"Watch above you!" Zoran shouted as the shadow of rocks plummeted from above.

A piece of the mountain came hurtling at Theodren, who managed to jolt just past its reach. Behind them, the trail collapsed as if in response to the mountain's voice.

"Sod off!" Theodren slipped, instinctively kicking the mountain wall to his side.

Zoran raised his hand, silencing Theodren. Theodren bumped into him, and Zoran gestured ahead.

"Look." Zoran pointed to a cave about five arms' length ahead.

"I can't recall that I'm blind," Theodren retorted, brushing off the rocks that clung to his armor.

As they stepped inside, the air turned damp and pungent, filling their nostrils with a musky smell. Just five steps further, Zoran pinched his nose while Theodren gagged.

"A delightful..." Theodren gagged again, "...scent."

Stepping further in, they were met with a morbid sight --- a dozen corpses - at least two weeks old, atop scattered bones. Zoran cut out a chunk from one of them, extracting the fat, wrapping it in cloth. He ignited the fat-coated torch by striking a spark from his sword against flint in his satchel.

The flickering flame illuminated their surroundings as they confronted the devouring darkness.

"That's how you lit torches all those years ago? Surely something less grotesque!" Theodren exclaimed, his voice laced with disgust.

Zoran turned to face him. "How many corpses have we met before?"

Theodren paused, counting. The flame's dim light seemed to fade into the distance.

"Wait!" Theodren rushed forward, his gaze darting to the musky-scented walls on the right and left, stained with white and green, and ever putrid.

The winds had quieted, leaving only the echo of their footsteps and their subtle breaths to comfort them.

Step after step, the torch's glow diminished as they plunged deeper into the cave when they caught sight of another light.

There in the pitch black shimmered a red rose with a golden hue, leaves as green as emeralds, and a stem as firm as bronze.

Unable to tear their eyes away, they felt a surge of childlike glee. Zoran handed the torch to Theodren as he walked towards the rose, carefully placing it in his baggage.

"Zoran..." Theodren whispered, eyes locked on the darkness ahead. "Look."

Zoran peered nonchalantly, but his eyes widened as the torch began to flicker.

A foul breeze crept down their necks, and in front of them were eyes with the glimmer of stars - a faded white shine that fueled the ember into a scorching flame.

"Barg!" Theodren shouted.

The rocks above them crumbled like sand. Their running had lured it closer until they were bathed in the light from outside once more.

The barg snarled, shielding its face from the light, stumbling backward towards the cave.

Its musky jagged skin, thick and well protected, coated its frame. Like a ram, two horns protruded from its forehead, while liquid dripped from its mouth like water mixed with honey. And the smell, oh, the smell, the reek of an onion cloaked corpse!

The barg swung its massive arm, a boulder of a fist, as if shrouded in darkness. Theodren and Zoran rolled out of its sight, scraping their armor against the walls.

"Oh, right, they're blind," Theodren cackled hysterically.

"Yes, so be quiet." Zoran whispered back, swiftly ducking and rolling in separate directions.

The beast extended its arm, its sharp claws prepared to strike, focusing its attention on Zoran as he struggled to regain his footing. Zoran's small frame crashed into the wall, leaving him nearly immobilized, with the torch rolling on the floor just inches from his reach.

"Get up!" Theodren shouted loud enough to divert the beast's attention, but to no avail.

"Fine then, I'll just have to take care of this myself," Theodren muttered with disgust, gripping a stone tightly in his hand.

He ran toward the barg, scaling its fat and smelly back until he reached its head, wrapping his legs around its neck. With all his might, he swung the stone --- a firm rock twice the width of a man's skull --- smashing it against the back of the barg's head. The beast roared in agony and frustration, collapsing under Theodren's weight, providing him with a surprisingly soft landing as he sat atop it.

He looked to his brother, seeing Zoran slowly rising to his feet, his balance slightly off.

"Praise greets none but me, atop the mount I stand! Where a strike of strength shall be, the beast fell true as sand!" Theodren clapped with excitement, his words resonating in a rhythmic chant.

Zoran smirked, shaking off dust and pebbles from his head and back. "How long have you waited to use that?"

"Three years!" Theodren stepped off the beast in an almost comical fashion, as if on a stage, a wide grin on his face.

Zoran's smirk faded as he noticed the beast stirring.

