The old man, Aldren, invited them to eat the snacks he had placed on the table with a warm smile. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy, with a gently burning fireplace and a calming aroma. They all sat and shared a few stories, until Aldren looked at his guests with a wise gaze, his sharp eyes observing each face weary from their journey. Aldren began to speak to them, his voice calm. "You have walked through ash and shadow. Tell me, wanderers, what is the ultimate purpose that has brought you to the threshold of my home here in Elarion?" Kaelith could only look down at her calloused hands, while Vael stared straight ahead, his silence its own answer. Namien sighed at their reaction, his usual sly smile replaced by a more sincere expression. "Father, we..." Namien paused for a moment, glancing at his friends before continuing. "We are just looking for a place, Father. A place to stop running, more or less." Kaelith lifted her head and responded to Namien's words with a softer voice to Aldren. "A place we can call home. After so long... we just want to find a place where we can breathe without fear and see the sunrise the next day."

  Aldren looked at them for a long time, warmth and sympathy radiating from his eyes. He nodded slowly, as if understanding the unspoken burden they had carried for so long. "In that case, you have come to the right place. Elarion always opens its doors to those seeking refuge, just as you said," he said gently. Aldren finally stood up from his seat and gestured towards the door. "Rest here first, at least. Tomorrow, Namien will take you to the castle to speak with the King. Tell him your story, and I am sure... he will listen to each of you."

  Sora, who had been listening silently, finally rose and stepped towards Aldren. He took out a pen and a piece of paper and wrote to him.

  We are truly grateful for the kindness you have offered us, but it is enough for us to have rested in your home, even for a moment. We do not wish to be a complete bother to you with the tea and snacks you have provided. Please forgive me if we do not accept your offer with any particular intention, but we wish to meet the king of this land as soon as possible. And once again, we are truly grateful to you.

  He finished writing and gave the note to Aldren, who smiled as he read it. Aldren's reaction was simply to look at them without saying anything other than, "Very well, then. Namien, can you take your friends to the castle right now?" Namien, hearing this, could only sigh and say, "And so it happens again, for the umpteenth time." Kaelith and Vael stood up from their seats, followed by Namien. Sora, Kaelith, and Vael expressed their thanks to Aldren through their actions.

  With that, the four of them left the warmth of Namien's home. They stepped back onto the bustling streets of Elarion with a clearer purpose and a new hope, walking beneath neatly arranged brick towers and glittering shop windows towards the heart of the kingdom. That day, they passed through massive wooden doors leading to the center of Elarion, a place where market vendors shouted their wares and stone bridges arched over a clear river. The streets were bustling with life. Namien guided the three of them through the winding roads towards the palace gate, where the royal towers cast long shadows across the city.

  And then... Sora's steps faltered. He noticed something in a quiet alley, half-hidden in the shadows: a small, fragile-looking girl, no older than ten. Her clothes were tattered, she wore no shoes, and her hair was messy and unkempt. The little girl wasn't crying or begging for help; she just stared at Sora as he passed the entrance to the narrow alley. There was something in her gaze that called to him, not with desperation, but as if trying to tell him something. Sora decided to stop and slipped into the alley to find out about the little girl who was staring at him from the far end. Without a word, Sora turned from the group and quickly followed his intuition. None of the other three noticed at first, still busy debating palace etiquette, until Kaelith realized the silence was a little too quiet. She looked back and found Sora was gone. Confused and worried, Kaelith said, "Where's—" Before she could finish, Vael interrupted, shaking his head. "Sora?" Namien immediately turned around upon hearing them and took a deep breath. "Oh, god..." And just like that, Sora was gone, vanished from their sight.

  Sora followed the girl as she ran slowly through the winding alleys, easily keeping pace with her silent steps. Finally, the girl emerged from the narrow alleys and stopped in front of a ruined fountain, where broken, moss-covered stone statues still stood. The little girl turned to face Sora and caught her breath. Once her breathing was steady, she began to speak. "I know you are probably the strongest of your friends, which is why I'm asking you for help, sir." Sora tilted his head, surprised and astonished by the little girl's request. The girl took something from a small pocket in her clothes and held it out to Sora: a charm made of worn leather tied around a red stone whose luster had faded. "Please, they took my brother. Men in grey robes said he was 'marked by the starfire' and dragged him from our home to a black tower over there. I know you don't know me, sir, and you might refuse my selfish request. In return, I can only offer this for my brother who is being held by them. I beg you, sir." the little girl pleaded, tears slowly overflowing and wetting her grimy cheeks.

