Its metal claws chilled Astós' hands.

Smiling, the Dnophos resumed speaking, but she wasn't addressing him.

"Hey, you, skinny one, get lost. You don't interest me, and if you don't want me to tear you apart, I suggest you move your behind," she said.

Endiáthetos struggled to get up, cast one last pleading look at his brother, and left muttering, "I will build the empire you would have wanted to create, I promise, Astós..."

Sklerótes sighed excessively loudly and collapsed to the ground in a cloud of dust. Astós coughed. When he could finally open his eyes again, it wasn't a gigantic monster standing before him, but a young woman in her thirties. She was ugly, truly ugly, her skin stained black like soot. Her eyes remained the same, as blue, shiny, and terrifying as ever. She still had her teeth sharpened to points, and her nails must have measured five centimeters and were covered in grime. Astós concluded that despite this appearance, Sklerótes was still the same.

She stretched and began giving her first orders.

"All right, listen up, we're going to the lair. It's located in Oisticis. You'll have to go there on foot. And you're lucky I'm not leaving your sister with you."

The young prince's jaw almost dropped in surprise. He got angry:

"Is this a joke, I hope? Oisticis? But that's a week's walk!"

"Tututututu, no arguing!"

"And how are you going to get there?"

"I said TUTUTUTUTUTU! Shut up!" she said, snapping her fingers.

Astós wanted to retort, but his mouth refused to open. He ran his fingers over it and realized he was under a spell. Sklerótes chuckled and snapped her fingers, wiping away a tear that had formed at the corner of her eye.

"Hahaha! You should've seen your face! Anyway," she cleared her throat to regain her composure and continued, "You'll figure it out, but you have three days, and you better start moving your legs. Not one day more. If you arrive earlier, well, good for you! Otherwise," she wagged her tongue, "I think you'd rather not know what will happen if you arrive later. If I were you, I wouldn't take that risk."

She snapped her fingers again. This time, a timer appeared above Astós' shoulder. It started counting down from 72:00:00.

71:59:59

71:59:58

71:59:57

He looked bewildered to the monster. She gave him her best smile, then disappeared in a puff of smoke, taking the sleeping Kyria with her.

Astós grumbled. He approached the walls, carefully avoiding stepping on the corpses strewn on the ground. He broke the glass of a frame and took the map displayed inside.

He examined it and deduced his route.

"Damn! Why does it have to be so far?" he thought. "I'll never make it!"

He had an idea. Horses. Horses! He hurried to the stables. He crossed the threshold, but there was no sound. No horse. Nothing. Just a small note placed conspicuously on a pile of hay. He picked it up with two fingers and read:

"Not today, old man, I said ON FOOT."

He fumed. Stomped his feet, then looked at the small clock floating over his shoulder. Oops. Already fifteen minutes gone.

He started running, glancing at his map one last time before rolling it up and tucking it into his belt. He ran for a long time. Very long, and time was long. Sometimes it seemed to stretch, never advancing when the landscape remained the same, when the trees in the forest were all the same species. Or conversely, it raced like lightning when he was lost in his thoughts. Occasionally, he stopped running when he reached a neighboring village or a river. He stopped to look at his map then remembered that time didn't take a break. He had already covered half the distance, but he had only thirty hours left and a mountain to climb.

The prince began the ascent of Mount Óros Hýpsiston, a rugged and hostile mountain. Creatures are more dangerous than the others and made their dens in these areas unfavorable to humans. Few men had the courage, audacity, or perhaps the stupidity to climb the rough cliffs.

Stupidity, yes, that was probably it. But it was love that had pushed him there, Astós was aware of that. Furthermore, night was falling.

The rocky walls gave way to dense vegetation. The forest was even thicker than the one near the palace. The palace... He missed it, but thinking about it left a metallic taste in his mouth, the taste of blood.

He hadn't stopped running, but even for him, who was very enduring, and even though he was going downhill, Astós was exhausted. His vigilance had waned. So much so that he didn't hear the branches crackling behind him and hadn't noticed he was being followed. It was only when he caught his breath between strides that he heard it.

