It was early morning when the black cliffs of Alteron began to rise from the waters like the fangs of a sea monster. Leaning against the railing on the highest deck of the ship, I watched the sun rise from what seemed like the throat of some apocalyptic beast. I had long dreamed of setting foot on this strange shore, of which I had heard countless tales—its wonders known even to the smallest of rocks.

  I had been traveling for a long time—since leaving my hometown, it felt like centuries had passed. Along my journey, I had crossed lands shadowed by forests, stained with swamps, and scattered with burning deserts, only to now find myself so close to the shores of Alteron.

  I am a simple soldier, and I will likely remain a soldier all my life. I have fought in many wars, most of which I can barely remember now. I have carried so many banners that their colors mean nothing to me anymore. A life of madness, with few worries and no purpose, had brought me here. Worn down by care and weary from so many battles, I found myself alone. War had drained everything from me, and I could no longer find joy in anything around me. All the treasures gathered over the long campaigns I had taken part in meant nothing. I felt my soul slowly fading, haunted by dreadful visions and a foreign anxiety I couldn’t name.

  In the midst of my despair, I began a feverish search, one that bordered on madness. The search drove me so far that my life had only one purpose left: to find the rose of happiness.

  It had all started with an old legend found in a timeworn papyrus. I don’t know how the manuscript came into my hands. Luck or fate must have played a trick on me. I simply found myself holding pages worn by time. The script was ornate and hard to decipher, but to my surprise, I learned of the existence of a supernatural plant—a rose of desires, whose fragrance had the power to grant happiness. The thought that such a plant might exist, capable of offering supreme happiness to its bearer, gave me no peace.

  As we drew closer, I saw the great waves crashing against the black shore like the heart of midnight, throwing off fiery reflections. The glassy cliffs along the coast were then washed by the sea’s white foam, tearing like fine lace cut by a thousand shards.

  Beside me, also staring with gleaming eyes, trying to unravel the mystery of Alteron, stood Gregor. He was a giant from the ice-covered plains. His clothing was made entirely of wolf pelts sewn together. He proudly claimed that all the wolves whose skins he wore had been killed by his own bare hands. He was always in good spirits, often humming all sorts of bawdy songs. We had met during the first days I boarded the ship. His boisterous shouts and colorful curses made him impossible to overlook, to say the least. But once we exchanged a few words, I realized that behind the broad, rugged face draped in a magnificent blonde beard hid a cheerful, almost childlike soul.

  So there we were, standing on the upper deck of the ship, watching as colossal monoliths loomed over Alteron, somber and overwhelming against the sky. The harbor was framed by two massive stone piers, twin walls extending far into the sea. Their immensity and height made the harbor appear as a narrow strip of water, and the ships like mere toys tossed by a child into a shadowy canal. Above the piers, the old houses of fishermen and merchants lined up like soldiers in a solemn army, guarding the port.

  Yet the gloomy aura of Alteron stirred no concern in my heart—or in the hearts of the others aboard. The sailors' cheerful songs, as they furled the sails, blended with the laughter of travelers eager to set foot on shore.

  I didn’t carry much luggage. Just a few belongings tied in a bundle slung over my shoulder. In the leather pouch at my belt, a few gold coins jingled—not many, but enough to afford a decent living for a few days and indulge in a whim or two if something caught my eye at the merchants’ stalls. My black suede trousers and white silk shirt stood out among the more flamboyantly dressed locals. But a long mustard-colored cloak covered me nearly entirely, so I had no trouble blending into the crowd without attracting curious glances.

  I wandered along the busy quay without any real destination. I watched the children playing, fishermen repairing their nets, and merchants counting goods carried by porters into the large warehouses along the shore. A vibrant and lively world filled the black quays of Alteron.

  Then I climbed the stone-carved stairs toward the narrow streets, where every house had a small shop on the ground floor. From the glittering windows, all the wonders of the universe winked at me. Living fire, neatly wrapped in a golden-brown muffin, lured you into a bakery. Next door, metal threads scented with vanilla beckoned you through the doors of a famous jewelry shop. Merchants of all races—from black elves to horned trolls—had settled here and begun their trade in this fabulous city. Wonders beyond comprehension lay hidden in the caskets of skilled traders. Even if you lived a thousand years, you could never see them all.

  For a while, I stood entranced before the window of a beast merchant, watching a flock of tiny cloudlets gently feeding on the rays of a diamond. There was something in their dance that enchanted me, filling me with a quiet joy. I could have stayed there the entire day, simply watching the little creatures. But my good friend and companion Gregor snapped me out of my reverie with a hearty slap on the back that nearly knocked me into the cobblestones, followed by a loud laugh.

  - Stop wasting time with trifles! Let’s go wet our throats—we’ve swallowed enough salt, haven’t we? Hahaha!

  I waved him off with a gesture of mock annoyance and followed. With his uncanny instinct, Gregor quickly found the hidden entrance to a tavern, and before long we were happily sipping dark beer. We began to chatter about the shores we had left behind and the marvels awaiting us in Alteron.

  But we had barely started to quench our thirsty throats when a ruckus from the neighboring table caught our attention. A group of stout dwarves was in the middle of a noisy exchange.

  - Drink and be merry while you still can! The sunny days are about to set over the dark lands of Alteron! cried one dwarf, raising his frothing mug of ale.

  - What nonsense are you spouting? interrupted another.

  - I tell you, I was there when the witch Cobulka cast her omens in the main square, plucking feathers from the enchanted mast. Death and sorrow, darkness and lament—those were her words, and everyone present heard her clear as day.

  Everyone had heard of the witch Cobulka—even we, strangers to these lands, knew her by her reputation from the Storm Wars, where she had led an army of dragons summoned from the caves of the oldest mountains.

  We were also familiar with the local custom of hanging bird feathers from the great mast in the central square. And from time to time, the witch would pass by and divine the fate of those who had left them there.

  So that bit of news rather dampened the mood—and not just for us. Everyone in the tavern grew somber, and any trace of cheer seemed to vanish from the eyes of those present. We didn’t linger much longer. I finished my beer in two or three long, unenthusiastic gulps and stepped out into the midday sun. The heat and brightness dazed me for a few moments, but after wolfing down a few chunks of salted meat from a roadside stall, I began to feel more like myself again.

  I wandered through the narrow streets for a few more hours, until evening began to fall over Alteron. Then I went looking for an inn. I needed a bed to rest my weary body. I would have liked to continue my search, but fatigue was getting the better of me. My eyes felt heavy, and my limbs drained of strength.

  That’s when I saw her.

