The army of Aktida was leaving Nalvin.

  Days dragged on, weeks had passed since the end of the failed battle. Outside the city walls, all was quiet. The pirates gave no sign of their presence, but the sentries walking from tower to tower were visible from afar, and no one dared to leave the shelter that allowed them to delay the shameful retreat for just one more day, and give the wounded some rest before the long journey. But the day eventually came, and Ringus Felm, having sent a letter to the king, gave the order to depart.

  They buried those they managed to collect from the battlefield and those who died in the hospital, and now they were moving slowly in a small detachment, following the old road back toward the Ilvion River. September was drawing to a close, and the trees rustled with their final yellow and crimson leaves, ready to fall at any moment, covering the pale, damp earth and withered grass in a fading carpet. The days were rarely sunny now; rains came more often, and the cold deepened. At night, icy winds whistled through the tops of the pines and larches, and the survivors, maimed and scarred, sat around the fires. They reminisced about better times, peaceful life, and work. No one spoke of the battle.

  ***

  That evening, when the last orange streak was vanishing in the western sky and small patches of clouds barely showed in the dark above, four of them once again sat a bit apart, gazing into the fire and speaking quietly. Everyone talked about their own matters, and no one was interested in eavesdropping, but had someone strained their ears, they would have heard the dark-haired young man with a face covered in countless scars and scratches saying to the tall, bearded Kald with a bandaged leg and an axe on his back:

  "I've thought about it a lot, Viggo... and I’ve decided I can’t delay anymore. Now that Petros has left us, it’s time to go back."

  "No one’s stopping you, Kairu. Unless..."

  "I know what you’re thinking. I’m not abandoning you. But I need to know what’s happened there over the past year and a half. I’ll return, I promise. And then we’ll decide what to do next."

  "I just meant... isn’t it too dangerous?" Viggo grumbled. "The pirates might still be prowling the area..."

  "I doubt it. They're busy dividing up the spoils in Nalvin. But you’re right, time’s short. I’m leaving now. Forgive me for abandoning you, even briefly. But you, Viggo, clearly aren’t in shape to travel quickly, and I need to move fast. I’m leaving Remiz and Woody to look after you."

  "I can take care of myself!" Viggo protested. "The leg will heal! It’s nothing, just a scratch—I've had worse in service..."

  Kairu stood up, slinging his pack over his shoulder. He said only:

  "I’ll catch up with you before Ilvion. Good luck."

  Remiz said nothing. Woody also remained silent, not looking at him. Viggo stared gloomily into the fire: he clearly felt insulted by the implication of weakness. Kairu turned away from them and quietly left the camp, descending through the trees into the dark, damp valley. He walked far enough for the firelight to disappear behind hills, bushes, and trees, then whistled softly, placing two fingers to his lips. That was all it took. A whinny sounded, followed by the pounding of hooves on firm, sparse-grassed soil, and the horse burst toward him, shaking its snow-white mane and stamping impatiently. He was ready. Kairu was ready too. He carried a map of the Southern Province, marked with a cross to show the location of the army camp and the approximate area where a village, not marked on the map, could be found. The broken sword he kept as a talisman was securely strapped in its scabbard.

  With one leap, he mounted the Hellsteed, lightly squeezed its sides with his heels, and the horse leapt into a full gallop, racing like the wind through the autumn forest.

  ***

  Dawn found him in an unfamiliar hollow, beneath the sagging limbs of pines and firs and a web of half-bare branches. He had fallen asleep at the bottom, leaning his head against his pack, lulled by the whisper of the wind pushing fallen leaves along the ground. Above his head, pale-red whirlwinds of leaves spun in circles; the sky was still dark but cloudless, and in the east, the new white dawn was already extending its cold tendrils.

  The horse woke him when the small sun was gleaming weakly behind them, its rays barely piercing the fine mesh of branches. A soft, insistent tapping of a hoof on dry clay echoed near his ear, and the steed breathed heavily, shaking his mane, fine drops of mist falling from it onto Kairu’s face. But more than anything, the cold woke him, sharp and inescapable without the sleeping bags and blankets they once took on campaigns. Kairu stirred, hugging himself to stop shivering. He sat up and rolled his head, his limbs stiff and numb. Leaning against the slope of the ravine, he wiped the sleep from his eyes with a sleeve. He took his flask from his belt and splashed some water on his face. The horse snorted and smacked its lips, peering down at Kairu from its towering height with a pleading look.

