“I found a place where I was welcomed as a stranger, yet treated as a friend — and I fell in love with such a haven.”

  Several days had passed. I finally felt strong enough to leave my bed and explore. What I saw left me speechless.

  The 'simple abode' Beltrom had mentioned was anything but simple. It was a massive castle. Anvil's Throne they call it—an ancestral home carved from stone and art.

  My chambers lay in the eastern wing of the second floor, where the chill of the stone walls was softened by the view beyond my window. Below stretched a narrow garden, its edges hemmed in by neat hedges and its center marked by a long reflecting pool, the water still and pale in the morning light.

  The pool ran straight toward the courtyard at the castle’s heart, where it met another coming in from the west. Together, they crossed at the center before spilling gently into a circular basin paved in stone.

  At the middle of that courtyard rose a towering statue — weathered by wind and rain, its shadow stretching across the cobbles. The figure stood with both hands resting on the pommel of a massive hammer, its head lost in the stone at its feet.

  I didn’t know who it was meant to be, but its presence seemed to watch everything that passed through the gates.

  Outside, the town was alive with preparations for a festival of some kind. I had a chance meeting with Beltrom on his way to his chambers and seized the chance to ask about it.

  “Hm? The local festival?” he said, scratching his beard. “It’s a thanksgiving celebration for a bountiful harvest, a tradition going back generations — long before I took charge of Fort Ironhill"

  "The Evespire Festival, it's called" he added, "It signaled the end of the harvest season and the start of the Hunt"

  He paused, his voice softening with nostalgia. “I look forward to this year's celebration and the Fire show that culminates the festival”

  "Fire...show?" I clarified, the words being foreign to me.

  "It's a display for Lightworks, ingenious inventions of our craftsmen. They would shoot them up, as they explode across the skies, painting the night with hues of numerous colors. Their streaks, a work of art... truly a magnificent sight"

  Stopping in front of a wide wooden door, he turned to me, “If you'd like you could see for yourself" he placed his hand on my shoulder, "I could ask some guards to escort you to the Townsquare, if you'd like"

  I took a step back, hesitant — grateful but somehow guilty of everything he has already done for me.

  "I'm sorry... sir," "But that's not... it's not necessary"

  He laughed, pulling his hand back "You are being too modest, Vincent. But fair enough, if you have more questions just look for Ivy, I am sure she'll be happy to accompany you"

  His shadow fading into the gaps of his door as it closed behind him.

  Curious, I decided to explore the town myself, hoping I can get a glimpse of how these Lightworks are being made.

  Deciding to head toward the Townsquare, I began my journey.

  As I stepped down the carved, arcing stairs outside the long-tabled hall of the throne room, my eyes caught the statue’s silhouette in the courtyard below. Its shadow stretched toward me, swallowing the light at my feet — and suddenly, a memory surged.

  The faceless horseman from my dream, the wailing of the dying, the clash of steel biting through air and bone.

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  Then, as quickly as it came, the ringing of the western watchtower’s bell cut through the vision, snapping me back to the present. I stood still for a moment, my breath unsteady, before forcing myself to move.

  The bell’s echo still clung to my ears as I reached the base of the steps. The courtyard air felt colder now, though the sun had not shifted.

  From where I stood, I looked back to see the path leading up to the great doors of the keep, every stone worn smooth by centuries of steps

  I hesitated, glancing from the main gate to the side paths that curled deeper into the fortress.

  Somewhere beyond these walls lay the Townsquare.

  Maybe answers.

  Noises of thoughts I made to drown out the memory that had gripped me moments before.

  I chose a path at random, taking turn after turn— promising an exit, delivering yet another wall. It was clear that I was navigating a fortress designed to keep people out— trapping me in.

  By the fifth wrong turn, I was certain the walls were moving just to spite me.

  Giving up on pride, I muttered, “Maybe I should've taken the king up on his offer” But stubbornness got the better of me, and I tried one last route.

  Yet another wall.

  After what felt like hours, I finally stumbled onto a busy street — likely the main road judging by the crowd.

