On the third day of the journey to Artemia, it was time to part ways. Only Eri would go with her parents to their destination.

Dad had explained to her that no one could know where they were going, so Eri didn’t tell anyone, not even Koro, who had asked many times and felt disappointed every time she shut her mouth and pouted in response.

Mrs. Mera wanted to go; she even offered to take Mom, but Dad had said they couldn’t draw too much attention, and the teacher was so big that everyone would see where they were going. Mom would go with Dad on Jumper, and Eri would ride Peony. They would fly to the valley of the fairies. The farewell was short; they hoped to be back very soon.

Traveling was much better than fighting. Eri still couldn’t make the trip with her own wings; she got too tired if she flew for a long time even with the orange fire. For Peonia, it was the same as walking but seeing everything from above. She found it hard to believe it had taken them three days to cover all that ground when she saw Meyrin Castle in the distance.

Mom was behind Dad, clinging to him with all her strength, her eyes closed, and her face scrunched up. Dad guided Jumper as straight as he could, though Eri knew he preferred to do stunts and fly through the clouds.

When the sky turned orange, Dad signaled to land in a small grove near a road. Surely they would camp there.

Soon they were all on the ground. Mom looked pale, and Dad helped her sit on a fallen log.

"Eri, can you gather some branches and start the fire?" Dad didn’t take his eyes off Mom. "We need a small fire to heat some tea."

Eri no longer underestimated the small fire. Hers was always better, of course, but sometimes things tasted better if they burned slowly. The cake was an excellent example. She obeyed quickly; Mom only drank tea when she felt unwell.

In a few minutes, they were all sitting around the fire. Peonia and Saltarín were grazing nearby, and the tea smelled nice. Although the food consisted of those dry biscuits they always saved for the end of trips, Dad seemed to enjoy them, but they didn’t taste like anything. Eri had to make do with that and a few honey candies from Meyrin from their recently replenished supply.

"What’s wrong, Mommy?" she finally asked, worried. "Are you sick?"

"No, Eri," she said, taking a long sip. "I’m embarrassed to say it, but I have vertigo; I don’t like flying."

What? Mom was the best Pegasus rider. She had seen her fly many times, even when she fought the White Prince...

"When your mom fights," Dad said in Eri’s favorite tone, "she forgets her fear of heights. Did you know she became famous for that? It was long before you or I were born."

The Kingdom of Artemia, forty-two years ago.

"No, I don't want to do it!" Runaesthera couldn't stand the training; her head spun, her skin got goosebumps, and she ended up crying every time. She was already over seventy years old, and the humans of the kingdom told her she was older than some grandmothers, but her father still treated her like a child. She could already use some magical spells; she should have mastered her father's Pegasus by now. Yes, she adored him, but when he was on the ground.

"Runaesthera," her father was not going to let her off this time, "get on the Pegasus and run the circuit once more. Then we'll practice the lightning spell; you're close to invoking one correctly. Master Genwil is going to examine you next week when he returns from his spiritual journey."

Surely that meant he had gone off to party and try exotic liquors in distant lands again.

Life was so unfair sometimes; all the people she liked either left or passed away, especially in recent years. Little Erimis, that tender girl she could care for, had gone to Meyrin for a foolish arranged marriage, and little Fin had been absent for years; perhaps he was already the king of Unermia, she had heard something about him having children already. How long had it been since she went to the wedding? To her, he would always be that well-mannered boy who always wanted to play with swords. Almost all the friends she had made in her childhood were no longer around for one reason or another. Now, her beloved human mother, nearly ninety years old, spent almost all her time in bed, seemingly healthy and lucid, but visibly exhausted.

That’s why she had to be able to ride Golden Sun, she would soon receive good news, and she had to be ready. She gathered the courage to try once more. The circuit was a series of fire hoops her father invoked, to reach each one she had to master a technique.

The first appeared close but slightly above, she had to ascend very quickly to reach it; for the second, she had to dive almost without moving forward; the third appeared behind and above, which required a pirouette. The last ones required advancing in a zigzag pattern to finally ascend in a tight spiral.

She managed to finish the circuit just before plummeting back to the ground and jumping off the mount. She was trembling, her stomach was churning, and she had a strong urge to cry. The people of the kingdom had started to find out and talk behind her back.

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"Well done, daughter, I think we better stop for today. Go rest. Tomorrow we’ll add one more circle," Runa's father was a man who liked to pretend. He always acted tough at the start of training but couldn’t bear to see her suffer.

That night, storm clouds were gathering near the coast. Artemia was the most beautiful city in the world, with coasts so purely blue they seemed like the sky, except that sometimes terrible storms lashed them. The people were protected by the walls and the mountain, only the ships had something to fear from them.

That’s why it was so unexpected to receive the letter that day.

"We have it, you must collect it on the western island. We can’t guarantee its effectiveness."

Pieces of fat orc. They were supposed to bring it to the castle. Runa's mother, Queen Estheramina, needed it. But if the storm was coming from the west…

There was no remedy.