  "Sorry, buddy," he replied wearily, getting up and untying his pack in search of food. "I didn’t dare raid the army stores for oats. You’ll have to go without a while, there’s plenty of that stuff in the village... Petros said you can graze if needed, right?"

  The horse turned its head away reproachfully. Wind stirred the hollow. Kairu took out some hardtack wrapped in wilted lettuce leaves, gnawed on them, and washed it down with water. The standard army ration already made him sick.

  Then he stretched, mounted the horse—his backside and thighs instantly ached with a dull, nagging pain. But he was in a hurry. He threw a leather strap around the Hellsteed’s neck, bit his lip to keep from groaning, and lashed the horse once more with his whip.

  The wind whistled in his ears from the speed. He leaned against the horse’s warm neck, guiding it from time to time, watching the sun and sticking to trails heading south. He hadn’t yet seen any familiar villages or landmarks. He looked around, estimating how far he had to go until he reached home, occasionally consulting the map to figure out his location. But there weren’t many useful reference points, so he kept racing forward. Fortunately, the Hellsteed’s gait was smooth, and the motion soothed him. It felt like he could close his eyes and sleep, trusting the horse completely.

  He had to shake himself awake several times. Then, through the trees, a pale strip appeared, and he emerged onto a wide road. Roofs came into view beyond the trees, and thin wisps of smoke curled in the sky from chimneys. It wasn’t his village yet, but he recognized the road. It was the same branch of the main road he’d been trying to reach. He and Yuf had ridden this way to Nubelrain, and from here, he could estimate the distance. For a regular horse at a moderate pace—four or five days. On the Hellsteed, he could reach it in two, without even exhausting the animal. If he hurried, he’d be there by evening.

  He spurred the horse and leaned forward along its neck. The hooves beat faster, their steady, muffled rhythm blending into one sound. The village was already gone behind him, and even tree trunks blurred as they sped past. The road was deserted. Overhead, the sky was clear and piercingly bright blue, painful to the eyes, but to the west, where Nalvin lay, he could make out faint clouds—the shadow of the heavy black smoke from dozens of fires. The pirates had spared nothing. There, around the ruined city, the marauders had already set nearby villages ablaze.

  Kairu gave it only a brief glance, then turned away again, guiding the horse along the winding road. Time was pressing.

  He had been riding all day, stopping only once to let the horse catch its breath, grab a bite to eat, and sip some water. The wind pierced his bones even through the cloak, and he wrapped himself in his clothing in vain to shield himself from it. Of course, all he had with him was the standard military uniform and the clothing he had managed to grab from the Nubel estate, which he had been carrying with him throughout the Southern Province all year, along with the things he and Petros had bought in the small towns they passed through. For September weather, it was not enough. His bruised and still-healing ribcage ached, and for some reason, his leg hurt. Lately, his legs often hurt, his bones ached, and even the old scars on his face began to burn with renewed force. And then he would recall the expedition, the snow-covered field, and the pack of white wolves.

  But the scars that had been inflicted just a few weeks ago by Cassander made him scream in his sleep. And very often, upon waking, he vaguely remembered seeing that terrifying skull-like face again, with the eye patch and the scar across the cheek.

  And the ring of the blade.

  Kairu winced. It felt awkward and unnatural to ride without the weight of steel in its sheath. Now only the hilt remained there, adorned with a jasper stone. The sword that had served him for more than a year, the sword he had never parted with, day or night, was gone.

  No matter. Father would understand. After all, not everyone could fight Orwell Cassander and live.

  ***

  He camped in the woods again. In the morning, it seemed to warm up a bit, the sun shone from a piercingly blue sky as if through a crystal prism, flooding the forest with a clear light. And there was no wind, which was a special relief. The bag was half-empty. Kairu took another sip of water and ate a good portion of hardtack with meat, but it didn’t satisfy his hunger. His horse was surprisingly fresh and lively. Hoofprints led off somewhere into the thicket. So, during the night, it must have found a spring.

  Kairu returned to the road and rode through the clear forest. Leaves fell quietly around him, the trees stood silent. Wet puddles splashed beneath the hooves, still lingering in ruts left by carts.