  She was sitting beside a rose bush, speaking to a cat. Her body was wrapped in a flowing dress the color of a midsummer sky. The short sleeves revealed slender, pale arms. She looked like a goddess of beauty stepped down from an ancient fresco, sitting with her back slightly arched as she spoke to the cat.

  But the creature she was talking to wasn’t an ordinary cat. Nine long, black tails flicked behind it, sometimes intertwining in agitation, other times moving lazily. Its size was closer to that of a panther than any common feline.

  Yet it wasn’t the strange cat that held my attention—it was the girl’s face. Her round face and full lips seemed oddly familiar. I felt as though I had seen her somewhere before, but no matter how hard I searched my memory, I couldn’t place where. Even from a distance, her presence stirred a strange sense of familiarity deep within me.

  I approached, and as soon as she saw me, she smiled and said:

  - I think you’re lost.

  - Is that... a cat with nine tails? I blurted out without thinking.

  - I’m not a cat! the feline hissed venomously. Unless you’re a stupid monkey!

  The girl stood up with a graceful, fluid motion and gently scolded:

  - Selina! That’s no way to speak to a guest! Please forgive her behavior—like any cat, she believes the world owes her everything.

  We started to laugh, and I found out that the cat was actually a fringa, a creature from the North that had come to Alteron long ago and settled there. The two had known each other for a long time and were close friends. In fact, I had the impression that the cat had known the girl since she was a child, because from what she said, she was of a venerable age. As far as I understood, no one really knew how long a fringa lived—not even they did. They knew when they were born, but no one knew when or if they died. At some point, they simply disappeared. Some returned after several hundred years, by which time no one recognized them. They were truly mysterious creatures—but that was part of their charm as magical felines.

  They asked my name, and I politely introduced myself. They were very curious about the journeys I had taken, though they asked no questions about the reason for my arrival in the city. They wanted to know as many details as possible about the lands I had passed through and the people I had met. I don’t know why, but I felt like my fatigue had vanished. I felt wonderful sitting there on those old marble steps, chatting without a care in the world.

  Just looking at the beautiful girl, a strange warmth spread through my chest, and a euphoric sensation took hold of me. But the strange enchantment wrapped around me so subtly that I didn’t even realize what was happening. The sound of her voice, her presence, the simple fact that she was physically near me brought me a sense of joy, of happiness like I had never known before.

  We sat there for a long time, talking on the marble steps. The stars sparkled in the night sky, and a hungry moon bathed everything in silver light. It felt as though the moon’s glow was hiding in the girl’s black hair, then radiating out around her in a warm halo that embraced her.

  When it was time for her to leave, I felt a heartbreaking sadness well up inside me.

  - But maybe we’ll see each other again tomorrow! I said, my voice trembling slightly.

  Smiling and leaning toward me, she whispered:

  - Certainly!

  I smiled too, watching her walk away, climbing the white marble steps with a light, almost playful stride. The scent of jasmine lingered sweetly in the air, tickling my nose, and with her image etched in my mind, I stood up and walked away.

  I was walking aimlessly through the empty midnight streets when I realized I needed to find an inn where I could shelter for the night. My legs ached, and my feet were swollen from walking so much.

  At that late hour, though, it was quite difficult to find an inn still open. I figured my best chance was somewhere near the harbor, where I knew thirsty sailors stayed out late into the night, and innkeepers—grateful for such generous customers—were in no rush to close their doors. So I followed the scent of saltwater and seaweed and slipped into a dark alley, hoping to shorten the distance to the port. After a whole day of wandering, I had managed to piece together a rough mental map of Alteron.

  But I had barely stepped into the shadow of the damp, mossy walls when I felt two strong arms wrap around my neck. Instinctively, without looking, I threw a punch in the direction of my attacker. A dull thud rang out, and I felt his ribs crack. He released me instantly, but just to be sure he wouldn’t get back up, I landed a swift kick in the direction I sensed he had fallen. From the darkness that surrounded him came a high-pitched moan, like a whimper. Years of battle experience had apparently served me well—I was now certain he wouldn’t be getting back up. I straightened my tunic and, with a sigh of relief, ran a hand through my hair.

  I thought I was safe—until a shout rang out from the opposite direction. I turned quickly, ready to face a new foe. The darkness wrapped around me like a cloak, and I couldn’t see a thing in front of me. I advanced slowly, fists raised, senses sharpened to their peak, trying to anticipate where the next blow might come from.

  A swift rustling sound came from my left, near the stone wall. I felt a sudden chill in the air, as if a ghost had flown past me. With every nerve on edge, I somehow sensed a rapid movement behind me. I tried to spin and face the attacker who had slipped by me—but I turned too late. A metal rod struck me squarely on the crown of my head, and in an instant, I was hurled into the land of dreams.

  When I awoke, I found myself in a dungeon. I was surrounded by roughly carved stone walls, and my wrists and ankles were bound in iron shackles. A foul-smelling pile of straw served as my bedding, and was the only furnishing I could see.

  A murky drop of light floated down from an opening high up on the wall. I couldn’t reach it because the chains that held me were too short, fastened to an iron ring embedded in the stone floor. I sat cross-legged on the pile of straw, determined to wait. I had nothing else to do anyway.

  My head throbbed terribly. I touched it and felt a lump the size of a pigeon egg behind my ear. Whoever had knocked me down had done a thorough job—they knew what they were doing. In the darkness surrounding me, all I could do was listen, and from time to time, I thought I heard faint thuds and muffled cries. I knew there was no point in yelling. I didn’t want to give the previous night’s attacker a reason to offer me another “lesson” I had no intention of taking.

  And that’s when I realized I was hungry. My stomach began to growl, claiming its due.

  Thirst wasn’t far behind either. I soon felt my lips growing increasingly dry. But there was nothing I could do but wait. It wasn’t the first time I’d been taken prisoner, and I knew that sooner or later, the situation would change—for the better, I hoped.

  Indeed, after a while, I heard that same swift rustling from the night before. A voice that sounded more like a caw than human speech broke the silence, and a vaguely human-shaped shadow appeared before me.

  - You’ll find a bowl of gruel and a small jug of water next to you. On your left, there’s an empty bucket. Until I come back… whenever that is, that’ll be enough! Got it, you little thief?

  I said nothing, trying to make out what kind of creature was in front of me. But the monster wasn’t pleased with my silence, and suddenly I took a brutal kick to the face that knocked me flat on my back.

  - Don’t you know how to say thank you nicely? Filthy wretch!

  Then the shadow vanished, as if it had melted into the gray stone wall.

