She saw the glow of the fire in the distance. It might fool anyone else, but not a hunter of her skill. Still, she had to be extremely cautious—they were at least a day and a half ahead. The night was well advanced, but the sky was veiled in a thick layer of clouds. Lightning flashed in the distance, the thunder still somewhat timid in sound.

  She leaned against a rock and tightened the bandages around her leg and arm, still marked with fresh blood. The battle had been brutal, and though they had been defeated, she had made it out alive. She sighed, forced herself to stand, and resumed walking with care. There would be no rest—not if she wanted to catch up.

  The Dragon Knight, Nurbanduur, was with them. The child of prophecy. The last to be born. The one who could open the gates of the Abyss with his power… so close.

  The mountains to her left disappeared into the low-hanging clouds, and the terrain grew more rugged as it sloped upward toward the hillside. However, as long as she stayed on her southern course, the slope would remain a couple of kilometers away.

  The glow of that fire grew steadily more intense, and at one point, she heard the cry of a baby.

  "This time it wasn’t me..." came a voice deep as thunder.

  "Well, he laughs with you."

  Yes, it was them. There was no doubt about it.

  Galfrido started making faces again to calm little Drako’s crying. Apparently, his crying hour was at night—right when they most needed silence. This time, however, even the warrior’s jester-like expressions didn’t seem to be enough.

  “What the hell does he want?” he said suddenly, clearly frustrated. “That’s why I never had kids—and never will.”

  “He’s probably hungry.”

  “We tried giving him legumes! We tried giving him salted meat! He should be nursing from his mother’s breast... And that’s not even mentioning the fact that we had to clean him up twice today. Twice, Kalen!”

  “Yes, and he also should’ve been born seven months later than his rushed birth, not to mention he should have the eyes of a normal child and... have you seen his birthmark? And let’s not forget—he might bring about the end of the world!” Kalen’s sarcasm made his annoyance with the current situation very clear. “Take one of your hares, cut a piece off, and put it over the fire for a few minutes… If he doesn’t eat that piece of meat…”

  Grumbling, Galfrido stomped over to where his horse stood, tied up beside Blackmane. Two hares he had hunted earlier that afternoon were hanging neatly from the saddlebags. He had planned to use the pelts and save the meat for the next day’s meal, but apparently the child was determined to make their lives harder.

  As he approached the beast, it snorted and stomped a front hoof. The warrior’s heavy hand ran along its back, and he took one of the hares carefully tied to the side. Returning to the fire, he cut off a piece of meat and, following his companion’s strict instructions, placed it in the flames. After a few minutes, the child was already calm, having voraciously devoured that piece of hare.

  “Damn, Kalen… Have you noticed how he devours those chunks of meat?”

  “It’s obvious he doesn’t have the same jaw as a normal child.”

  Once again, he was amazed that, despite his apparent resemblance to a human baby at first glance, the differences were incredible. The mere fact that he had teeth at such a young age was already supernatural.

  Suddenly, Blackmane began neighing fiercely, stomping the ground with both his front and hind legs. Instantly, Kalen stood up and unsheathed Eldora at lightning speed, swinging it to the side and holding it in guard position. The blade even seemed to emit a faint glow of its own, giving it an air of majesty beyond its ornamentation and the exquisite craftsmanship of its design.

  Galfrido did the same, positioning himself in front of the child and grabbing his enormous greatsword with both hands, gritting his teeth in a growl he couldn’t hold back.

  “Show yourself!” the knight commanded with great authority.

  From the darkness, they could see two feline eyes, bright and purple. Focusing a bit more, they saw the graceful figure that owned those eyes slowly approaching.

  “By the gods!” Galfrido exclaimed upon seeing the figure emerge from the shadows.

  An elf with a delicate appearance and petite figure stepped into the firelight. Her lilac hair, almost pink, was tied in a braid, with a few strands falling over her forehead. She wore a violet, nearly black robe that looked quite warm. Her dark clothing fit perfectly with the sculpted curves of her body. On her face, a tribal-shaped, bluish tattoo ran along her cheekbone, curving up her temple and forming an open circle just above her eyebrow—mirrored on both sides. Her skin was tan despite her light hair and slanted purple eyes.

  She carried a quiver with several arrows, a black composite bow, and a kind of curved machete at her waist. A tightly bound bandage above her knee, and another at her forearm, hinted that she hadn’t had an easy day. Even her face bore some scratches and cuts.

  “This is something I never would have imagined…”

  The woman’s voice, sensual and harmonious, brought the two companions back to reality.

  “Begryn, it’s you!” Galfrido shouted, dropping his sword and rushing to hug the elf. She burst into laughter.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The paladin felt his heart trying to leap out of his chest. He had imagined this moment countless times, yet now, he wasn’t sure what to do. That elf had driven him mad from the first moment they met—when she had tended to his wounds after the battle with Faradax. Since then, she had become a recurring presence in his adventures.

  “Hi, Begryn. You look good,” was all he managed to say, a half-smile on his face as he brushed his blond hair away to see her better.

  “Just look at you…” she said, stepping toward him at a measured pace. “You really are a full-fledged knight now, aren’t you? You look good too, Kalen.”

  A few seconds of silence passed as they locked eyes, lost in each other’s gaze—until Galfrido brought them back to reality.

  "Wait… give me—give us a moment, girl…" The warrior began shaking his head, but upon seeing the woman’s injuries, his expression shifted to a more serious one. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

  The elf looked at the baby still resting peacefully on his bed of herbs, wrapped in Kalen’s cloak. She quietly approached and sat down beside him, in front of the fire. The paladin and the warrior followed suit.