"With this much fat, you could make a fortune from your corpse torches," Theodren remarked, glancing at the corpses, but soon felt a stir beneath his feet...

Without a word, he jumped to Zoran, gripped his hand, and pulled them both with great speed towards the distant light --- but the barg was quick behind.

The cave rattled and roared; the shattering weight, the booming stomps, the fragile stalactites cracking and scrapping its thick flesh, but it would not stop. If one slipped for but a moment, it would have them.

The light grew near, but their breath was fading, choked by the cave air.

With one final swing, the two slipped through the crack at the entrance, mere inches away from a fatal swipe.

With expelled breaths, they turned behind to see the barg hiss at them, hand on its eyes, as it crackled into the dark again.

Laying on solid ground again, they stared at the chasm for quite some time, as though the cave's fumes swayed them into dreams and visions, or maybe it was the doubt they had that they were still alive.

As tempted as Theodren was to provide another quip, his breath denied more than a grumble. Instead, he dedicated himself to a rock, a rock he swore had the comfort of a palace bed.

"Alright, you oversized oaf, get up." Zoran said as he crawled on the gravel floor, placing a hand on Theodren's foot. "We've a mountain to climb."

With another grumble, Theodren slowly ascended and, without a word, dragged himself to the ledge again.

For how difficult a toll the cave had, the reunion with ground at the mountain's base was all too brief, with only an hour trek, if it could be believed. Surrounded by the scent and touch of shallow grass, Theodren began courting it, and soon after honoring it with a kiss, but before he could confess his love to it, Zoran returned with their horses in tow.
_______________________________________

As the evening filled the horizon, the two arrived through Marfield's gates, where moments after, they were banging on Haelen's door.

With just as much urgency, Haylan peered out, snatched the flower, and threw it in a boiling teapot. After a few minutes of stirring, he gathered beside their crippled patient, the tea cooling on a nearby table.

"This better be it," Haylan whispered, his voice laced with urgency as he looked to Carrion.

With a wooden spoon in a trembling hand, he provided a sip.

She remained still, her body as pale as the moment they brought her there.

"It's not working!" Theodren's voice rose in a violent panic, his eyes darting around the room.

Haylan quickly grabbed him from behind, nearly dislocating his shoulder.

Pushing Haylan aside, Theodren seized the pot, gripping her lower lip, and forcibly poured the molten liquid down her throat.

With a sudden jolt, her eyes widened, and she let out a piercing gurgle.

The room fell silent. Theodren stood there, disarrayed, as the others quickly gathered around her bedside, cautiously hopeful.

Haylan pushed through the crowd, gently pressing against her wound, but she displayed no reaction. With a sense of trepidation, he unwrapped the cloth, and as he did, his eyes widened in astonishment. The wound was gone, as if it had never been there...

Carrion took her into his arms, tears streaming down his face. Haylan placed the teapot on a nearby table and turned to see them all embracing her.

With a warm smile, he greeted their passage out of his home.
_______________________________________

"We must get their attention!" Theodren's voice boomed, cutting through the lively tavern as they gathered around a worn-out dining table.

Zoran, positioned in the dimly lit corner, scoffed. "But how? Our king won't help us. Do you expect another to just waltz in and give us what we want?"

Carrion, then drenched in sweat, pressed his cold hands against his wrinkle face, but still managed to grin. "Could try slamming another table."

"Don't encourage him." Valora sighed, wrinkles on her forehead, which should be impossible for an Eyru.

Theodren, noticeably disgruntled by the others bearing him no mind, slammed his fist on the table again, startling nearby patrons into a heavy silence.

Carrion was certain the beast had shattered its hand, and Zoran reluctantly peered up from his book, while Valora's brow furrowed.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you're right, but there must be something!" Theodren whined, cupping his reddened fist.

Carrion reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"My father -" Valora began but was halted by Theodren's ramblings.

In an instant, the room fell silent as a hand slammed against Theodren's face, branding a vibrant red mark.

Theodren recoiled, hand cupping his stinging cheek, and angled himself to retaliate.

Valora raised her hand again, prompting Theodren to bolt to the end of the table.

"Carrion," Valora sighed, her voice soft.

"Y-yes, m'lady?" Carrion stammered as he stepped back.

"You knew my father, didn't you?" Her voice calmed.

"A-Aran Sadorian?" He bent backward as she moved closer.

"The great steward of Arandoth? That Aran?" Zoran snuck in, full of eyes with wonder.

