Kalen, Anthos, Ertai, and Galfrido, with little Drako, sat before the fire. The beams of starlight and moonlight filtered through the crowns of the tall pines, revealing a starry vault above them, while the sparks rose, contrasting against the night sky. Although Begryn had gone out hunting, the knight was heating water in his metal pot along with some herbs.

  “Where are you from, Ertai?” asked the paladin, without stopping stirring the brew.

  “I was born in Elbarie, but I left when I was very young. I passed through Ghoriak, Conea, and eventually reached Rek ‘Davyn, far north of Doknar.”

  “And how did you become a druid apprentice?”

  “Well, the truth is, one doesn’t choose to become a druid… At a certain point in my life, I received the Call of Eleyna, the goddess of nature. The Call may manifest in different ways. Some receive the visit of an animal, others see the message in dreams, others in water…” He paused briefly. “I received mine through fire, when I was still not even an adolescent. At the time of the Call, one of the Lords of the Forest appeared before me.”

  “Lords of the Forest?” asked Anthos.

  “The Lords of the Forest are a brotherhood of druids. It is the oldest and therefore the best known in Dorlan,” added Kalenn ‘Fal. “Arcalom is the hierophant of that brotherhood. Do you know him?”

  “Do I know Arcalom? Of course. Every druid, regardless of the brotherhood they belong to, knows the archdruid… or hierophant, as some call him.”

  “And the other brotherhoods?” asked Galfrido, now more interested in the story than in rocking the baby.

  “To the north, in Rimdail, are the Sons of Lumma, much more savage and rustic than the Lords of the Forest. And in Elbarie are the Priestesses of Amshur, also known as the ‘serpent women.’”

  “And why did you abandon the druids?” Kalen now handed him the pot, inviting him to drink. “It’s hot, be careful.”

  Ertai took a sip and then passed it to Anthos.

  “Honestly, druids have a way of life I was not willing to follow. The choice is personal. I realized that during my training. The preparation is not… ‘conventional,’ so to speak. One learns through meditations, sometimes guided and sometimes not, seeking a deeper communion with nature.”

  He brushed the black hair from his face, his blue eyes narrowing as he stared into the fire. His pale skin glowed with an orange shimmer.

  “The life of a druid is austere, solitary, and often monotonous. I left the Lords of the Forest on good terms. Many of the stories I learned from them inspired me to wander and discover the world. And what better profession than that of a treasure hunter to do so?”

  He smiled, revealing a neat row of white teeth.

  There were a few minutes of silence before he finally spoke again.

  “And what about the boy? There’s no point in trying to hide his nature anymore… Dragon Knights are a subject of study for druids and treasure hunters alike.”

  Kalen ‘Fal and Galfrido exchanged glances. Though Ertai did not inspire complete trust, he had not only aided them in battle but had also saved Galfrido from falling into the abyss. On top of that, he was alone in a rather inhospitable place. His story, which at first seemed inconsistent, had now filled in all the gaps of uncertainty. With Anthos, it had been much the same. And to make matters worse, he had already seen Drako’s true nature.

  “I see you are a very perceptive man, Ertai, and you’ve made a statement we can no longer deny,” Kalen finally said. “But no matter how friendly our dealings may be, all you may know is that our destination is the capital.”

  The druid shrugged, never taking his eyes off the fire, lost in thought. If he was interested in Drako, he didn’t show it in the slightest. In fact, despite his cordiality, there was an apathy in every movement he made.

  “I imagined you were headed for the Frozen City,” he said at last. “Why else would you be crossing that smugglers’ pass with winter approaching? In my case, it was pure greed and adventure, but… you? Now it all makes sense.”

  Perhaps Ertai hadn’t fully trusted them either at the beginning, even though they had saved him from a gruesome death.

  A few minutes later, Begryn returned empty-handed, her face pale.

  “I found nothing,” was all she said.

  Kalen and Galfrido exchanged glances. They knew that was impossible. If Begryn said she was going hunting, some creature was bound to return on her shoulders, without fail.

  Anthos rose, his back aching. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well. Drops of water, born from the melting snow, slid down the pine needles, catching the copper glow of dawn, while the birdsong foretold a good day ahead. The valley that followed the stream lay covered in snow, tinged with the soft pink hues of a sunlit morning.

  The fire was nearly spent, so he gathered a few branches and coaxed it back to life. He set water in the pot and added herbs for tea.

  A few minutes later, Begryn stirred awake.

