The moon was thin that night, half-hidden behind a drifting veil of clouds. Its light spilled weakly over Harbinth’s southern wall, just enough to glint off the broken stones where Maruzan and Velthur slipped through a narrow breach.

  No guards shouted. No horns sounded. The shift change at the gate had left this section unguarded, forgotten in the rush of preparations. The commanders expected the kobolds to strike from the north, not this quiet stretch of rock and salt air.

  Maruzan moved quickly, his hand brushing against the wall to guide him. Velthur followed close, clutching the satchel tight against his chest. The boy’s breath came shallow, not from running but from fear. He kept glancing over his shoulder, as though the shadows themselves might rise and swallow them.

  The path to the cave was short, but the silence made it feel long. They reached the cliffs and followed the uneven track down to where the sea had carved out a hollow in the stone. The cave’s mouth yawned before them, jagged and dark, smelling faintly of salt and damp earth.

  Inside, the walls closed around them like the ribs of some great beast. Their footsteps echoed softly on the wet stone, swallowed quickly by the sound of waves lapping against the rocks outside. They set their packs down in the sand.

  For a while, neither spoke. The only sound was the steady rhythm of the tide. Then Maruzan broke the silence.

  “We’re leaving at dawn.”

  Velthur looked up sharply. “Leaving?”

  Maruzan nodded, his expression heavy. “Too many eyes are on us now. Too many whispers. I won’t risk it anymore. We go south, through Elzibar, then on to Corta. From there, maybe a ship to Arnathe, maybe farther, to Reii if we can.”

  Velthur swallowed. The thought of leaving brought a strange mix of relief and sadness. And through Elzibar? He didn’t want to go back. “But… I thought you wanted to stay. To fight.”

  “I did.” Maruzan rubbed the back of his neck, eyes distant. “But I want you alive more than I want vengeance. That’s what matters.”

  Velthur nodded slowly. He wanted to argue, to tell his father he felt like he was finally doing something important, but the words caught in his throat. He settled for a small, tight whisper. “I understand.”

  The cave grew quiet again, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

  Then, a voice. Soft. Calm. But sudden. “Don’t be alarmed.”

  Velthur and Maruzan spun around. Both reached for the short swords Guildkeeper Eborin had given them, their hearts pounding like hammers against their ribs.

  From the shadows near the cave mouth, two figures emerged.

  They were unlike any humans the pair had ever seen. Tall and graceful, their skin bore faint markings like leaves pressed into bark. Their hair fell in strands that glimmered like moss and vine, alive with the shimmer of the moonlight. One carried a staff that pulsed faintly, its glow shifting in soft colors, as if dawn had been caught behind glass.

  Velthur’s mouth dropped open. “What… are you?”

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  The first figure stepped forward and bowed slightly. “I am Nethira.” She gestured to the other. “And this is the Seeker.”

  The names felt strange on Velthur’s tongue, yet familiar, as if he had heard them whispered in a dream.

  Maruzan raised his sword higher. “What do you want?”

  The Seeker’s voice was low and steady. “Only to speak. We followed the call of what you carry. The relic.”

  Velthur instinctively clutched his satchel, pulling it close to his chest.

  Nethira’s eyes softened. “We do not wish to take it. But you must understand, it has begun to stir. Its magic acts as a beacon. That is why we are here. And it may also be why the enemy gathers.”

  Maruzan’s stomach tightened. “If it’s drawing them here, then take it. Bury it. Burn it. Do whatever you must. Just keep them away from my boy.”

  The Seeker shook his head slowly. “It does not work that way. The relic has chosen. It is bound to him now. For better or worse, they share a rhythm.”

  Velthur’s grip on the satchel tightened until his knuckles went white. “Bound?” he whispered.

  Nethira stepped closer, her expression full of quiet compassion. “Do not fear. I know your names. I have seen you both in dreams. Velthur, you are not a mistake. You are not alone. You and your father are part of something larger, root and shadow, light and storm. What comes is dangerous, yes. But you are not powerless.”

  Maruzan shook his head, angry and afraid all at once. “He’s a child.”

  “Children often carry more than we realize,” the Seeker replied. “And the relic chose him for that reason.”

  The words landed heavy. Velthur felt his chest tighten, unsure if it was pride or fear. He wanted to ask why me? but the answer already seemed clear: because no one else could.

  Maruzan’s voice dropped to a rough whisper. “We were going to leave. In the morning, at first light. Slip south before the fighting began. You speak of roles and destinies, but all I want is my son safe. Can you promise me that?”

  The Seeker’s gaze did not waver. “I cannot promise safety. None of us can. But I can promise this, you will not face it alone.”

  Nethira nodded, her hand brushing the glowing staff. “There are dryads on an island nearby. They will shelter those who come. You and the boy could take passage there. But the choice must be yours.”

  Velthur looked at her, believing every word. Something about her voice, calm yet certain, reached into him and soothed the ache of fear. He believed she would never force them.

  But Maruzan only shook his head. “No. Wherever he goes, I go. I will not send him away.”

  Nethira bowed her head in respect. “Then we will not press you. But know this: the battle will reach Harbinth by morning. If you stay, prepare yourselves.”

  The Seeker stepped back, his cloak rustling like leaves in a storm. “We will return tomorrow, when the fighting begins. And we will fight at your side.”

  With that, the two figures slipped back into the shadows, vanishing as silently as they had come.

  Velthur and Maruzan were left alone once more, the cave damp and cool around them. The satchel at Velthur’s side gave off a faint warmth, like a heartbeat pressed against his hip.

  Maruzan let out a long, shaky breath. He sheathed his sword and sat down heavily against the wall. Velthur sank beside him.

  Neither spoke for a long time. The waves filled the silence, steady and endless.

  Velthur finally whispered, “Do you believe them?”

  Maruzan stared at the dark mouth of the cave. “I don’t know. But I believe this, we can’t run forever.”

  Velthur leaned against him, closing his eyes. “Then we’ll stay.”

  Maruzan wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders, holding him close. “Maybe we’ll stay. But no matter what comes, you don’t let go of me. Not for anything.”

  Velthur nodded.

  Outside, the tide shifted, rolling higher against the rocks. The night pressed in heavier. And in the quiet of the cave, two hearts beat together, father and son, bound not just by blood, but by the weight of a destiny they could not yet name.