  Sora looked at the little girl and the charm she offered. He noticed her trembling hands as she spoke, her desperation to free her brother solidifying his decision. Sora took out his paper and pen and wrote a note for her. The little girl was surprised but took the note and began to read it:

  'First, I cannot speak because I was born mute. Second, I will help you if what you say is true, and I do not want your mother's charm. The most precious of heirlooms should not be given away; you must protect it as her last legacy. Show me the way; I will follow you from behind.'

  The little girl looked up at Sora, who then took her small hand, his grip gentle but firm. With his other hand, he gestured to his heart, a sign that he was making a vow from his heart to her. The little girl wiped away her tears and said with a tiny smile, "I don't want you to get hurt fighting for me, sir. My only request is to find and free my brother. And I'm sorry I didn't know you were mute before."

  Sora just nodded to the little girl to signal that it was okay, but his choice to help her remained firm. He could have left her and continued to the throne room, but Sora chose to answer this child's plea, a question now in his own mind to uncover what was truly happening in this seemingly peaceful kingdom. It looked magnificent, comfortable, and peaceful, but a hidden darkness lurked in the narrow cracks and untouched corners of the glittering kingdom of Elarion. Sora glanced back once, then looked at the stone on the little girl's worn necklace. From that, he made his decision once more to help her into the misty alleys at the untouched edge of Elarion, a place so quiet it sent a shiver down his spine. This time, Sora took on a task not as a survivor, but as a protector for people like this little girl.

  The deeper Sora and the little girl went into the winding alleys of Elarion, the less the city resembled the brilliant marble Namien had described. The cobblestones became cracked and uneven, the lanterns above flickered dimly, and the smell was replaced by the acrid scent of smoke and rust. The little girl's hand gripped Sora's tightly, her small fingers trembling but firm as she said, "Those men are holding my brother in the tower near the wall, sir. But their armor... I think they used to be mercenaries." Sora was not expecting to find a group of mercenaries within this kingdom, though he himself had bitter experience with the term. His instincts sharpened at her words. Mercenaries rarely change; if they were taking advantage of this girl and her brother, there would surely be a price to be paid to free him.

  When they reached their destination an empty square with worn-out benches and a defunct, dry fountain they saw a faint movement near the tower the girl had mentioned. Two men leaned against the tower's pillars, guarding the entrance, while another, smoking a pipe, sat on a wooden box. Others were gathered, sharpening their knives and swords. The man with the pipe noticed them and greeted them in the characteristic manner of a mercenary. "Well, well, what do we have here? You brought a friend, little girl," the man said, smoke curling from the end of his pipe. Sora stepped forward slowly with his hands raised, his sword still sheathed, signaling a universal language of truce. "Can't speak, eh? Being mute makes negotiations so much easier," the man with the pipe said with a sly grin. The little girl held Sora's hand tighter. "I want my brother. You said you would release him if I brought enough money." "That's right. You brought enough, didn't you?" the man said, taking a drag from his pipe.

  Sora could only nod, slowly reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a small pouch containing all the remaining coins from his journey and held it out. One of the men took the pouch and gave it to the leader, who opened it and let out a whistle of delight. "Not bad. This will only buy us food for a week, though." "You said it would be enough as long as I paid!" the little girl exclaimed, her eyes wide with emotion. "Yes, but unfortunately the price has changed, kid. Especially when someone is desperate, right?" the man replied with a smirk. Sora's eyes narrowed, and his hand slowly moved to the hilt of his sword. The man with the pipe noticed. "You, mute boy. Think again before you act. The girl with you could become a victim too if you do anything rash. It's better if you just stay quiet and, if you want to help her, give us what we want to ransom her brother." Hearing the threat, Sora tried to remain calm, not wanting to repeat what happened in the Weeping Hollows. He reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a single, smaller, older coin an iron token with a bloodstain on its symbol. He tossed it on the ground in front of them.