  Sure enough, next to me was a bowl filled with gruel. It was tasteless, its texture resembling sawdust soaked in water. There was also a chipped clay jug containing water with a brackish, slightly salty taste. It would have to do for now—at least until I could figure out what had happened to me, and why my crow-voiced jailer had locked me in this dark, dank hole.

  I lay on the straw for a while, tormented by the headache caused by the lump and the kick to the face I had taken full force. The creature probably had night-bird eyes that allowed it to see in the dark.

  Its incredible speed, the strength it had shown, and its silent movements made me certain my attacker wasn’t a normal human. It was undoubtedly one of those vile crossbreeds—half man, half beast—that could only be born from the darkest spells of mad sorcerers. But of course, I was in Alteron, and if there was one thing this city certainly didn’t lack, it was mad sorcerers and their cursed offspring.

  I don’t know how much time passed, but the faint light began to vanish completely, and I realized it was likely nightfall. From time to time, I heard muffled screams again and long, heavy thuds.

  But amidst all my suffering, one thought would not leave me alone.

  I kept thinking about the girl who had enchanted me on the marble steps. Her delicate image seemed to hover before my eyes; I imagined her appearing in the darkness of my cell, calling out to me. Despite the pain, I found myself smiling like a fool, my thoughts consumed entirely by her. I was surely in love. So deeply that I had forgotten all about the flower of happiness and the hardships I had endured to find it.

  But what use did I have for the flower of happiness, now that I had discovered such passion? I started chuckling softly to myself, thinking that the moments of bliss I’d lived had come at the price of suffering and imprisonment. Fate has its own ways of laughing at the nature of men—ways no one else could rival. That’s how the Moirai weave fate, I told myself: one thread on the front, one on the back—and I began to laugh again, quietly.

  I wondered how sad she must have been the next day when she couldn’t find me. Or maybe she hadn’t even looked. Perhaps I meant nothing to her, and the whisper from the night before had only been a playful lie she told a fool who had stolen a few hours with his meaningless stories.

  That’s when I realized I didn’t even know her name. She had never spoken it, and we had talked all night as if we’d known each other forever. A strange thing, I thought. But even stranger was that I hadn’t noticed it until now. How was I supposed to find her if I didn’t even know her name? Who could I ask?

  I started wracking my brain, trying to remember if perhaps the cat had mentioned it and I had missed it in my obliviousness—but no matter how hard I tried, I was sure that not a single name had passed the feline’s lips.

  Yeah… probably that bird-thing’s blow rattled me more than I realized—I was starting to hallucinate. I told myself I was just an old, foolish soldier. I told myself my whole quest would end in this dark hole, as meaningless as it had begun.

  But maybe… maybe there was still a way to find her. If I could just track down the fringa, it would be simple. Surely the fringa knew where she was. If only I could escape, I told myself bitterly, biting my lip.

  The iron chains had begun to chafe my wrists, and their cold felt like it was seeping into my soul.

  Somehow, the night passed. I began once again to notice the faint light returning, and I knew it was day. It was the second day I’d been locked up, and I still didn’t know why I had been caught and thrown into this dungeon. I waited for my jailer to return with the day’s ration.

  Now familiar with his ghostlike appearance, I could make out the moment a well-hidden door opened in the stone wall. I lay stretched out on the straw, pretending to be asleep, which gave me the chance to observe him more closely. He wore a long, black cloak that hung down to the floor, concealing his entire form. A pointed hood covered his head, though the curved silhouette of a beak was still visible. I watched the spindly figure approach, place my day’s meal beside me, and pick up the empty bowl and jug. He didn’t make a sound.

  I waited until he was near the door and then asked:

  - Hey, who are you?

  - That’s none of your concern, you wrrretched fool! he cawed. You just stay nice and cozy in your filth. Or maybe you’d like another boot to the face?

  - At least tell me why I’m being held here.

  - How should I know all these dirty little matttters? I was told to catch you and bring you here. That’s what I did. I don’t question the mistress. And neither should you, idiot! The mistress doesn’t have to explain herself. Not to you, not to me, not to anyone. Not like a fuzz-brained fool like you could understand anything anyway… and it’s not forrr my beak to discuss such things… Now scram!

  With that, he turned toward the door, but not before spitting at me in disgust.

  He was just about to leave when the door suddenly burst open—and a small creature launched itself into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

  A hideous croak came from the jailer’s beak as he struggled to get the creature off him. But the beast was already clawing toward his heart. Sharp talons shredded through his cloak, and fangs—Immense claws were tearing through his skin. He began to writhe on the floor, trying to grab the beast and keep it away, but his hands were brushed aside by nine tails whipping like snakes.Not long after, a sinister gurgling made me realize the fight was over. The small figure rose from the torn body and walked lightly toward me. It was Selina, the nine-tailed fringa. She came up to me and tossed a ring of iron keys into my lap.

  - Come on, quickly, unlock your chains and let’s get out of here before someone else shows up!- But how did you find me? I tried to ask while feverishly fumbling with the keys.- It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you later. Hurry up!- I would hurry if I could just find the damned key.

  Selina snatched the key ring from me and handed me the right key, telling me once more to hurry. I quickly unlocked my chains and followed her out of the cell. I passed the bird-man’s body with horror—he now lay on the floor, his chest torn open—and tried not to step in the pool of blood gathering beneath him.

  - How come you looked for me? Did she send you?- No one sent me! She disappeared the very night we met. The next day we were supposed to meet again—she had something to give me. She never showed up, and I knew something terrible had happened. I searched everywhere, but there was no trace of her left, not even her scent. That’s when I set out to find you, thinking maybe you had something to do with it. You were easier to find, but when I saw you were a prisoner, I realized you couldn’t have been the one who kidnapped her.”- Still, why did you decide to free me?

  Selina turned to me with a smirk and said:

  - Seeing you locked up in the witch Cobulka’s fortress, I figured her disappearance must have something to do with you. And even if you knew nothing, you might still have a better idea of how to find her. I know something bad happened to her, and I have to find her. You have a better chance of picking up her trail by talking to people—me, I’m not much of a talker, and I hate idle chatter.

  So I had been a prisoner of a witch. That might explain the enchanted being who had acted as my jailer.