Theodren raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

"Unlike your king, whose reign's been built on pleasing nobles, ours is a figurehead who relies on fear. However, the true voice of the Eyru is my father, even in Lorlyn," Valora stated firmly.

Zoran stepped closer, his excitement peaking. "Are you suggesting we could rally the entire Eryuvian Isles?"

Valora shook her head. "No, but it's a start. If anyone would believe us, it'd be him."

Zoran swiftly hid his book, preparing his saddle to leave. "I like it! Let's be on our way, then!"

Theodren sighed. "So soon? We've only just begun! What if there's - "

"That's enough, Theodren. We're leaving," Carrion interrupted, packing his saddle as well.

Theodren huffed, paying for their table. "Fine. This better be worth it."
_______________________________________

Departing that day, they made their way to the southern coast. The trek was long and tedious, with cliff faces on both sides. As the evening descended on the third day, both the horses and riders were exhausted.

"Isn't the spirit being drained from our souls just divine?" Zoran yawned.

"My feet don't feel tired," Theodren yawned back, his voice playful. "Though I can't say the same for our horses. By now, their souls must be nonexistent."

Carrion gathered near them, also yawning. "Those are soles, Theodren."

"What?" Theodren paused, halting his horse.

Valora rode silently, her gaze fixed in all directions. Gripping her hand to her scabbard, her wide eyes and racing heartbeat grew stronger the further they neared the coast.

Theodren moved closer to her, his presence so immediate that it nearly dismounted her. "Unsettled...why?"

"At the moment, because you're too close." She went a few strides left, foot dragging on shrubbery.

Theodren sighed, prying again, "And before?"

"Can you not recall the path we took?" She spoke quickly, gripping her lead.

Theodren, then with a big smile, led his horse closer. "Of course! The Talith Rin, the gateway between our people... and might I add, your language is mesmerizing... 'Talith Rin'; it's such a beautiful name. What does it mean?"

"Man path," Valora answered, shoving his shoulder, then urged her steed past him.

Carrion, observing the interaction, gently tapped Theodren's arm. "Let her be. She means well."

"It's not you who needs to convince me." Theodren crossed his arms. "Why should I ignore it?"

They then jumped as a third voice chimed in.

"By remembering what happened last time." Zoran grinned, guiding his horse away, causing Theodren to cup his cheek with clenched teeth.
_______________________________________

As the day faded to evening, the gentle glow of candles illuminated the city of Sharanhone, home to the only Eyru settlement in Faulon. It was like starlight, a display ever peaceful and pure, which only made their lingering more dreadful.

The city stood protected within the embrace of towering walls, reminiscent of deep wounds carved into a canyon. Majestic rock formations proudly adorned its edges, encircling the city like a tomb. "Man path" led them through the only entrance, where a drawbridge was lowered, allowing them to cross through a throng of travelers and Eyru guardsmen.

Inside the city, clean and organized streets welcomed them. A myriad of scents from the realms south of the inner sea mingled in the air, enticing their senses. Curious travelers from Drakari, donned in puffy red and white robes adorned with golden lamellar plates, forcefully shoved past them.

Before disappearing amidst the crowd, a glance offered the rest: shimmering skin that mirrored their robes, reminiscent of a raging inferno intricately tamed by a touch of gold. Dark, lustrous hair was beautifully braided and crowned with jewels as they conversed in a melodic language laden with heavy words. In many ways, they were much like the Eyru --- hair locks shrouded in jewels.

However, it was the figures that stood beyond who truly captivated them --- swathed in even more extravagant robes, dyed in vibrant hues of purple, blue, and white. Golden helms adorned their heads, accompanied by an entourage of servants; branding them as wealthy merchants or nobles.

Theodren attempted to greet them, only to be halted by Carrion's firm grip on his chest, as he bore a warning, "If you value your life, don't believe you can greet whoever you meet."

Wooden latched doors guarded residences, each building resembling a polished work of art. White marbled walls and pillars acted as canvases for intricate paintings. Among the depictions, creatures from distant lands emerged --- giant serpents with spiked heads, hairless beasts with protruding horns by their jaws, and wyverns with feathers like birds.

Lanterns illuminated the skies, while Eyru guards clad in dragon scale patrolled above. However, there was an eerie absence of horse dung, piss on the walls, and street urchins picking their pockets. It was... unnatural.

