Prince Asher and Sir Tristan rode alongside the deep river gorge that funneled the bubbling rapids towards the village. The riverside path they traveled upon cut through a deep green grove, full of mossy boulders and ancient oaks. It was midday, but a thick veil of gloomy clouds blocked the sun's rays, casting a dark shadow on the land. A chilling wind howled through the trees, stinging Prince Asher's face and chilling him to the bone. He pulled his cloak tighter around his face, trying to block out the freezing gale. It was an uncharacteristically cold day for spring, feeling as though the icy claws of winter still clung to the land.

  Soon they approached the small, sleepy village. Modest homes and shops spanned either side of the shallow, stone-filled stream that ran through the center of town. A large water mill creaked rhythmically as it churned in the swift currents. Runestone's inhabitants were an isolated folk, separated from the bustle of the Royal Capital by a large expanse of the Great Forest.

  The modest yet resourceful villagers had been successfully farming the surrounding area for generations, yielding bountiful harvests of corn and grain. The fields located in the river valley were among the most fertile in the kingdom, providing food for much of Aziria. In days past, the inhabitants of the village were known to be strong and hardy folk. However, as Prince Asher entered the settlement, he took a hard look at the townsfolk for the first time. He was surprised to notice that they seemed rather thin and malnourished.

  Each family only has to give up 5 coppers and a sack of grain per month. That’s nothing! But then why do they seem so desolate?

  Prince Asher quickly chased the questions out of his head. It doesn’t matter. I have to recover the tithes. I must win Lady Rheya's freedom, no matter the cost.

  “We’ll scour every inch of this village until we find those thieves. You search the far end of town, and I’ll look around here,” he called to Sir Tristan.

  “Very well, my prince,” came the knight's reply. He spurred his horse, and galloped down the main road, disappearing from sight.

  Prince Asher began riding down each street one by one, hoping to discover some evidence of the stolen coppers. He kept his eyes and ears open for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

  The villagers milling about the town all gave him a wide berth as he rode down the cobbled path, avoiding him like the plague. The prince decided to dismount, and ask around for information. The townsfolk proved unhelpful when questioned about the Raven's whereabouts, giving vague responses or claiming that they had no knowledge of the missing funds, or the Raven for that matter. Prince Asher began growing frustrated as his search dragged on without yielding so much as a clue. His panic only grew when he remembered his father's words regarding Lady Rheya. The sun had climbed high in the cloudy sky, and the Prince still had less than a whisper to go off.

  He approached a dull-looking townsmen, who was busy mucking out a horse stable.

  "You there, do you know where I might find a bandit known as the Raven? He dresses in all black, and robs passing caravans with his gang of men," Prince Asher paused. "I'll pay handsomely for any useful information you can provide."

  The man looked up at him. "The Raven? I ain't heard of any ravens 'round here... 'cept the bird maybe," the man said with a gap-toothed smile.

  Prince Asher turned around wordlessly and trudged off in frustration. 'This is useless,' he thought.

  The prince decided to go find Sir Tristan, and see if the knight had found better luck. He only made it a few paces when he heard a hushed voice call out to him.

  "Hey!"

  Prince Asher whirled around, but saw nothing.

  "Up here!" the voice said.

  He looked up, and saw a young boy perched on the roof of a wooden building, hanging his feet over the edge. He was no older than ten, and wore tattered rags smeared with soot.

  Prince Asher met the boys eyes. "What is it?"

  "I might know where the Raven's hideout is, but it'll cost ya. Ten gold pieces is my price," the boy said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  It was an absurd price, but Prince Asher was not concerned with money in the slightest. Rescuing Lady Rheya was worth more than any sum you could think of, one hundred times over.

  "We have a deal, just please be quick. I have no time for games," Prince Asher hissed.

  "Follow me," the boy said, scrambling down the wall of the building and turning down a narrow alleyway.

  It was difficult to keep up, as the child moved like a wild hare, turning this way and that down the maze of winding streets.

  I hope this isn't just some child's silly game. But this is the only lead I have, Prince Asher thought, exasperated.

  The pair finally arrived at a small meadow, nestled on the outskirts of town. A tributary gurgled through the clearing, trickling deeper into the forest. The boy wandered into the tall grass, beckoning Prince Asher onward.

  "Just a little further!" he called.