  "I’ve been tracking you for about a day, maybe a little more," the elf began. "Let me explain. The Order of the Sharpshooters—my order—knew of the prophecy, and when the signs of the birth began to appear, we crossed the region of Núvodas and started searching for Nurbanduur desperately, knowing the Brotherhood of the Black Flame was also after him."

  "Nurbanduur?" Kalen asked.

  "That's the baby's name... at least the one mentioned in the prophecy."

  "Well, Kalen named him Drako. And I like that too, so as far as I'm concerned, there’s no Nurfanbul or whatever..."

  The three of them laughed at the comment.

  "All right... Drako it is then," Begryn continued. "The thing is, we arrived too late at a small village west of Hobbaristal… Apparently, the brotherhood, leading a large number of orcs, had already razed the town. But then..."

  She paused to swallow.

  "We were ambushed."

  "Ambushed by who? The orcs?" The paladin asked. Begryn shook her head.

  "By Faradax and his dark warriors."

  The companions widened their eyes.

  "Faradax is here? That can’t be… we’d heard that groups of orcs were roaming around Dorlan. That members of the Brotherhood of the Black Flame were spreading their cult through the region, but… Faradax?" Kalen looked deeply affected by the news. "That means he’s planning something bigger… there’s no way he came just for the child. He must be scheming for something else. How have Doknar’s scouts not detected him?"

  "Kalen," the elf placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "I don’t know what kind of magic they’re using, but not even we—the best elven trackers—detected them in time. I was the only one to escape alive… and barely."

  "This is madness. Faradax is raising an army within the lands of Doknar, and no one knows about it… We have to inform them."

  "My friend," Galfrido cut in, "we have to take the child to Trabarioth. That’s what we need to do. And in the more immediate future, we need to let Begryn finish her story."

  The paladin sighed and nodded.

  "All right. Having escaped from Faradax and his dark warriors, I followed a very distinct trail leading toward Doknar. They were the footprints of a woman, along with the tracks of a group of orcs. Even a novice tracker would’ve realized those beasts were chasing someone. Following the tracks, I came across a wagon at a crossroads. What looked like a family of performers was rotting under the afternoon sun, and I also found orc blood. I prayed to Mistilanya not to find the person being chased in the same condition, and fortunately, the trail of a horse leading away from that place took me straight to Doknar. Once there, I went looking for you,” she said, glancing at Kalen with a smile on her face, “but a group of initiates confirmed that you had left shortly after arriving, following several months of absence. So then I went looking for you,” —Galfrido grinned— “and that’s when I learned about your… issues with the law. However, in The Confinement, they told me you’d already been released at the request of Maester Sir Rhien Mildavar of Reidos, and that Sir Kalen ‘Fal had come to get you. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots and deduce that the two of you had set out with Drako.”

  The warrior and the paladin exchanged a glance. In that moment, a spark cracked a branch, lifting small fiery fireflies into the sky.

  They had known Begryn for many years, and she knew the prophecy inside and out. In fact, her order had been devoted to finding Drako—or Nurbanduur, as she called him. But the question remained: what exactly did they intend to do with the child?

  “Forgive me for asking, Begryn,” Kalen began, carefully choosing his words, though in the end, he had no choice but to be direct. “Why is your order looking for Drako? I don’t doubt your good intentions or your selfless love for the world, but I have to ask.”

  “I agree, my friend,” added Galfrido, chewing on a piece of hare meat.

  The elf smiled and couldn’t help but sigh, reminded of old arguments.

  “I know you don’t agree with the essence of my order, Kalen. But you should know the deaths we cause—sacrifices to the goddess Mistilanya—are meant to purge evil from this world, and none of them are by chance. Some beings should not be alive, and you know that better than anyone.”

  “I don’t disagree with the essence of the Sharpshooters, Begryn. I disagree with the methods. We have laws. We live in a civilization that allows us to judge the actions of the wicked, regardless of their birth or what’s considered blasphemous. Even an orc should have the right to a fair trial, if the situation calls for it.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” Begryn replied sharply. “And I believe that kind of utopia has no place in this world. But to answer your question: my order wishes to hide Drako until the time of his Awakening—at which point he’ll be useless to the Brotherhood of the Black Flame. Now let me ask you something… Where are you taking Nurbanduur?”

  Galfrido looked at Kalen and nodded.

  “We’re taking him to Volrath, in Trabarioth. He knows the details of the prophecy better than anyone—and the traditions of the Dragon Knights. So he’ll know where to hide him… or what to do.”

  “Besides, Doknar has already been compromised by the Brotherhood of the Black Flame,” Galfrido added. “Right now, the safest place is the Frozen City.”

  The elf nodded.

  “Are you aware that the mountain passes are closed?”

  They nodded at the same time.

  “And are you also aware that to cross, you’ll most likely have to go beneath the earth?”

  They nodded again.

  “Well, in that case… I’m coming with you.”

  “Really?” The companions looked at each other, then back at the elf.

  “I have a mission to fulfill, and it’s clear: ensure Drako’s safety. You two have the same mission—so our paths cross once again.”

  “Thanks to Kramer!” Galfrido sighed. “This conversation was getting way too serious at one point. I thought you two were going to end up fighting—like that time in the Mistwood.”

  “Don’t bring that up, Galfrido,” said Kalen, kicking his friend.

  The elf approached Drako and spent several seconds gazing at him. They could see the tenderness forming on her face. Begryn was a clear embodiment of duality. She belonged to an order devoted to killing—hunting, as they called it—so-called beings of evil, often humans, marked by the runes under moonlight. Kalen saw that as an abomination against his principles.

  And yet, Begryn, aside from being an assassin, was a healer. Every so often, she undertook pilgrimages through war-torn regions to help people. Her love for the world and life was unmatched. And it was precisely that love that drove her to do anything for it… even kill, if the moon runes commanded it. No trial, no sentence. Just an executioner.