The afternoon sun blazed down on the courtyard, casting long shadows across the stone pathway as André Barker stormed through, his mind racing with fragments of memories, scattered thoughts, and the gnawing sense of guilt that now wrapped around him like chains. His long strides were purposeful, but inside, he was spiraling.
Coral. His boy. Always headstrong, always searching for answers in places no one dared to look. André should have seen this coming. How could he have missed it.
"It must have been the rumors," André muttered under his breath, piecing together the clues like a puzzle whose shape he now recognized too late. He could still hear Coral’s voice, the late-night talks in the library, the questions asked with a gleam in his eyes—questions André had no answers for, or worse, refused to answer.
Relics buried beyond the border... Power hidden in Darkborn ruins... Those whispers were everywhere.
André clenched his fists, his pulse quickening. Coral had always sought more. More answers. More understanding. He’d been fascinated with the old tales, even as a boy, long before the Knight Order’s training had tempered him into a capable warrior to follow the same path as his father. But André should have known that taming Coral’s curiosity was impossible. That curiosity was a wildfire, burning through every restriction, every warning.
But I never thought he’d go this far.
Now it was clear: the borders that had once kept Coral safe had become the walls he wanted to break through. The Paladin Council had forbidden any knight from crossing into Darkborn territory. To seek ancient powers, to tamper with the relics of the past was dangerous—maybe even sacrilegious. André had drilled this into Coral, had taught him the sacred laws of their order.
But Coral had grown frustrated. It wasn’t hard to see why.
André stopped, his hands tightening around the strap of his sword hilt. I should have seen the signs.
He remembered it now—the quiet defiance in Coral’s eyes during their last conversation. The way Coral’s questions had shifted from innocent curiosity to a sharper, more dangerous edge.
He was looking for something—something beyond the border. Something even I couldn’t give him.
The realization sank in like a stone in water as he continued to make his way toward his destination. André knew where his son had gone. And he knew why. But knowing didn’t ease the ache. It only made it worse.
---
The heavy wooden doors of the Paladin Council’s main hall creaked open as André Barker stepped inside. The dimly lit chamber, with its towering stone pillars and banners hanging solemnly on the walls, felt cold today, more so than usual. The stone beneath his boots echoed with every step, betraying the weight of the unease gnawing at him. His expression was tense, his jaw set, and his shoulders stiff, as though bracing himself for the storm he could sense brewing.
At the far end of the hall, standing before the grand chair of the Knight Commander, Chescott Calderan, a figure in dark armor, worn from battle but still imposing, waited. The Commander’s weathered face was locked in a grim expression, deep lines of worry cutting through his features. In his hand, a scroll—its official markings unmistakable—carried news that André was unprepared to hear even as his mind raced with countless thoughts.
As André approached, he could already feel the dread rising within him, his heart quickening with every breath. Commander Calderan met his gaze, his eyes weary but unwavering. With deliberate slowness, the Commander unraveled the scroll, his voice measured, though each word was laced with heaviness.
"Coral’s gone."
The words cut through the air like a blade. André felt the ground shift beneath him. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, Calderan pressed on, each sentence driving the point further into the void of disbelief that André was falling into.
"Along with Dave Powder and Jessie Hollyn Macy."
The names. More than just familiar names. Trusted companions. His son’s closest friends. He knew them well. Too well.
"It’s been several weeks," the Commander added, his voice now a lower tone, as if lowering the weight of the news would somehow soften its impact. But it didn’t. The blow landed hard, and André’s body stiffened as the reality sunk in.
For a moment, time stood still. The world outside the hall, the distant sounds of knights training in the courtyard, the faint whisper of wind through the high windows—it all fell away. His focus narrowed, and all he could feel was the growing pressure in his chest.
André's jaw tightened as if trying to hold back the question that was already clawing its way out. His voice finally broke the silence, trembling with a weight he seemed to bear alone. "Where?"
The Commander Calderan lowered his gaze, his voice softening as he answered, as though reluctant to deliver the final blow.
"Toward the eastern border. Beyond it."
The words struck like a hammer. He staggered back, the weight of the revelation pulling him down. It wasn't just fear anymore—it was certainty. His son. His son had gone there.
A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, carrying with it the scent of dust and steel. André’s gaze drifted out the open window to the horizon, where the eastern border lay past the forests that Coral had ventured into, past the lands that the Darkborn had claimed.