  The prince trudged through the thick undergrowth, trying to keep his footing. Grasshoppers catapulted themselves into the air as he walked past, and a large snake crossed his path, winding its way through the grass. Ahead, the boy had stopped at a large rocky outcropping, tucked into the steep riverbank. Above it hung a massive willow, jutting out over the edge of the bank. Its gnarled branches extended outwards like the fingers of a skeleton, topped with a canopy of green.

  "In here," the child said, ducking under the suspended leaves.

  Prince Asher followed, but instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword.

  I'm a fool. There's clearly no hideout here, but it looks like an opportune place for an ambush, he thought bitterly.

  However, he found no armed men waiting for him in the small hollow under the tree. The prince breathed a small sigh of relief. The boy had approached the far side of the riverbank, where some thick ivy had grown over the bare earth.

  "There's nothing here," Prince Asher snapped.

  The boy said nothing, simply putting his finger over his lips, requesting silence. He grabbed at the dense vines, and pulled them apart, revealing a small wooden door. It was round, and no more than waist height, but seemed big enough to squeeze through.

  "This it it. Now pay up," the boy said quietly.

  Prince Asher quickly plucked ten gold pieces from his coin purse and placed them in the child's palm.

  "As promised. Now go, before things get dangerous," Prince Asher whispered.

  The boy wasted no time in scampering off towards the village, and was soon out of sight.

  Prince Asher directed his attention towards the small door, planning his next move.

  Should I go find Sir Tristan for backup? No. This could be my only chance to catch them off guard, and I'm running out of time.

  He decided to proceed on his own, hoping for a miracle. The prince knelt down and tugged on the round door latch, but it was locked tight.

  'Of course it wouldn't be that easy to get in,' he thought.

  Prince Asher drew his sword, and jammed the blade into the crack in the doorframe, opposite the hinge. He strained against the hilt, pushing with all his might, but it wasn't budging. His feet slid in the loose dirt as he used the last of his force in a powerful thrust, and the door sprang open, splintering into tiny pieces of wood. He immediately jumped backwards, expecting armed bandits to erupt from the hole, like angry wasps spewing out of a broken hive. However, no one came, and there was no sound other than the gurgling of the nearby stream.

  The prince gathered his courage, and crouched down, ducking under the low doorway. Inside was a dark tunnel, only tall enough for him to walk with his head bowed down. He proceeded forward blindly, praying the Raven hadn't had the foresight to lay any deadly traps. His footsteps were the only sound he heard as he stepped carefully through the claustrophobic space. His back began to ache from the awkward angle he was forced to walk in, and his longsword was even more cumbersome to carry in such a tight space. Before him was nothing but terrifying darkness. He could step right into a bottomless pit without ever knowing, but still- he pushed forward. Eventually, the prince came to a sharp right turn in the tunnel. As he approached the corner, he saw torchlight flickering from beyond. He peered around, but to his relief he saw nothing but a stone staircase, illuminated by a sconce on the wall. He turned the corner, and ascended the stairs quickly, finding a full sized door at the top. He paused, listening for signs of life, but heard nothing.

  Hesitantly, he reached for the doorknob and began turning it slowly. To his surprise, it was unlocked. The old wooden door creaked on its rusty hinges as it slowly swung open, and Prince Asher grabbed the hilt of his sword in preparation. He strained his eyes, staring into the dimly lit chamber before him. He once again found no danger, but instead stepped into a storeroom of sorts. Crates of fresh apples and grain were stacked in the corner, and butchered meat hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. Pitchforks, axes, and other various tools were leaned against an adjacent wall. The prince started making his way across the room, but suddenly, he heard something that made him stop in his tracks. Muffled voices. They seemed to be coming from the next room over. He approached the door on the far side of the storeroom, trying to move as silently as possible. He cupped his hand around his ear and put it up to the door, trying to make out what the voices were saying.

  "You fool! Don't you realize this will just provoke them further? They'll burn our village to the ground!"

  "What am I supposed to do? Stand by and let our people starve? I refuse!"

  "As this village's chief councilman, I implore you- give the funds back! Before they come for us..."

  Prince Asher's heart started pounding in his chest. The second voice was unmistakable, he'd been unable to get it out of his head ever since he'd heard it the day before. The voice belonged to the Raven, without question.

