After a week at the inn, costing 300 zol for lodging and meals, Atherion's fever had finally subsided. With their supplies replenished, he and Camelia left the small town behind, riding along a winding path on Storm, his sleek black stallion.
Camelia sat in front, her silvery-white hair flowing freely now that they were beyond the town's watchful eyes. That morning, she had washed out the black dye, and the breeze carried a faint floral scent from her hair, drifting toward Atherion.
He gripped the reins tighter, resisting the urge to lean closer, his mind still tangled with the memory of their forced kiss days ago.
"Atherion?" Camelia's voice broke the silence, soft but curious.
"Hm?" he replied, his tone guarded.
"Where are we going?" She gazed ahead at the rugged landscape, the path flanked by jagged mountains, their peaks dusted with mist. The view, so unlike the structured urban world she had known, felt surreal—almost like stepping into a painting.
"Eldrida Kingdom," Atherion said. "East of here."
Camelia nodded, piecing together the geography Atherion had shared with her during their stay. "So, Calonia's west, Nefaria's north, and Valthoria's south. Right?"
"Correct," he said, a flicker of approval in his voice.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the rhythmic sound of Storm's hooves and the gentle rustling of the breeze through the trees.
Camelia felt herself relaxing, her mind drifting with the peaceful lull of the journey. Her eyelids grew heavy, the motion of the horse making her drowsy.
As her body slumped forward, Atherion's arm shot out instinctively, catching her gently before she could fall. She had drifted into sleep.
Carefully, he eased her back against his chest, one arm steadying her as Storm continued forward.
Her warmth was a quiet reminder of her trust—a trust he had never sought yet somehow received.
His jaw tightened, the weight of his mission pressing harder than before. He had set out to protect her. Or perhaps, in the end, to betray her.
***
In the frostbitten halls of Nefaria, Queen Nefari lounged on her throne, her crimson gown clinging to her form, sheer despite the kingdom's eternal snow. The cold didn't touch her; magic pulsed through her veins, warming her from within as she gazed into a massive crystal orb set before her.
The orb shimmered, its surface shifting until it revealed Atherion and Camelia, riding atop Storm, his sleek black stallion. Camelia's silver hair glinted under the sun, her body relaxed in sleep, while Atherion's arm cradled her gently, steadying her against him.
Nefari's lips curved slightly, her eyes gleaming with predatory interest.
"Well, well," she murmured, tracing a delicate finger across the orb's surface. The image rippled, zooming in on Atherion's face—sharp, haunted, his red eyes betraying a depth shadowed by something deeper.
"The Darkness himself," she mused. "And such a handsome one."
She leaned forward, her voice slipping into a low purr.
"I want him."
The orb pulsed faintly, as if echoing her desire, the energy within shifting at her command.
But Nefari's interest wasn't mere whimsy. She knew of the prophecy, the whispered legends of the Light and the Darkness.
If this man was tied to it, he was not just a curiosity—he was a prize worth claiming.
***
The path led to the edge of Darkmire Forest, where Atherion spotted a cluster of ornate carriages, their lacquered wood and gilded trim a stark contrast to the rough carts of the town. Merchants dressed in fine tunics and hired guards clad in light armor milled about, their voices carrying an edge of tension.
Atherion dismounted, leading Storm—his sleek black stallion—and Camelia, still astride, toward the group.
"Who are they?" Camelia asked, her voice low, eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces.
"Merchants, likely," Atherion said, his tone flat but his gaze sharp. "Trading goods to Eldrida."
Camelia nodded, taking note of the guards' polished swords and the merchants' embroidered cloaks.
As they approached, Atherion overheard a heated exchange.
"Darkmire Forest is no place for us alone," a blond guard with a thick mustache said, his voice firm. "Monsters roam there—beasts no single blade can fell."
A richly dressed merchant, his rings glinting, snapped back, "You're paid to protect us. Ensure our safety, or you'll answer to my patrons!"
Camelia's stomach twisted at the mention of Darkmire Forest. Atherion had warned her about it—a dangerous, creature-infested woodland where even skilled warriors could meet their end.
"If it's so dangerous, why go through?" she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.
Atherion's eyes met hers, steady and unyielding.
Because I can handle it. Those beasts are nothing to me."
"She swallowed, wanting to believe him, but something about his confidence unnerved her.
Atherion stepped forward, addressing the merchant. "Need an escort? I'll guide you through—for a price."
The group turned, sizing him up, their expressions skeptical.
A guard scoffed. "What makes you think you can protect us?"
Without a word, Atherion drew his sword, swinging it toward a tree ten meters away. The blade flashed, cutting through the air before returning to its sheath.
A heartbeat later, the tree split diagonally, crashing to the ground with a thunderous crack.
Gasps rippled through the group, merchants and guards alike stunned by the display.
The lead merchant, recovering, stammered, "H-How much?"
"Two thousand zol now," Atherion said coolly. "Five thousand more when we're through."
"That's robbery!" a merchant sputtered, his face paling.
Atherion's lip curled, his stance unwavering. "I'll guard you and your guards. Fair, isn't it?"
The group exchanged wary glances, unease clear among them.
After a tense pause, the lead merchant reluctantly nodded. "Deal."
***
They shared a quick meal—bread and dried meat, which Atherion and Camelia joined—before entering Darkmire Forest.
The towering trees blotted out the sun, their dense canopies casting a twilight gloom over the path. The air was thick and damp, carrying the scent of earth and decaying leaves.
The horses snorted, their movements uneasy, sensing the heavy presence of the unknown.
Camelia, perched atop Storm, felt a prickle of dread run down her spine, an eerie awareness settling in. It felt as though unseen eyes were watching from the depths of the forest.
She glanced at Atherion, who walked beside her, his stride calm, almost careless, despite the foreboding atmosphere.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world narrowed—just them, the forest, and an unspoken tension from the inn lingering between them.
Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked away, heart fluttering against her better judgment.
***
The caravan pressed deeper, the path opening into a small clearing.
Suddenly, shadows lunged from the trees—massive, snarling figures, their eyes glinting with hunger.