They broke camp just as the first light of dawn began to form on the horizon. The night had been kind, granting them rest from the weight of their destiny. They needed to hurry to the next village to gather supplies, and Nox guided them across a familiar stretch of barren land.

“You travel all this alone?” Sven asked. It had been many hours since they left the Black Forest, where he had met the mage.

“My potions are needed in many places,” Nox replied, glancing back at him. “Though it would be easier if I had a pegasus like yours.”

“When I reclaim Delphen, I’ll give you one.”

“Even though I’m afraid of heights.”

As they crossed the valley, the houses at the outskirts began opening their doors to start the day. This village, farther from the kingdom of the sun, was in better condition than the last. It had a more stocked market, where they were able to buy provisions; Nox traded some of his potions, and they stopped at a tavern of better quality.

The time they had spent on the road made them look less pristine, and they did not draw the same attention as in the first village.

They took a table as the first roasted birds were brought out from the fire. The food was a sign that this village was less unfortunate. Nébula pounced eagerly on the plate of fruit that was set before her.

“We can assume we’re being hunted now,” Dyro stated, driving his fork into the meat.

“What do you mean?” Sven froze mid-bite.

“That enough time has passed for your heartbroken king to have sent his entire army after us,” he took a sip of mead. “Not before stopping by to look for me and confirm that, indeed, we ran away together—which must have delighted him.”

Sven hadn’t considered the full implication of that and felt a sharp pang in his chest.

“Which means we need to think of a route he doesn’t know to reach Delphen and…” he turned toward Nox, “figure out what’s waiting for us there. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“I’ve never been to Delphen,” Nox replied calmly.

“Dark sorcerers are bastards—” Dyro began.

“Brother…” Sven interrupted.

“…the unrecognized children of nobles who inherited magic. But dark magic—the same kind used to create the shadow creatures.”

“That’s enough, brother,” Sven said, fixing him with a stern look.

“Which means you should know exactly what we might face ahead. Speak.”

Dyro turned his sharp gaze on the young mage, but Nox did not flinch.

“The truth is… those creatures were never completely eradicated.”

Sven stared at him in shock. In his mind, guttural, painful sounds returned—memories he had tried to bury for years.

“Delphen—or what remains of it—is devoid of humans for that very reason,” Nox continued. “You don’t need to be a sorcerer to know that.”

“Well then, we have Diodain’s army chasing us from one side and a horde of creatures waiting for us on the other,” Dyro sighed, taking another bite of meat. “I should sharpen my sword.”

“We’ll need allies,” Sven said, staring into the distance. “Perhaps if we find mercenaries…”

“If we get close enough to one of those creatures, I might be able to send it back into the darkness,” Nox said.

Dyro looked at him with disdain.

“Do you even know how to fight?”

“No. But I have other ways of facing the unknown.”

Dyro scoffed and finished his drink.

“So I’m traveling with a sorcerer and a prince without knights.”

“I can fight too,” Sven replied, frowning.

“With what? Books? When did you ever learn to use a weapon?

“Lord Edmund…” Sven thought of the figure of his tutor. “He taught me.”

Dyro watched him closely but did not argue. He knew the skill of the man who had trained him.

“There’s something else I need to show you…” Sven took the mug that still held a bit of warm drink. He closed his eyes, letting the energy flow from his chest down his arm. A flash of light illuminated the vessel, and the liquid froze completely. Pale flakes fell onto the wooden table.

“How the hell…?” Dyro stared, stunned. “The gifts of Zelene.”

Nox watched in silence, his gaze darkened.

“I only discovered it recently,” Sven continued. “And that’s how I know my kingdom still lives within me.”

When they finished, they headed to the village armory, where Dyro refined the edge of his sword. A pair of broad, rugged men were inspecting battle axes. Their sun-bronzed skin was exposed across their torsos, and multiple scars marked their bodies. Thick beards covered part of their faces, and their long hair fell untamed down their backs, partially hiding a shared tattoo.

“Hey, blacksmith, how much for this axe?”

“Fifty coins.”

“Come on, we’re warriors of Petrumira. Give us a better price for keeping your hides safe.”

“Only if it’s for Anders.”

The men paid the adjusted price and left the shop in high spirits. They mounted creatures similar to horses, though with curved horns, which leapt forward in powerful bounds as they rode away.

“Are they mercenaries?” Sven asked, impressed.

“They’re warriors of the volcano,” the blacksmith replied without looking up. “They don’t fight for money.”

“They help the villages, and in return they’re thanked with goods.”

By the time they finished everything they needed in that village, evening had already fallen.

“It’s best if we follow this route,” Nox said, tracing a line with his finger that wasn’t marked on the map. “It’s not a conventional path, so it’ll be harder for them to catch us.”

“Then we’d better move quickly,” Dyro replied.

The three of them mounted and rode out toward the open fields.

Just as they were about to turn onto the route Nox had suggested, Sven spotted movement in the distance. A small group of riders was making its way through the village they had just left.

They recognized the golden color of the banner immediately.

“No way…” Dyro muttered. “Did we really take that long?”

Sven felt his pulse quicken, though he couldn’t make out any familiar faces among the soldiers.

“They look like scouts. The first ones he sent.”

“Even so, they outnumber us. We need to run.”

“Wait,” Nox said suddenly.

Before either of them could stop him, he rode in the opposite direction, heading straight toward the risk of an encounter.

“We have to go, Nox!” Sven was about to follow him, but Dyro grabbed his arm.

“If he chooses to stay, we can’t follow him,” he said firmly.

From a distance, they watched the young mage dismount. He closed his eyes and traced shapes in the air with his fingers, murmuring words they couldn’t understand. The ground before him darkened.

Liquid shadows burst from the earth, rising like a living curtain. Sigils ignited around the spell, spreading outward across the perimeter until they vanished from sight.

Then, with the same calm with which he had dismounted, Nox mounted again and rode back toward them.

“I told you I had other ways of dealing with the unknown,” he said. “Now they won’t be able to see us—or track us—for a while.”

Sven and Dyro exchanged a silent glance before spurring their mounts and following the dark-haired mage along the hidden route, while behind them, the golden banner was swallowed by a veil of shadows.