  The prince took a deep breath. His body began to act before his mind could convince him to run away. He forced open the door, and drew his weapon. He burst through the opening, ready to fight. Once inside, he quickly scanned his surroundings. He immediately saw two men, seated across from each other at a large table. One of them was old, and thin. He had a face that was rough and weathered, like worn leather. His shaggy gray hair gave way to a long beard.

  "What's the meaning of this?" the old councilman said in shock.

  The other man was much younger. He stood up, facing Prince Asher. The young man appeared to be of a similar age to the prince, although smaller in stature. His build was wiry, but he looked deceptively strong, like he'd be difficult to push over. He had jet-black hair, which fell haphazardly over his forehead. He wore a dark tunic, and at his hips there were two short-swords in twin sheaths. His bright blue eyes stared at the prince, sizing him up.

  “You there!” Prince Asher shouted. “Drop your weapons and surrender yourself right now, in the name of the king!”

  The Raven looked up angrily at the prince. “You again? Are you that desperate for another beating?”

  "I'm here to deliver justice, nothing more," Prince Asher said softly.

  'This is my chance to save Lady Rheya. I must not fail.'

  He raised his sword, and swung at the bandit with all the speed and precision he could muster.

  The Raven dodged the strike with ease and retaliated with his twin blades, nearly catching Prince Asher in the side with a glancing blow. Luckily, the prince's sword was just fast enough to protect him from damage. He was still in danger though, and his opponent wasted no time in unleashing another barrage of lightning fast slashes.

  As the chaos unfolded, the old councilman cowered behind the table, doing his best to avoid the combatant's wildly swinging weapons.

  Prince Asher felt himself being overwhelmed by his opponent’s swift attacks, but remained determined. 'I won’t lose again!' He told himself.

  He traded blows back and forth with the bandit, trying to gain the upper hand. The tight quarters they fought in made it difficult to swing his large sword, but gave a huge advantage to the Raven. Several times the prince's sword was sent crashing into a wall or table and he was barely able to regain control of his weapon. He was unaccustomed to fighting without armor, and felt extremely vulnerable. One well placed strike from his opponent could easily slice him open, leaving him to bleed out.

  After several exchanges, the prince detected an opening in the bandit's defense. When he raised his arms for an overhand attack, his torso was left unguarded for a split-second. Prince Asher waited until his opponent repeated this move, and staked everything on his next strike. He lunged forward with his longsword, placing his weapon perfectly in the bandit's unprotected zone.

  'I've got you now, bastard!' Prince Asher thought, preparing to take his victory. However, his opponent did something incredible, changing the direction of his blade at the last possible moment. He parried the prince's strike, and sent his sword clattering to the floor. Prince Asher froze for a second, his mouth agape. He'd been bested once again.

  'No! I can't lose, for Rheya's sake...' he thought.

  He quickly formed a plan. In desperation, Prince Asher ran over to the councilman, and grabbed him around the neck, roughly hauling the old man to his feet. He drew his dagger, pressing its sharp steel to the terrified councilman’s throat. His captive gasped in fear and shock, but didn't cry out.

  “Return what you stole now, or this man dies. It makes no difference to me,” Prince Asher said coldly.

  "Ha! Now that's an interesting choice... but I don't think you have the balls to do something like that, prince," the Raven spat.

  "Do not test me, thief," Prince Asher said, with a voice full of venom. In the back of his mind, he questioned if the bandit was right. He'd never killed anyone before, certainly not an unarmed innocent.

  'I'll do it, if it means I can save her,' Prince Asher thought, pressing his blade deeper into the man's flesh. His heart was pounding so loud in his chest he could barely hear anything else around him.

  "H-help me!" the councilman finally cried.

  “Alright! Stop! I knew you were a coward, but I never thought you would stoop this low, prince,” said the Raven. “This is how you protect your subjects? By threatening to murder them in cold blood? You’re a disgrace. But fine... you win. Take the damn money and leave our village.”

  He quickly walked over to the wall, and knelt down. He slipped one of his blades behind a loose stone, and opened up a small compartment in the wall. Reaching his arm inside, he pulled out a large sack. After hefting it up, he angrily threw it at Prince Asher’s feet, sending the coins spilling onto the floor.

  Prince Asher breathed a sigh of relief, but quickly realized the hardest part of his mission had yet to come. 'I have to kill him, and bring proof to Father. Only then will Rheya be safe.'