  The road was familiar. Until now, he had remembered this route vaguely, but suddenly, every farmstead glimpsed through the fir trees and hills, every storm-broken oak leaning by the roadside, every field—all came back to him with clarity. The sun had rolled to the middle of the sky, which was slowly filling with pale, thin clouds, when he saw the river and rode onto its high bank. On the other side, too, the forests had turned yellow, and below, beneath the steep, rocky cliff, the water boiled and frothed.

  A ghostly shadow fell to the ground, and in an instant, everything around darkened, took on cold tones. The sun no longer shone as brightly, breaking through a smoky gray veil of clouds. Kairu wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The horse galloped just as briskly, tirelessly. It was quiet.

  It kept getting darker. The sun was no longer in place, taking on an orange hue, but its weak rays were already drowning in the dusk that was settling over the forest. The sky dimmed. Kairu left the road and took a path into the thicket, leaving the river behind. Beyond the trees, a plume of smoke still rose.

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  In the twilight, he passed the last field on the way. He and Yuf used to come here on foot during haymaking season. This empty field belonged to the village. But all the memories associated with it seemed like a vague dream… It had been so long ago. Back when his mother was alive. Back when he didn’t yet know what kind of gift he possessed.

  Then he passed a small stretch of road among dense trees and emerged at the village gates. Somewhere above, crows cawed. The village was silent.

  He dismounted and walked inside. The fence was half destroyed, and the part that still stood had turned gray and was covered in soot. Kairu, as if in a dream, scanned the vast ruin. Only foundations remained of the wooden houses. In the orchards, dead trees with charred trunks stuck out. The wind scattered leaves across the empty, ash-covered street. In some places, stone walls without roofs still stood.

  He walked slowly, staring blindly into the ruins, and his legs carried him to the empty, soot-blackened stone skeleton of a building with a collapsed roof. He could have found this house by touch, but what stood before him was no longer a home. He had arrived too late. The pirates had been here, he no longer doubted that.

  It seemed like an eternity before he could turn away from the ruins. Around him there was a whisper. He turned—nearby, a group of villagers had gathered. They were all familiar, but could be counted on one hand. Old men, women, and children. They didn’t recognize him, looked at him warily, suspiciously; behind them were several openly hostile faces. And Kairu stood motionless, vainly trying to find his father and brother among them.

  A startled cry rang out. Someone elbowed their way through the crowd. Reggie Alphinius. The blacksmith from his father's workshop.

  "Have I changed so much, Master Alphinius?" Kairu said hoarsely.

  "Kairu! Son of Lester Kenai!" the blacksmith gasped.

  He reached out his hand, as if not believing his eyes and wanting to touch an old acquaintance. Kairu silently embraced him and whispered:

  "What happened here?"

  The crowd surrounded them. Voices rose, someone wept with joy.

  "Kairu!"

  "Good Aktos! It really is him!"

  "Unless it’s his ghost. They said he died!"

  "Hey, Kenai! Is that really you?"

  "Kairu… what joy…" Reggie said, letting go and stepping back. "By Aktos, we had given up hope of ever seeing you again… Lester turned gray like a hundred-year-old man this past year, waiting for you… We were sure you died in that damned expedition. Then, when the letter and the money arrived, we expected you… and then lost all hope. Oh, Aktos… how you’ve grown! Your father would have been proud of you."

  His throat went dry. Kairu turned cold. His own voice seemed to reach him from afar:

  "Pirates?"

  Alphinius nodded… Questions clogged in Kairu’s throat like a great lump, and he felt like he was suffocating. The blacksmith’s words came from an infinite distance, and it was as if a deaf, impenetrable wall had risen between him and the outside world.

  "Tell me everything," was all he could manage to say.

  "They came out of nowhere, in broad daylight," Reggie began in a breaking voice. "We just heard screams beyond the forest, and then an armed mob ran out onto the street… Like a hurricane, they cut down everything, chopped trees, trampled gardens and orchards, then set the chapel on fire, and killed everyone in their path. They murdered men and children on their doorsteps, and the women they tied up, dragged into the hayloft or houses, and… Well, few survived. Your father was the first to realize what was happening. Our entire workshop armed itself and ran out to meet them, the haymakers joined us, and he ordered me to take everyone and flee to the woods… These are all the ones I managed to save. Your father fought in the front lines and killed many pirates. One of them was huge, like a troll, bald, with an eye patch and skulls on his belt… He had a massive black sword, and your father attacked him immediately. Lester wounded him, and then the brute drew his weapon and stabbed your father straight through."

