Volrath was at the very top of the tower, in the room just below the roof. It was a circular chamber with walls covered by bookshelves filled with volumes, perfectly organized by subject and color. The floor consisted of enormous polished marble blocks, as did the ceiling. In the center sat a large, exquisitely carved wooden desk, upon which rested several potions and the skull of some humanoid creature. This room lacked windows, so its lighting was provided by candles scattered throughout the space. To the right of the desk, an improvised bed made of red cushions and a green blanket served as a resting place for Drako, who was now sleeping.

  The mage watched him for several moments, trying to find answers the boy would not give him. He was in a race against time. He had to try to take him somewhere safe before the arrival of Faradax and his army, but he knew all too well that safe places for a Dragon Knight were scarce… at least until the Day of Awakening, when he could finally become a dragon.

  The polymorph, now transformed into a small brown guinea pig with a black patch on its head, looked at its master with a mix of love and admiration—if such feelings could even be discerned on the animal's face. The elf gazed at it for a few moments and didn't hesitate to stroke its chin. Almost immediately, the creature squirmed and turned into a small, purring cat.

  Volrath leaned back in his chair for a second, leaving the massive violet-covered book with golden edges on his lap, and sighed while looking at the ceiling. He stood up, walked to the bookshelf, returned the book to its place, and picked up another—this one smaller, with a worn black leather cover. Upon opening it, he began to explore old maps filled with inscriptions and drawings of creatures along the margins. With his index finger, he traced rivers and roads, passing through mountains and forests. He narrowed his eyes, trying to find something more.

  But he found nothing.

  "This can't be happening..." he said, looking at the little one, who was still asleep. He had been trying to find a place for Nurbanduur’s care for months. Since the moment he had learned of his existence, truth be told. Everyone relied on him, but the reality was that there was no safe place in the world for a Dragon Knight. All the monasteries had fallen, and the Brotherhood of the Black Flame had followers throughout the entire region.

  He spread the map out again and focused on the mountain range known as the Mountains of Discord, which joined part of the Ramei range and the mountains north of Doknar surrounding Rek ‘Davyn. He knew that, many years ago, a monastery had been established there, run by priestesses of Eleyna, the goddess of nature, known as the Daughters of Eleyna. But how to discover the exact location? How to find the path perfectly? If the stories were true, that monastery, like others of its kind, was unreachable for those who did not possess the knowledge of its precise location. And where was that damned place? He also searched north of the Ramei mountains, where they flowed into the Sea of Icebergs. "By the gods, there are so many possible places," he thought.

  The baby opened his eyes and looked at the elf, who now bore an expression of weariness and fatigue. He gave him a contagious smile and began waving his arms and legs. Despite being only a few months old, he seemed more like a child of nearly a year.

  “We’re in trouble, aren’t we, little Nurbanduur?” He lifted him and began to rock him gently. The child seemed perfectly content in the mage’s arms. Volrath began to sing him an elven song.

  Garbaen ‘durunuil, Eleyna, osgha.

  Beibethelian-kaen, Mistilanya

  Garbaen ‘durunuil, Eleynaosgha.

  Istalon, itha, istalon ‘Nwa.

  Garbaen ‘durunuil, Eleynaosgha.

  As he rocked him, he sang the words aloud in the elven dialect. He tried to imagine a translation into the common Bactragian tongue, but could not find a literal equivalent for those words. The song told of a little elf who, before going to sleep, asked Eleyna to speak with the sky, and Eleyna replied that Mistilanya was smiling upon him. Then he asked Eleyna to speak with the earth, and she answered that the earth was smiling at him, and that he should return the smile. Finally, he asked to speak with the clouds, and Eleyna replied that the sky and the earth would have to come to an agreement for that.

  Suddenly, an idea interrupted both the melody in his mind and the song he was singing. His eyes flew open wide, and he looked at the Dragon Knight, who started at the mage’s sudden reaction.

  “Of course—that’s it!”

  The polymorph looked at him as if he understood and let out a short, but eloquent, meow.

  Anthos and Kisenthea stepped out of the castle, and after crossing a small inner cloister, they reached a vast garden dotted with trees. The sky was clear and starry, with a moon showing nearly full through a thin mist. The path winding up to the tower was somewhat dark, illuminated only occasionally by small torches along the sides.

  "I had a lot of fun..." the girl said as they walked along the cobblestone path. "Truly. Your friends are very kind."

  "I had a lot of fun too, Kisenthea."

  "Listen, Anthos... I... I don't usually do this. I'm not a courtier or... or..."

  "You don't owe me an explanation. Not to me, not to anyone. The world is too hard and a somber place to go around asking for permission."

  "You sound like someone who doesn't respect many things."

  "I respect what matters." He paused for a second. "You matter, do you understand?"

  The girl blushed and looked at the ground. What was she supposed to do now? Every time she saw Anthos, her heart beat faster and faster. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Having met him only two days ago—was this normal? Was it what many people called "love at first sight"? Did such a thing exist? There was much evil and pain in the world, that was true. But if everything was in balance, then there had to be a force just as strong and opposite.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  As she looked up, she saw Anthos's blue eyes staring intently at her, a look of tenderness on his face. The expression grew more serious until his eyes narrowed.

  "Get down!" he shouted, shoving her to the side.

  A dagger appeared from the darkness, flying at full speed. It would have pierced Kisenthea if not for his reaction. However, it managed to wound Anthos in the shoulder. The girl scrambled up and saw the guide on guard, sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, losing blood from the wound.

  Anthos began scanning in every direction, unable to find his attacker. It was an ideal spot for an ambush. Dark, in a grove, with no guards around and certainly at a distance where their cries for help wouldn't be heard.