  "Drop your weapons, and kick them over to me!" the prince ordered.

  The Raven's blue eyes flashed in defiance, but after meeting the councilman's terrified gaze, he sighed and did as he was commanded. He reluctantly knelt down and slid his twin blades over to the prince, who quickly gathered the weapons and jammed them between his belt and waist.

  "Now, release him!" the Raven shouted.

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  Prince Asher tensed up, bracing himself for what he must do. He looked up at the young man before him.

  "I'm... I'm sorry" he said softly.

  In one motion, he threw the councilman to the side, and lunged forward. His dagger was aimed perfectly at the Raven's throat, and for once, the bandit was caught completely off guard. Prince Asher saw the realization in the Raven's eyes.

  The prince's blade bit into the bandit's flesh, sending a splatter of blood across the wall. 'It's done...' the Prince thought, adrenaline surging through him.

  When he looked up, he was shocked at what he saw. The Raven had leapt backwards, with almost super-human reflexes. One of his hands was pressed against his cheek, trying to stanch the bleeding.

  'I missed?!' Prince Asher thought, his heart sinking into his stomach.

  He quickly charged forward again, going for the finishing blow. This time, his weapon touched nothing but air. The Raven had turned and fled, disappearing down a hallway on the far side of the chamber. Prince Asher chased after him, sprinting down the dark tunnel. He could hear the bandit's footsteps ahead, getting further and further away.

  Prince Asher noticed that during the tense situation he had inadvertently dug his blade slightly into the thin flesh of his hostage’s neck. Bright red blood pooled on the old man’s throat, and began to drip down onto the coins below.

  A few moments later, Sir Tristan arrived with both horses in tow. He noticed Prince Asher's sullen face.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "I was able to secure the tithes, but the bandits escaped before I could do anything. I failed," Prince Asher said, his voice quivering slightly. All he could think about was what would happen to Rheya if he was forced to return without the heads of the bandits. His stomach sank as he imagined all the horrific things his father might have in store for her.

  "Then let us continue to search for them. We must not give up when victory is within our grasp," Sir Tristan said calmly.

  "We shall. But I fear they're long gone. Their leader is too crafty to be found with such a large head start," Prince Asher replied.

  "We'll go house by house and demand entry. On the king's order," Sir Tristan said, trying to remain hopeful.

  The pair carefully stashed the reclaimed tithes in the nearby woods, making sure they weren't followed.

  "The chest will be safe here while we search the village," Sir Tristan remarked.

  Prince Asher spent the rest of the day banging on villager's doors, and searching their homes high and low for any sign of the bandits. Now that the Prince knew the leader's face, he at least had a small chance of finding him. However, with each unsuccessful search, Prince Asher's hopes shrank smaller and smaller. It was almost dusk by the time they had searched every home, finding no trace of the bandits. Prince Asher ran wildly into the woods, searching high and low for any place where men could hide. It didn't help that the forest surrounding Runestone village was as deep and ancient as they come, with caves and massive fallen trees scattered throughout. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. As the sun sank below the horizon, the prince realized his search was futile. He returned to Sir Tristan, who was searching the village huts for a second time.

  Prince Asher threw down his sword in a rage. "It seems they're still hiding somewhere in the village, or they've fled deep into the forest. Either way, we must return to the palace before nightfall. I just pray reclaiming the tithes will be enough to appease father," he said. He was desperate to get back to Lady Rheya. 'If he's harmed her, I'll just have to kill the old bastard myself. Then I'll take her far away from here,' the prince thought.

  Sir Tristan bowed his head towards the prince. "I will take responsibility, my prince. I wasn't there for you in your moment of need, or we'd have been able to apprehend them," he said.

  "No, this is all my fault. They were right in front of me, and I couldn't defeat them!" Prince Asher said, hanging his head in shame.

  On the ride back Asher couldn’t help but sink into a deep depression. He hated the way his actions made him feel. His mind kept replaying the moment he held his knife to the peasant’s throat.

  'Is this the kind of person I’ve become...?' he asked himself genuinely. 'I... did what I must, for Lady Rheya,' he told himself, trying to stave off his guilt.

  Soon they arrived back at the towering spires of the Azirian Palace.

  “I have returned with the stolen coppers, father,” Asher said, opening the large chest, and once again kneeling in front of the King.