  In a large wooden wardrobe, I found my belongings piled up in a messy heap. I quickly pulled on my boots, then buckled my sword and dagger at my waist. My bundle with the rest of my things was there too, and to my relief, my pouch with the few coins I had was untouched. So the bird-man—or whoever had ordered him to capture me—hadn’t bothered with my possessions, choosing only to keep me imprisoned. I found that strange, but there was no time to dwell on it.Fully equipped, I followed the fringa with quick steps. Along the way, we passed a few more locked cells. I didn’t hesitate—I smashed the locks with my sword’s hilt. From inside, behind me, began to emerge all sorts of wretches, tortured and weakened. These were the ones whose muffled cries I had heard from my own cell.We climbed a few worn steps, emerging from the dark cellar into a square courtyard surrounded by tall walls. The fringa pointed with her paw at a wrought iron gate, telling me to go that way while she climbed the dry ivy that covered the high walls.

  - See you later. For now, find a place to hide. At the end of Serpent’s Alley, there’s a tavern called The Broken Corner. Tell the innkeeper I sent you—he’ll take care of you.

  Then, with a flick of her nine tails, she scaled the wall and disappeared, leaving me alone.Sunlight hit me full in the face as I stepped into the street, and I needed a moment to get my bearings. I found a tattered cloth on the ground and threw it over my head, pulling the rags down to hide my face. It matched perfectly the torn and bloodied shirt I was wearing. I was thirsty and hungry, but most of all, I was aching for the beautiful girl who had vanished just as mysteriously as I had, if the words of the enchanted cat were to be believed. I had no reason to doubt her—after all, she had saved me so bravely from the clutches of the bird-man.I began to walk with unsteady steps, sometimes leaning against the walls for support. To my fortune, there were few passersby at that early hour. I asked a beggar about Serpent’s Alley, and he gave me surprisingly precise directions. Seeing me dressed as poorly as he was, he had probably mistaken me for a fellow sufferer and didn’t hesitate to help me get there as quickly as possible.On my way, I passed by the fish market on the city docks and was surprised to see that the hustle and bustle I had encountered when I first set foot in Alteron had vanished. The faces of the fishmongers and vendors looked sullen, and not a single shout rang through the air as it once had.

  The air smelled of salt. They stood at their stalls waiting for some customer to ask a question, replying with a few stingy words and occasionally casting furtive glances around. Something had definitely happened in the city—something everyone clearly knew about, except me.I finally found the tavern, easily identifiable by a time- and moisture-darkened plank on which the faint shape of a massive, chipped corner could still barely be made out. I pushed the door open with difficulty, leaning my shoulder into it—it creaked eerily as it opened.

  Once inside the tavern, I needed a moment for my eyes to adjust again to the dim light of the room. All the windows were shuttered with thick wooden boards, and only a single beam of light entered through a small transom window above the door I had come through. Its shutter was broken, its remains dangling on rusted hinges, and in its place a rag fluttered in the sea breeze, trying in vain to serve its purpose.There were no patrons at the empty tables. Only behind the counter stood a man in a greasy apron, staring absentmindedly into the faint flames of kindling in the hearth, his head in his hands and elbows resting on the bar. I approached him unnoticed and saw that the apron had seen much better days—a once-rich embroidery was still barely visible beneath the stains and patches of dubious color.I sat on one of the wooden stools near the counter and greeted him. Slowly, the innkeeper turned his gaze to me and, barely moving his lips, muttered:

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  - If you say so...

  I reached into the pouch at my waist, pulled out a few coins, and placed them on the counter, sliding them toward him.- I’d like a room.- Don’t have any, sorry. All taken. Try next door, maybe you’ll have better luck, he replied slowly, a pitiful smile forming on his face.

  I took out another coin and placed it next to the others, giving him a questioning look.

  - I really don’t have a room!” the innkeeper apologized again, shrugging helplessly.- Alright, but Selina sent me to you. Maybe you know her—a fringa with nine tails, absolutely stunning, I insisted, and was glad to see the man’s expression change.- Well, if it's her we're talking about, that changes things. But I must warn you—it won’t be too comfortable. There’s still a free bed in the back room, but you’ll have to put up with some companions who, frankly, have been nothing but a headache—literally and figuratively.

  I told him I’d take anything and followed him into a room at the back of the tavern’s main hall.

  As soon as I stepped inside, I was deeply struck by the sight before me. Seated around a table, three dwarves and a giant were playing cards, drinking beer, and chatting loudly. They jumped in surprise the moment I entered, and I almost burst out laughing. They sprang up from the table, and the dwarves rushed to hide behind the giant, who was hunched over so as not to hit his head on the ceiling, his arms spread wide in a protective gesture for his tiny friends. The whole scene looked like a mother hen gathering her frightened chicks under her wings. I instantly recognized Gregor.

  The giant realized who I was right away and, after calming the dwarves, came to hug me.

  - I thought I’d lost you forever! Where did you disappear to?”- You weren’t wrong—I was close to disappearing completely. Lucky for me, I had a friend with nine tails.- A fringa named Selina? one of the dwarves chimed in.- Yes, you know her? I asked curiously.

  - Who doesn’t know her, my good man? Here in Alteron, she’s a legend. If she’s on your side, you’re in for a stroke of great luck, I’ll tell you that.- Welcome back among us! said the giant, smiling.

  Gregor pulled over a little stool to the card table and motioned for me to sit beside him. Being so tall, the giant simply sat on the floor, which didn’t bother him at all since the table came up perfectly to his midsection. Then he shouted to the innkeeper to bring us another barrel of beer and began recounting all the misadventures he had been through since we were last together.

  He started by introducing his new friends. The three dwarves were brothers named Trosc, Pleosc, and Fleo?c. Small in stature like all their kin, they wore short coats and striped trousers in yellow and red. You could only tell them apart by their thick red beards. Trosc had the longest facial hair impressive—down to his knees. Pleosc’s beard was of medium length, covering his round belly, while Fleo?c, the youngest of the three, had a beard that spread out across his chest. On their backs, each of them wore a golden fleece coat which, if they were placed among their sheep, would surely make them indistinguishable from the flock.

  They had arrived in Alteron about a week before us. They were shepherds from father to son, and once a year they would bring golden wool from the island where they lived. They’d sell it here and then buy all sorts of goods unavailable on their home island. They had just sold their wares and were finishing up their shopping, preparing to head home, when fate locked them inside the “Broken Corner” tavern alongside their new friend, the giant.

  Once the introductions were done, we found our mugs empty, so we tapped the little barrel the innkeeper had brought and I perked up my ears, ready to hear the adventures they’d gone through before I arrived.

  - Not long after you left, Gregor began his story, Master Trosc here had a brilliant idea—to teach me a traditional game of theirs. And you know me, I love any kind of game, so I happily accepted. The game’s simple: the two opponents sit across from each other on a bench with tubs on their heads. They take turns smacking each other’s tubs, and the first to fall flat on the ground is the loser. So, Master Trosc and I agreed to give it a try.

  - Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a tub big enough for my head. We turned the tavern upside down and finally settled on the washbasin the innkeeper used to clean his dishes. He wasn’t too thrilled about it—among the lingering soap bubbles, I could hear him grumbling—but I was too eager to try the new game. I armed myself with a spoon, and Master Trosc grabbed a shovel from the stable. We took our places and…

  At this point, Fleo?c interrupted, patting Gregor on the shoulder and continuing the tale:

  - Well, while you two were getting ready, a grim-looking fellow came into the tavern. Here in Alteron, we’re used to all sorts of strange creatures, but this one looked more bizarre than anything we’d seen before. I’d swear there was magic involved. He had a black beak, bulging eyes, and from under the black cloak he wore, talons like a harpy’s poked out.

  I realized at once he was talking about my jailer—the one Selina had killed while helping me escape—but I said nothing, curious to hear how things had played out.

  - So, he came into the tavern and started asking about a newly arrived traveler. From the description and the way he talked, I can now tell he was looking for you, the dwarf said, pointing at me. No one paid him any mind, but he kept buzzing around the tables with his raspy, croaking voice. Then…

  - He came up to the table where my brother and Master Gregor were just about to begin their game. What he was thinking, getting so close to a giant with a washtub on his head—soap suds dripping into his beard—and a dwarf wielding a shovel, I’ll never know. But it’s enough to tell you that the moment he started croaking near Master Gregor’s ear, Gregor raised his ladle and, without warning, smacked him square on the top of the head, knocking him flat to the floor.

  He didn’t stay down for long. He shook himself off like a dog coming out of water, and—probably fearing a second blow—took off. He unfurled the wings hidden beneath his cloak and darted away like a black devil, not through the door like a normal person, but straight out the little window above it.

  No need to tell you—everyone in the tavern burst into laughter. Even the innkeeper forgot all about the trouble caused by his lost washtub and clutched his belly, roaring with laughter.

  I started laughing too, picturing the whole scene as Fleo?c so vividly described it. I could just see Gregor, a ladle in hand, washtub on his head with foam dripping down, smacking the bird-man with full force. I regretted not being there to witness such a tale myself.

  That was when I understood why they had locked themselves in the back room of the tavern. Fearing the city guards—who might have gotten them into trouble over the commotion and assault—they decided to hole up and, in the process, took the innkeeper’s entire supply of ham and beer hostage.

  After hearing the full story, I left the room and, with almost half the coins I had left, managed to appease the innkeeper—paying for both the damages and all the food and drink the four of them had consumed. Seeing I was a good payer and realizing he no longer had reason to fear the wrath of the giant and the dwarves, the innkeeper softened and laid out a rich feast for us in the main hall.

  As we dug in with gusto—especially me, who hadn’t eaten properly in two days—the door swung open and Selina walked in. Without a second thought, she took a seat at our table and began devouring a massive ham. She had no interest in conversation, only eating in silence, taking huge bites. At last, she tossed aside the stripped-clean bones and lazily began licking her paws, clearly growing sleepy.

  Gregor then started telling a lewd joke about a bear, an old woman, and a foolish strongman. The mood was completely relaxed. Laughter echoed around the table and the beer flowed freely.

  I shared my adventures too—how I met Selina and her friend, how I was captured and imprisoned by the bird-man. I skimmed over the parts with Selina and the girl who had bewitched me—for obvious reasons. Then I had to describe in full detail how Selina rescued me and how we escaped the witch’s fortress. The scene of the battle between the nine-tailed feline and the bird-man stirred...

  Cries of astonishment rang out, which made Selina grin with pride as she sat by the hearth, calmly grooming her whiskers.

  Then Trosc stood up on the little stool he had been sitting on and, raising a frothy mug, invited us to toast the feline:

  - A fine adventure, my lord! I had heard tales of the famous fringed Selina, but it seems her bravery surpasses even the songs of the troubadours. Still, there is one thing I do not understand—perhaps I am too old and my hearing is failing, or perhaps no one has bothered to explain it to us: Who could that beautiful lady be, the one who vanished in such a strange manner?

  The nine-tailed feline slowly lifted her head and said:

  - Her name doesn't matter. She could just as well be anyone. If she chose not to say it herself, I see no reason why I should. Names are just labels, stuck on without meaning. To me, she bears the name 'friend'; to you, she's just a girl; and to the soldier… well, your valiant friend—the soldier I rescued from the witch's dungeon—will give you her description. It should be enough for you to recognize her.

  Having said her piece, she went back to grooming her fur without so much as another glance in our direction.

  Everyone agreed with Selina’s words. Upon hearing of the girl’s disappearance, and all coming to the conclusion that something strange was at play, Gregor and the three dwarves decided to help us. We devised a plan to scour the entire city in search of her. At daybreak, we would split into three groups: I would pair with Selina, Gregor with young Fleo?c, and the other two brothers—Trosc and Pleosc—would go together. Each group would search a section of the city, ensuring that by nightfall no alley would remain unexamined.

  The most difficult task, of course, fell to me and Selina—we were to climb to the citadel of Alteron. I knew it would be hard to gain entry and find out whether the girl we were looking for might be held in the citadel’s dungeons. Though I doubted the Prince of Alteron had anything to do with her disappearance, we couldn’t leave any stone unturned.

  Once the search plans were finalized, we continued chatting, trying to piece together the events, though they seemed to make little sense.

  Eventually, we decided it was time to go to bed. My head still ached and my body was sore. I was eager to try the mattresses the generous innkeeper had provided for us. So I didn’t linger any longer—just enough time to empty another small keg of beer—then we slipped into the back room and soon all drifted off to sleep.

  Of course, I tossed and turned the entire night, dreaming of the beautiful girl whose name I still hadn’t learned.

  I dreamed of her sitting on a carpet of green moss near me, whispering sweet words. I could feel the warmth of her body, and the scent of jasmine enveloped me in its sweetness. Her hot skin seemed to tremble slightly as she leaned closer. I took her into my arms, and beneath the softness of her silk tunic I could feel how her skin heated under my touch. A huge white moon wove silver rays into her black hair, which spilled over my chest, tense with desire. I began kissing her passionately, and she surrendered to my fervent embrace. The dream felt more real than the memory of the night I had spent with her. Her touch, her whispers, and the intoxicating fragrance of the young woman made everything feel vividly, powerfully real. My spirit had slipped into another reality through a strong enchantment, joining hers, though my body still writhed in the dark room behind the tavern "At the Broken Corner."