As they ventured closer to the port, the salty air mixed with the sound of birds chirping and the crashing waves against the city sea wall. Docks stretched out before them, offering glimpses of the city's shoreline. The ships docked there differed from those in Lorlyn. With slender bodies, sharp bows and sterns reminiscent of dragon hide, and their sails laden with elegant sheets of fabric --- rich in paint.

Valora stretched out a hand to a nearby sailor who had dozed off at his post, but Theodren intervened, pushing her aside. The sailor's eyes flew open, and a shrill screech escaped their lips in a thick Eyru accent, akin to a feeble aristocrat child. Valora sighed, fingers on her brow.

Once the commotion subsided, Valora approached the startled sailor, bowing her head and placing her hands behind her back in an Eyru greeting. The sailor, studying the group, stepped back, reluctantly mirroring the gesture, and preceded to converse with her.

She promptly settled the ferry fee, and the sailor led them to the portside where a large group had gathered to embark. As the boat set sail, they stepped aboard: a two day voyage to Arandoth.
_______________________________________

A day and night had passed, with evening shadowed by a great city. The sun warmly graced the pale walls, like the tips of mountains. The passengers stared in awe --- a crowd of many merchants and nobles from Lorlyn and afar. Valora, however, remained silent. Rather than facing the shimmer, she peered down to the deck, embracing the cool breeze of the sea.

A thud shook the ship: they had docked. The captain, leading passengers to the deck, ordered that separate lines be made. As large as the crowd was, the formation was swift.

"Weren't there forty seven at our embark?" Zoran asked, looking to Carrion, as Theodren began counting the line.

"Fifty two." Valora stepped in, eyes focused at the end of the dock; to the Eyru guards.

"So ten are missing?" Theodren concluded, scratching his scruffy beard.

"Twelve if you keep talking." She added, stepping on his foot, then looked to the others, who nodded back.

Moments later, they were at the front, and there stood seven Eyru guards adorned in dragon hide, with helms shrouding their faces, and revealed only slits. Some bore long spears, and others with crossbows.. but without a bow. Instead, there was a metal rod lining a shaft.

"Stand at face, human." One said, forcing Zoran to look up. "Why are you here?"

"To speak to your steward." Theodren answered nonchalantly, leading to the guards gripping their weapons.

"Renyr, does the name 'steward' sound familiar?" One asked in a gruff voice, turning to another.

"I don't believe it does, captain." Replied Renyr, while the others pointed spears at Theodren.

Valora swiftly bowed, removing her helm, and granted an Eyru greeting. "Your scorn is fair, arms of King Malikyr. I am Valora Sadorian, and this is my company."

The guards stepped back, staring at each other with knowing looks.

"Let them through." Said the captain, stepping aside.

The gate was opened, and without a moment to speak, they were pushed through the door, graced by a wondrous view.
_______________________________________

In the heart of Arandoth stood magnificent sanctuaries of marble stretched to the heavens; shapes far more intricate the deeper they went. Like titan fingers, colossal pillars and arches twined above, while staircases unfolded like the petals of a flower, leading to countless rooms.

The streets themselves were a marvel of precision. Bricks perfectly aligned and interspersed with vibrant, exotic trees --- some known, some as far as Drakari's coasts.

There was a rush of water lingering beneath the stone, and soaring above were aqueducts flowing down hill to cisterns and water wheels.

Yet, that grandeur stood in contrast to the silence of the portside. The eerie stillness drew the group to huddle closer, their queries to Valora about their destination falling short upon seeing her tense. The bustling markets and laughter had become distant, and in its absence, Valora's demeanor echoed with emptiness: shoulders rigid, breath shallow.

Carrion gently placed a hand on her back, his gesture slight but assuring. She seemed to teeter on the brink of some invisible chasm, but his touch was the tether that kept her with them.

"It'll only be a day. You have my word," Carrion assured her, a comforting smile briefly lightening the atmosphere.

Valora nodded, then whispered "this way".

As they wove through the city, they found themselves lost among local folk, entering an area that blurred the lines between a tavern and a royal banquet hall. Nobility - an assortment as colorful as the city - mingled and dined on fare that would make deities envy.

"If this is your home, why did you leave?" Theodren asked, bending to meet Valora's gaze with an encouraging smile.

Without a word, she strolled away, her silhouette blending into cooling air as she embarked towards a distant garden.

