ELIOS

  Elios woke to a sharp, acrid stench burning in the back of his nose.

  Not the familiar heaviness of woodsmoke—this was sharper, bitter, something that clawed its way up his sinuses and scraped his throat raw.

  When he tried to move, pain bit into his ribs, and his spine flared with protest.

  What happened?

  Elios sat still, eyes closed, forcing his fogged mind to reach backward. But each memory he grasped slid away like wet ink.

  “You’re awake,” a woman’s voice said behind him—and that alone carved through the haze like a blade.

  His heart lurched, but he did not move a finger.

  “No point in pretending,” the voice continued. “I was going to wake you up anyway.”

  Noct stepped into his view, her silhouette framed by the dying fire.

  “A little dizzy at first, right?” she asked softy. “Don’t worry. It’ll pass.”

  Elios’s eyes swept the room and quickly spotted Tarth slumped in the opposite corner, tied in an oddly undignified position, snoring like a boar with a head cold.

  Alive.

  Elios glanced at him, then forced himself to check his own body. No ropes, no restraints. His wrists bore faint marks where they’d been bound before—her work, last night—but the bindings were gone.

  “Why am I not tied?” he asked.

  “Because I would rather have this conversation with you on equal terms, not as your captor,” she said. “And because if you decide to attack me again, I’d prefer you ready when you fail.”

  His hands hurt. So did his pride.

  He sifted through the loose, drifting fragments of memory from the night before, piecing them together with growing clarity. Then he looked at Noct, eyes narrowing.

  “Wasn’t the food or the water,” he said. “Had to be the smoke. When did you do it?”

  Noct gave a tiny nod—barely more than the tilt of a feather—her voice unhurried and maddeningly casual.

  “Plenty of chances,” she said. “You two really shouldn’t have let me handle the firewood.”

  “That so?” Elios curled his lip, the expression halfway between contempt and self-mockery. “Or perhaps we should’ve left you in that cave.”

  Noct shook her head slowly, almost indulgently.

  “You think you saved me?”

  Elios let out a dry sound — not laughter. Not quite contempt. Something between.

  The anger aimed not just at her—but at himself.

  He had known.

  From the beginning, Noct had always been under his watch.

  And still, he had let the trap spring shut upon their faces. A grave mistake that came from complacency.

  Or was there something else—something he had tried to ignore?

  Elios tried to stand again, but his legs stayed stiff and useless.

  Like deadwood.

  A low grunt slipped out before he could choke it back.

  “Easy,” Noct said, shaking her head. “Shift your weight. After that long under the dust, your legs have to take time.”

  She clicked her tongue and let her fingers glide along her forearm. “Pain is a good sign, though. Means you’re alive. Tarth too. And you know what that means.”

  Elios let out a dry, humorless breath.

  “Killing us would lead to trouble,” he said. “You knew that.”

  Noct let out a thin breath. “Maybe so,” she said. “But keeping you two alive puts me at ten times the risk. I’m the one standing on edge here.”

  Elios gave a low hum. “So this is goodwill now? I’m supposed to feel grateful?”

  She faltered—just slightly, just long enough for surprise to flicker across her face.

  “You may not believe it yet, but we’re not enemies.” She rested her elbows on her knees, speaking with a matter-of-fact calm.

  “You poisoned us, woman,” Elios narrowed his eyes into cold slits.

  “No poison,” Noct replied, shaking her head as if the accusation offended her sense of professionalism. “It helps people sleep more easily. I wasn’t planning to harm anyone.”

  “Sleep, huh?” Elios’s voice held nothing but distrust. “For what?”

  Noct’s expression twisted with a grimace. “Because I needed you to stay put. I had matters to handle alone. That’s it.”

  “You expect me to buy that?”

  “I expect you to decide whether the truth matters more than your pride.”

  That stung. Elios hid it well, though.

  She exhaled through her nose. “But it turned out to be a mess, didn’t it? So I spent the rest of the night thinking about this conversation. Whether I like it or not, and whether you like it or not… we need each other.”

  The first strands of morning light crept through the slats of the old mill, brushing across her features. She turned toward it, and the glow caught in her dark hair, warming it to a bronze sheen.

  Outside, dawn broke clean and quiet.

  “Every day is a new day, Seeker,” Noct murmured, almost to herself. “Don’t drag yesterday's darkness into today.”

  She then shifted closer, crouching so their eyes met on equal ground.

  “Today, we talk. Properly, this time.”

