Arion and Xur had been traveling for three days, leaving their secluded snow-covered cabin in Mount Kouhur behind. Their destination was Dunreth, a town closer to Aetheria, and the journey had been long and careful. Xur rode atop the Re’em, while Arion took the reins of Xur’s charcoal-grey horse. Xur made sure the single horn of the Re’em stayed concealed beneath the folds of his cloak, much like the both men who also donned a hooded cape to conceal theirs.

  They kept a steady pace, never pushing too hard, though Arion had no doubt the Re’em could have crossed the distance in half the time if it weren’t for the need for discretion.

  They had spent the previous night at an inn in a small roadside town, and now, according to Xur, they were on the last stretch.

  "Just half a day's ride left," Xur had said. That had been ten hours ago.

  The road ahead stretched into dry, uneven terrain, with sparse trees casting long, broken shadows in the setting sun. The distant glow of a settlement flickered on the horizon, and Arion straightened in his saddle, narrowing his eyes against the light.

  “Is that Dunreth?” he asked, a flicker of excitement creeping into his voice.

  Xur followed his gaze, then shook his head. “Not yet. It’s a little farther than what you see.”

  Even farther. Arion exhaled sharply.

  Dunreth was still beyond reach, and with it, the only hope of finding the others. Kaelen. Kony. Were they safe? Had they made it out of Aetheria? What if they weren’t in Dunreth at all?

  He gritted his teeth and forced the thought away. No. He couldn’t afford to doubt. Not now. Until he had reason to believe otherwise, they were alive. They had to be.

  But uncertainty gnawed at him. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Arion had always been surefooted, confident—his optimism had carried him through every challenge. Yet something had changed that night. His mind wouldn’t stop racing, his heart wouldn’t stop hammering, and with every passing mile, hope seemed to slip further from his grasp.

  “Xur…” His voice was quieter than he intended. “Dunreth. Do you think they’ll be there?”

  “It’s our best shot,” Xur replied, slowing the Re’em’s pace. He glanced at Arion before speaking again. “As you told me yourself, Dunreth has always respected the Temple. It would make sense for them to take shelter there.”

  Xur paused, considering. Then added, “Even if they’re not, it’s the nearest port. If they traveled by sea, we might find someone who knows where they went.”

  “Hmm…” Arion murmured, unwilling to dwell on the thought.

  Instead, he asked, “Why does Dunreth have good relations with Temple exactly?” The question was a mix to escape his own thoughts than purely out of curiosity.

  Xur let out a small breath, as if recalling an old tale. “It goes back a long time. Far longer than the past two generations.”

  Arion welcomed the distraction and waited as Xur adjusted his grip on the reins.

  “Dunreth was once overrun by bandits,” Xur continued. “Merchants stopped traveling there, trade collapsed. It got so bad that, at one point, the bandits took everything—crops, livestock, even the winter stores. The people were left with nothing.”

  "The King didn’t help them?" Arion asked.

  "He wanted to," Xur said, "but Aetheria was deep in truce negotiations with Kerios at the time. The Crown decided they needed to appear strong, and sending soldiers elsewhere might have made them look vulnerable."

  Arion frowned. “So, what happened?”

  “The Grand Overseer at the time took matters into his own hands,” Xur said simply. “He sent the Temple Guardians to Dunreth. They didn’t just fight the bandits—they drove them out completely.”

  Arion exhaled, the pieces clicking into place. “That explains the loyalty.”

  “It does,” Xur agreed. “That was over a hundred years ago. But Dunreth never forgot.”

  ***

  They rode on in silence as the hours slipped by. The sun sank lower in the sky, its golden light stretching long across the road, turning the land ahead into a wash of amber and shadow. The day was dying slowly, reluctantly, as though even the light hesitated to leave them.

  “Eeeaasy now,” Xur said suddenly.

  The Re’em slowed beneath him, her massive form easing into a measured pace. Arion, riding just behind, followed suit without question—though the instinct gnawed at him. If anything, they should have been riding faster. Dunreth was still too far, and daylight was running thin.

  But Xur did nothing without reason.

  Arion narrowed his eyes, following Xur’s gaze. At first, he saw nothing but the wavering horizon. Then—movement. A line of carriages stood halted ahead, clustered near a crude wooden barricade. Steel glinted faintly in the dying light.

  A checkpoint.

  “That’s not supposed to be there,” Xur said quietly, confusion threading his voice.

  Arion studied it more closely. Armed men. Uniformed. Too disciplined to be bandits.

  “Aetherian soldiers,” he said. “And too far from home.”

  Xur didn’t look away. “Something must have happened at the capital.”