Watching her departure, Theodren asked with concern, "What's her problem?"

Carrion, his back against a nearby tree, exhaled deeply. "Your loss had occurred ages ago, now able to appreciate their memory. Her loss is different - it stands before her, demanding attention."

"Meaning?" Theodren joined his side, both leaning against a tree.

"What do you know of the Aldrich beast?" Carrion sighed, expecting the worst.

Theodren paused, hand on his chin.

"Well, I know it once guided humans through vast wilderness.. but some humans grew bold, deeming themselves worthy to trek alone."

"And what became of them?" Carrion asked.

"...They died?" Theodren questioned, and Carrion smiled with a nod.

"The Eyru claim Aran is that beast." Carrion pointed to the city. "And he is... starting to believe it."

Theodren remained silent, enthralled by his words.

"This farce only grew when Lorlyn fell to civil war. Her mother ventured north, beckoned by dreams to help the humans.. and then she was killed for it." Carrion began, pondering his next words. "Ever since, he's stopped at nothing to ensure she remains here, trapped from the world, but forever longing to it."

"So she ran away?" Theodren asked, peering to the distant garden.

Carrion nodded, pointing to his chest. "And found me, for what care I can manage."

"The allure of a life designed by another," Zoran chimed in, quoting a text, "is a gilded cage for the soul."

"Then what can we do? She brought us here. The least she can do is guide us." Theodren nudged Carrion. "Why not talk to her?"

"I must admit, your logic is sound," Carrion replied with a wry smile, "but I've grown rather fond of my tongue. Be a shame to lose it."

Theodren growled, stomping his feet. "Is no one else bothered that this is life or death? Fine! I'll talk to her."

Theodren stood up, marching his way to the distant garden, which was then shrouded by an early moon.

"Why did you coax him like that? You know what she'll do." Zoran approached, gazing to Theodren's silhouette by then surrounded in nightly fog.

"For a brother, you trust him far less than you should." Carrion patted Zoran's shoulder. "We'll meet Aran before the morrow. That much is certain."
_______________________________________

Trekking alone, Theodren found himself surrounded by the ever consuming night. The unfamiliar streets were empty, dimly illuminated by the moon, leaving a hint of light from a lantern, his only clarity. As such, it's no surprise he crashed into a garden hedge.

"Blast!" He cursed, hand on his cheek, but glanced to the hint of an angel beyond the hedge.

There before him stood a face; cold as autumn night, smooth as a babe, but longing a fire's touch. Upon the head were strands like blackened silk. Once braided in elaborate fabrics, it was stretched well beneath their shoulders.

He peered closer, careful not to stumble, as he stretched the thin veil of leaves.

They had eyes that beckoned with the sea's hue, and by all accounts, they shimmered in a moon's glow. A set of garments rested against a fountain. A helm, suit, and weaponry: revealing a slim physique in a modest array of linen. Shrouded by a wall of leaves, the figure pondered to the heavens, clutching a toy doll. It was Valora.

"I waited for you here, all night I waited, hoping you'd find me." Valora stood still, locked to the sky. "And when you did, I would wrap my arms around you, believing that if I begged long enough, you would stay."

She sat down by an empty fountain, holding up the doll and petting its hair. "I waited... and I've forgotten how you felt. The warmth of your hand, the soothe of your voice, the safety of your arms."

She had begun to shake, nearly crushing the doll, and struggled to stand. "I want to believe you'll return."

Whether it be his weight, her appearance; words, or dignity --- he unveiled the leaves, revealing himself to her.

A moment past, with her eyes locked to his, before she knew what stood before her, enough time for him to attempt an Eyru bow, stiff as it was, and for her to warrant a question.

"Were you... watching me?" She stepped back, tucking the doll behind her.

Theodren also stepped back, with only enough courage to muster "I".

She took a quiet breath. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now... are we... leaving?"

"I can't quite say." He muttered. "But I... I'm sorry."

Her eyes widened for a moment, looking to her side, "You... couldn't had known."

Stepping closer, he crouched beside her. "May I sit with you?"

With a long pause, she nodded, moving aside for him to sit, with her gaze entranced by the sky again. He attempted the same at first, but couldn't help a glance at her.