  Then she offered Elios her hand. Her skin was pale and cool, smooth as bleached bone, though the faint imprint of Elios’s boot still marked her forearm — a blow that should have shattered bone. Yet she wore only thin red lines.

  Elios had seen hardened soldiers buckle under less. Whatever shaped her, it carved deep.

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  He held her gaze — and left her hand hanging in the space between them. Elios sat there, unmoving. Thoughtful.

  He was dissecting everything she’d said — every tone, every flaw, every motive she might be hiding.

  And he found… nothing clean. Nothing clear.

  “You want to talk? But what makes you think either of us can trust a word from the other?”

  “Because we’re running out of time and options,” Noct said. “ You and I both know that.”

  “You’re a Frothena,” Elios said, his voice flat.

  “True,” she answered. “I knew you knew that. Yet, here we are."

  A short pause. "Because I’m not the Frothena you need to find.”

  “Explain yourself.” Elios tilted his head.

  Noct drew a slow breath. “Not every Frothena who crossed the border came with the same purpose. The ones you have heard about, the ones who brought blood and ruin to your land, those are also the ones I’m hunting.”

  “ And why did you want to hunt your own?”

  “Because of the goods they smuggled. And before you accuse me again—no, I haven’t killed any of your people. To speak plainly, my goal is just the same as yours.”

  “Bullshit,” Elios sneered. “You criminals having different interests in mind doesn’t mean we share the same path. If anything, it only proves you to be even less trustworthy, even among your kind. Your lies come as naturally as your breath.”

  Noct snapped, giving back a fierce stare.“My kind? I used to kill for a milder insult. What are you to judge me, Veyran? You talk as if you were not a lying bastard yourself. Ever since we met, we've both been playing a game of deception. You know it, so at least have the decency to admit it.”

  She inhaled a deep breath, then continued, tone softer this time.

  “Look. Lies could only lead us this far. We won’t be able to do anything if we don’t change our ways. I’m not suggesting you be my friend. You aren’t... But, we can work together. So you can doubt me later, but at least hear me out.”

  That landed differently. Elios didn’t trust her — not yet — but the conviction in her voice brushed against something in him that felt dangerously like relief.

  “So, you were following the smugglers?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “From the Frothen side?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you traced them to Dubas?”

  A brief shadow crossed her face at the name. “I traced them farther than that,” she said. “But Dubas was where they stopped leaving pieces big enough for others to find.”

  Pieces. Elios’s fingers curled around the strap of his pack.

  Noct added. “I was already on their trail. The leviathan’s attack was something I never foresaw. But I am certain your people had a hand in it.”

  “The Royal Treasury?” Elios frowned. “What is that substance? Tell me the truth this time.”

  Noct held her silence for a long, tense breath. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

  “We call it drovar dust.”

  Drovar dust. Elios had heard about that mineral once or twice in the Tower. A sacred relic of the volcano, said to be the last remains of Karthalogon, the final drovar to walk this land. Nobody knew whether more of it lies buried somewhere across the continent, but for now, the only place one could mine it is Mount Karthos, and even Frothena do it carefully, in small amounts.

  Seeing no reaction from Elios, Noct continued.

  “One may never see it in their whole lifetime. Each year, we export only one wagon, sent as gifts to our allied kingdoms. The shipment that entered Veyra last week was enormous beyond measure.”

  “Then I must ask you this. What is it used for exactly?”

  “This is not something I’m allowed to share,” Noct frowned, clearly seeming hesitant. “But, since you will surely learn about it anyway when we reach the Tower, I will spare you the wait.”

  She unsheathed her dagger and showed it to Elios. “Do you know that the finest weapons and armor in the world are forged in Frothen?”

  The blueish hue of the blade shimmered in the sunlight, and the polished edge showed no chips. A masterpiece, no doubt.

  “Everyone knows,” he nodded, his heart beating faster. “So what?”

  His mouth was asking, but his mind already had the answer. He hoped he was wrong.

  Noct continued nonetheless.

  “Drovar dust is a big part of the secret. Under the right hands, with the right formula, it can transform common steel to something that only exists in legends.”

  Meteorite steel. Elios took a deep breath. So it never comes from fallen stars, as they say.

  “If what you say is true, then that shipment must be far beyond the reach of ordinary smugglers.”

  “Exactly.” Noct’s eyes darkened. “There is a traitor within Frothen’s ruling circle. In a few days, your kingdom will likely receive a royal decree from the Emperor of Frothen himself, demanding the return of the exiles responsible. But by the time the message arrives, I fear it will already be too late.”

