The fire crackled softly between us as Trendil poured wine into two wooden cups. I wrapped my hands around one, feeling the warmth seep into my skin. But a deeper chill gnawed at me—a feeling I couldn’t shake, no matter how close I sat to the flames.

“So," Trendil began, taking a long sip, "let’s start at the beginning. You say you’ve lived over 70 winters? Truly?”

I nodded, meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t lying.”

Trendil set his cup down, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “You don’t look a day over sixteen.”

“I was conscripted into King Thalyon’s army as a boy,” I said, staring into the fire. “Fought in countless battles for decades. It feels like lifetimes ago. The truth is... I don’t know why I’ve lived this long. I should be dead a hundred times over. But somehow... I’ve kept going.”

Trendil studied me, the flicker of disbelief still in his eyes, but something else—something deeper—was taking shape behind it. His face tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Elaris,” he muttered. “It has to be. I’ve seen it used on one other human, not to reverse aging but to prolong it. That’s likely why you can light weave, though not very adept at it, are you?”

Silence settled between us as I let his words sink in. My mind was spinning with a thousand questions, and I could see Trendil wrestling with his own thoughts, trying to piece everything together. But there was something in his eyes—like he already knew more than I did.

“I was plucked from my life, Trendil,” I began, my voice quieter now. “I thought I was dying... but instead, I saw the destruction of my home. Then there was Villias. I’ve never felt anything like his presence before. It was as if just standing next to him made me feel safe, warm. He said he needed my help. His last Outrider, Viggas, had seen something in me.”

I paused, my mind drifting back to that moment. “But before he could explain more, something happened. A rot, or something worse, set into the place. I was pushed into the river. Villias was supposed to move a boulder that blocked my path, but I hit it... head on. I woke up here, with no memory of what had happened.”

I could see Trendil’s mind working, piecing together the story. I had told him everything, everything I could think was important. If he was truly Smoke, the Outrider of Villias, he should already know.

Trendil sighed, topping up his wine. “Well, Ragan—if that’s truly your name—I think it’s time I shared some truths of my own.” His eyes flickered toward the fire, the flames dancing in his gaze like distant memories. “Villias knew. Long before the rest of us understood, he knew there was no defeating the darkness.”

“The monstrosity?” I asked quietly.

Trendil nodded, his expression hardening. “Yes. He called it that, though there were whispers of what it truly was—something beyond our understanding. Villias knew he couldn’t destroy it, but he believed he could slow it down. That’s why he needed me. Smoke, as I was back then.”

I studied Trendil, my mind reeling. The man who had been nothing more than a mysterious guide to me up until now had once walked beside legends—no, he had been one of them.

“What did Villias ask of you?” I pressed.

Trendil’s gaze turned distant, his voice quiet. “First, he needed help with the Faye. Aerindell was on the brink of collapse, the Ministry’s greed threatening to destroy them. He attuned the Faye to Aerindell, charged me with leading them to that place.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He paused, the subtle croak in his voice, betraying his years. “Second, he asked me to wait for a child. He even bestowed a fraction of Elaris into my being to slow my aging. I am now a little over twelve hundred years old, if you would believe it.”

My breath caught at the number. Twelve hundred years?

“And the third?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

Trendil shook his head. “The third... I’m not ready to share that yet.”

There was a tension in the air, like the whole conversation had been leading to this moment. My heart pounded as I spoke. “And the child? The one Villias sent you to find?”

Trendil’s face shifted, his eyes narrowing as he watched me. “Yes... the child. Villias believed this child would be the key to stopping the monstrosity. I searched for years. Followed rumors, trails... but I never found him.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach as his words sank in.

“I always suspected, Ragan,” he said slowly, his voice tightening with awe. “But now, after hearing your story... I’m certain. You are the child Villias sent me to find.”

His words hit me like a hammer. I struggled to speak, my heart thudding in my chest.

“You were sent into the world for a reason,” Trendil continued, his voice softening. “Villias knew the monstrosity would rise again, and he knew you would be needed to stop it. You may not remember your purpose, but I assure you—you are part of this plan.”

I stared into the fire, my mind spinning. Everything I had ever known, everything I had ever done, felt distant. Like it wasn’t truly mine.

Silence stretched between us as realization dawned. Villias had set our lives on this path—for both of us. We were meant to stop the monstrosity. But at the same time, we would have to take down the Ministry that plagued this world.

“I’ve learned to be cautious after all these years,” Trendil said, his voice low. “The Ministry has ruled for centuries, and secrets have festered. I don’t trust easily anymore. But one thing I know for certain—you, Ragan, are the key to all of this.

“You asked if I was working for the Lord Arcanist or who he serves," I said, still feeling the weight of Trendil's earlier anger. "Did you mean the king?”

Trendil’s expression darkened, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “No, not the king. He’s nothing more than a puppet, a face for the people to believe in. The Ministry pulls the strings, controls the throne. People like to think someone important is in charge, that there's some great ruler guiding them.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. “Then... who does the Lord Arcanist serve?”

Trendil’s eyes flashed, and his voice dropped to a whisper, filled with grim certainty. “The Lord Arcanist, I believe, serves the darkness itself. The monstrosity. As it rebuilds, so does he.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. The thought of the Lord Arcanist—a figure so powerful and untouchable—being connected to the very thing Villias had fought to stop sent a shudder through me.

“Rebuilds?” I echoed, my voice almost a whisper.

“Yes,” Trendil said, his gaze steady and intense. “The darkness, the monstrosity—it’s not gone. It was never truly defeated. It was only slowed, weakened. But now, it’s reforming, gathering strength. And the Lord Arcanist, whether knowingly or not, is helping it. The Ministry, the king, they’re just distractions. The real threat is something far older, something that’s been waiting in the shadows.”

I felt a cold weight settle in my chest. Everything I thought I understood about the world—about power, about control—was unraveling before me.

“So the Ministry... they’re just part of this larger plan?” I asked, struggling to make sense of it all.

Trendil nodded slowly. “Exactly. The Ministry’s rule, the tyranny, the oppression—it’s all a cover. The real enemy is the darkness. And it’s using them, just as it will use anyone it needs to rebuild.”

The fire crackled between us, but the warmth no longer reached me. I felt the gravity of Trendil’s words pull at me, deeper than I could have imagined. The Lord Arcanist wasn’t just a powerful figure at the king’s side—he was something far worse. And I was now entangled in a battle far larger than myself.

Trendil leaned forward, his voice low. “Whatever comes next, Ragan, you need to understand—this isn’t just about stopping the Ministry. It’s about stopping the darkness. And if we fail... there won’t be anything left to save.”