Moments past, and soon a million stars shimmered above. "I'm also sorry." Valora whispered, placing a cold hand on Theodren's palm, and another with a doll she held by her side. "These are my burdens, yet you've endured them as your own... and I'm afraid that -"

"...Afraid that?" Theodren looked up from his hand.

"That I won't be able to stop it, to stop you... from knowing me." She looked into his eyes, dark by night, but full of something... more.

Before he could ask what she meant, she placed the doll in his hand. "Take this to him, and he will listen."

Standing up, she nudged him to return to the group, leaving a soft voice to accompany a smile. "Good luck."

Much to his uncertainty, he smiled back with a nod and went on his way to the others.
______________________________________

Returning to the group, bearing not a word, the two were puzzled as to what to ask until Zoran mustered, "Do you still have your tongue?"

Theodren nodded, mouth sealed.

"Speak, then." Zoran stepped closer, gripping his arms.

"It will be done without her." Theodren finally admitted, gathering his things to depart to Aran's estate.

Zoran then looked to Carrion for support, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Just leave her be. Can you do that?" Theodren demanded as he turned back, already three strides ahead.

With a pause, Zoran smiled --- as did Carrion, quick to follow him.
______________________________________
_

The road outside the city was empty, with only a lantern to capture the road. It was a short trek...that took an hour.

Approaching another light's clicker, there appeared a large wall in the distance. Stepping closer, there were polished walls of marble and tiles of a royal hue --- drowned with symbols. Some were familiar, while others were foreign. It stood above a cliff face, like a steep hill covered in rocks. There was only one way up; a stairway carved out of the rock itself.

Footsteps gathered from above and revealed were five guards, armed in Paldaron mail and spears, forming a barrier of sharp tips mere inches from their faces.

"What brings ye to the Sadorian Estate? Shant be any peasants in need of work 'round here," one of the guards asked, all eyes locked with malice.

Zoran's eyebrows widened, looking down to Theodren behind him. "A human? In this realm?" He thought.

To Zoran's shock, for what little light revealed, they were all human.

"Well?" The man stepped close, prodding with his foot.

"We've come to offer a message -" Zoran was cut off by the clink of a gauntlet.

"Not you. Tall gray one in the back. What say you?" They pointed.

Carrion reluctantly approached. "As he said, sir, we're here to give a message." He handed a waiver. "This, sir."

The guard squinted. Seeing that it lacked a king's seal, they spat on it, crumbled, then tossed it over the ledge.

Theodren clenched his fist, glaring, while the others stood still and wide-eyed.

"And you expect to enter with that?" Asked their leader, ordering them to arms, spears pressed closer. "You're bold for a fool."

As tensions peaked, Zoran stepped further down, the others quick to grip their blades, when the door ahead had opened.

"Fair meeting, master." The guards spoke in unison with a bow, crouching to the side.

"You stand on my doorstep." The figure spoke with authority, silencing all sounds, yet offered a strange tenderness. "By who's name were you summoned?"

Before them stood an Eyru man, wrapped by the same silky brown hair as Valora, though much shorter and well kept. However, their clothing was far more sophisticated. Like Valora, they were gifted with fair looks: a thin button nose, sharp jaw, and eyes that shimmered blue as sapphire. Even their grin had class to it, believing itself worthy.

With a pause, they stared in silence, but before Zoran could explain what became of the waiver, the man glanced at Theodren's right pocket, and his expression changed: Valora's doll.

"You may enter." They spoke softly, signaling the guards down the steps.

"But sir!" The guard that crumbled the paper whined. "They're armed!"

"Take the night off, Yanrey. You've troubled enough." The host spoke softly, moving the doorstep aside, and ordered the guards down the hill.

As the group entered, they were met by a courtyard of marble, scattered with a lush garden. Flowers, small trees, fountains, and sculpture lined the courtyard like that of Lorlyn's citadel but far more generous.

With the snap of a finger, they were surrounded by a dozen servants, all offering aid.

Some, to wash their boots, others to store their supplies, but before any request could be made, a thick scent filled the room.

Like the comfort of a blanket from a night's chill, the room was consumed by warmth, and as it left --- a gentle sweetness. The color was red at first but grew darker as it approached, filled to the brim with jam from far away places, and wrapped neatly in a shroud of doe.

"You don't need to do this." Zoran tensed, much to the dismay of the others whom by then consumed three pastries.

"I must, for you've given me much to ponder." Aran strolled by a flower patch, hand on his chin, and the other behind his back. "But speak swiftly if you wish to skip pleasantries."