  King Aemon looked down at him from his high throne, expressionless. “And what of the bandits that stole from us?” he asked.

  Asher looked down. “They fled,” he said softly.

  “So you've failed again. I thought I'd given you adequate motivation to accomplish your task, but it appears I was wrong. As rulers of this land, we cannot let insurrection of any kind pass. Any attack against the Holy Azirian Kingdom is an attack against God himself. Don’t you understand that?

  “I understand Father, I will accept any punishment you see fit,” Prince Asher uttered, bowing low. In the back of his mind he prayed he could take the consequences, and spare Lady Rheya.

  The king stood up angrily, rising from his throne. "As for you, Sir Tristan, I'm tempted to go through with your execution. But seeing how you two managed to at least reclaim the tithes, I shall spare you this time, only because I have a more urgent matter to attend to,” said the king. “Come with me my son,” he said, beckoning Prince Asher out of the throne room.

  "And what of Lady Rheya?" Prince Asher asked swallowing the lump in his throat.

  "I'll take you to her," the king said.

  Neither of them spoke as he lead Asher down into the bowels of the fortified palace, below even the grim depths of the castle dungeon. There were miles of labyrinth-like tunnels beneath the palace, built centuries ago by the first King of Aziria. During a siege, they could be used by the royal family to escape an invading army. However, they had yet to be used for that purpose as the palace had never been invaded.

  They walked for what seemed like an eternity, navigating the complex network of hallways. Finally, they arrived at an enormous stone door hidden deep within the tunnels. Two elite Holy Knights stood on either side, solemn and alert. On the king’s signal, they dragged the heavy stone doors open. As Prince Asher walked through, he stared in wonder at the sight he now beheld. He found himself in an enormous cavern made of jet black rock. The stone floor seemed to expand outwards infinitely, with no walls in sight. There was a colossally deep rift in the center of the chamber, so deep you couldn't begin to see the bottom. An eerie fog and strange rumblings emitted from the depths of the pit, sending a chill down Asher's spine.

  “Do you know what this place is?” the King asked expectantly.

  “The ancient chasm?” Asher replied. “I thought it was permanently sealed centuries ago by the Azirian royal family,” he said incredulously.

  “So it’s been said, but years ago, I began an effort to unlock the chasm’s secrets. Excavators have been working day and night to chip away at the solid stone that has long blocked the way,” the King said, almost excitedly. “Recently, we made some revolutionary discoveries within. Discoveries that will change the world.”

  King Aemon walked Asher to an ancient stone altar in the front of the chamber, which held a large object. It was a crude, black, and gnarled hunk of metal. After looking at the strange item for a few seconds, Asher determined it to be an enormous sword, with a jagged and razor-sharp edge.

  “This, Asher, is the answer to all of our problems. If you wield this sword, no enemy can stand against you in battle,” King Aemon said ominously.

  “How can that be?” Asher asked genuinely. The sword seemed impractical in design and far too large to be brandished with any accuracy.

  “This isn’t just any sword Asher. It’s an ancient relic from an age long forgotten. This sword is imbued with the soul of the demon, Omen. Wielding it allows the user to harness some of Omen’s power as their own,” The King replied in a serious tone.

  Asher took a second glance at the hideous weapon. It had a strange aura around it. The more he looked at it, the more it seemed like it was alive, rhythmically breathing in and out.

  “What are you talking about?! You can’t be serious,” Asher said. “Calling upon demonkind would be a crime against God.”

  The King sighed. “My son, the Holy War is all that matters. We must use any and all power at our disposal to crush the Celestians. Something monstrous is coming for us, mark my words. An ancient darkness that will envelop the entire world. If we fail to conquer Celestia, we will be destroyed along with them. You must wield this sword this so our kingdom can survive. It has already been foretold in prophecy.”

  “What’s coming for us?" Asher asked, panicked.

  "Never-mind that. Just understand that we must win this war, at all costs. The lives of our people are at stake. But know this, the tide is turning in our favor. I personally have masterminded a foolproof plan to capture Celestia's princess. Without Princess Arianna, the people of Celestia will have no one to put their faith in. King Caedrich will be killed soon after, which I will see to personally. Our forces will flood Celestia, and take the capital. We will conquer those heretics, and claim what's rightfully ours," King Aemon said.

  "But why must we fight them, father? If they're not our true enemy, couldn't we use their strength, and stand against our common foe together?"

