The day I’d been waiting for had finally arrived. After more than a week of travel, we had reached the edge of the Shelfort duchy and would be passing through the borderland, officially leaving Vrayna behind. There was a hint of bittersweet mixed in, given that I could likely never return to my homeland, but my excitement outshone any darkness that might have otherwise seeped into my mood.

Seeing the borderland with my own two eyes was something I looked forward to, but it was what lay beyond the border that I was truly anticipating. The land of the beastmen, a place of freedom and magic, somewhere I’d never dared hope to go. Our final night in Vrayna was a restless one for me; too excited to actually sleep, just like a child awaiting their birthday celebration.

However, when we finally reached the borderland, there wasn’t all that much to see.

“Where is it?” I asked doubtfully when I was informed we had arrived.

“You’re lookin’ at it,” Vargas said with a laugh as I looked around in confusion, “Underwhelming, ain’t it?”

Before me stretched a scene no different from the forest we’d been walking through for the past week– trees, undergrowth, and nothing that even hinted at the presence of a magical barrier.

“The first time I crossed into the Beastlands, I didn’t even realize I had done it,” Falyn commented, nodding in acknowledgement of Vargas’s words, “Even ten years ago, the magic had broken down to the point that beastmen could pass freely and monsters with lower levels of magic could easily slip through.”

“I’ve heard that it used to be a visible barrier,” Andrian added, “If you got close enough, you could feel the energy and see some sort of distortion in the air. Or so I’ve been told. By the time I met Falyn, it might as well have not been there at all.”

“The borderland could never be permanent,” a familiar voice stated, startling me with its proximity, “It lasted for nearly two hundred years before the magic that sustained it began to fade. Now, it is simply a symbolic border, no different than passing between duchies.”

I turned to see Lord Erris calmly sitting on his horse behind us. It was the first time any Vraynian other than Falyn had spoken to me since the incident on our first morning of travel.

Lord Erris smiled gently, “Evan, my boy, how are you holding up these days? I heard about that incident with the Palace knights. I hope you aren’t taking it to heart.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him, “It was my own fault for running my mouth where others could hear.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t disagree with you on that,” Lord Erris replied with a wry tilt of his head, “but I hope you know that His Highness won’t be upset with you. He’s no fool. I'm certain he had a fair idea of what you were up to already. He would have ignored it in perpetuity if you never said anything. Although he couldn’t say so publicly, he was relieved to have an excuse to send you away. After all, he understands very well what it means to have one’s desires at odds with one’s duty. However, I imagine that he’d scold you quite thoroughly for your lack of discretion.”

Hearing Lord Erris confirm my hopeful assumption that Elantro wouldn’t be angry filled me with relief. I could easily imagine the tongue lashing he would give me too.

“If I ever get to see him again, I will happily accept that scolding,” I informed him, an astringent sting creeping into the tip of my nose. I really wanted to see him again, even if it meant being reprimanded.

Truthfully, his scoldings always made me feel happy. Unlike my father, who made me feel like an inconvenience, Elantro scolded me out of concern. There was an indescribable warmth to the experience that transcended his stern words.

“Lord Erris,” Falyn interjected, “perhaps you can shed some light on the intentions of the Palace knights. For now, the worst they can do to Evan is shun him, but what about after? When they are done with their training, they will be returning to the Golden Palace. They can't come after him, the Beastlands would never allow it, but do you think they intend to act in a way that would prevent his return?”

“Both yes and no, I suppose,” Lord Erris answered thoughtfully, “They believe that Evan should be brought back for reeducation, so there’s certainly nothing to prevent him from returning. In fact, he'd be welcomed with open arms. However, they would hand him over to the church immediately afterward, so I’m inclined to believe that returning wouldn’t be in Evan’s best interest.”

“No, it certainly wouldn’t,” Falyn agreed, “I don’t fully understand the rules and requirements for those with Royal blood, but based on what I’ve heard, I have to agree with you.”

“For fuck's sake, why can’t you guys just say they’re all crazy bastards and Evan’s better off without ‘em?” Vargas muttered, earning a reproachful look from Lord Erris.

“That is a very biased point of view, young man,” Lord Erris responded sharply, “To you, that might appear to be the case, but do you really think he is better off never seeing his family again? I may not agree with the lifestyle imposed upon the Royal kin, but you are oversimplifying a rather complex matter.”

“Ain’t nothing complex about it, far as I can see,” Vargas argued, “First off, I never said he was better off not seeing his family, I said he was better off without them fuckers who think it’s okay to breed people like they’re horses. Second–”

“Vargas, the ‘fuckers’ you are referring to include my family,” I interrupted, instantly shutting down his argument.

I appreciated the sentiment, I really did, but Lord Erris was right that he was oversimplifying things. It wasn’t his fault, though; to an outsider like him, it could only seem that way.

What he didn't understand was that everyone, including the Palace knights, genuinely had good intentions. Unfortunately, they believed in something that perverted those good intentions into something vile. Either way, I didn't know how to explain to Vargas that I didn't blame anyone but myself.

Perhaps this was why the Royal kin were so xenophobic toward the rest of the Vraynian people. It was impossible to explain red to someone who was colorblind.

Sighing, I continued, “I’ve never once thought I’d be better off without them. I just don’t want to live the life they expect me to live. Right now, I’m okay. It's not that I can't go back, it's that I choose not to. I choose this life over bending to their rules. There may come a day when I’m not okay anymore, but that day isn't today. To be honest, the fact that I’m about to leave Vraynian soil for what will likely be the rest of my days hasn’t really sunk in yet.”

However, as I said it, the weight of my own words pressed down on me. The hint of bittersweet that I’d been feeling now left a sour taste in my mouth.

I was about to leave, and it was likely I could never return.

The moment I crossed through that invisible border before me, there was no turning back. I would likely never see my family again, nor would I walk the streets of the inner city where I grew up. I would never spend another afternoon at the Palace, never eat at my favorite café. I would never find out how Sera and Carsyn were faring in Elantro's unutilized harem.

Remembering how I'd assured my crying mother that I'd come back to visit often, my throat tightened and ached. Even if she had my siblings, she was still going to be heartbroken. I hated that I had to break my promise.

A flash of anger sparked within me as I recalled that the reason I couldn't go back was largely due to the stubborn ignorance of men I'd considered my friends. No wonder Vargas looked down on them. Did their good intentions really count for anything when they were being used to taking away my freedom?

However, that anger quickly gave way to regret.

Had I known I’d never see her again, I would have been more patient with my mother before my departure. I would have told my family how much I loved them. I would have told Elantro everything myself, so he wouldn’t have to hear it from Sir Nolan in the worst possible light. There were so many things that I wished I'd done differently.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel like I was embarking on a grand adventure. Rather, I felt like I was being sent into exile.