  “Finally. Freedom,” I breathed.

  A man stood by a small tent nearby. He looked… shady. But I was desperate.

  “Uh, excuse me, sir? I think I’m lost.”

  “Lost, are you?” His voice was rough and craggy. “What do you want?”

  “I’m trying to find the Anvil’s Throne.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The castle? That’s where you’re headed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He chuckled. “Going to tell the king some good news, eh?”

  “No, I live there. I just got lost.”

  “Live there?” His eyes widened. “Then you're a prince!?" he panicked, "Forgive me, Your Highness!”

  Before I could correct him, he dropped to his knees, bowing loudly. The crowd nearby froze and stared.

  “I’m so in trouble,” I muttered.

  Guards soon appeared.

  “What’s happening here?” one asked, scanning the scene.

  One leaned in, squinting at me. “Wait… aren’t you the boy we found in the forest?”

  I froze.

  “Yes,” I said slowly. “That was me.”

  Before I knew it, I was being escorted back to Anvil’s Throne on horseback, followed by confused nobles, curious townsfolk, and amused guards.

  At the wide staircase leading to the keep, Ivory stood waiting, dressed simply in white, her hair catching the golden light of sunset. She smiled when she saw me.

  I dismounted and approached.

  “I heard about Townsquare,” she said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That caused quite a stir.”

  “Forgive me, Princess, i did not mean to cause any trouble” I admitted, sighing. “I was merely trying to find some semblance of purpose.”

  She shifted, settling on the edge of a step, poised and calm. “No need to apologize Vincent.” she gestured a finger, "and more thing, stop calling me Princess, Ivy will do"

  An awkward feeling caught my lips, "As you wish, Princ— I mean... Ivy"

  She sat down at edge of the stairs gesturing me to sit beside her. I complied, keeping some distance.

  “I didn’t mean to go there,” I confessed. “I got lost, trying to clear my mind.”

  “At the very least, you did manage to find your way back,” she said quietly, gazing toward the horizon.

  I looked where she did, the sky painted with orange and gold.

  “I envy you, Vincent,” her tone somewhat melancholic. "In losing your past… you were given something I’ve never had"

  "What do you mean Princ..." I fumbled still trying to get use to calling her by name "...Ivy?"

  She smiled with happier tone almost sarcastic, "Freedom to start a new"

  I didn't understand it, the riddles she spoke that somehow felt heavy. I stayed quiet, unable to muster the words to reply.

  "I cannot explain it but somehow I feel safe around you" her words landing with certainty, "A feeling I haven't felt since my father died"

  "King Beltrom's... brother?" a delicate tone, trying to steady my voice

  She nodded her lips curved to smile, but her eyes wavered as though stopping a flood from emerging, "He died... doing what he believed was right for the Hill."

  I did not press, I just listened.

  "After he... died, I lost all trust to the sense of duty, seeing it only as way to mask selfishness with honor" her voice fluttering with a hint of rage.

  "When he died, nobles celebrated him as a hero" she paused " but I knew the truth too well. How thrilled they were to see an opportunity to rise up"

  "A fortunate misfortune" she added, her tone dismissive.

  I felt certain to speak, even if the words I could muster were all but uncertain "Perhaps, if not all, some misfortunes could lead to a fortunate event..."

  "...like in my case, I... I did get lost and made a fool of myself, a royal escort of embarrassment. But it did lead to something quite fortunate...

  Her gaze shifted, her eyes flikered— of joy perhaps, "and what fortunate event could that be Vincent?"

  Hesitant somewhat nervous I uttered, "I felt ...unalone. In the company of a..." I swallowed, "... a friend"

  For a moment, neither of us spoke.

  Ivy’s dark hair shimmered in the fading sunlight. Her eyes glinted faintly as she watched the hues of the setting sun, her lips whispered a faint sign of approval— or so I hope.

  And deep down I felt something — familiar, but undefined — like recalling a forgotten dream.

  Not love. Not yet.

  But something was... something is.... beginning.