There was no time to waste. He needed to act. But the question loomed large: could he go after his son without defying the order he had sworn his life to protect? He had raised Coral to be loyal to their code, to their honor, but now, in his heart, André questioned the rigidity of that same code.
There was a choice ahead of him—a dangerous, impossible choice. One that would take him down the same path his son had chosen. One that might lead him to the same fate.
If I go after him, I may never come back. But if I don’t...
He couldn’t even finish the thought. His son’s face flashed before his eyes—determined, strong-willed, yet still the boy André had raised with every hope that one day Coral would surpass him. But Coral had gone where André couldn’t follow, not without breaking everything he stood for.
But now, standing here, feeling the growing sense of urgency rise within him like a storm, André realized that he would break every law, every oath, if it meant bringing his son back.
Calderan’s eyes were hard, but there was a flicker of understanding, though his expression grim. "A scout spotted them heading east, looking well-prepared.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully. “I need to discuss this with the entire Council... but time is of the essence.”
André felt a surge of urgency. “We can’t wait for their decision, Commander. Those lands are treacherous. They don’t know what they’re facing out there.”
Calderan sighed, his gaze steady on André. “I understand your predicament, Barker." The room fell silent once more with what felt like an eternity to André before the Commander continued. "And as much as protocol dictates otherwise, I’m giving you unofficial permission to act swiftly. Gather a small, trusted group. Move out immediately. I’ll handle the Council and buy you as much time as I can.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Relief mixed with determination in André’s heart. “Thank you, Commander. I won’t let you down.”
Calderan’s eyes softened slightly. “Bring them back, André. All of them.”
The scroll that the Knight Commander had handed him was crumpled in his hand now, forgotten. His decision was made. André's thoughts drifted back to the fateful night where it all began.
***
The castle stables were cloaked in shadow, the flicker of a single lantern casting soft light across the wooden beams. Coral, Dave, and Jessie huddled together in a corner, their whispers barely audible beneath the faint rustling of horses in their stalls. Coral’s expression was sharp with determination, his eyes constantly flicking around as if expecting someone to appear at any moment. But it was Dave’s posture that stood out—leaning casually against a post, arms crossed, his usual smirk playing at the corners of his lips as if they were just planning a harmless prank instead of a secret mission into dangerous territory.
Jessie and Dave exchanged a quiet glance, then Dave motioned for Jessie to step away with him, just out of earshot from Coral. They moved to the other side of the stables, their backs turned, their voices dropping even lower.
“So, let me get this straight,” Dave whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, though laced with a playful edge. “We’re sneaking off into Darkborn territory, risking our necks all because Coral thinks the council’s been keeping secrets?” He cocked an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “He really knows how to sweet-talk us into suicide runs, doesn't he?”
Jessie, now back at Coral’s side, gave Dave a gentle elbow in the ribs. “This is serious, Dave. Focus.”
He glanced at her, his grin softening into something more genuine. “I am focused. Focused on not getting killed.” But his tone changed slightly as he added, “Besides, you know I’m in, Jessie. Always.”
Coral, undeterred by Dave’s nonchalance, spoke in a hurried whisper, his conviction clear. “The council isn’t telling us everything. There’s more out there—relics that could turn the tide against the Darkborn. If we wait for the council to approve anything, we’ll be too late. They’ve been dragging their feet for months.”
Dave rolled his eyes but with a lighthearted air as he moved a little closer to Jessie, his voice low and teasing. “Sounds like Coral’s itching to play hero again. What’s the plan, love? We follow him into the abyss, make sure he doesn’t get himself killed, then ride off into the sunset?”
Jessie’s gaze was steady, her expression serious, but the small smile she gave Dave was full of warmth. “We need to do this, Dave. You know it. The kingdom isn’t going to protect itself, and we can’t just stand by and watch from behind the walls anymore.”
Her words had weight, but they didn’t crush the rogue’s playful attitude. Instead, he gave an exaggerated sigh, pushing himself off the post to stand up straight. “Alright, alright. I’ll save the kingdom again. But after this, I’m thinking we find a quiet little village, somewhere out of reach of relics, wars, and, you know, dangerous friends with world-saving obsessions.”
Jessie’s eyes softened further, and for a brief moment, her hand found his, their fingers interlocking in a rare display of affection. “After this, we’ll leave, for good this time.”