  “I wish it was that simple, but this is the only way, my son. You must have faith in me,” the king replied.

  “This feels wrong,” Asher muttered.

  “This is what we must do to prevent the destruction of Aziria, don’t you understand?! You don’t have a choice,” the king insisted.

  “I suppose I can pick up the sword and see how it feels…” Asher said reluctantly.

  “Excellent. However… there is one requirement you must meet in order to become the owner of this blade. Omen will not accept just anyone to wield his power. First you must make a great sacrifice to him, to demonstrate your resolve,” King Aemon said.

  “What kind of sacrifice?” Asher asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Bring her in!” The king called loudly. A few moments later the palace guards walked in, escorting a young girl. She wore a simple white dress, and her hands were restrained with chains.

  Asher immediately noticed her raven black hair and bright scarlet eyes. “Have I seen her before?” he wondered. The prince wanted to talk to her, but she had been gagged with a cloth and was unable to speak. The only sound the girl could produce was a hoarse cry that she kept repeating.

  King Aemon noticed Asher's confusion and spoke. “I’ll be direct about this. In order to bond with Omen, you must sacrifice this girl. She is of noble blood, but her family is gone and she has no use anymore. Being an Offering is a great honor, one that she will carry proudly."

  “Are you insane? I can’t do that!” Asher cried, but his father’s expression didn’t change.

  “Come here, my son,” King Aemon said, motioning Asher towards the altar. Asher reluctantly walked over. The king guided Asher’s hand towards the sword’s hilt. “Pick it up!” The king commanded.

  Asher instinctively picked up the massive weapon. It took all his might just to lift it. Up close it was just as ugly as from afar. The cross-guard was gnarled and covered in sharp barbs and the black blade gleamed with malice. Once he gripped it in his hands, Asher felt a strange surge of energy coursing into his body, making him feel increasingly unnerved.

  King Aemon steered Asher towards the girl and place his hand’s firmly on the Prince’s shoulders. “Do it,” he whispered.

  Asher tensed up. “I can’t,” he said.

  “Yes, you can. Think of it of as saving every life in Aziria,” King Aemon said. “What’s one death if it means unlocking the power to defeat our enemy? You must do it now son! For Aziria!”

  Asher had never defied his Father’s orders. In his mind, they were absolute. He’d seen what happened to nobles who went against father, and it was a fate worse than death.

  Asher started to hear whispers in the back of his mind, like the sword was calling out to his subconscious . He felt a sudden rage, an urge to lash out with the blade. He tensed his body, preparing to carry out his father's orders. For a split second, the girl’s eyes met his. Asher saw a desperate sadness in them and froze. He recognized something hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

  Asher winced as he prepared to carry out the King’s command, but his arms wouldn’t move. He felt the king’s anger rising with each passing second, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to swing the sword.

  “I can’t do this…” he thought.

  Prince Asher threw the evil sword to the ground, sending it clattering away.

  “You don’t want to do that, Asher,” King Aemon said.

  “Maybe not, but I must,” Asher said.

  King Aemon sighed. “It’s a shame it had to be this way, my son. I had hoped we could save this kingdom together. Go ahead and flee, if you wish. I will not stop you. But know this, you are now a traitor to the Azirian kingdom. My enemies never survive long..." he whispered.

  “You can’t be serious...” Prince Asher said in bewilderment. He began inching away and finally broke into a terrified sprint. As promised, his father didn’t give chase. He just stood there in the same place, watching him.

  Asher began to run faster than he ever had before, tearing past the Holy Knights, and through the maze of subterranean hallways. He made the wrong turn several times, and was forced to backtrack and choose a different path. Eventually, he managed to find his way. He sprinted up the stairs, beyond the dungeon, and up into the palace. The many guards he passed didn't give chase, they just stared at him with confusion. Prince Asher made it to his chamber safely, quickly donning a cloak and grabbing his sword before departing. He needed to make it out of the palace as fast as possible.

  He headed out into the courtyard, pulling the hood of his cloak over his face. The night air was cold, and Asher could see the misty clouds of his ragged breath against the black sky. Luckily there was no one present on the grounds to question him, and he was able to move freely. As he exited the palace gates, there was still no sign of any pursuers and Asher let out a small sigh of relief.

