Chapter 1

  The door’s latch clicked, and sunlight rushed in. Myra and Kamir stood in the doorway. “River,” Myra said. “We thought Albert and Amalia might like this.” She extended a neatly wrapped bundle. Warm bread and sage wafted from it. The scent of home.

  Murmurs rolled through the crowd: wishes for safe travels, prayers for victory, promises of reunion. He had never planned for goodbyes, least of all here, but the warmth and the weight of every gift steadied him. He set a hand on Calira’s feathers. “Thank you,” he managed to say, even as the words struggled to form. Today they would take the old road. For once he let it in, the ache and comfort of belonging.

  It couldn’t last. He moved to his friends. Amalia and Albert stood amid villagers offering small gifts and quiet blessings. He paused beside them, unsure his voice would hold. Instead, he rested a hand on Albert’s shoulder, then on Amalia’s, a glance said enough. They felt the same knot: reluctance and the fear of what lay ahead.

  “Today we say goodbye to part of our family,” Kamir said, voice measured. “Maybe not by blood, but in heart.” His voice seemed to crack as the last words left his lips.

  Myra stepped in posture firm, voice clear in the hush. “We wish the three of you and your bonded safe travels. The path may not always be clear, but Sylas will light the way. Trust each other.” River’s throat tightened. Calira pressed her head into his neck. Gratitude and dread pressed in. These faces, these moments, would have to sustain him when the shadows came again. The crowd drifted past with final blessings. A baker pressed a still-warm roll into Amalia’s hand. “For the road,” she said, her smile saying the rest.

  The street emptied until only five remained. Lanterns guttered on sandstone as the pale edge of dawn lined the horizon. A bell split the morning: the patrol change. River tightened his pack. If he lingered, they’d pay.

  Kamir and Myra approached. Awe prickled. They had taught him so much, given him a home. Kamir clasped his hand. “Good luck. Take this.” He pressed a small green metal cube into River’s palm. The metal was cool to the touch, etched faintly with runes—wards the kind of rune that didn’t shield so much as whisper a warning. River didn’t know what it was, but the hum of essence said it was important. Questions stirred; he swallowed them, thanked Kamir, and slid it into his bag. Later.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Myra took his other hand, her expression softening. River began, “Thank you for everything,” but she spoke first. “We will miss you. This place has been your refuge. May Sylas guide your path.” Pride glinted in her eyes. River squeezed back, voice catching. “I wouldn’t be me without you.”

  He turned to Amalia and Albert and hoisted his bag. “Ready?” His voice sounded steadier than he felt. They nodded, shifted their packs. Together they stepped onto the cobbles, spices and warm earth hung in the air.

  At the outskirts, the training hall loomed: once lessons, now a measure of how far they’d come. He glanced back at the roofs. Mid-morning light set them aflame, a last bright farewell. He breathed in, gratitude and sorrow tight in his ribs, then fell in behind Amalia and Albert, the cube’s weight, and his new book burned at his back.

  With each step, they left more of Varosha behind. Mists pooled at the city’s edge.

  -

  The realm’s border pressed closer. Camp ran hotter than night. Firelight loosened tongues. Albert voiced the worry all of them carried. His stomach dropped. Callum’s smirk surfacing, unwelcome.

  She unclasped her necklace, revealing a pendant bearing her family crest. “We’ll find a Royal Guard and ask for my father. But we’ll wait until Norvil. Outside the walls, some would sooner kidnap us than hand us over.” River’s eyes widened. He’d never noticed the crest before. Thank Lady Luck. He traded a look with Albert. It was the best plan they had, and it carried its own risks.

  Morning. A few hours into the march, the fog burned off. Ahead, the Kingdom’s wall lifted from the earth: a monolith of cracked stone, mottled with moss and runes. A shiver ran through him. Sunlight flashed on the battlements; distant watchtowers kept vigil. He hitched his pack higher and fell in behind Amalia and Albert. Whatever waited beyond, they would meet it together.

  High above, guards paced, inked figures on the horizon. His pulse quickened: this was no mere boundary. But their first real test. “No repeats of last time.” River tightened his straps. “Stay on me.”

  Above, the patrol rhythm slipped: two guards switched a breath too soon.

  This time, they would get through. Unharmed.