The late-afternoon sun lengthened the shadows within the Frosty Dawn inn. A hush settled at the private table where Ventania and the Doombroks gathered, eyes fixed on the mysterious letter in Ventania’s hand. They had just returned from clearing out the mutated ant queen, flush with success and bruises. Now they faced a new quandary: the rogue who promised crucial information regarding Ventania’s missing parents – for a steep price.

  Ventania, pinkish hue still glowing under torchlight, exhaled a tense breath. She let her gaze sweep over Rathgar, half-ogre warrior; Aeryn, elven rogue; and Eldrin, human mage. They’d fought side by side for years, yet none of them knew her deepest secret: that she was a true unicorn in human guise, that her left horn was hidden by illusions. Nor did they know her earliest training in Brocéliande with Ferlin. She had kept that fiercely guarded.

  “All I know,” she began, “is this rogue claims to have details about my mother and father. She demands an absurd sum. The meeting’s in a fortnight north of here, in a place called the Burnt Orchard.”

  Rathgar frowned, folding his muscular arms. “Odd place for a rendezvous. Why not meet in the city?”

  “Probably wants an isolated spot,” Aeryn guessed, stirring her drink. “Someone dealing in black-market intel can’t afford watchers. But if it’s the only clue to your parents after all these years…” She trailed off, letting the obvious question hang in the air.

  Ventania swallowed. “I won’t ignore it. I must see if it’s real.”

  Eldrin tapped a finger on the table. “We’ll come. We can set wards to spot ambushes, bring forging gear in case we need makeshift traps. Our coin from the ant colony might not cover an ‘astronomical’ cost, but we’ll figure that out.”

  A flicker of gratitude shone in Ventania’s eyes. She told them so little of her origins, yet they stood by her unwaveringly. “Thank you,” she managed quietly. “I just hope it’s worth the risk.”

  And so they planned into the evening, forging a strategy for all contingencies: potential traps, illusions or synergy bombs, overhead watchers. They resolved to proceed carefully, suspecting a double-cross.

  Dusk settled over the farmland as the Doombroks rode north of the city. Locals had whispered of the Burnt Orchard, once a flourishing farm before a tragic fire left it barren. Rumors claimed wraiths haunted the ash-laden soil. Indeed, as the group neared the orchard boundary, twisted blackened trees jutted from the earth like skeletal remains. A half-collapsed farmhouse stood in the distance, half devoured by flames long past.

  They arrived near twilight, stabling their horses among overgrown brambles. Ventania’s cloak swayed with the cold breeze, and she felt the old prickle of wards unused in this place. “It’s quiet,” Rathgar muttered, scanning the horizon. Aeryn ghosted forward, scouting the orchard’s edges, while Eldrin readied mana for wards if needed.

  They chose an open clearing by a scorched barn. Wind rustled the charred branches, and fleeting shadows might have been wraiths slithering between the stumps. The group waited, tension thick, synergy shimmering around Ventania’s staff. She carried no illusions-laced aura that would reveal her horn, but her heart hammered all the same, uncertain what exactly the rogue would demand.

  When darkness fully fell, she arrived: a lone figure gliding into view among the burnt trees with effortless grace. Cloaked in deep gray, tall boots padded silently over ash. Although the orchard was rumored to swarm with wraiths, she seemed unaffected. The faint glimmer of many daggers strapped across her hips and thighs was the only open sign of her lethal skill. A bone-white longbow peeked over one shoulder.

  Ventania felt an odd tingle in her eyes, as though she could perceive an aura around this rogue – a swirl of dark red flickers, shot with threads of deeper black. She looked to her companions, noticing that none reacted to such an aura. She could see the Doombroks’ faint glows (each unique in hue), but not her own reflection. Confusion gnawed at her. What is this new sight?

  “Ventania,” the rogue greeted, voice low and melodic. “I trust you got my letter.”

  Her hood tilted, revealing a faint smile. She was unexpectedly calm, almost friendly. The Doombroks fell into a protective formation around Ventania, uncertain. Something about the rogue’s confidence suggested a level of skill beyond the norm.

  “Who are you?” Ventania asked, forcing an even tone.

  “Call me Esverna,” the rogue replied. “You may find me… a helpful ally, if you prove you truly are Ventania.” She paused, scanning the group. “Though first, I must confirm you are the one I believe you to be.”