  When the leader saw the coin, his smirk vanished. Engraved on it was a black triangle and a hollow sun. His expression tensed. "This symbol and the blood on this coin... where did you get this, mute boy?" the man asked, putting down his pipe. Sora didn't answer, just stared at him. "You... you're one of us?" the man asked, a hint of fear in his voice. Sora didn't need to nod; the silence in his eyes was answer enough. The man laughed nervously. "Damn, I knew there was something strange about you. It makes my skin crawl when I pick the wrong opponent." He turned to the tower. "The boy, release him now! Quickly! Before we become chunks of meat thrown into a lion's den, damn it." Sora stepped towards the man, who backed away in fear. "Don't use the sword, please," he pleaded. Sora stopped and held out his hand. The man, trembling, placed the coin back in Sora's palm. Soon after, a boy was brought out, roughed up but alive, his face covered in bruises. The little girl ran into her brother's arms, crying. The mercenaries left without another word, perhaps out of fear of the unspoken threat the coin represented.

  Meanwhile, back in the bustling city... Namien frowned as they rested in a city park near the castle. "Sora's still not here?" "He's never lost track of us like this before. Something's strange, in my opinion," Vael said, his arms crossed. Kaelith paced anxiously by a fountain, her face clearly annoyed, though her voice betrayed a deeper worry. "We should have been more careful. What if he got trapped in the crowd and we lost him?" "He's not gone far, probably... he saw something that caught his attention. He has a habit of that, doesn't he?" Namien suggested. "I know, and that's what I'm afraid of," Kaelith muttered. Still, there were no signs of conflict in the peaceful city. Namien sighed. "We'll wait a little longer. If he's not back by sunset... we'll search the entire kingdom."

  And in another part of Elarion, among the shadows of worn and cracked towers... Sora walked slowly with the girl and her brother towards the end of the alley. At the edge of the market crowd, the little girl bowed one last time. "Thank you for helping me, sir. And I'm sorry about the money you spent to free my brother." For a moment, Sora heard her words and approached her. He knelt down to her level and gave her the coin he had shown the mercenaries as a parting gift. The little girl could only accept it, remembering what he had written before. "I will take care of it, just as you wrote, sir. And I don't know how I can repay your kindness." Sora stood up and prepared to return to his group. He breathed a sigh of relief as the siblings disappeared into the crowd, raising a hand in a final gesture of farewell.

  But as Sora tried to retrace his steps, the unfamiliar alleys and winding city streets hit him like a fog. Elarion's grand towers loomed above, but everything at ground level spun like a labyrinth for him. He looked left and right, but saw only strangers passing by, oblivious to his confusion. A minstrel sang on a street corner, a fire-eater performed for a crowd, and vendors shouted their offers. But none of it gave him a clue how to get out of the market. And in that moment, Sora realized something he hated but had become a part of his nature, something he worried about more than any fight: He was lost, due to his own negligence. His heart began to pound, not from fear of danger, but from sheer confusion. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. He looked around again, his eyes darting, but there was still no sign of Kaelith, Namien, or Vael. Then, right in the middle of the market, Sora did something no one had ever seen him do. A rising panic, not with a shout, because he couldn't. His eyes widened, and his hands began to scratch at his head as if grasping for something that wasn't there. He bumped into someone, bowed hastily in apology, and spun around again, looking for a way out. Finally, his eyes noticed a gap in the crowd leading to a quiet street, and he headed for it. His feet moved on their own, guided not by reason but by an instinct buried in his heart.

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  Meanwhile... "Maybe the guards arrested him because he can't speak and they thought he was a threat, or an undead with his pale face." Kaelith muttered worriedly. "You think Sora was arrested?" Vael blinked at her. "Well, he's disappeared, hasn't he? After sneaking off without telling us. It makes me suspicious," Kaelith replied, her eye twitching. Namien could only hold back a laugh. "Kaelith... you think he's part of a secret syndicate, don't you?" "I don't know! Do you know what he does when he disappears like that? Maybe he's... smuggling magic relics! Or trafficking forbidden elves! Or even worse, he might be wandering off with a prostitute and doing... Ah, never mind." Vael choked on a laugh that exploded out of him. "Playing with women?! Does Sora even have an interest like that?!" Namien bent over with laughter, clapping Vael on the shoulder. "Oh god, imagine the silent hand signals! It'd be a drama for him!" Kaelith's face flushed. "I'm serious!" But even she couldn't suppress the twitch at the corner of her lips.