  Every shadow of thought about my quest had vanished from my mind. The Rose of Happiness meant nothing to me anymore—I had been shaken so deeply. I dreamed only of her, and it felt as if nothing else mattered but finding her again.

  All the adventures I had been through, the long and obstacle-filled journey that had brought me to the streets of Alteron, had faded. They seemed like someone else’s memories, lived by another character whose story I knew but did not belong to me.

  It was a sleep so troubled by dreams that when I woke up, I felt even more exhausted than when I had gone to bed.

  The next day, we woke early, determined to begin our search immediately. I quickly strapped on my sword, grabbed a chunk of bread to eat on the go, and rushed out of the tavern after Selina. I had to hurry to keep up with her—the feline moved with incredible speed. Sometimes she’d vanish around a corner, and I’d see her again waiting impatiently, whipping the air with her nine tails.

  We climbed all the way to the top of Alteron. There, resting against the dark monoliths of volcanic glass, stood the citadel. It was a castle that spread like a predatory bird above the city, its crenellated walls resembling feathers spreading from wings that stretched over the ridge of the cliffs. The thick walls housed a well-managed garrison overseen by the princes of Alteron, as well as the cells where those who had in one way or another broken the city’s laws were held.

  Selina had told me she had taken a quick sweep through the citadel without being seen, but hadn’t caught even a trace of her friend’s scent. That, of course, didn’t rule out the possibility that, if her friend had been imprisoned through some kind of spell, her presence had been magically erased. So we had no choice—we had to question the guards.

  I approached the massive gate, flanked by two alabaster griffins. Three soldiers armed with enormous halberds stood guard at the entrance. Their stern gazes made us stop at a fair distance, and one of them called out to us in a booming voice:

  - State your business and who you are!

  Selina flicked her tails impatiently and shot me a sharp look, letting me know it was my turn to speak.

  - We’d like to ask the captain of the guard if a young woman was taken prisoner here in the past few days…

  - Well, hear that, boys? one of the soldiers said. The lad’s lost his sweetheart. She ran off with another one, boy—go find yourself a new girl! Ha, ha, ha!

  I felt my blood rush to my face and my hand flashed to the hilt of my sword. But Selina had noticed my reaction and snapped me back to reality with a light jab to the back.

  - I apologize for repeating the question, I managed to say, swallowing my anger with difficulty, but it’s very important for me to know whether a girl has been captured and held in the citadel’s cells.

  The soldier, however, lowered his halberd and swung it toward me with a sideways blow. I quickly stepped aside and caught the wooden shaft with my left hand. Then I spun in a pirouette, throwing him off balance and wrenching the weapon from his grasp. The whole thing took no more than half a second. The other two guards stared in disbelief at their disarmed comrade, then lowered their halberds and prepared to attack.

  A lifetime of battles had taught me, among other things, how to handle a halberd, so I was able to successfully fend off their failed attempt to skewer me. It wasn’t my preferred weapon, but I had used the skill before to get out of trouble. So I began to strike back as well, though carefully, making sure not to injure any of the soldiers who stood against me. My strikes fell like summer rain on their backs and helmets, creating a din loud enough to wake the dead.

  It didn’t take long before more soldiers began pouring out through the great citadel gate, ready to put me in my place and coming to aid their comrades. I knew I didn’t stand a chance against the entire garrison. So I breathed a sigh of relief when a powerful voice rang out, causing everyone to freeze in place. The captain of the garrison, clearly interrupted from his duties, had come out, curious about the commotion I had caused.

  - Stand down immediately!

  I slowly lowered the halberd to the ground and spread my arms wide in a gesture of peace. The captain motioned for the soldiers to step back and approached me.

  - By what right do you cause such an uproar? I should have my men flatten you into the ground—you're lucky I saw that fringe of yours beside you. Leave your weapons at the gate and follow me to the guardroom.

  I obeyed the captain’s orders without hesitation, unbuckling my sword from my belt and handing it, along with my dagger, to the distrustful hands of the soldier I had first disarmed. Then, flanked by Selina, I followed the captain to his office.

  Once inside the room that served as his office, he invited us to sit and pulled a plump bottle of wine and three glasses from a small cabinet. He poured for us, then took his own seat in the armchair across from us, waiting to hear what had brought us before him. So I began to speak openly:

  - We’re looking for a friend who disappeared two nights ago. Selina here knows her very well, and we have good reason to believe she’s been kidnapped. Not knowing anything of her fate, we came to ask if perhaps, by some absurd mistake, she might have been arrested by the guards.

  - She’s not in the citadel… the captain replied thoughtfully.

  - Are you certain? Selina asked.

  - As certain as can be. The cells are empty. Yesterday, we released the last of the prisoners—some drunken sailors we’d arrested after a brawl in the main square. I’m sorry. The truth is, we barely have any soldiers left. Ever since the sickness broke out… most of them fled.

  - The Illness? I asked, with an air of great surprise.- Yes, said the captain. A mysterious plague began in the citadel three days ago. We don’t know where it came from or what the cause might be. The prince has already shut himself inside his chambers and refuses to see anyone.

  I fell silent, deep in thought, but what the captain said made sense. I recalled the people in the marketplace, the absence of the usual bustle, the merchant shops all shuttered. It had seemed strange to me then, and now I had the explanation.

  Then the captain described how the plague manifested. The skin of the afflicted first turned pale at the extremities, then hardened, and little by little, they transformed into statues of chalk. They had summoned several healers and magicians—of whom the city was full—and at first they had tried all manner of spells and potions. But none seemed to have any effect. Soon, even the magicians began to vanish, struck by the same mysterious affliction. At one point they sent word to the witch Cobulka. But she refused to come. She had locked herself within her fortress and threatened to turn anyone who approached her gates into warty toads and newts.

  Then a rumor began to circulate among the guards that the plague was surely the work of the witch. They had tried to burn her alive. They piled up bales of straw, heaps of rags, barrels of pitch, and set them ablaze, hurling them over the walls of her fortress. After the flames burned through the night, they forced their way inside—but found no trace of the witch. No one remained within. Then the plague cases resumed among the soldiers, and they fled in every direction, abandoning both the search for the witch and the duty they owed to the Prince of Alteron.

  A chill ran through me as I remembered how I had once been made prisoner in that very fortress. Surely, the fact that Selina had come to free me had saved me from certain death. By now, I would have been a charred heap of flesh and bones alongside the other wretches we had freed. I took another gulp of wine, trying to swallow the knot in my throat. Then I heard the captain’s voice again:

  - That’s why I’ve been left with only the fools who tried to stop you. I beg your pardon, but that’s all the wit they have, the captain finally said, draining the last drops from his goblet. But I must make do with what I have. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.