  Aeryn frowned. “Why such theatrics? We came because of your letter.”

  Esverna only shrugged, eyes dancing with ephemeral amusement. “I must verify my facts before I risk any deeper secrets.”

  Esverna’s questions started simply: “You confronted a demon some time ago at an Arcane Academy?” She saw the flicker of tension cross Ventania’s face and Eldrin’s surprise. Ventania only nodded, refusing more detail. The Doombroks listened, perplexed at how the rogue gleaned knowledge no ordinary outsider should have.

  Next, Esverna asked: “You were born in a storm. Did you know that storm raged across an entire continent, cleansing and ravaging?”

  Ventania’s breath caught. She had told none of the Doombroks about the extent of that infamous tempest. They exchanged confused looks – they knew she was unusual, but not this level of mythic origin. Still, Ventania steadied herself, recalling the swirling chaos of her birth. “Yes,” she murmured.

  Esverna’s faint smile sharpened with satisfaction. Then she withdrew a small wooden token etched with a cryptic symbol. She turned it so Ventania could see. The shape matched that on the scroll Roy had used to summon the demon at Arcane University – a chilling revelation.

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  Ventania’s eyes widened. “Where did you–?”

  Esverna cut her off. “This mark belongs to those who currently hold your parents captive in the Dark Elven Royal Capital. Not the crown itself, but a hidden faction.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “They live, Ventania. Seralyne and Azarion—unless they have parted this realm recently.”

  Ventania’s composure crumbled. A swirl of tears welled as hope crashed into her chest. She had never spoken those names to the Doombroks, who now stared, baffled. She quickly reined in the emotional surge. “If they’re truly alive, I must know more. Tell me.”

  Esverna exhaled softly, stepping forward. “Of course, but my price is not small. If your heart is set on rescuing them, you’d do well to pay it.”

  Ventania’s pulse hammered. “Name it.”

  The rogue’s gaze landed squarely on Ventania, assessing. Then, calmly, she said, “I want your horn.”

  An abrupt hush gripped the orchard. “Horn?” Eldrin echoed, baffled. Aeryn shot Ventania a confused look – none of them even knew she possessed a horn. Rathgar’s brow furrowed in deep puzzlement. Ventania alone realized the horrifying truth: Esverna must be referencing her secret unicorn nature, the illusions she used to hide that telltale horn. But how could this rogue possibly know?

  Shock turned to blistering fury. Her synergy spiked, swirling around her staff. She’d pinned her illusions so none saw her true form, and she had never told the Doombroks. For years, she had guarded the truth that she was no mere human – the last link to her parents. Now, after all the heartbreak, this stranger demanded the very essence of her identity?

  Esverna, noticing the rising synergy, actually smiled. Not in malice, but in an odd calm acceptance, as if she’d expected such a reaction. “I see you’re angry. Perhaps you’d prefer—”

  Ventania’s eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with rage. “If you want it…” She raised her staff, synergy blazing in lethal arcs. “Try and take it.”

  Eldrin and Aeryn whirled, baffled, with no clue what “horn” the rogue mentioned. Rathgar’s paternal gaze flicked between them, no less confused but reading the imminent clash. Esverna, in turn, stepped back with a poised stance, hand drifting to her bone bow.

  “Let’s see if you truly hold the power I seek, Ventania,” Esverna said calmly. “Show me if the rumors of your unstoppable synergy ring true.”

  In the next instant, the orchard erupted into motion. Ventania roared, synergy forging earthen spikes beneath her staff. She hurled them toward Esverna in a savage volley. The rogue dodged with uncanny grace, flipping behind a broken stump and unleashing a hail of throwing daggers. Aeryn cursed, deflecting a dagger with a precisely angled short sword. Rathgar lurched forward, half-minded to shield Ventania, but the orchard’s blackened ground slowed his heavy steps.

  Esverna seemed to vanish, slipping from cover to cover with breathtaking speed. Eldrin conjured wards, trying to track her silhouette through drifting ash. “She’s fast!” Aeryn snarled, scanning for an opening. The rogue answered by launching an arrow from the bone bow, forcing them to scatter. Her skill was beyond typical sellsword – she was Mithril-level, a rank indicating near-legendary prowess.

