus tug his arm, urging him away. Reluctantly, he followed, still glancing back. Once clear of the mob, they headed toward the forest.

“Ayrton means to destroy the empire through deceit,” Malthus muttered. “What else would you expect from a pirate?”

Still, Nortal couldn’t shake his unease. His gut told him something was coming.
“What’s wrong?” Malthus asked. But before Nortal could answer, his fears came true.

The crowd they had just escaped now turned toward them, shouting. At the front stood Seltus. Malthus’s heart sank. He had been right to suspect a traitor—but he hadn’t imagined the betrayal would come so soon, or so deadly.

“Run!” Nortal shouted, grabbing him by the arm as the mob surged forward, screaming, “Down with the emperor!”

They ran as fast as they could, but the crowd was gaining. Suddenly, a wagon lurched into their path, blocking the way just before the forest’s edge. With no choice, Nortal lunged at the driver, dragging him down and seizing the reins. He cracked the whip, and the horse bolted forward. Malthus leapt into the back as the wagon jolted violently over rocks and fallen branches. Then—with a sickening snap—a wheel broke, and the wagon overturned.

The horse galloped wildly ahead, dragging the shattered frame. Malthus clung to the splintered boards, his body scraping against the ground, pain burning through him like knives.

Nortal drew his dagger and slashed through the leather straps binding the horse. Freed, the animal vanished into the woods. The wreck came to an abrupt halt, throwing Nortal forward. Ignoring the pain, he scrambled up and ran to his friend. Malthus lay beneath a broken beam, bleeding and barely conscious. The mob was still coming—but they had bought a few precious moments.

With a grunt, Nortal lifted the young emperor onto his back and staggered toward the forest. He had taken only a few steps when an arrow struck his leg, dropping them both to the ground. The mob was upon them now, and at Seltus’s order, they began to beat the two men mercilessly with clubs, rods, and iron tools meant for tilling fields.

Nortal wrapped himself around Malthus, shielding him from the blows.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” he gasped. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
He was trying to convince himself as much as Malthus—that somehow, by a miracle, they would survive.

He knew he should never have let the emperor leave the tower. But now, all he could do was hope.

Then—a thunderous noise split the air. The crowd froze and turned. From the forest rose a column of black smoke, and out of it charged a magnificent white unicorn. The mob fell back in terror; none of them had ever seen such a creature before.

The unicorn approached the two fallen men and, bowing its head, lifted them gently onto its back. In a flash, it galloped toward the forest, vanishing into the smoke.

When Nortal opened his eyes, the creature stood over them, watchful and calm. He could hardly believe what had happened. From the haze stepped a young woman dressed in white. She was strikingly beautiful—long black hair, skin pale as moonlight, and eyes full of quiet sorrow. She knelt beside them, pulled a small glass vial from her leather satchel, and poured a thick, fragrant liquid over their wounds.

At once, the pain ebbed away, replaced by warmth and strength. She tended Malthus next, and Nortal watched in awe as color returned to his friend’s face.

“What happened?” Malthus whispered, staring at his torn, bloodstained clothes. Moments ago, he had been dying—now he felt whole again.

Nortal, overwhelmed with gratitude, thanked the mysterious girl and turned to the unicorn. The creature allowed him to stroke its mane before it shimmered and shifted shape—transforming into a great cat with a mane of green leaves.

“Thank you,” Nortal said, bowing deeply.

The unicorn was, in truth, an elf—a guardian of the forests. Such beings came from the Third Continent of Akitox and were protectors of the planet’s woodlands, able to take on the form of any animal they wished.

Malthus bowed deeply, thanking them for their help.

“This liquid you used on our wounds,” Nortal asked, sniffing the thick, sweet-scented substance still clinging to his skin, “was that Thali?”

The young woman smiled softly and nodded.

“But where did you find it?” Malthus asked in wonder. “Thali is almost impossible to obtain!”

She hesitated for a moment, weighing whether she could trust them. Then she said,
“My name is Digo, and I am a witch from the First Continent of Aecrox. I was sent by Daigo, the Queen of the Arkezes, to help you. She saw in a vision that your lives were in great danger—and that if you, Emperor, were to die, your empire would fall, and the pirates would rise to dominate the world. They have grown far too powerful, and you must stop them.

“I traveled to the Second Continent, Iokar, where I gathered Thali from a Thaloi, and an Acor carried me here. When the time was right, the Acor set fire to the forest to draw attention away from this place. The elves quickly extinguished it, and one of them came to rescue you.”

Malthus listened in astonishment. He had heard of creatures from other continents, but never had he imagined he would see them—let alone be saved by them. Each continent usually cared only for its own kind; there had never been true unity among them.

The Arkezes of Aecrox were a race of magicians who used potions and spells for good. Digo, however, had not used any potion. His eyes fell to her hand, where he saw the distinctive ring of the mage—a mark of power and a vow never to wield it for evil. Without it, she would be no different from any human.

The Second Continent, Iokar, was almost forbidden territory—harsh and deadly, full of volcanoes and rivers of acid. No creature from the other lands could survive there. The Thaloi, however, thrived in the acidic waters, able to transform the deadly liquid into a healing substance that closed wounds with impossible speed and erased all pain. Thali.

Just as the legends described, the pain had vanished, and their wounds—deep, even fatal ones—were fading, leaving only traces of blood and faint scars.

Then, from the depths of the forest, came a sudden crash. Everyone turned. From the dense foliage emerged a towering Acor—a creature born of volcanoes, with blazing red hair and eyes like molten fire. It looked human, yet its great white dragon wings gleamed in the sunlight. Half of its face was marked with crimson geometric sigils, and its right arm was that of a dragon—scaled, powerful, ending in razor claws.

Nortal stepped forward cautiously and met the creature’s gaze. In the Acor’s eyes, flames seemed to flicker and dance.
“Thank you for your aid,” he said, bowing deeply.

Malthus followed suit, then turned to Digo.
“What can we do to repay you?”

Digo reached into her satchel and drew out a small vial filled with shimmering blue liquid.
“This is the Elixir of Truth. Just one drop in a glass of wine will make a man speak his deepest secrets. Call a council and serve this to all your knights. You will soon learn who truly stands with you.

“Then, gather an army of those who still believe in you and strike your enemy by surprise. With Kirko’s help”—she gestured toward the Acor—“we’ll release another potion when the time comes, one that will weaken the faithless. That will give you the upper hand. Do not fail us, Malthus. We must cripple the pirates before they win over other creatures to their cause. There is already too little unity in this world—let us not add more war to it. Have patience.”

“And faith,” said Malthus quietly.

At that, Digo took Kirko’s hand, and together they vanished into the sky. The elf, too, shifted into the form of a squirrel and darted away among the trees until it disappeared.

“It’s time to return,” Nortal said, clapping his friend on the back.
They had much to do.