The heavy door of Valerius's receiving chamber clicked shut behind them. Eden and Bran walked a few paces in silence, the grandeur of the palace a contrast to the unsettling encounter they'd just left.

  Eden finally spoke, his voice thoughtful, almost clinical. "It's peculiar, isn't it?"

  Bran, still processing Valerius's bizarre behavior, glanced at him. "What is?"

  "Valerius," Eden clarified. "He didn't quite remember me. Despite our meeting in Nordhall. He questioned if we'd even met. It's… as if I make no lasting impression. And it's not isolated. Aylauna reacted similarly. The Father King, too. Am I so utterly unremarkable?" He traced a finger lightly along the polished stone wall, his expression one of detached curiosity, not distress.

  Bran chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Don't overthink it. These are people of consequence. Rulers, advisors… They meet countless individuals. It's natural they wouldn't recall every face."

  Eden continued, unfazed by Bran's attempt at reassurance. "But it's more pervasive than that. Even around Master Clytos… it's odd. No one directs me, aside from him. No one requests anything from me. It's as though I'm… peripheral. An afterthought."

  Bran stopped and clapped a heavy hand on Eden's shoulder, his tone earnest, yet slightly patronizing. "Look, Eden, I get it. It can be irksome, perhaps. But, in all honesty, and I mean this without offense – you're a young man in service to his master. You're so noticeable I cried at your feet! Remember?!. It shows an impact."

  "That's… not precisely the point, Bran," Eden said quietly, letting the faintest sigh escape.

  Eden offered a polite, almost imperceptible smile, his gaze drifting towards the intricate patterns on the palace floor. The conversation, he realized, was circling a point he couldn't quite articulate, a point Bran was fundamentally unequipped to grasp.

  ***

  Lysander sat within his tent, situated near the Eryndor mines, handing over a stack of meticulously organized calculations to Counselor Silas. Silas accepted the documents with a grateful smile, praising Lysander's precision and organizational skills.

  “These are… exceptional, Lysander,” Silas said, carefully reviewing the charts. “Your attention to detail is truly commendable.”

  Lysander nodded, a modest flush rising on his cheeks. As he and Silas exited the tent, Silas departed.

  Lysander turned to bid the counselor farewell. His gaze swept across the camp, and his eyes lit up as he spotted his friends approaching – Eden, Bran, Davos, and Amara.

  A genuine smile spread across Lysander’s face. He quickened his pace, striding towards them with eager steps. Eden, too, broke into a run, his face alight with anticipation and longing for his favorite brother.

  When they drew near, Lysander exclaimed, “I heard you were coming, but I almost didn’t believe it!” He embraced Eden warmly, holding him close.

  Eden stepped back, admiring Lysander’s new attire and confident demeanor. “Look at you!” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “This really suits you.”

  Eden said, beaming, “I must say, I’m incredibly proud of all of you.”

  Lysander, returning the smile, turned to Eden. “You’ve changed as well, brother. I’m truly glad you’re here.” He paused, then continued, his voice filled with warmth. “To celebrate our reunion, I’m hosting a dinner tonight. In a place reminiscent of our old gatherings.” He glanced towards Amara, a playful glint in his eyes. “We’ll also be celebrating the addition of a new member and friend.”

  All eyes turned to Amara, who blushed under the attention. Lysander continued, his voice sincere. “She may have caused us some trouble, but we can’t deny she saved our lives. Everyone deserves a second chance, and you, Amara, certainly do. You have a place among us, as our friend.”

  Amara, overwhelmed by the unexpected acceptance, struggled to contain her emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes as she responded, her voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you… thank you for accepting me again.”

  ***

  As evening descended, the friends – Eden, Lysander, Bran, Davos, and Amara – gathered on the balcony, seated around a flickering light source. Bran, however, remained standing, animatedly reenacting their adventure transporting the gold.

  “They were surrounding us from every direction!” Bran exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. “Davos threw everything he had at them! Then he grabbed a sack of coins and I yelled at him, ‘Are you crazy? Do you want us to die at the hands of Valerius?!’ We were in a real bind, didn’t know what to do. Then, suddenly, a terrifying shout, and a man jumped onto his horse, right into the middle of the pursuers, and started taking them down, one by one!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He paused for dramatic effect. “Then I heard a strange whistling sound, and the horses started moving with even more power and speed. And then… a phantom, flying through the sky, disappearing and taking them down! Jumping with incredible agility, eliminating them! And the hero kept shouting, ‘Don’t stop! You’re amazing!’ It was like… holy spirits sent to protect us!”

  “After we got rid of the pursuers, we reached the camp and delivered the gold to a man named Basly, and with him, a messenger from our father, Daiiger. He started asking me strange questions. Anyway, after we finished, we returned, and Valerius was happy beyond belief, to the point where he… kissed me. It was disgusting.”