  "That son of a bitch Dromak isn't going to let me sink him that easily," he said, gritting his teeth.

  Another dagger appeared from the darkness, but the guide quickly dodged it.

  "Listen, Kisenthea. Hide in the trees. I'll hide too. They're coming for me, so use that to your advantage."

  "I can fight," the girl replied.

  “I don’t doubt it, but you must go to the tower and inform Volrath of this. If they didn’t come for me and the letter, there’s a chance they came for Drako. Do you understand?”

  “Try not to get yourself killed… we still have some unfinished business.”

  “Of course…”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds, then quickly moved. The young woman began running into the darkness, and Anthos did the same in the opposite direction, until at one point he stopped and began walking calmly, inhaling and exhaling deeply. At that moment, a shadow leapt from the trees a few meters in front of him.

  “I suppose Count Dromak Valderan sent you, didn’t he? Well then, time to earn your pay.”

  The black-clad figure charged toward Anthos with a dagger in each hand. The guide was waiting in a duelist’s stance. The clash of steel was imminent, but suddenly a bolt of lightning shot out of the darkness, striking the black-clad figure and hurling him through the air. Anthos’s eyes widened as he turned toward the source of the bolt. He saw Kisenthea standing with her feet shoulder-width apart, her eyes still glowing and crackling with sparks. He looked back at the assassin, but the man quickly fled into the darkness, his chest smoking and stumbling from the shock of the magical attack he had received.

  “By the heavens, girl…” Anthos was clearly astonished. “I thought you were an apprentice.”

  “I am… I told you I could fight,” she said, approaching him with a sly smile. “Did he manage to steal the letter with the orders to Lord Devan?”

  “No… he didn’t even get to touch me… at least not with his hands.” He glanced at his wound.

  “Come on, you’ll probably need stitches.”

  “Thank you, Kisenthea. You saved my life.”

  “We’re even. You saved me from that dagger.”

  “You can’t deny the night just got interesting, can you?”

  The mage’s apprentice smiled but said nothing. She simply began walking briskly along the cobbled path. There were still several hundred meters between them and the mage’s tower.

  Finally, even after an assassination attempt, they reached the tower. Anthos looked up to try and see the top, but he couldn't. The tower was not only built on the highest point of the city, but it was also the tallest structure. From up there, an elf could easily spot things miles around. And as it happened, the city’s mage was an elf.

  Kisenthea was about to open the door when it suddenly swung open, startling them. Lord Volrath fixed his gaze on the girl, then on Anthos, and finally looked back at his apprentice. Anthos could see that he was now dressed entirely in black, contrasting sharply with his skin and white hair. He looked like the very image of death.

  "Well, this is unexpected," he said.

  "Lord Volrath, I bring this letter by the Queen's commission," Anthos stepped forward and held out Count Valderan's orders. "You must verify its authenticity so that a verdict can be reached."

  "By Mistilanya! That woman knows I don't like meddling in the legal affairs of men. I am here simply as a mage and advisor in matters inherent to the mystical arts... I am no two-bit fortune teller. And you... you’re bleeding. What happened?"

  "An assassin tried to kill Anthos on our way here. Apparently, he wanted to take the letter before you could corroborate it."

  "It doesn't surprise me. You crossed Count Valderan, boy. It’s obvious that man will use even the lowest means to save himself." He held out the parchment and began to read it, narrowing his eyes. "But he won't be so lucky this time... Kisenthea, take Anthos to the common room, treat his wound, and take arimondia essence to eliminate the poison running through his veins."

  "Poison?" Anthos's eyes went wide. Volrath looked at him, surprised.

  "Of course. That cut was poisoned. Don't you feel it in your veins yet? No matter. If you don't treat it in..." He looked up, as if searching for an answer. "If you don't treat it in the next few minutes, you will die."

  "Shit!"

  They rushed inside with Kisenthea. Anthos thought he saw a hint of a smile on Volrath’s face as they passed. The mage’s apprentice led him to a circular, wood-paneled room with a wood-burning stove directly across from the door. There were shelves lined with various types of liquors, but on a smaller shelf, there were concoctions Anthos had never seen before; some even seemed to glow. In the center of the room sat a large armchair where a cat rested, stretching as they arrived, along with several cushions scattered across the floor.

  Anthos sat down, and the girl quickly brought over a flask containing a viscous, violet-colored liquid. She smeared some of the liquid onto the wound and gave him the rest to drink. The taste that hit the guide’s throat was so sour he had to fight back two gags.

  "It’s either this or death," Kisenthea said, returning the antidote to its place and beginning to search for a needle and thread.

  Anthos didn’t hesitate for a second when the apprentice returned and had him roll up his sleeve. Despite feeling the sharp stings of the needle piercing the skin of his shoulder, he felt mesmerized by the celestial image of Kisenthea, her golden hair reflecting the firelight. The girl seemed to notice and blushed, but she continued her work professionally. Finally, she finished, and for a few moments, they stayed lost in each other's gaze.

  Suddenly, he began to feel dizzy and utterly exhausted.

  "What is...? What’s happening? What did you give me?"

  "The arimondia brew doesn't just eliminate toxins; it’s also a very potent muscle relaxant. You’ll be fine, but you’re going to have to rest."

  "If you had just asked me to stay, I would have anyway," the guide joked. The girl couldn't help but let out a laugh.

  "I wouldn’t have asked. The armchair is comfortable. Enjoy it."

  "Thank you... for everything." Clearly drowsy and in an advanced state of sleepiness, he reached out his hand and caressed the cheek of the girl, who received the gesture with a faint smile.

  The last thing Anthos saw before his eyelids closed was the image of Kisenthea looking at him tenderly with those deep jade eyes, glowing in the light of the fire.