  Kairu was silent.

  "I saw with my own eyes how they were slaughtered, every single one of them," Reggie continued, swallowing hard. "We managed to hide in the thicket, in a ravine. Later, I returned, but the pirates had already taken everything they could, and the village was in flames. We couldn't extinguish the fire for a long time and saved almost nothing. Bodies lay in the streets. We moved them to the cemetery at our own risk, and since then, we've been hiding in the forest, afraid of every rustle, every creak or crack, afraid that we'd be killed in our sleep. Just imagine what we felt when we heard the sound of hooves!.."

  Kairu remained silent, gritting his teeth to suppress a groan. Silence hung over the ashes; only the quiet sobs of women could be heard. Kairu's eyes stung, and he turned away, suddenly feeling a long-forgotten pain he had last experienced a year ago in the shrine of the ancient Nocturns. A poisonous, pulsing pain spreading through his body.

  "Where are the graves?"

  Kairu didn’t recognize his own voice, hopeless and joyless, as if happiness could never again exist for him...

  "Over there," Alphinius whispered, pointing toward the village cemetery. "We couldn’t bury them..."

  Kairu slowly walked through the crowd that parted for him and made his way down the street. No one followed him, no one said a word. He reached the cemetery alone. The chapel had been completely burned, and behind the iron fence, among the crosses, lay dozens of bodies. He entered, stepping on the dark soil, approached them, turning them over slowly and looking into their faces. He knew and remembered all these people. They were now all disfigured by death. His father lay among them, but Kairu barely recognized in the ashen, horrific face framed by silver hair the man who had seen him off on this fateful journey a year and a half ago. That had been the last time they saw each other.

  Rain began to fall. Cold droplets streamed down Kairu's face, but he continued to stand in the downpour, staring at his father's face, unable to accept his loss.

  ***

  He buried his father right there.

  Rain poured all night, the cold was biting, and Kairu dug a grave in the frozen ground with his father's old shovel. He wore only pants, a leather jacket, and a cloak, but felt no cold: a desperate frenzy drove him, and the weight of grief mixed with bitterness and self-hatred settled in his heart. Something inside him broke; he now knew for certain that he would never be the same again. The villagers had returned to the forest; Kairu worked alone, not resisting the fury of the elements.

  Once the grave was dug, he gently lowered his father's body into it, looked for the last time at the distorted face, then climbed out and covered the pit with earth. He went out beyond the village fence, found two surviving stakes from the palisade, tied them together with twine, and stuck the makeshift cross into the ground. The rain didn't stop; lightning flashed behind the trees, but he felt nothing, standing over the grave, as if his thoughts and despair could bring his father back to life.

  At last, he turned away and left the cemetery. He walked down the dark, empty street to the ruins of his house. Inside, it was dark; the soot-blackened roof had collapsed in places, and nothing remained of the attic. There was still water in the washbasin, and a piece of moldy bread in the cupboard. The charred table was still standing, scattered with salt, an overturned saltshaker lying on it. The clock was broken, most of the furniture shattered.

  Kairu wandered through the empty rooms, recognizing familiar objects and belongings. When the rain-filled sky began to lighten toward dawn, he sat at the table, examining a small hunting knife he had once forged for practice. Apparently, his father had kept it as a memento of his eldest son, whom he believed dead.

  It was cold, but Kairu didn’t light the stove or dry his soaked clothes. Sitting at the table, he thought about everything that had happened in his eighteen years and recalled everything tied to the village. A thought flickered: if he hadn’t said that one word, none of this would have happened.

  "Then... then I want to join the expedition..."

  I want to join... Fool. And what did that lead to? Only evil. This war. And a dead father. All of it is his fault.

  And worse—he missed his only chance for revenge...

  Kairu now knew: his father had been killed by Cassander. Back then, in Nalvin, he hadn't known. And hadn’t killed the pirate. Now it would be even harder.