  The words struck harder than Arion expected. His heart skipped despite himself. He had left little behind in Aetheria—but not nothing.

  Elara.

  He forced the thought down before it could take root.

  Ahead, a few carriages were being turned away, redirected back down the road. Traders, by the look of them—faces tight with frustration as they passed.

  “Look,” Arion said. “Some are coming back. Let’s ask.”

  Xur snorted softly. “Any trader turning back this late is either hiding something or running from something. But—” he inclined his head slightly, “—we’ll wait.”

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  They slowed further as two carriages approached. Xur raised a hand.

  “Aye! Traders!”

  The first didn’t slow. The driver cracked his reins, urging the horses into a hurried gallop as he passed them.

  Xur watched him go. “Smuggler.”

  “Or you scared him half to death,” Arion said dryly. “Let me try the next one.”

  The second carriage rolled closer. Arion dismounted and stepped into the road, raising a hand in greeting.

  “A moment, good sir.”

  The driver reined in, eyeing Arion warily then Xur, then the abnormally large steed he sat upon. His gaze lingered on the massive creature a heartbeat too long.

  “What’s that blockade ahead?” Arion asked calmly.

  The man spat to the side, brown juice darkening the dust. “Bloody bastards,” he growled. “The Red King must be bored, sittin’ fat in his palace, thinkin’ up new ways to choke honest folk.”

  Arion ignored the rant. “Why are Aetherian soldiers this far out?”

  The man scowled. “Fugitives. Escaped prisoners, they say. King’s locked down everything—gates, ports, roads. Every route in or out of Aetheria.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “No trade gets through.”

  Xur leaned forward slightly. “Shame. I suppose that means you won’t be moving that little package tonight.”

  The trader stiffened. His expression hardened. “Mind your own road, friend.”

  “And which road would that be?” Arion asked.

  The man hesitated, then scoffed. “Through the forest. Doubles the journey—but I’ll still get paid.” He flicked the reins and set the horses moving again. “Suit yourselves.”

  Arion watched him go, then turned back to Xur as he mounted.

  “That adds another day to Dunreth.”

  “It does,” Xur said, already turning the Re’em toward the tree line. “But it keeps us out of trouble.”

  The forest loomed ahead; dark, dense and unwelcoming as the last of the sun slipped behind the hills.

  “Let’s not lose the light,” Xur said, urging the Re’em forward.

  Arion followed without hesitation, riding with him into the shadowed wilderness.

  ***

  Night fell faster beneath the forest canopy.

  The road narrowed into a wild, uneven track, roots and stones slowing Arion’s horse and by extension, Xur as well. Fatigue tugged at Arion’s limbs, his shoulders stiff from the long ride. But there would be no taverns here. No warm hearths or friendly doors.

  Better to keep moving than become prey.

  Hours into the darkness, Arion spotted it, a flicker of orange light ahead, faint but unmistakable.

  A fire.

  “And who lights a bonfire in the middle of nowhere?” Arion muttered, weariness threading his voice.

  “Not Aetherian soldiers,” Xur replied.

  Arion frowned when Xur didn’t change course. “And we’re riding straight toward it?”

  “Could be traders,” Xur said. “They’d welcome two with steel.” A pause. “And if it isn’t—don’t hesitate.”

  Arion said nothing.

  The glow grew brighter. Smoke curled through the branches. As they crested a small rise, the scene revealed itself: four men around a fire, seated on fallen trunks. Bottles glinted in the firelight. Two of them rose as the riders approached.

  “Doesn’t look like friendly traders,” Arion said quietly.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” Xur replied, urging the Re’em forward.

  A man stepped into the road, sword drawn, swaying slightly on his feet.

  “Hold there, fellow travelers!” he called. “Where might you be headed at this hour?”

  “Who asks?” Xur said, stopping just short of him.

  The man grinned. “By authority of the Aetherian military—” laughter erupted behind him “—we are the knights of these woods. You’ll pay a toll to pass.”

  Arion took them in quickly. Drunk. Poorly armed. Two blades. Two behind pretending a wooden pole was a barricade.

  Xur said nothing.

  “Let us pass,” Arion offered. “We’ll trade bread.”

  “Bread?” the man barked. “You take us for beggars?”

  Xur dismounted slowly. “Forgive my nephew,” he said evenly. “Name your price.”

  The man’s gaze lingered on the Re’em. His smile widened. “Never seen a horse that big," his eyes lingered on the creature, even with its single horn hidden, the sheer size of it caught his attention, "This strong beast. Leave it here and you walk away with your nephew and his horse.”

  Xur’s voice hardened as he counteroffered, “Or... we pass, and we let you breathe in exchange.”