  On the other side... Sora walked straight through the densest part of the market, ignoring the tempting aroma of spiced bread and roasted meat. Instead, his gaze was fixed on a small shop at the far end of the street, half-shaded under a stone bridge arch. A faded wooden sign creaked above the door: 'Urren's Workshop - No Lies and Only Honest Steel.' The quiet and heat of a typical forge were visible through the open window. And something drew him forward until he stepped inside. The blacksmith was a tall man with silver-streaked hair tied back in a leather knot. His arms were wet with sweat and soot, sparks dancing around the anvil he was hammering. The smith didn't look up at the sound of the entry bell. "What— Oh. A wanderer, I see," the blacksmith said to Sora, who gave a polite nod. "No words?" the man asked. "Ah. I've seen this type before. So, what's your business here, lad?" the blacksmith asked again. Sora carefully drew his sword and laid it on the workbench.

  Seeing the sword, the blacksmith's voice caught in his throat. "This sword..." He stepped closer, his gaze disbelieving, his hand trembling slightly. "By the gods..." His fingers touched the blade's surface, feeling its hum, its weight, its presence. "This isn't just forged steel, not like what I do. This... feels real," he murmured, as if waking from a dream. Sora tilted his head, confused. The blacksmith continued in an admiring tone, "This sword wasn't made with just the ring of a hammer and the spark of a fire. This sword was born with a soul inside it, and I can feel something older than this sword, older even than me." He looked at Sora. "Where did you get this sword, lad?" Sora hesitated, then took out a piece of paper and wrote, 'I just found it in an ancient ruin, and something whispered for me to take it.' The blacksmith read it and took a sharp breath. "So... it has begun again, eh?" He looked into Sora's eyes. "You don't know what you carry, do you, lad?" Sora's silence was answer enough. The blacksmith smiled, a look more of pity than pride. "Then I envy you, lad, and at the same time, I fear for your fate."

  The blacksmith moved with a newfound reverence, introducing himself in a low, gravelly voice. "You can call me Thramund of the Profaned Capital, last son of the Anvil. The only remaining fire from the city that once produced master swordsmiths." the blacksmith said as he gently took the sword and placed it in Sora's calloused palm. Sora wrote another question: 'Can you fix this sword, or perhaps sharpen its blade?' Thramund read the note and examined the blade, not like a weapon, but like a wounded animal. "You feel it too, don't you, lad?" Thramund murmured, running his thumb along the flat of the blade. "This sword feels alive, it breathes like a human. Like something inside its soul is being suppressed with great anxiety." Thramund's weathered face softened. "A sword like this isn't for a man seeking war. It's for a man who has already suffered and lives to bear his every burden. And I see you, lad, I know enough about what you've been through on your long and tiring journey." Sora bowed his head slowly in agreement. "I will strengthen it, not to change its form, but to reinforce what is already there. The soul of this sword knows what it wants now, and I am here only to help it achieve that," Thramund said, his tone firm but gentle.

  Sora sat silently in the corner of the workshop, watching the sparks fly and the slow, deliberate strikes on his blade.

  Meanwhile, across the market... Kaelith marched like a soldier heading into battle, her fists clenched, muttering in frustration. "He just disappeared! That stupid mute, what was he thinking? Oh, for God's sake, what is wrong with him?" Behind her, Namien and Vael exchanged a look and started to tease her. "Maybe he lives a double life. By day, a silent swordsman. By night, a shadow prince of the criminal underworld," Namien said with a mischievous grin. Vael chuckled and added, "Or maybe he joined a street circus, showing off his sword skills and attracting some ladies." Kaelith spun around, glaring at them. "You can't even be serious right now? This isn't funny at all!" "Oh, but it is when we see your over-the-top reaction and hear your annoyed mumbling, like a lover who's just been cheated on," Vael teased. Kaelith ignored them and continued walking, still muttering her worries. "What if he's hurt? Or captured? Or someone kidnapped him?" "You don't need to worry about that. You're just being a little... possessive," Namien said with a playful smile. Kaelith's face turned red, and she almost tripped. "I-I'm not... I'm just... Argh... He's so reckless! And irresponsible! He... he doesn't even talk!" "Exactly. A man who can't lie to you. The ideal partner, honestly," Vael said, winking at Namien, who burst out laughing again. Kaelith groaned loudly in frustration. "I swear, if I find him buying and eating a sweet roll while flirting with some other woman, I will strangle him to the dead."