  I thanked the captain kindly, and we took our leave, promising to send word should we discover the cause of the strange plague that had gripped the city.

  As we descended from the citadel, we began to notice here and there white chalk-like traces—thick smears—on the walls of houses and on the cobblestones. The plague seemed to be spreading ever faster. The streets were completely deserted. A gloomy atmosphere had settled over Alteron, and a damp fog began to creep through the empty streets. The smell of rotting seaweed and salt, carried by the sea breeze, hung over everything like a fetid blanket. Though it was midday, the thick fog had blotted out the sun, and a sickly twilight enveloped us.

  Before long, Selina and I agreed that our search was in vain, and that the remaining townsfolk were most likely each hiding away, fearing the illness. The wisest course was to return to the tavern and make a new plan with our companions. We quickened our pace and made our way back to the harbor.

  There, in front of the tavern, we found our companions gathered before the barred door. The dwarves sat dejectedly on the damp cobblestones, while Gregor pounded his huge fists on the oak door, threatening to smash it down.

  - Open up, you scoundrel, or I’ll smash your chimney to bits! Gregor shouted. Don’t make me wait—I’ll break in anyway, and then you’ll be sorry! Do you hear me, you wretch? Open the door already!

  I approached the giant and signaled him to stop. Then I stepped closer to the tavern door and removed the pouch from my belt. I raised it above my head and shook it a few times. At the clink of coins, the door immediately swung open, and the sooty face of the innkeeper appeared before us, saying:

  - I'm sorry, honorable guests, but today we're closed. No customers allowed!

  - Oh, you’ll take us in, you wretch! What, you want us to sleep outside? Gregor began roaring again.

  - Honorable innkeeper, I said, we’re as frightened as you are by what’s happening in the city. We just wish to rest for a while, and then we promise not to trouble you further. And as you well know, the strings of our purse are generous—you needn’t worry about compensation for the inconvenience we may cause.

  Swayed by my words, but even more so by the jingle of coins, the innkeeper hesitantly let us in. We all sat down at a table, and I tossed my pouch to him, sending him to bring us something to eat and drink. He didn’t need to be told twice and soon returned with what we asked.

  With tankards of beer in hand, we began sharing everything we had learned in the city since we had parted. It seemed the entire city was afflicted—the port, the main square, even the poorer districts were struck by the illness. Everywhere, the chalky traces were visible on the pavement and the walls of buildings. The disease appeared to have spread everywhere all at once. Fleo?c had even seen one of the merchants in the main square collapse and turn entirely into a brittle chalk statue. The surviving townsfolk now hid behind barred doors—if they hadn’t already fled. Things were worse than I had imagined.

  I began recounting our own tale from the citadel—how the soldiers had attacked Cobulka’s fortress in a desperate attempt to end the plague, how the witch had vanished entirely, and how the soldiers themselves began to fall ill. Selina listened, not interrupting, but I could see her growing more pensive. Her tails weaved and cracked through the air in a furious, hypnotic dance that betrayed her inner unrest.

  She let me finish, then placed her paw firmly on the table and declared:

  - We must go to Cobulka! The answer lies there! The soldiers must have known something.

  - But the fortress is burned, the witch is gone—it’s a waste of time! said Fleo?c, a note of despair in his voice.

  - If we find nothing there, then we’ll look elsewhere, said Selina. But I want to see with my own eyes if things are truly as the captain told us.

  She turned to me and added:

  - You didn’t notice, but I saw traces of the black sun’s rays on the soldiers’ armor. Invisible to your eyes, of course—but we, the Fringes, can see them. The rays of the black sun are the result of spells of capture and invisibility most often, and that makes me think we might find in the fortress what the soldiers could not.

  Convinced by her words, we all agreed to follow her to the fortress. We finished off what was left of the food and drink the innkeeper had brought us and set out.

  The fog was thicker than it had been in the morning, and the darkness seemed to have deepened. We crept along the empty alleys, instinctively stepping softly, as if in fear, trying not to rouse the plague that lurked in every shadowy corner.

  I walked behind the feline, and I could not help but notice how her tension increased as we neared the witch’s fortress. At last, I gathered the courage and asked her:

  – Did you feel anything wrong?– Yes, something in the air around us is changing as we get closer, said Selina. But what bothers me most is that I didn’t sense the trap when I came after you. How could I not feel anything? I know the witch is powerful, but if she hid my friend, I should’ve realized it one way or another. Unless... — and the feline fell silent, looking at me with glittering eyes.– You love her, don’t you? she asked suddenly, stopping in her tracks.I couldn’t find the words to answer, to explain the feelings I experienced every time I thought about her. I stood there, a dumb smile frozen on my face, and Fringa understood the truth about how I felt for her missing companion. She gave me a sympathetic look, then turned sharply and resumed walking.

  Selina didn’t say another word until we reached the witch’s fortress. Although not long ago I had escaped from its dungeons, I didn’t recognize it. The fact that we exited through a more hidden gate might have been one explanation. On the other hand, the traces of fire that had blackened the irregular stone walls had surely changed the place’s appearance, making it harder to recognize.

  That’s when I saw Trosc sit down heavily on the pavement with a sigh and say:– Guys, I think this is as far as I go.– Look at this coward! Gregor began shouting. We’ve barely stepped inside and—But the giant didn’t get to finish his sentence; he was staring at the dwarf’s hands, which were visibly turning white and transforming into chalk. Fleosc and Pleosc came closer to their brother, trying to encourage him, but the dwarf made them understand they had to follow me—the only way out was through the fortress. So the two wiped the tears tangled in their beards and came with us.

  The large wrought iron gates still bore the marks of blows from the guards who had once forced their way in. Someone had put them back in place, and although crudely welded, the iron bars blocked the entrance. Gregor, however, pressed a shoulder to them, and after two mighty shoves, the giant simply brought them down. Then we all stormed into the dark corridors.

  The heavy sound of the giant’s footsteps echoed like bell tolls through the empty chambers, while the feline ran like a ghost, soundless. The deeper we went, the dimmer the light became, until we were engulfed in pitch-black darkness. It felt as though the darkness itself had gathered around us like tar, seeping in thin tendrils from every crevice. I made my way forward by following the sound of heavy steps and feeling along the walls. At some point, I began to sense the texture of the walls changing—smooth surfaces replaced by bas-reliefs I could only feel with my fingertips.