Zoran smiled, then attempted the same bow as Valora. Aran grinned.

"So, what brings you here?" Aran turned to them again by then gathering the group in his study, providing them all with well cushioned seats.

"It's Almar, sir." Carrion replied, taking in the artwork, warmth, and diligent servants around him.

"Almar...the old wives' tale about the dangers of hubris?" Aran raised a brow, hand on an ink pen. "Do you fear you've fallen down his path and now seek guidance?"

"There was an attack." Zoran stepped in, dimming the colors of the room. "Ashfield is gone."

Aran sat still, and with an ink pen in hand, jotted down their every word. "I was told that it fell to the remnants of rebels at the end of the -" Aran paused, looking up from the paper.

A moment passed by.

"Pardon that I intrude, but what end?" Zoran approached to ask from the back of his right side.

"The war." Aran stood still, turning away from them.

The silence had grown heavy, as if keeping them trapped in their chairs. Yet, they had to continue, and soon, their whole story was relayed to him.

With a final pause, Aran stood up, peering out the window, and then the doorway, leaving the room quiet for a while, until he finally spoke, "my child was among you, correct?" He looked back to them.

Aran walked close to Zoran, a determined look on his face, similar to one with concern. "Pardon that I intrude, but is she well?"

"Yes, but that's irrelevant, is it not?" Zoran replied slowly, moving a few steps back.

Theodren spent the bulk of the discussion looking at the food he was given, trying to figure out how he was supposed to eat it, but at that moment, he too was alert with attention.

"I shall give this information to the king." Aran opened the doorway for them to leave.

"Please know I do not speak ill, but I know it to be true." Aran paused, a voice with heavy persistence.

"Know what to be true, sir?" Zoran spoke with hesitation, moving a few steps down towards the stairs leading out of his estate.

Theodren was dragged by Carrion down the steps as well, as he was still distracted by the food.

"Valora is in that city." Aran pursued them: a few steps towards the entrance where they stood. "I could resolve this ordeal in moments if I'm permitted to see her."

"She loves you." Theodren quickly said, "but there is no offer you could give to sway her to see you."

The others followed Theodren in silence as they left; Zoran, torn between curiosity and fatigue, cast a lingering gaze at Aran before descending.

"Farewell," Zoran shouted with his hands cupped against his mouth, already at the bottom of the steps.

Aran simply raised his hand, the aura about him leaving more questions than answers, even as the door closed behind him.
______________________________

Walking through the night's trail back to Arandoth, surrounded by thick woodlands teaming with the sounds of life, Zoran gaped to speak.

"No need. I know his intent as well as you, and if he truly loves his daughter, he'd trust our every word." Theodren cut him off, hand on his brother's shoulder as they walked on, Carrion walking ahead of them with a lantern in hand. "Don't you worry."

Zoran sighed with mild aggression and gently removed his brother's hand from his shoulder.

"I hope you're right."

Theodren stopped in his tracks, took a breath, and continued on.

_____________________________

The next day, they awoke to find out that the steward had already given word to the king. Voices were heard in the distance, crying out about the horrible news.

"The kingdoms will fall!" A terrified Eyru lady said in the crowded streets, commotion gathering all around.

As others spread the message throughout the city and through the rest of the realm, word got out across the sea itself. From the Dragon Shores, to Lorlyn, to Paldaron, to even the cold peaks of Drakon. All found out about the news, and many panicked in fear, but others, such as warriors of the Dragons Guild in Drakon, only thought of it as a challenge that they were to accomplish. Derek, king of Lorlyn, the greatest ruler of them all, was ready to defeat Almar. It was already known to many of King Derek's unmatched renown in the battlefield.

Weeks continued on, preparations, organizing, and planning.

"All of these things must be accomplished to weaken Almar and defend our nations." King Derek said above the rest of the nations that took part in the council for the war ahead.

Theodren, Carrion, Zoran, and Valora all traveled west to Lorlyn.

The king welcomed them into his court. The plans were made, and the armies of every country involved were at the ready.

When night came, the armies camped in the forest, nearing the west borders of Lorlyn. The entire army, Theodren and the others included, pondered continuously over the events to come.

Would peace or a false deity stand to rule in the years to come? With nightfall and no orders at the time, all they could do was hope and pray, as the time grew closer and closer...to the war's great beginning....