Runaesthera went straight to the stables; she wasn’t thinking, nor did she feel anything but determination. If the explorers she had hired truly had a vial with the ancient potion of the heroic queen...

"Runa, where are you going?" Her father seemed to want to stop her, but if he knew what she intended, it didn’t matter to her. "Listen to me..."

she continued on her way, her father walking behind her, trying to convince her not to leave, surely the storm reports...

"Father," she said as she pulled the reins of Golden Sun, "if there's a small chance this will work, I'm going to take it." She mounted with the same speed she had dismounted that morning; at that point, no one could stop her.

Reaching the destination would be easy; the storm seemed to be just forming. She flew in a straight line, as fast as she could, without stopping. She reached the island when the last ray of the sun disappeared in the west. She looked for the village on the island, spotted it on the northern side, protected by dense rocky cliffs. She landed at the building with the most lights, a humble sailors' tavern, their meeting point. She tied Golden Sun with his emerald bridle, making him look like any other horse, and entered, putting on her hood with little and vain hope of not being recognized. Her heart was about to burst from the vertigo of the journey.

The place was spacious enough for those at the tables to mind their own business away from those at the bar. Usually, sailors crowded the place, playing cards and singing those old and rude sea shanties. But on a stormy night, they would all be in better ports or securing their vessels. A tough-looking man was already waiting for her. He wore an outfit halfway between east and west that made little sense to anyone but a traveler. He wore a sleeveless doublet typical of Atyr and the wide trousers and belt of Pellegrin, was completely bald, and wore an eye patch under which a wide scar peeked from his eyelid to his nose.

"You have it, then," she said, leaning against the bar as if ordering something.

"I have it, the agreed payment..."

Without letting him finish, she showed him a gold coin. "I want to see it now."

The big man smiled. "Ask for a glass of 'elvish harvest,' the bartender will give it to you. Give him the payment. If they see me with that much money, I won't get out of here alive."

Runa watched the man leave and did as instructed. The bartender gave her a small glass vial with a shiny liquid, similar to magic potions. She handed him a pouch with enough gold to buy the entire village and left immediately. The sky was dark from the night, the clouds, and the rain, but she was in the air before anyone trying to follow her could catch up.

The storm had already begun. The distance between the island and the city wasn't that great, but the wind seemed to push her back with every step. She tried to ascend, to fly above the storm itself, but it was in vain. The wind started forming a gigantic whirlwind in front of her.

The force of the storm seemed to grow with each minute. Runaesthera found herself accompanying the whirlwind, following its direction instead of resisting it, unable to escape the power of nature manifesting in that wall of wind and clouds.

She held in her hands what she believed was her best chance to keep someone she loved for a little longer. She couldn't afford to delay or, much less, give up.

She tried to put a shield around her, but the wind kept dragging them, albeit less. She tried to use the storm's momentum to launch herself out, without success, as she couldn't get far enough before ending up in a new current. After several attempts, Golden Sun started to get tired.

Desperate, she tried to use the magic that gathered lightning, the one that moved the wind and clouds to make the storm weaker, slower. Of course, it resisted; Runa had barely learned the spell. Her magic, her essence, was depleting too quickly. The spell was pulling from her vital energy forcefully, threatening to tear her body and soul apart.

At the moment the last trace of power left her, the storm seemed to weaken. It was a moment, enough for Golden Sun, sharp as he was, to flap his wings forcefully and finally free them from the spiral, taking the path back to the city.

Golden Sun landed atop one of the towers, the one with the queen's quarters. The poor animal was panting and snorting from exhaustion. Runa wasn't much better, but even so, she dismounted in a leap. The moment her feet touched the ground, she realized what she had done, and fear, anxiety, and dizziness attacked her all at once as if they had been waiting. She wanted to fall to her knees, but instead, she ran to her mother’s room. If the potion was what the legend promised, it could give her mother health to live for several decades. It was supposed to be made with the remains of a unicorn’s horn.

In the room were already King Alistor, some relatives, and the goddess's priestess.

Four days after the lavish funeral service, in which the entire kingdom brought so many flowers to the royal mausoleum that it was necessary to ask people to place them in small pots all over the city, Runa gathered the courage to confess to her father what she had done. She gave him the vial with the supposed potion.

"Oh, my daughter," the king said in a choked voice, "I wish you hadn't done it. Your mother asked about you every minute until she left us. This wouldn’t have done her any good."

"You mean, after all it’s fake?"

"No, it's authentic. I've seen them before. They're not made from unicorn horn but from mandrake sap. Equally rare and powerful. But I'm afraid the legends sometimes forget the details. This can extend an elf's life by a few decades, but for humans, just a few days at best. Also, it can't lessen exhaustion or pain. Its best use is to remove curses, mixed with a bit of black yew root. If we had given it to her..."

"I understand, Father."

They embraced as they had done so many times in those days. Neither would forget the happy years they had shared. The story of Runa braving the storm quickly became a local legend. They said she had fought a dragon in the eye of the storm or had stopped the winds with such powerful magic that she could bend nature. Fortunately, no version spoke of her failure or her dealings with people of dubious morality.