  Ventania’s synergy swelled again, fury fueling each strike. “Enough running!” she hissed, casting swirling flame arcs that scorched the orchard’s charred trees. She found no direct hit. Esverna wove among the shadows, half-smiling in an almost playful way. Each time Ventania hammered the ground or fired a scorching wave, the rogue relocated, bounding up a jagged trunk or sliding behind a blackened boulder.

  The Doombroks formed a protective ring around Ventania. Eldrin’s wards glowed around them, but it was all they could do to block the rogue’s relentless barrage of daggers and arrows. Aeryn managed a few counters, their blades clashing in fleeting skirmishes, but Esverna slipped away each time. “She’s just… testing us,” Aeryn panted, realizing the rogue aimed to gauge their skill, not kill them outright.

  Rathgar grimaced as a dagger grazed his arm. “If this is a test, she’s nigh unstoppable.” He brandished his sword in frustration. “Ventania, what do we do?”

  Ventania’s eyes burned with frustration and heartbreak. She couldn’t let this woman claim her horn – but she also sensed no lethal intent from Esverna. The orchard crackled with tension. The wraiths that lurked vanished fully, unwilling to interrupt such a skilled dance of death.

  Esverna hopped atop a charred stump, vantage gained. She shot a single arrow that pinned Eldrin’s cloak to a trunk, forcing him to tear free. Then, with a fluid roll, she avoided another synergy blast from Ventania. The orchard sizzled under multiple scorch marks, evidence of Ventania’s unstoppable but misdirected fury. Her laughter turned ragged as frustration set in. Each synergy-laden strike missed its mark, or forced Esverna to relocate, but never pinned her down.

  Finally, both sides paused in a standoff, breathing heavily. A swirl of ash drifted between them. Ventania glared, staff trembling with synergy. The Doombroks glowered at her side, uncertain. Esverna lowered her bow, though daggers still glinted at her hip.

  “I see your potential,” Esverna murmured, eyes flicking to Ventania’s staff. “But your anger blinds you. You truly might be the one I sought.”

  Ventania’s chest heaved, uncomprehending. “Enough riddles. You want my horn? Over my dead body!”

  Esverna’s lips curved in that calm smile again. “That remains to be seen.” Then, in a graceful bound, she vaulted backward into the orchard’s gloom. Before anyone could pursue, she vanished among blackened trunks, footsteps silent. The hush after her departure felt thunderous.

  The orchard lay scorched anew from Ventania’s synergy, the ground littered with spent arrows and embedded daggers. No one was gravely injured, but they felt the tension in their bones. The Doombroks turned to Ventania for answers. Eldrin gently pressed, “What horn was she talking about? Are you… part beastfolk?”

  Ventania paled. She realized she’d never spoken of her unicorn heritage, nor how her illusions concealed the horn on her forehead. With Ms. Kendall’s death, Roy’s demon-summoning fiasco, and the demon-limb assimilation, she’d withheld every piece of her identity from them. Now the secret battered her heart, but she still couldn’t find the words. “It’s nothing,” she snapped, ignoring the swirl of pity or confusion in their eyes.

  The group quietly left the orchard, wraithly moans trailing behind them. They reached their horses near the farmland road, hearts heavy. The rogue had proven unbelievably skilled, only testing them and refusing to finalize the confrontation. Ventania’s mind reeled: Esverna must know my parents’ location… She wants my horn in exchange. But how? Why?

  Rathgar gently laid a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. “I’m fine,” she insisted, forcing calm. No one believed her, but they respected her silence. If the rogue had measured them, it might mean they had a chance to proceed. Yet Ventania’s vow to reclaim her parents now clashed violently with the demand to yield a part of her own identity. The demon-limb synergy churned, stoking her frustration.

  A final swirl of cold wind ruffled their cloaks. Aeryn quietly squeezed Ventania’s arm, uncertain how to comfort her friend. Eldrin’s ward flickered, cautioning them to move on. The orchard still lurked with restless spirits, but the true haunting was Ventania’s secret.

  Thus ended the confrontation, an incomplete duel overshadowed by confusion and hidden truths. Esverna’s final words lingered in Ventania’s mind: You truly might be the one I sought. A prophecy left unspoken, a horn demanded, a savage test of skill. And so they departed, hearts weighed by unanswered questions, Ventania’s rage simmering beneath every step. She now faced a cruel choice: to sacrifice her horn for her parents, or spurn the only lead she’d had in years.

  End of Chapter 7