Crack!

He was surrounded. He drew his sword so quickly he managed to decapitate his attacker, half-puma half-chicken. Its head rolled to his feet, and its lifeless body collapsed into the ground. But there were several of them, about ten, each weighing at least 100 kilograms, their claws sharp and cutting.

"But my sword is sharp too," Astós thought to himself. That's when he began to fend them off, one by one, trying as best as he could to avoid the scratches and bites of his assailants. But too much was too much.

One of them leaped onto the young prince, who collapsed to the ground. He raised his sword, but in this position, it was useless. He was so weak, so exhausted that it fell from his hands at the first swipe of paws. The "jumper" who had knocked him down gathered momentum and threw himself at Astós, defenseless, on the ground, exhausted. Was this the end? he wondered. He hoped so a little, too. He protected his face with his hands out of reflex, palms facing the sky.

He could almost feel the creature's claws tearing at his skin.

Well, I said almost.

The beast pounced, and at the moment of impact, Astós was blinded and seized by a strong burning sensation in his hands. Before the contact even occurred, the animal was thrown far back. Astós, dazed, had to stay on the ground for a few more seconds. When he got up, he was like in a crater. Everything had been razed within a hundred meters around. No more traces of monsters, or anything else for that matter. He was alone and in one piece.

As one problem was solved, another one emerged.

He resumed his path as quickly as possible. Astós brought his hands closer to his face and observed them for a long time. They were burned. The palm was burned to the third degree.

"Well, it's nothing!" he surprised himself thinking. "Let's see what else I can do."

He concentrated and tried to bring forth that something from his hand. He focused, pointed a finger to the sky, and after a few tries, a white flame sparked. Astós stood in awe before it, still walking. His index finger tingled; he saw his skin redden, smoke, and melt. When the pain became unbearable, he had the same reflex as when pricked with a needle. He hopped around shaking his finger.

"OUCH! DAMN FLAME, BY MY FATHER'S BEARD! IT BURNS!"

He looked at the tip of his index finger and stuck it in his mouth, looking sulky. Before the magic of the act, he was like a child, with stars in his eyes, but once burned, he wasn't laughing anymore.

And he descended the mountain like that, grumpy. Once he reached the bottom, he looked at the clock resting on his shoulder. Three hours, it indicated. He unfolded his map and deduced the route to take again.

"I have more than three hours ahead of me... Even running, it's going to be tight," he thought aloud scratching his head.

He looked around; a vast plain stretched for several kilometers, its relief obscured by mist in the distance. But this plain was not empty; it was filled with wild horses. They numbered in the hundreds. Suffice it to say he had plenty of choices.

He stealthily climbed to the top of a tall tree and waited. He didn't have to wait long for a horse to come graze underneath it; four minutes were enough. Astós gathered his courage, positioned himself just above the animal, and let himself fall. He landed not without difficulty on the animal's back, which almost immediately reared. The young prince barely grabbed the neck of his mount and mastered it with some effort. Although horseback riding wasn't one of his strong points during his training, he still managed reasonably well.

The stallion was pure white. Its blond mane reflected the sun's rays, which were peaking at the horizon, and its eyes were blue, exactly like those of its rider. Astós spurred his steed, and it cut through the air at an astonishing speed. The young prince directed his mount as best he could, and it galloped for a good hour. It had an endurance that astounded Astós, who had never seen anything like it.

The "reliefs obscured by the mist" gradually clarified. Rocky terrain gradually replaced the countryside landscape.

"There are probably exploitable mines underneath," the prince thought aloud.

He could see a large structure from where he was. A building with several floors, a bit dilapidated, which must have been there for quite some time. The building was actually surrounded by dozens of old dilapidated shacks. The village seemed to have been destroyed by something, or someone?

He quickened the pace of his mount, which had been trotting slowly for about ten kilometers. He confirmed his thoughts about where he was when he saw a sign with the name of the town he was treading on.

"Oisticis welcomes you."