  It was then that they turned a corner and saw the smoke from a forge and the sign: 'Urren's Workshop - No Lies and Only Honest Steel.' Kaelith stopped dead. She stormed into the workshop and found the blacksmith polishing a sword, with Sora sitting calmly in the corner, completely unaware of the storm he had created outside. Kaelith burst through the door, and Sora flinched, seeing a hurricane approaching him. He froze as Kaelith stood in the doorway, her cheeks red and her eyes blazing. "You! Where have you been, you idiot?! You just disappeared! No word, no gesture, no sign at all, huh?" Kaelith's thundering shout filled the workshop. Thramund paused his work for a moment, then wisely decided to continue, not wanting to get involved. Sora instinctively raised his hands like a child caught misbehaving. "I thought... I thought something happened to you." Kaelith's voice suddenly broke mid-sentence, trembling with a worry that had now found its release. Sora slowly stood up, his posture a clear apology to the untamable storm that was Kaelith. Behind her, Namien and Vael peeked through the doorframe like children spying. Realizing she had just stormed in screaming, Kaelith crossed her arms and looked away. "You should say something right now, shouldn't you?" Sora could only tilt his head with a bitter smile, his expression saying, 'You know I can't.' And something in Kaelith's anger broke, and she let out a deep breath, her pain fading and replaced by a warmth she wouldn't dare admit as she asked gently, "So, what are you actually doing here?"

  Sora pointed to the sword in Thramund's hands. Kaelith blinked and stepped closer, close enough to feel the silence between them as they spoke in their different languages. And then, "Well, I guess their honeymoon is finally over," Vael said casually from the doorway. Namien nodded wisely. "They grow up so fast, don't they..." Kaelith spun around, glaring. "Get out!" Vael just laughed. "Totally worth it!" Sora watched them all, and for the first time that day... he smiled. Not just with his lips, but with his eyes.

  In the glowing forge behind him, his blade pulsed once, now stronger than before. Thramund approached Sora, holding the reforged blade. "It's not changed. Just reminded of its soul's shape," he said softly, handing it to Sora. The weight was different, more solid, as if balanced not just in his hand, but in his soul. Fine, shimmering engravings, like flowing wind, now adorned the blade. "I reinforced the edge, strengthened the blade with a silver-thread alloy. It will hum better with your will now, lad. Speak when your soul speaks as you use it," Thramund said with a small smile. "And it will now outlast the both of us combined." Sora bowed deeply in thanks.

  Then, a familiar voice broke the silence. "Still talking as if you're married to your metal, Thramund?". The blacksmith turned, a genuine grin spreading across his face. "By the gods' of ashes, Namien? You cursed sparrow, you're still alive?" They embraced like old soldiers. "Still, tattered and full of regrets as usual. But at least you're still breathing, from what I see." "I thought the ruins had taken you with the others," Thramund said, clapping Namien on the shoulder. "A wandering merchant for now. The cobblestones are gentler than a battlefield screaming my name." Thramund's gaze then shifted to Vael, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the faint, faded wolf sigil of Borreal on Vael's cloak. His demeanor changed, becoming almost sacred. "Borreal... You carry its sigil and its oath, knight?" he murmured in awe. Vael nodded slowly, placing a hand on his faded emblem. "I was born under it and raised in its snow. I still walk with the oath I hold." Thramund placed a fist over his heart. "Then I owe you my respect, brother. The Profaned Capital stood with Borreal in the Black Sky War. If there is still blood left from the north, I will always honor it here." Vael, surprised, returned the respectful bow. "And we remember the fires of your forges in our old tales." Thramund chuckled. "Aye, fires hotter than our tempers. Almost."

  Then his eyes fell upon the bow slung across Kaelith's back, his expression shifting from cheerful to one of focused interest. "...That's no ordinary hunter's bow..." he murmured. "What's wrong with it?" Kaelith asked, tensing slightly. "May I?" Thramund asked, his hand raised for permission. Kaelith hesitantly handed it to him. Thramund's hands trembled as he traced the bow's dark wood and silver inlays. He examined the small sigils carved near the grip, his brow furrowing deeper. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "I found it... in a buried ruin in Borreal. There was nothing left of the one who held it but ash and bone," Kaelith answered slowly. Thramund's jaw tightened. "This bow... belonged to the last Queen of the Profaned Capital, Calyra Flamearrow. She was a guardian of memories and wisdom. When madness consumed our city, she refused to flee." He looked at the group, his voice growing heavy. "She entrusted this bow to someone from Borreal, her only friend, an archer she believed could protect what she no longer could. It was the last gift she gave before she... left this world defending the Profaned Capital." Kaelith stood motionless, understanding that the bow was a storied artifact. "I will use it with respect in every shot," she said quietly. Thramund smiled faintly. "Don't just use it with respect. Use it with honesty. That's all its first owner ever asked."

