A loud clang sent more ringing in Kennen's ears. His eyes flew open. Through the haze, the people around them somehow doubled in number. Was he seeing things now? Dalan's face, albeit a little murky, floated somewhere above him. Alive. Relief washed over Kennen's system.

Then again, what happened?

Kennen squinted, squirming against the hold of whatever was flushed into his limbs. A single sword flashed in the moonslight. Strangely, it was familiar. Could it be...?

"You, what's wrong with the little Chief?" a stern voice asked. The timber as well as the pointed inflection sounded so close to someone at the back of Kennen's head. Feminine. Firm. Who was it?

Dalan's confused voice bled in Kennen's ears next. "Who?" he asked. Kennen grunted to help his friend make sense of whoever came to their rescue. "Oh, him," Dalan's reply came next. "Um, the poachers hit his leg with a blade stained with a considerable amount of naxtrace."

A pause. All around them, the sound of swords clashing and grunting could be heard. Kennen wrestled with his own limbs for control. He succeeded in turning his body so that he leaned on his side against the ground. It gave him a perfect view of what's going on.

Russet Guards had come to their aid. Their uniform was something Kennen had seen multiple times from the brownies visiting the Ice Capital. Then again, brownies weren't known to drive people back with their swords and pinning enemies to a tree. They weren't known to wear masks to cover their faces either.

Realization zipped into Kennen. Ice sprites. They're ice sprites disguised as Russets. That meant—

"Stop!" the word tore off his lips before he could think of what he was implying. It was even a miracle he was still able to speak despite how heavy his head was and how tight his throat had become. "Don't hurt anyone. Please."

"Kennen, what are you saying?" the stern voice asked once again. He steadied his breathing and squinted. General Lega's face tumbled into view. Of course, it's her. "Half-blood, what's naxtrace and what's going to happen to him?"

"Don't hurt anyone, General," Kennen groaned as he pushed himself up. His arm supported most of his form's weight. Despite the pounding in his head, he forced himself to speak. "Do you have them contained?"

Footsteps scratched against the ground and another feminine voice spoke. "You're in no position to worry about that, Crown Prince," she said. It could only be General Draswist, the other woman in the Grand Marshal's council. Wasn't she supposed to be somewhere in Cardina? That's what the records in the Grand Marshal archive told him.

Knowing the Ice Capital had sent two Generals for one mission told Kennen how serious his disappearance was. He'd have a lot to clean up when he returned.

"Here me out, Generals," he said. Someone supported his shoulders. It could be Dalan but Kennen was too tired to even fight against it. "We don't have to kill them. We can use them to spy for us, to tell us what's going on around the island. That way, we wouldn't have to send one of our own every time."

General Lega scoffed. "You forget they attacked you. How can we be sure they wouldn't turn their backs on us?"

"We won't!" a strangled cry rang from one of the poachers. He was later silenced by a sword pressed deeper into his throat, not enough to kill but enough to draw blood.

Kennen coughed. The shivers started from his legs and began climbing up his arms. What in Pidmena's name was in that potion? "T-that's when we kill them," he said. "Let's give them a chance for now. It's better than resorting to violence the first time."

"And don't kill Dalan," Kennen noted how his tone was so close to begging. "He'll explain everything I said to him. Please don't kill him. Don't kill anyone because of me."

The last word barely left his mouth before his vision darkened and he felt his body going limp. Cries of alarm jumbled in low tones in his ears. Dalan was shouting about the effects of naxtrace. It was replaced by a loud blaring.

As his consciousness slipped, Kennen was sure his friend said something about him dying. How fun.

2404 Rab 31, Briss

A groan tore off Kennen's lips as his eyes slowly opened, revealing the familiar blue ceiling. He was...back home. His temples pounded as soon as he tried sitting up, leading to him clutching his head. His breaths came up short and labored. How long was he lying here? Why was it so bright?

"You're awake, I see," the voice of someone who shouldn't be in the Ice Capital said. Kennen whirled to find Dalan beside him, smiling. The first thought that popped in Kennen's head was about the half-blood having shaved his beard off and trimmed his hair. Now, he looked like a completely different person having the same smile as his friend. "You shouldn't be sitting up after taking up that much naxtrace as you did."

"That's not my fault," Kennen massaged the side of his head. "What happened? How did I end up here?"

Dalan scratched his chin. His wince told Kennen he still wasn't used to the absence of his facial hair. "After you passed out, the Generals captured the poachers and brought them down here to be tried," he said. "I had to carry you to this place called the Infirmary and neutralize the naxtrace before it gripped your heart and forced it to stop beating. It was a close call."

"Is that why I feel like I'm run-over by a pack of dagrinis?" Kennen didn't even try to move his arms. It's going to be sore. "What happened to the poachers?"