  The laughter died and the steel rang. Xur knocked the blade aside and drove into him shoulder-first. The lead bandit stumbled back into the firelight, cursing, and another rushed in from the side. Xur turned, blade flashing twice in a quick succession. The second man made a wet sound and fell, clutching at his neck as if he could stuff the blood back in.

  Everything broke loose then. And that was the cue for Arion.

  Arion moved as he jumped off the horse, sword in hand without remembering the draw. The runes along the blade warmed under his grip, but there was no time to think about Aether or technique. One of them came straight at him, swinging high and wild. Arion caught it on his guard and nearly lost his footing from the force. The man smelled of sweat and fear. His eyes were too wide. They shoved apart.

  Another shape barreled into Arion’s side, hands grabbing, weight slamming into him. He staggered, boots slipping in the dirt, breath knocked from his lungs. He had to react quickly, Arion hacked the hilt of his sword behind him blindly, felt the jolt of metal biting into something that felt like a skull, he was just happy it wasn’t air.

  The grip on him loosened. He stumbled free and turned to the man behind him and conjured a wind blast. Powerful enough to send him flying at distance.

  Arion looked at Xur going at it with the first bandit but noticed the third man moving towards him from behind trying to flank him with a knife, Arion intervened just in time as he parried his wild knife swing blocking his attack.

  Arion saw Xur slicing the hand of the first bandit as he drove his sword through his torso without hesitation. Arion shifted his attention back to the man with a knife who stalled and swung but Arion side stepped. But suddenly the fourth man crashed into him again. Arms locked around his waist. Tighter this time. Breath hot in his ear.

  Arion twisted, tried to break free, but panic crept in, sharp and familiar. Akeem’s shadow loomed in his mind—pressure, helplessness, the sick certainty of falling. The flashes of Akeem punching him played back in his head.

  No!

  Urgency creeped in, Arion dropped his weight and drove an elbow back. Once. Twice. The man grunted but didn’t let go. Arion stamped on a foot, felt bone give, and the grip loosened just enough.

  Arion conjured a powerful windblast but this time it was directed at the ground. Dirt and leaves exploded upward, choking the air. Arion mapped their positions in his head; one ahead and one behind him. Both blinded by the swirling cloud of dust that swallowed them now. Then Arion swung, one to the front, then spun into a swing to the one behind, he kept swinging to the opposite direction and then once again for good measure. Steel made contact with flesh each time. Until he heard the screams and two thuds on the ground.

  Arion stilled himself. The dust settled as he saw one man at his feet, clutching at his face. Another lay nearby, gasping wetly, trying to crawl.

  Arion stood there, chest heaving, sword shaking in his hand. The forest had gone very quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the soft, awful sounds of dying men.

  Suddenly the one crawling stopped, As Xur drove his sword through his back. Xur met Arion’s eyes, “They chose this. Finish it!” Xur said, not loudly.

  Arion looked at the last one. The man was crying now, blinded and bleeding, rocking on his knees like that might make it stop.

  Arion stepped forward. His legs felt heavy. His thoughts were strangely clear.

  He swung once.

  When it was over, he stayed where he was for a long moment, staring at the body.

  Xur finally spoke, “It was the only way.”

  “I know,” Arion replied.

  He stood, pulled his blade free, flicked the blood away, and sheathed it without ceremony. He mounted his horse and looked at Xur.

  “Let’s not waste more time.” Arion insisted.

  Xur nodded.

  They rode on into the dark, the forest swallowing the firelight behind them.

  ***

  Dawn broke in, the two men still on their horses, it had been a long journey and since their encounter late in the night, they had passed the forest and were back on the route. But what happened in the woods still weighed heavy in the air, they hadn’t talked much.

  Arion knew Xur was letting him come to terms with it, his first kill. But oddly, Arion felt nothing. Then finally he heard Xur’s voice.

  “I remember my first kill, it never leaves you.” Xur said calmly. But Arion didn’t respond.

  Xur spoke again, “You know—”

  “It’s alright Xur, I know.” Arion interrupted him. “I am fine.”

  “Hmph… well if you say so.” Xur said dryly.

  After a moment Arion spoke, “You told me to make a judgement before unsheathing the sword, not during or afterwards. I did that. We offered peace, they denied. Some men pass the point where mercy has meaning.”

  Xur raised his eyebrows, seemingly impressed and maybe a little proud. “So you do listen to what I say. Good to know.”

  They rode in silence, the only sounds the steady rhythm of hooves against the dry earth and the whisper of the wind through the dunes. The sun had begun its slow ascent, stretching long shadows across the sand.

  And then, beyond the next rise, it came into view.

  Dunreth.

  ***