  As the sun set, casting long, golden shadows across Elarion, the four of them stood no longer as strangers, but as carriers of stories and legacies older than they knew. Thramund leaned against his workbench. "You always had a way of wandering, Namien. But these people... they carry something heavier than coin. So tell me, where did you find them?" Namien sighed. "They found me, actually. I think destiny decided it was time I remembered what it means to walk with people like this again." "They are travelers who have seen things burn in silence. The boy, Sora, has borne a deep loss since he was a child. The woman, Kaelith, her arrows have carved a path through sorrow. And Vael..." Namien looked at the knight with newfound respect. "Vael fights not for glory, but for his redemption." Thramund nodded, then clapped his hands once. "Well then, my forge will always be open to you all. No coin and no debt.". He looked at them one by one. "If you carry truth in your weapons and purpose in your hearts, then my fire is yours as well. This is a forge of oaths, not of trade, after hearing my friend." He then told them to leave any weapons that needed reforging, promising not to sleep until they were sharper than the day they were born.

  As the group prepared to leave, Thramund called out to Vael, holding him back for a moment. He returned from the back of his workshop with a long, old wooden box. Inside lay two weapons: a longsword and a curved dagger, both ancient but perfectly polished. The sword's hilt bore the Borreal symbol of a howling silver wolf's head beneath a crescent star. "These... belonged to Commander Thelan, the last captain of Borreal's vanguard who stood with us at the gates," Thramund said softly. Vael's breath caught at the name. "Before he fell, I recovered his weapons, to keep them for someone worthy. Your old sword is faithful but faded. Let me give it an honorable rest. In its place, take these, for those destined to live again and carry the name of a Borreal knight in battle." Vael hesitated, then gently placed his old, battle-worn sword on Thramund's workbench. Thramund handed the box to Vael. "Use his weapons well. Remember, you don't just carry steel now; you carry a name.". Vael nodded solemnly. "And I will carry it with the honor of my brother's oath, under the banner of Borreal."

  As the group stepped out into the evening light, Thramund watched them go. "Keep walking on the true path," he murmured softly.

  The gates of Elarion's castle stood tall above them, marked by the crest of twin lions. The guards tensed as they approached, but then they recognized Namien. "By the divine flame... is that Namien Solis?" one guard asked in disbelief. Namien sighed and waved a lazy hand. "In flesh, bone, and back pain. Yes, it seems so." The guards immediately knelt. Namien winced. "That's really not necessary..." "You are the Fire-Bringer of the Inner Circle, the great arch-mage of Elarion. You disappeared during the collapse; we thought you were dead," one of the guards said in awe. "Right, and in all the ways that matter," Namien muttered. He placed a hand on the guard's shoulder. "Please... don't bow. I did not come as a member of the inner circle. I came as... myself. So, could you please stand?" The guard rose slowly. "As you wish, Lord Solis." The guards shouted to open the way and announce that a party had arrived under the guidance of Lord Namien Solis to see King Aetheryn.

  The heavy castle gates swung open, revealing a courtyard of white stone illuminated by floating spheres of pale light. Sora's eyes scanned every corridor and tower, his instincts sharp. Kaelith walked beside him, her fingers occasionally touching her bowstring out of habit. Vael walked with the straight back of a royal knight, though his gaze remained wary. Namien led them unhesitatingly up the marble path towards the king. "Do they know you're coming, Namien?" Kaelith asked softly. "No. And that's why they'll listen to us," Namien said casually.

  They reached a set of towering doors carved from obsidian and moon oak. Another set of guards waited, the doors already open. Inside stood the throne of Elarion's ruler. He wore no crown, only a high-collared, deep blue tunic with the twin lion crest. The king had pale grey hair and eyes as sharp as cut glass. His gaze fell on Namien for a long moment. "Namien. You've brought friends to my kingdom," King Aetheryn said, his voice like calmly flowing water. Namien stepped forward and bowed. "No. I've brought an answer you may have been searching for, and perhaps a question you are still asking. But most of all... the truth will always be revealed, Your Majesty." King Aetheryn tilted his head. "Then come, you who are bound by fire, and bring your friends to burn away the silence between us." The doors began to close slowly behind them, and their conversation with the ruler of Elarion... had begun.