Dalan turned to the bedside table carved from ice and began fiddling with some of the vials scattered atop it. Traces of a sickly green liquid shone inside some of them and bunched up in isolated droplets on the table's surface. "The Grand Marshal decided to adopt your plan," he said. "They will be heavily monitored when they are being sent out into missions. You're right about the ice sprites being short on labor force when it comes to spying. The poachers have been cooperative so far."

Kennen gripped the hem of the blanket thrown over his legs. He still couldn't move or even feel them. "And you?" he asked. "How come you're still here and not killed on sight?"

"I guess the Grand Marshal felt indebted when I saved you," Dalan said. "She told me to keep working here."

Relief flooded Kennen's veins. "That's good, then," he massaged his chest which still felt sore. "I wouldn't want you to go out there on your own again."

Dalan ducked his head. "I have to thank you properly for that, Crown Prince," he said.

Kennen's throat closed up. "About that—"

"It's fine," Dalan interjected before Kennen could apologize about keeping things from his friend. "I understand why you did it and why it was necessary. We all have secrets to keep, Kennen, and I respect your decision with what you've decided to tell me."

Kennen returned Dalan's smile. Let him hope it wasn't similar to a grimace. "Welcome home, Dalan," he said. "I look forward to keeping our home safe with you."

Dalan nodded. That's when another set of footsteps rang behind his friend. The Grand Marshal appeared not a few minutes later. Kennen's eyes widened. "Grand Marshal—"

He wasn't able to finish because her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "This would have been the perfect time to call me your mother," she said, worry and relief evident in her tone. Her hand stroked his hair. When she pulled away, she pinched his cheek. "Don't you dare pull that trick on us again."

Kennen found the patterns in his white blanket interesting. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to put the capital in jeopardy. It won't happen again. I just wanted to find out what happened to Merko. I shouldn't have snuck into the archive and out of the capital."

"Never mind that," the Grand Marshal's tone was flat and final. "You put yourself in more danger than you did the capital. We almost lost you."

A lump grew in Kennen's throat as the reality of what happened to him over the past month rushed back to his mind. He had been captured, sold, stabbed, and fired on with spells. "I'm sorry for making you worry," he said. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Dalan did a good thing detailing for us how black markets operate in Umazure," the Grand Marshal said, blinking back tears in her own eyes. "It would help us greatly to track down merko and every one of our foragers who have gone missing. I've already put our spies to work."

Kennen pursed his lips. So, in the end, he wasn't able to find his friend. Would they even find everyone ?

"As for your access to the Hall of Symbols," the Grand Marshal continued, earning Kennen's attention back to her face. "The Chieftain and I decided to let you be in charge of it."

A gasp filtered out. "But Mom," he reasoned. "I'm not a good candidate for that. Look at how I almost ruined the thing our ancestors worked so hard for. Whatever secrets the Hall of Symbols contain, I will not be able to protect it."

He froze when the Grand Marshal placed a kiss atop his scalp. Dalan hid his snicker when heat rushed into Kennen's face. "Do you know what sets you apart from everyone?" she said. "You have an insatiable curiosity and you're able to act on it. I'm sure if there's anyone who could solve the mysteries of the Hall of Symbols, it's you."

Kennen didn't put up a fight. How could he? He got everything he wanted in the end. Lydin's going to blow her top when she heard of Kennen having the access they had wagered on. Gods, even that instance sounded so long ago.

As soon as he could walk without feeling like he would topple over, he went down to the famed Hall of Symbols and entered. It was a whole floor of nothing but display cases made of sheets of glass-like ice. The lights were scant, adding to the allure of the whole floor. His mother's words echoed in his head. If there was anyone who could solve the mysteries, it's you.

It went to show even the ice sprites didn't have everything figured out, especially with how the world works and where they came from.

There were a lot of objects stuck into the wall as Kennen went deeper and deeper into the winding corridors. Most of them belonged to ages past the one they were in. Armor, weapons, even old coins bearing stamps from the old, forgotten kingdoms whizzed by Kennen's periphery. Were these the treasures Master Hornori was talking about? Were these the only remnants of the past world before their own?

Who knew?

Something glinted at the edge of his vision, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to a spot on the wall commanding his attention. With knitted eyebrows, he stepped closer to examine it. Behind the ice sat a crest. It was as large as a grown fairy's palm and featured symbols that didn't seem familiar. Why was Kennen drawn to this, anyway?

He reached out and pressed his fingers against the ice. Beneath his fingertips, inexplicable power pulsed from the other side. It told him to break through the ice and claim that power for his own.

Without his permission, his mouth whispered, "What are you?"

An answer resounded in his head, too distinct from his thoughts and too soft to be dismissed as the wind. I am the Warseeker, it said. And it is time I go home.