  Eden interjected, “Basly? The Valdrin? The blonde one?”

  Bran sat down, looking at Eden. “Do you know him?”

  Eden replied, “That makes sense now. Yes, I saw him there. My master told me about him. And I saw him with Valerius and Daiiger. They led Valerius out of the hall, and Valerius’s face was tense.”

  Bran and Amara exchanged glances after hearing that from Eden.

  Lysander asked, “Eden, tell us, what was the situation like over there, when you were close to the princes and nobles?”

  Eden responded, saying, “Honestly, it was a fascinating sight. When you’re close to the decision-makers who control people, they carefully calculate every move, every word, every action. But all of that was nothing compared to something I couldn’t believe was happening until I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Bran, who had been listening intently, asked, “What did you see?”

  Bran continued, saying, “Everyone’s breath caught in their throats when an old woman started beating a staff inside the hall. It was Hiran. She began to disparage our father in front of everyone, saying things no one else would dare utter. Our father didn’t like what happened and started responding to her.”

  was like a debate between faith and progress,” Eden continued. “It almost ended in blood, with Prince Gorica and General Marcus placing their hands on the hilts of their swords, until the Prince of Nordhall intervened and calmed the atmosphere.” Eden continued to recount the exciting events of their evening.

  ***

  Under the cover of a moonless night, Titus guided his horse through the imposing gates of Aslilia. The city, usually bustling with activity even after dark, felt strangely subdued. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the rhythmic clip-clop of his horse’s hooves on the cobblestone streets.

  As he rode deeper into the city, Titus noticed an unusual pattern of movement. Groups of men, cloaked and hooded, were hurrying through the streets, mounting horses and disappearing into the shadows. They moved with a furtive energy, avoiding eye contact and speaking in hushed tones. Something felt…off.

  He slowed his pace, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. The air grew colder, and a prickling sensation ran down his spine. He scanned the surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

  Then, he saw him. Leading a large procession of riders, their cloaks billowing in the night wind, was Ricardi. The Elder Brother’s face was grim, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Behind him rode a substantial contingent of his followers – men Titus recognized as loyal members of the Temple Elders, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and secrecy.

  The procession moved with a purposeful speed, heading towards the northern gate of the city. Titus watched, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. What were they doing? Why were they leaving in the dead of night, cloaked in secrecy?

  He noticed details that heightened his suspicion. The riders weren’t carrying the usual baggage of travelers. Instead, many of them bore small, tightly wrapped bundles, their contents hidden from view. Others carried weapons – not the standard arms of city guards, but daggers and short swords, suggesting they were preparing for something more than a simple journey.

  Titus pulled his horse to the side of the road, partially concealed by the shadows of a building. He watched as Ricardi and his followers passed, their horses’ hooves echoing ominously in the stillness of the night. He tried to catch a glimpse of their faces, to discern any clue as to their destination or purpose, but their hoods and cloaks obscured their features.

  As the last of the riders disappeared through the northern gate, Titus felt a growing sense of unease. Something was deeply wrong. This wasn’t a simple departure. This was a clandestine operation, a secret exodus. And he had a feeling it was something that would have far-reaching consequences for Aslilia.

  ***

  Under the midday sun, Lysander, Eden, Bran, Davos, and Amara journeyed to a secluded location where the corpse of the Skittermaw was being held. As they entered the structure, a wave of putrid stench assaulted their nostrils, forcing them to cover their noses with cloths or their hands.

  Bran, Davos, and Amara stared in horrified fascination at the monstrous creature before them. Its massive form lay sprawled on the ground, a grotesque testament to its power and ferocity.

  “Is this the thing that attacked us in the mine?” Bran asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Yes,” Lysander replied grimly. “The destruction it caused ultimately brought it down.”

  Eden examined the corpse carefully, his expression thoughtful. “I believe this will suit my master’s requirements.”

  “Very well,” Lysander said. “I’ll have the workers load it onto your cart.” He gestured to a group of laborers waiting nearby. “And they’ll also load the crate of the Sacred Stones.”

  As the workers began to carefully lift the Skittermaw’s massive body onto the cart, Lysander turned to Eden. “Is this all you need?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Eden replied. “This is everything I need.”

  Eden bid farewell to all four – Lysander, Bran, Davos, and Amara.

  A wistful expression crossed Eden’s face. “I wish I could stay longer. It’s been good to see you all again.”

  Bran, Davos, and Amara echoed his sentiment, expressing their own happiness at being reunited. “I must be on my way now,” Eden said with a final, regretful glance. “I have a duty to fulfill, and my master awaits.”

  With a final wave, Eden departed, leaving his friends behind as he began his journey back to the city.