That was the real reason Dave was here. Not for the relics, not for the grand cause that Coral championed with every fiber of his being. No, Dave had made his choice a long time ago—he was here because of Jessie. Because the two of them had a life waiting beyond all of this, one they had been quietly planning between whispered conversations, hidden moments, and stolen kisses. They’d talked about a wedding, about leaving it all behind once this one last mission was done. They hadn’t even told Coral yet, fearing it might distract him from their goal.
But the unspoken reality lingered between them, as sharp as any blade—this could be the mission that changed everything, the one that decided whether that future would ever come to pass.
“You’re sure about this?” Dave asked, his tone softer now, though he kept up his casual air. “I mean, we could still sneak off somewhere much less deadly, start that life you’ve been talking about.”
Jessie gave him a knowing look, the determination in her eyes making it clear that there was no turning back. “We owe it to Coral, Dave. We’ve come this far. One last time. Then we’re done.”
Dave huffed, letting the corners of his mouth lift in a half-smile as he turned his attention back to Coral. “Guess you’ve got me for one more adventure, friend.” He paused before adding, “But if I get skewered by some Darkborn horror, I expect a statue in my honor. Maybe even a holiday.”
Coral smirked, his expression hard but with a hint of fondness for his friend’s antics. “I’ll carve the statue myself.”
***
Back in the present, André Barker led a small group of paladins and knights toward the eastern border, the memories of his last encounter with Coral replaying in his mind like a broken record. Coral, driven by his impossible dream. Jessie, with her steadfast resolve. And Dave…
André’s thoughts lingered on Dave’s carefree attitude, a man who hid his fears behind jokes and grins, but who was always the first to act when the situation called for it. Even if he had known something wasn’t right and of their plans to sneak away from the castle, what could he have done? They would have left anyway.
“They left because they knew we would stop them,” André muttered to himself, his voice hollow in the quiet. “But they didn’t realize how dangerous those lands are.”
André’s mind churned, his hands tightening around the reins as his horse galloped across the open plains, his armor rattling with each stride. The wind was harsh, but it wasn’t what chilled him. It was the nagging feeling that his warnings hadn’t been enough, that those young fools had ignored his caution. They always did. No matter how much experience you had, no one listened until it was too late.
Ancient ruins far off in Darkborn territory. The idea echoed in his mind like a distant bell tolling doom. He had hoped never to hear of it again. Not after Alex, not after everything the Darkborn had taken from them all.
André had pieced together Coral’s plan through small, almost insignificant clues left behind—fragments he hadn’t noticed at first but gnawed at his thoughts later. First, it was the maps—several missing from his study, all of them leading to the eastern territories. Then there had been Coral’s sudden, strange inquiries to the Council’s librarians, asking about relics and sites long forgotten by the living world. The boy had been careful, but not careful enough. And when Dave and Jessie’s families fell silent, avoiding André’s gaze during meetings, it all fell into place.
But it wasn’t until he met with Commander Calderan that André’s stomach turned, the truth hitting him like a punch to the gut.
A week earlier, the Commander shared with him the details of the report. A scout had caught the group heading east. Originally, they seemed to be just a group of adventurers, armed and ready to test their mettle in the wilderness. But when the scout recognized one of Coral’s companions, he’d sent word back to the Paladin Council immediately. And that’s when André’s worst fears were confirmed.
Ruins, unspoken by the council… it's not just a legend to Coral, André reflected bitterly. But no one really knows what else is buried there—what relics or blessings still linger from the old wars. Not even I fully know. I should’ve warned him more forcefully.
Coral had always been headstrong, hungry for glory, for power that could change the course of their war against the Darkborn. But André knew that the eastern ruins—those forsaken lands—were no place for glory. They were a graveyard, a tomb that had swallowed greater men than Coral whole. Just reaching the ruins would prove to be difficult, and what lay in the depths of those ruins was something no one should disturb.
And yet, they had gone anyway.
---
André's mind was clouded with thoughts of Coral and the others. But an uneasy feeling began to creep into his thoughts. While considering the potential of relics that could be hidden in Darkborn territory, his mind shifted to Jonny and the sword, Noctisbane. André often thought about Noctisbane’s true nature: I didn’t tell Jonny the full truth. The sword chose Alex all those years ago, as if it knew he was meant to wield it. It’s not just a weapon—it’s something more. Something designed to fight back the darkness.
Noctisbane wasn’t like other relics humanity has encountered thus far and possibly not like those left to rust and decay in forgotten tombs. Its power was precise, its brilliance like a shard of divine light, a weapon forged for a singular purpose—to cleanse the world of the Darkborn’s corruption. But even with its radiant power, André had known it wouldn’t be enough to save them all. The sword, for all its holiness, was still just a tool. A powerful one, but not a solution on its own.