  – The witch is here! Selina said. This darkness is her doing, for sure.– You’re right, said Pleosc. I felt magical runes on the walls—this place is full of spells.Fringa began to chant a long incantation, her tails dancing in a hypnotic rhythm. From the void, three glowing orbs the size of oranges appeared before us. Their pale light now showed us the way, and we moved faster. Although the fortress didn’t seem large from the outside, it held countless rooms and corridors, and soon we found ourselves in a true labyrinth. But Fringa led us unhesitatingly. Every time we came to a closed door, Gregor smashed it to pieces with his hammer-sized fists.

  Eventually, we reached a narrow courtyard surrounded by a forest of slender white columns. A multicolored mosaic, as if made from precious stones, stretched beneath our feet, glittering as if it had its own inner light. Fantastical arabesque patterns adorned the glossy floor, and they seemed to move. But the moment we stepped onto the mosaic, Selina signaled us to stop.

  – We’re not alone! she said. You can see the black rays reflecting off the floor. Be careful! she then shouted to me.Instinctively—and probably more by luck—I raised my sword just in time to block the invisible strike of an attacker. Gregor began spinning his fists like windmills and, more by chance, hit something that fell clattering onto the shiny mosaic. Pleosc didn’t hesitate and lunged in that direction, stabbing the invisible enemy with a dagger. A deathly gurgle was heard, and the soldier’s body suddenly appeared as if a curtain had been lifted.

  But my enemy hadn’t vanished—I felt the blade of his sword slash my right thigh. The wound wasn’t deep, but blood began to pour. A flash of lightning, followed by the sharp scent of burnt flesh, filled my senses. Guessing the direction of the unseen attacker, Selina triggered one of the orbs to discharge. Immediately, I saw the body of a second assailant lying in front of me.

  – It’s over, said Selina. It was only these two soldiers. Probably caught under Cobulka’s spell when they came looking for her. We can go on.

  We gathered our courage, ready to move forward, when one of the dwarves spoke in a faint voice:– We’ll stay here and wait for you, said Fleosc. The plague has caught us too…Gregor approached his two brothers and hugged them in his massive arms. They looked like dolls. Pleosc’s face was already pale, and his right hand—the one that had held the dagger—had turned to chalk, crumbling when he stabbed the soldier. The giant gently laid them at the base of a column as comfortably as he could, then signaled to Selina to hurry.

  We entered a wide corridor opening at the back of the garden. I, too, began to feel the air grow colder—the witch was near. A swirl of icy crystals enveloped us, and a voice echoed:– Not one step further! Turn back! You’ll all die!Selina and Gregor had heard the voice too and turned with me, trying to locate the source. The freezing swirl stopped as suddenly as it had come. A bizarre silence settled as we waited, muscles tense, for the next trap.

  A scraping noise followed by a rustle came from behind us. In the pale light of the glowing orbs, we saw the two soldiers’ corpses moving toward us. Their movements were disjointed, like puppets controlled by invisible strings.

  Without hesitation, the giant charged with terrifying force and slammed them against the walls in a single blow. At that moment, a pillar of ice appeared from the void and turned into a tall woman. Her face was aged and sharp, her skin wrinkled, and in the deep sockets of her eyes gleamed two small red pupils. She wore a simple black dress and held a staff that seemed to be made of obsidian. She raised it and struck the floor—the impact resounded like the prolonged toll of a bell.

  Peeling off from the walls, with wings spread and flapping madly, a flock of black crows appeared—but surprisingly, they didn’t attack us. Instead, they descended like a storm upon the lifeless bodies of the two guards. A writhing swarm of feathers and beaks completely covered them, and then, in a synchronized movement, the two figures rose. We could see now that they had been transformed into bird-like creatures, just like my former jailer.

  Horrified, the three of us huddled together, pressing shoulder to shoulder—or tail to shoulder to hip—waiting for the enemy’s assault. We knew their speed was unmatched, and their strength surpassed that of any ordinary human.

  The frenzied attack began abruptly, from all sides. The bird-warriors struck with their swords like lightning, while the witch Cobulka tried to stab us with the tip of her obsidian staff.

  I don’t know how long the battle lasted. I could feel my strength leaving me, and I could barely move the sword I now gripped with both hands. Everything was happening so fast, with lightning speed, and a few fractions of a second were decisive. By luck—or by mistake on the bird-creatures’ part—I saw Gregor grab each of them by a wing and smash them both against the wall. Then he collapsed on top of them, as if reaped by a scythe, and shattered into large blocks of chalk.

  Cobulka froze for a moment, stunned by the sight of her enchanted creatures slain. It was enough for Selina to wrap her tails around the witch’s arms and legs and then lunge for her throat, tearing into it with her teeth. A torrent of blood poured over the fring, melting her fur down to the bone. But she didn’t let go. She stayed latched on until both she and the witch died, locked together in a deadly embrace.

  I found myself alone. The glowing orbs had long since faded, taking their light with them, but the darkness that had cloaked everything now seemed to lift, replaced by a grey twilight. I began to wander blindly through the fortress, empty now like a dried snail shell. Eventually, I found her. She was in the highest room of the fortress tower, locked in an iron cage.

  I tried to approach her, but to my surprise, she flinched and drew back, avoiding my touch. I tried to calm her by telling her everything I’d gone through to reach her. But she didn’t seem to hear me. She stood with her face turned to the wall and began to cry. Exhausted, heartbroken, I sat on the floor by the door and said nothing more. Much later, I heard her whisper my name in a faint voice.

  She told me she was cold, hungry, and too tired to go on. She passed by me, and we set off together, me walking behind her as we tried to leave the fortress as quickly as possible.

  We walked through the empty streets, cloaked in mist, and as we went, she whispered her story, unraveling the mystery.

  The Rose of Happiness—the incredible flower we had been searching for all this time—was her. The light of my happiness, which had appeared the very moment I first saw her on the marble steps, was the result of that incredible spell described in the old manuscript. She confessed that she, too, had always been waiting for me, and from the first moment she saw me, she knew we were bound together.

  But because the world maintains its balance, the spell that had given me happiness had to come at a cost. And so, the strange plague had emerged, turning everyone around us into crumbling chalk-like beings. The witch had only tried to protect Alteron by attempting to keep us apart.

  We wept—out of anger, grief, and longing. Then we both fell silent. We had arrived at the place where we first met. And then I knew.

  The first rays of sun peeked out from behind the black cliffs of Alteron as I raised the sail. A wild wind sprang from nowhere, and the small boat I was in began to slice bravely through the foam-crowned waves.

  I looked back and saw her one last time, standing on the docks of Alteron.