Chapter 61
The tavern was quiet, save for the faint creak of old wood and the distant murmur of drunken voices. Kara held the door open, her eyes scanning the corners of the room with a trained calm. Behind her, Morgana stepped in, her cloak still drawn over her face.
The tavern keeper glanced their way but said nothing. One look from Kara was enough to still any questions.
"This is where we part," Kara said softly, bowing low before Morgana.
The sorceress reached out, her cold fingers lifting Kara's chin. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the young woman's knuckles.
"Go, my child," Morgana whispered in a language long dead to the world.
Kara bowed her head, then turned and vanished into the night without another word.
Morgana stood in silence for a moment, then turned and moved deeper into the small rented chamber. She glanced around with mild curiosity. A single bed. A basin of cold water. A cracked mirror. Humble, but enough.
She stepped toward the bed, her lips curling in the faintest smile. From the folds of her cloak, she drew out a sealed parchment—an invitation bearing the seal of Aethelgar. She laid it on the table, her fingers brushing over it lightly before retrieving a small, carved piece of dark wood.
The shape was odd, the markings etched in symbols only a few in the realm would even dare study.
She whispered words in the same foreign tongue she'd spoken to Kara. The air seemed to tense. Then, she placed the wood gently on the center of the table.
Smoke curled upward, thick and dark, carrying with it the smell of burning cedar and something older… wilder. The smoke danced, swirling in unnatural rhythm, and from it emerged the shifting form of a face—his face.
The Great One.
"The plan is in motion," Morgana said, lowering herself to her knees before him.
The face rippled, eyes glowing faintly. "That is why I favour you most," he said, his voice like a thousand whispers layered atop one another.
Morgana smiled at the praise.
"I knew you would not make me regret saving you," the Great One continued.
"No, Great One," she replied softly, reverently. "Never."
Then, as swiftly as it had come, the smoke thinned and vanished into nothing. Silence returned.
Morgana rose slowly, pulling back her cloak at last. Her long silver hair spilled over her shoulders as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. With an absent mind, she began to undress, her thoughts no longer in the room.
She remembered the boy.
She hadn't seen his face—no, it was hidden behind shadows—but those eyes…
Golden.
Bright as fire, sharp as blades.
Something in her stirred. Something old.
She poured herself a drink, the liquid sloshing into the cup with a soft hiss. She drank slowly, then lay back on the bed, her eyes drifting shut.
But even as sleep crept upon her, she saw those eyes—burning gold in the dark.
And they followed her into her dreams.
---
The morning sun beat down on the knights' training ground, a golden warmth stretching over the dust and metal. Laughter and the clang of steel rang out in the distance, but Caven sat alone at the edge of the field, away from the others.
His sword lay untouched beside him, his gaze fixed on nothing. He wasn't really watching the drills or the sparring. His thoughts wandered elsewhere, looping back again and again to what he had seen the night before—what he had heard.
He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching until the sunlight over him dimmed slightly. He blinked, slowly lifting his head.
Elias stood over him.
For a heartbeat, neither of them said anything. Then Elias shifted his weight and asked, casually, "How are you doing?"
Caven didn't reply at first. He just stared—at Elias's face, the line of his jaw, the way his expression held no guilt, no hesitation, no regret. Just… politeness.
After a few more seconds, Caven stood, brushing the dirt from his tunic. Now face to face with him, he forced his voice to remain steady.
"I'm doing very well, Ser," he said simply.
Elias gave a stiff nod. "Alright. Have a nice day."
He turned and walked away, crossing behind Caven without looking back.
Caven didn't turn. Not immediately. He just stood there, frozen in place.
He had always known this day would come. From the start, he'd felt it—that Elias's heart had always belonged elsewhere. That Caven had only been a pause, a moment, a comfort while the prince was gone.
But still… it hurt.
The way he'd said it—Have a nice day—as though they'd been nothing.
Caven clenched his jaw, forcing the emotions down. He turned quickly, concealing his face, his steps carrying him away in the opposite direction.
Far away from the place where his heart had broken.
---
The palace was alive with movement—servants packing, guards sharpening blades, and horses being prepared for the long road to Aethelgar. The air buzzed with tension, a quiet hum of anticipation threading through the stone corridors.
Adam stood near the stables, watching the flurry of activity. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before turning toward the royal wing. There was something he needed to do.
He found Prince Alistair inside a chamber overlooking the courtyard, going over scrolls with one of the captains. When Alistair saw Adam step in, he waved the captain away and stood tall, his gaze steady.
Adam hesitated for only a second before saying, "I want to go —to Aethelgar. I want to be part of the group that leaves."
Alistair's expression didn't change immediately. He just studied him for a long, unreadable moment, arms crossed.
Then, with a quiet breath, he said, "Alissa told me about you two."
He stepped forward, the tension softening in his shoulders. He placed both hands gently on Adam's shoulders, steady and firm.
"Don't give up without a fight," Alistair said, voice low but sincere. "And protect her. No matter what happens."
Adam felt something knot in his throat, but he nodded and smiled. "I will. With everything I have."
Without a word, he reached forward and embraced Alistair.
Alistair returned the gesture, patting his back. "Then you'll officially be a brother of mine," he said with a small smirk.
Adam chuckled. "Even if I don't deserve her."
"No one does," Alistair said, and they both laughed.
Outside, the wind picked up, sweeping through the courtyard like an omen. The road to Aethelgar would be long and dangerous—but for now, they had each other. And for Adam, that was enough.