He had given it to Jonny because he trusted him, trusted the boy to use it with the same resolve that Alex had. But there was more to Noctisbane than just its ability to cut down Darkborn. André had come to believe that the sword had a will of its own, a purpose that guided its wielder. But could Jonny handle such a burden? André hadn’t shared that part with him. Not yet.
Reflecting on his decisions, André thought, There were other means to fight the Darkborn. Noctisbane wasn’t meant to be the weapon that could turn the tide—it was a holy relic, powerful, but not a guaranteed solution. But the boy needed something to believe in.
André had done what he thought was right. He had given Jonny the sword to honor Alex’s memory, to give Jonny a connection to his father’s legacy. But as he now raced toward the east, fear gnawing at his insides, André wondered if that choice was too heavily influenced by his relationship with Alex.
Darkborn-infested lands were not a place to be trifled with. And while Coral and his companions sought ancient power, perhaps even relics like Noctisbane, they didn’t understand the true danger they were walking into. What awaited them would not just be relics potentially of similar nature to Noctisbane’s light but curses, traps, things long forgotten by time.
***
The knights André gathered were some of the best Calaedria had to offer. Sir Derek, his second-in-command, a towering figure clad in heavy place, every inch a shield for his comrades; Sir Iory, fastened with a gleaming silver helm and bannered lance, the embodiment of righteous fury on the battlefield; Jason, a skilled archer who had once gravely wounded a Darkborn lieutenant from a hundred paces with a single shot; Lady Sandera, whose command over light magic had saved them more times than André could count; and the twins, Wyn and Wence, quick-footed rogues who excelled at navigating the difficult terrain of Darkborn territory. Each of them had been handpicked for their skill, and more importantly, for their trustworthiness.
The horses each knight rode thundered across the countryside, the lush, rolling hills slowly giving way to more twisted, barren landscapes. The further they rode, the more unnatural the land became. The sky seemed to darken faster, the air growing colder, heavier, with every passing mile.
André’s eyes never left the horizon, his heart pounding as memories of Alex’s final days resurfaced. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let anyone else fall to the same fate. But now, Coral was in danger. His knuckles tightened around the reins.
One week had passed mostly in silence, broken only by the sound of hooves pounding the earth, with brief moments of rest as needed by companions and horses alike. The air was too heavy with the weight of their mission.
Finally, as they approached the eastern border, Derek rode up beside André, his sharp eyes scanning the vast chasm that marked the edge of Darkborn territory. The last threshold between the safety of the kingdom and the strange, corrupted lands of the Darkborn lay ahead, its jagged edges plunging into darkness below, creating an impassable divide. The chasm stretched for miles, a wound in the earth that defied crossing save for several paths.
The palpable tension grew with each step they took, the shift in the air and the unnatural dimming of the light signaling their proximity to the border. As they neared the crest of a hill overlooking the chasm, the unnatural twilight settled over the landscape, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
"The border's just ahead. We’ll be in Darkborn lands within the hour," Derek said, his voice low and thoughtful.
André nodded, his face set in grim determination.
Ahead, a lone watchtower marked the last Calaedrian outpost before the border. As they approached, a guard stepped out from the shadows with a salute, recognizing the knights immediately. "Lord André, sir! What brings you out this far?"
André dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with purpose. He walked straight to the guard, his tone commanding but urgent. "We’re pursuing a group of young adventurers. They crossed into Darkborn territory recently. Have you seen anything?"
The guard’s face darkened, and he hesitated, glancing toward the forests beyond the border. "We've been on alert, but we were unable to find anyone. However, several of us witnessed a light flash for a brief moment about a mile into Darkborn territory. This was four days ago."
André’s heart sank, but he didn’t let it show. His face remained calm, his mind racing with plans. Four days, and they would have traveled even deeper by now. They were close, but still too far behind.
"We’ll catch up to them. Make sure the border stays secure—no one crosses until we return," André said, his voice determined.
The guard nodded, stepping back as André remounted his horse. His knights were ready, their expressions tense but resolute. This was it—the moment they crossed the line. Darkborn territory lay ahead, and with it, untold dangers.
André drew in a steady breath, glancing back at Derek and the others. "Stay close. We ride even harder from here. If we can reach them before they get too deep, we might still have a chance."
With that, they galloped forward, crossing the border and plunging into the darkness beyond.