  “For Mistilanya,” she murmured, stretching and glancing at Drako, who still slept soundly. “We don’t usually sleep this much… I mean, elves don’t.”

  “Then welcome to humanity,” the guide replied with a smile, stirring the tea with a wooden spoon. “It’s been a hard few days. We earned a rest like this.”

  “But we must keep moving,” she insisted, her usual relentlessness returning. “What comes next?”

  The Wanderer of Reidos, for his part, hadn’t managed a wink of sleep. The relaxation that followed the battle was a mistake. The osgor had only been a chance encounter, but there were far greater reasons to remain vigilant, and above all to make sure the child was safe. They had to prevent any kind of attack, especially from those most intent on seizing the draconic infant.

  “We’ll start heading north now,” Anthos declared. “The road should be calm, and by nightfall we’ll reach the small village of Rivero, on the banks of the Diamond River. There’s not much there, truth be told—an inn, a few farmhouses—but we’ll be able to resupply… somewhat. The crossing lies further east, near the village of Epsilia. By tomorrow, I expect we’ll be there, and we can spend the night in that town. It’s much larger—one of the largest in the region, in fact.”

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  With a pine twig, Anthos traced a rough map in the snow, marking their route. Kalen, feigning that he had just woken, stretched against the stump of a felled tree, greeted the early risers, and lowered his eyes to the makeshift chart. He didn’t want his companions worrying about his lack of rest.

  Anthos pulled the pot from the fire, blew across the surface, and took a sip. Warmth coursed through his body, and he closed his eyes to savor it. He passed the pot to Begryn, who drank as well, then almost at once began cutting food into small pieces for the baby.

  “He eats just like any child, doesn’t he?” Anthos asked.

  “He’s much more resilient,” she replied. “He absorbs food better, and he can eat nearly anything, even at only a few months old. I suppose that comes from the dragon’s appetite.”

  Both Kalen and Anthos looked at her in surprise. Lying there, sleeping like an angel, he doesn’t seem nearly as powerful or fearsome as what he’s destined to become, thought the knight. That is, if they succeeded in keeping him alive.

  “Good morning,” Galfrido said, stretching his massive arms toward the sky. Minutes later, he was already oiling his greatsword by the fire. Ertai rose around the same time. Anthos explained the route to them just as he had to Begryn.

  “In Epsilia, our paths will part,” Ertai added, sipping a bit of tea. “I’ll head east, to the warmer lands of Elbarie. A man like me has better chances there, in the land of lost cities and forgotten empires.”

  “A shame,” said Galfrido. “You’ve proven yourself a great help. We could use someone with your skills.”

  “I might still surprise you,” Ertai said with a laugh.

  After breakfast, they set out once more. Kalen seemed subdued. Normally, he was talkative, cheerful—one of those born optimists. But something weighed on him, gnawed at his spirit. Those dreams, prophetic or not, were tormenting him.

  The valley proved rough, marked with sudden slopes and scattered clusters of rock they had to scramble over from time to time. They were bundled warmly against the cold, yet soon the midday sun, glinting fiercely off the snow, left them sweltering beneath its glare.

  Ertai led the way, followed by Galfrido, Begryn with Drako, then Kalen, and finally Anthos, who carried Begryn’s packs—since they had agreed to take turns to ease the elf’s burden.

  Before long, they reached a sheer wall of rock, nearly ten meters high, which they would almost certainly have to climb. Anthos knew that skirting around it might cost them a day, maybe a day and a half—more time than they could afford.

  “Alright,” he said, addressing the group. “We can go around, but it will take at least a full day more. Or we can—”

  “No way,” Galfrido cut him off. “We climb. I’m not walking a single damn step more than I have to.”

  Begryn and Ertai nodded. Kalen said nothing, only lifted his gaze to the top.

  “Give me the rope,” Ertai said. “I’ll climb first and throw it down to you. That way it’ll be easier.”

  “The rope’s only five or six meters at best—it won’t reach the bottom,” Begryn pointed out.

  “Then we climb part of the way first, and use the rope afterward,” Kalen suggested.

  Everyone agreed. Ertai began the ascent with ease. As expected, he wasn’t especially strong, but his skill was remarkable. He moved with the grace and precision of a cat, quick and sure of every hold. At times, loose stones tumbled down, forcing the others to dodge to avoid being struck. They watched as he reached the top and immediately tossed down the rope.

  “Alright, you can climb now!” he shouted.