  Ghosts flitted before his eyes and faded into the mist covering the world. Outside, the rain beat against the broken windows. Sticky, vile drizzle streamed through the street.

  Then he fell asleep. Or he thought he did, because he began to dream again. But the dreams appeared and vanished, and he couldn’t remember any of them, couldn’t tell if he was seeing the past or the future.

  When he again realized he was sitting with his head on the table and raised his bleary gaze, dusk was falling. The rain had stopped, but it wasn’t any brighter. Clouds gathered over the forest. It was cold.

  Kairu stood, swaying. He stretched his numb arms and went out into the yard. His horse stood by the charred remains of the shed, snorting, shaking off droplets from its thick white mane. Kairu took its reins, walked through the street to the cemetery, and sat by the small grave, lost in thought.

  Maybe it wasn’t in vain that he survived. Maybe it wasn’t in vain that Cassander spared him.

  He had been given a second chance.

  Then, amid fire and smoke, beaten and weak, he hadn’t been able to charge the pirate and kill him. Now, his desire for revenge would be fueled by hatred. A terrible revenge. Kairu remained silent, thinking only one thing: today he would go to Mainor not because he wanted to learn anything about Petros’s affairs, but because Orwell Cassander would be going there.

  "I swear," he said quietly to the grave. The rest of the words were unnecessary; he already knew he would fulfill that vow, even if it cost him his life.

  ***

  "Master Alphinius, I'm leaving."

  He found them in a deep ravine south of the village, beyond the impassable thicket and overgrowth, reachable only by a hidden trail. There, they lit fires and slept among the remains of what they had salvaged from the village, and what the pirates had not taken. A small band of wretched souls who knew no life beyond this corner of the forest and had no idea where to go next.

  "But Kairu... where? We thought you'd returned for good, that life might finally get better... You've been gone for a year and a half, how can you leave us again?"

  "I'm sorry." Kairu shook his head. "Time is pressing. I’m needed elsewhere now. I understand your fear, but I don’t think anyone will come back here. It will be much more dangerous in the north and east. And I have many unresolved matters, and far more ties to the world now than to this village."

  Reggie remained silent, staring at him in horror.

  "I wanted to ask one more thing," he said slowly. "My brother, Norton. I didn’t find his body."

  Alphinius glanced briefly at the other refugees, who huddled around the fire, eyeing them warily. Then he spoke without looking at Kairu:

  "We don’t know what happened to him. He wasn’t in the village when the pirates came."

  Kairu waited silently.

  "He had a serious quarrel with your father," Alphinius sighed. "It was harder for Norton to accept that you were dead. First he lost his mother... and then his brother? He wanted to run away to look for you. Lester never raised his hand against his children, but that day he snapped. They didn’t speak for a long time, and Norton often went off into the woods alone... That day was no different. He never came back. I don’t know, maybe he got lucky and escaped the pirates, or maybe they killed him in the forest. I don’t know, Kairu. We never found his body."

  Kairu said nothing. The last hope was gone. He turned his horse and, without looking back at Alphinius, rode away through the forest. Past the village, leaving those people and everything tied to them behind. Toward the road leading to Mainor.

  ***

  "To Mainor," Saelin repeated, turning to the hooded figure. "Why there?"

  "I have a few leads from Petros. And a suspect. He lives in the capital. Besides, something tells me the Seer will be there too."

  "The Seer? If Petros told him anything, he’ll come here to take the diamond."

  "I don’t think it’ll be that simple. He wouldn’t dare enter the Citadel alone, he’s too well warned. He has friends in Mainor. Either way, if he comes to you himself, all the better. But if he shows up in Mainor, I can intercept him and convince him to meet with you."

  "All right. Let me know if you find the Seer... and the traitor. And..."

  The Nocturn girl with the ruby necklace smiled.

  "Yes, Professor?"

  "Be careful. It’s going to be a hot winter in Mainor."

  The end of Book 2.

  To be continued...

  And on this tragic note, Book 2 ends.

  But there is no time to stop. The pirates keep advancing towards the capital. The posting will continue as usual from Monday.

  The story is far from completion. From here, it is going to get darker.

  If you enjoy the story so far, please consider following it, rating it, and leaving a review. And, of course, you're very welcome to let me know what you think in the comments!

  Finally, as always, Book 3 is already fully available on Patreon. The link is below.