  From the far side of the room, Tarth’s voice rose without warning.

  “Hold on, Captain. This is getting too big. If this is part of Veyra’s policy, then a few petty Seekers like us meddling in it will be charged with treason. And besides, I don’t see Veyra losing anything in this bargain. Who would complain about fine weapons?”

  So he had been feigning sleep all along, and doing it well. Even Noct seemed to have only now realised it.

  “I knew you would think that way,” Noct said, her tone calm, almost indifferent. “It is why I hesitated to share anything with a Veyran in the first place. But, do you think Frothen would just stay idle?”

  She let that hang.

  A crow called somewhere in the trees. Behind her, Tarth groaned loud enough to rattle the rafters. “Whatever you are plotting, untie me first.”

  Elios cast Noct a questioning look. She only lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug.

  “Wait a little longer. He will live. I have no one to guard my back as you do. Freeing you first was already more trust than I usually offer…So, what do you think?”

  Elios let the matter drop. There was a larger danger to weigh. It was tangled with shadows and far more complicated than he liked to admit.

  At first glance, the situation seemed wonderful.

  If Veyra truly had drawn powerful defectors from Frothen into its service, it would grant the kingdom an edge, compensating for its failing politics. And a great amount of meteorite steel would be a nice bonus to their military prowess as well.

  The problem was the timing. Very bad timing.

  Whoever set these events in motion was pushing two kingdoms toward war. Veyra was in no shape to face one. Frothen might have been weakened a bit by its traitors, but they would sweep across the border without hesitation. This involved their kingdom’s honor. They couldn’t let it slide, even if they wanted to.

  The only force that had held them in check was the Tower’s approval. And if this plot unraveled now, right on the eve of the Imperial Summit, the Tower would have no ground left to defend Veyra. Their protection would fall away, and with it, any hope of avoiding the storm that waited just beyond the frontier.

  Elios turned to Tarth and spoke with a heavy tone.

  “She was right, Tarth. If it’s the truth, we’re facing a crisis, not an opportunity. This boon is too hot for Veyra to swallow in a short time. All it brings is a taste of sweet, but we will have to vomit it all out— or even more— when war comes.”

  “War?” Tarth jolted; his head came up.

  “War. Besides, the seal of the Royal Treasury on those wagons troubles me.” Elios’s eyebrows darkened.

  “What do you mean?” Tarth asked.

  “The Treasury deals in coins only. The High Minister— and maybe even the Queen also—run their system with greed, not vision. They are not the sort to make a political manoeuvre so precisely and subtly. There must be someone else. And I don’t think that one had Veyra in their mind, Tarth.”

  Elios felt a cold weight settle in his chest.

  Lord Viltar had been losing his grip on court influence ever since he was forced into the post of Veyran representative in the Tower. If this scheme came from some unseen faction that joined forces with the Treasury to seize authority, then this would be the last stroke against him.

  However— he needed to verify something first. Elios slowly glanced toward Noct, his voice measured.

  “The story you have given is convincing. But you seem to be avoiding one detail.”

  “What detail?” Noct asked.

  “The monster. Its sudden appearance in that cavern. How do you explain that?”

  “I can’t,” she said, her tone holding little to no confidence. “Even someone like me doesn’t know everything. That’s why we need the Tower.”

  Now thinking back, she quickly caught on with us going to the Tower on the first day, when Tarth mentioned it, Elios’s thought. Was that her goal initially, or did she improvise her plan? What did she seek there exactly?

  As if sensing Elios’s hesitation, Noct spread her hands and pointed at herself. “Once we get there, if you’re still not satisfied with my answer, you can throw me into Mud Cells anytime you want. What are you afraid of?”

  Elios looked at her.

  “You know more. I can see it in your eyes. If you want me to believe you, you need to believe in me also.”

  Noct’s lips parted, but no word came out.

  After a while, she said, “It’s not the right time yet. Assumptions can be dangerous for the investigation. I won’t speak my thoughts unless they are backed by some solid foundation.”

  Elios fell silent, reluctantly giving her a brief nod.

  He understood her caution. If she had revealed everything, he would no longer need her. And with that, she would lose her only leverage.

  Besides, she was right about one thing. The Tower held almost every answer in the world—if you knew where to look. And if Noct meant to play any tricks, it would be the last place she ever tried.