  He pushed onward, heading for the stables. His plan was to mount his horse and escape across the bridge to the mainland before the guards were alerted. He maintained a steady gait, trying not to rouse any suspicion. Most citizens were home by this hour, and the streets were mostly clear except for the occasional patrol. Prince Asher held his breath as they walked by, but they seemingly took no notice of him. By the time he reached the stables, Asher was sure that his father had had sent the Holy Knights after him, but everything remained calm as he approached his steed.

  He mounted the horse immediately, not wanting to waste precious time by saddling the beast. He trotted out to the main street, and rode for the bridge. The streets remained empty, and as Prince Asher crossed the city square, he began to feel confident he would make it out of Artoria unscathed. However, his hope was quickly shattered by an ominous sound, the sound of many hooves galloping across the cobblestones. He turned around, and saw several patrols of city guards riding his way, followed by what looked to be a company of Holy Knights.

  Asher's heart started pounding, and he kicked his horse's side, spurring it forward it at a breakneck pace. The bridge that would take him to the mainland was in view, and he held on for dear life as his mount sped across the city center. The night air whistled by, and Asher heard nothing else but his horse's hooves clomping across the cobbled streets. By the time he made it onto the bridge, his pursuers were gaining on him, no more than one hundred feet behind. Asher urged his horse forward, praying he would make it in time. Halfway across the bridge, the iron gate at the far end slowly began to fall, creaking as its rusty chain fed through the pulley system. Asher only had a few seconds to pass under or else we would be trapped without any means of escape. Glancing behind him, he could see his pursuers were closing the gap between them quickly. Asher's heart was pounding out of his chest, and his entire body was shaking uncontrollably as the chilling wind cut through him.

  He spurred his horse forward with all his might, praying he would make it out in time. As he approached the outer wall, over half of the iron gate had descended, leaving barely enough space to pass under. Arrows began to fly towards him, both from the men behind and from the guardsmen on the outer wall. Prince Asher ducked, and closed his eyes as they whizzed by. His horse continued to gallop with incredible speed, somehow avoiding the volley. He heard a deafening crash, and opened his eyes to see the gate had slammed to the ground just behind him. He had escaped the city, and his pursuers were now trapped on the other side as the sentries scrambled to raise the iron gate back up.

  Prince Asher was amazed that he made it out of the city gate but debated where to head next.

  Where can I go?

  After a few seconds of debate he split off the main road, down a hidden game trail he knew well from his days of hunting with Sir Tristan. Now that he thought about it, Prince Asher realized he hadn’t seen Sir Tristan since they returned with the tithes.

  Asher rode down the dark path, looking out for low-hanging branches and glancing behind his back every now and then. He wholly expected an expanse of torches to appear over the hill, signaling the arrival of hundreds of horsemen. The Holy Knights were the largest cavalry unit on the continent, and arguably the most formidable warriors known to man. They were also fiercely loyal to King Aemon himself. If they caught him, there would be no chance of survival.

  Minutes ticked by and there was still no sign of the Holy Knights. Asher was still fearful, but he began to breathe a little easier as he advanced deeper into the forest. However, Prince Asher realized he still wasn't safe yet, or even close. His entire kingdom was now a hostile nation, and he had nowhere to go.

  Suddenly his luck seemed to change. Sir Tristan happened to be returning from a hunting trip and came galloping around the corner on horseback. He wore his traveling leathers, and his sword was sheathed at his side. On his back he carried his hunting bow, and a large deer carcass was slung over the rear of his horse. His face was surprised when he looked up and saw Prince Asher.

  “Prince Asher? Where are you going alone at this hour your highness?” said Sir Tristan as he came to a halt.

  “Sir Tristan! It’s a relief to find you out here. I must tell you something… Father has lost his mind! He took me into the ancient chasm and started ranting about demons, asking me to sacrifice a young girl to them! When I refused, he set the Holy Knights on me! I barely escaped alive,” Prince Asher said, trying to catch his breath.

  “You refused the king’s orders?” Sir Tristan asked calmly.

  Prince Asher looked shocked. “Of course I did. We can’t sacrifice innocents for a chance at saving ourselves. We should be fighting the enemy directly like warriors of God!”

  Sir Tristan’s expression went dark, and he got a look in his eye Prince Asher had never seen before.

  “It’s a shame you think that way my Prince. You know what happens to those who betray the king...”