  Anthos went first. He scrambled up quickly and grabbed hold of the rope. With it, the climb became much easier. He hurried, though, driven by a nagging suspicion about Ertai. Everything seemed fine with the would-be druid and treasure hunter, yet something about him didn’t sit right.

  Galfrido followed, climbing without much difficulty. Begryn, however, struggled with Drako—even with the leather harness, the ascent was cumbersome. Kalen took up the rear, closing the line.

  “It’ll be faster and easier if we pass the packs along hand-to-hand—and the little one too,” Ertai called down, noticing the mounting difficulties. What had looked simple at first was proving trickier than expected, despite the wall’s modest height.

  They began handing up the bags and supplies—blankets, hides, herbs, legumes—and immediately found the climb far more manageable.

  “That’s it,” Ertai urged. “Careful now—it’s a long way down.” He steadied the rope, helping as best he could.

  Anthos reached the top, and Ertai gave him a hand up. The guide set about stacking the gear in order, arranging everything so their departure would be quicker once the rest joined them.

  At last, Begryn handed the baby to Galfrido, who strapped Drako across his shoulder with the harness and climbed faster. The burly warrior grasped the edge, stretching one arm upward. To pull himself over, he extended the child toward Ertai.

  The would-be druid took the boy into his arms to help.

  Or perhaps not.

  “Thank you,” the treasure hunter said as soon as he had the child, crouching down and leaning his face close to Galfrido’s. He spoke in a low whisper.

  “I told you… I might surprise you.”

  With a swift and precise motion, he stabbed the warrior in the side of the neck. Galfrido looked at him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Almost immediately, blood gushed forth, and losing his strength, he let go of the rope.

  “NOOOOO!” Begryn screamed as she realized what had just happened, while Galfrido’s body fell violently toward the ground. She had to drop herself to avoid being struck by the massive warrior.

  Without losing a second, Kalen released the rope and calculated his friend’s trajectory. Seeing him about to hit, he leapt powerfully and struck him from the side, absorbing part of the fall’s force to soften the impact. Both he and Galfrido tumbled to the ground.

  Anthos turned to see what had happened, but a blow to the head struck him so hard that the world went black.

  Ertai let go of the rock stained with the guide’s blood and bits of scalp, peered over the edge, and cast a fleeting, disdainful glance at the rest of the travelers. Taking advantage of the fact that Begryn was already below with Kalen and Galfrido, he threw down the rope to impede or complicate the climb.

  Galfrido’s eyes were wide open, and he kept spitting blood as he convulsed gradually. The elf tried to cover the wound on his neck with a piece of cloth, but it was a precise, deadly strike.

  “Quick!” Begryn shouted to the paladin. “My bag with the healing herbs!”

  “It’s still up there! Everything’s up there!” he shouted, pointing to the climbing wall. “He took Drako—the bastard took Drako!”

  “Where’s Anthos?”

  Kalen closed his eyes, controlling the anger rising within him.

  “Begryn, I’m going to save my friend… find a way to climb and get your herbs. If we’re lucky, Anthos is still alive…”

  Begryn pushed her despair aside and filled her veins with ice, as she did when preparing to hunt. She looked at the wild cliff face and, with a single leap, scaled several meters. With nothing to hinder her—not packs, not the child—it was no challenge to reach the top. Agility and dexterity were undoubtedly her greatest traits.

  Kalen placed his open palms just above the wound, which splattered blood in rhythm with the increasingly irregular beats of Galfrido’s heart. Galfrido′s chestnut eyes, still wide open, looked at Kalen as if to apologize for losing Drako. Even in that moment, his own life mattered less than the loss of the Dragon Knight.

  “Save your strength for after, my friend,” Kalen said calmly, in a measured tone. He needed to relax, to forget despair, cold, pain, and even Ertai’s betrayal. Now, more than ever, he had to be in communion with Leiorus to perform the laying on of hands.

  He whispered a prayer. A whitish light began to form in his palms, timid at first, like a firefly learning to control its glow. Within seconds, it grew until it was the size of a small orange, a miniature twilight sun. The orb of light divided into tiny iridescent streams that entered Galfrido’s neck wound.

  The warrior squeezed his eyes shut at first, then slowly relaxed. The wound closed almost completely, leaving behind a massive scar.

  Kalen fell backward, exhausted, and couldn’t hold back vomiting. Galfrido, on the other hand, remained unconscious. The wound had fully healed, but he had lost a significant amount of blood.

  will find Ertai again.