More than four-hundred people attended the funeral of Oracus’s father. In a vast cemetery full of old gravestones, flowers and oak trees, most of the villagers from Thessley were present, and even some citizens of Afarra had come to pay their respects.

The midday sun shone down on the crowd as they gathered around the grave, and everyone listened to the stories that were told by those who Oracus’s father had known best. For most of the ceremony, Oracus had tried his hardest to stem the tears, but during his speech he hadn’t been able to hold back the sobs of despair.

The man who had taught him everything was dead. Gone forever. It had been his father who had showed him how to use a bow and arrow, let him assist with caring for the livestock on the farm, and helped him to get a job at the blacksmith’s workshop in Thessley’s village centre. Never again would he listen to his father’s voice or hear his advice.

When the ceremony reached its climax, the coffin was lowered into the grave and soil was shovelled over it. Oracus tried to offer some final grateful words, but his throat tightened, and the words never came. He sobbed harder than he had ever sobbed in his life, and he felt Garrin’s arm wrap around his shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” he was told. “There’s nothing anyone could have done to stop this.”

I could have not gone hunting in the forest in the first place, Oracus thought. Or I could have ran home when the Lavorian fell from the sky.

Garrin’s grip stiffened and Oracus rested his head on his friend’s shoulder. “Life was simple,” he said, trying to hold his voice steady. “But now all this has happened and I don't know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, Oracus, but I don’t think life will ever be simple now you’re a Rider.”

“But I don't know if I want that, Garrin. I had a good life back in Thessley. Since Bandor showed up I’ve lost my father and lost Thessley too. And I nearly got killed myself. What am I going to lose next?”

Garrin withdrew his arm and dodged the question. “It’ll take time, but you will feel better eventually.”

Oracus sighed and wiped the tears from his face. “I hope you're right,” he said, unconvinced.

When the grave was filled with earth, the crowd slowly thinned until Oracus was left alone. Soon, the cemetery was empty and silent, with not even the bustle of the markets audible in the distance. Oracus knelt beside the grave and placed his hand on the corner of the gravestone. The feeling comforted him like he was grasping his father’s shoulder.

“Thank you for everything,” he said simply. He let the words linger for a moment in the hope his father would respond to him. But when the silence endured, he spoke on, “I promise I’ll make you proud.”

The tears returned to his eyes again, but this time he didn’t hold them back. He let them flow until the afternoon became evening, and then evening became night. When darkness arrived, the air turned cool, but Oracus still didn’t leave his father’s side. He would stay there until morning, or until all his tears had dried up.

*

Several days passed after the burial and the dull ache of grief and anguish persisted. Only when preoccupied could Oracus prevent the sadness, so he’d often take walks through Afarra’s streets with Bandor tucked safely inside his shirt. For the most part, he kept Bandor well hidden, but sometimes the Lion’s head would pop out of his collar for a look around and someone would inevitably spot him. On those occasions, Oracus would quickly find the nearest alley or doorway to escape through before a crowd began to gather.

When he wasn’t exploring the city, he was usually avoiding Garrin or other villagers of Thessley. For hours, he would lock himself inside the room where his father had died, and either sleep or talk to Bandor. Although dusty, cold and empty, the small room comforted Oracus somewhat – the air in there still carried the scent of his father; or maybe that was just Oracus’s imagination.

It had been barely a week since Bandor had appeared in the Raspian Forest, but already he and Oracus had a bond unlike anything Oracus had ever experienced. When Oracus had taken the Lion back to the barn in Thessley, he had been aware of a connection between them, but now he sensed that Bandor understood every word he spoke, and he even had a suspicion the Lion could read his thoughts.

On a morning when the sky was cloudless and blue above Afarra, Oracus and Bandor were lying together on the floor of their room. They had recently returned from a visit to the cemetery and were having a quiet snooze.

Suddenly, Oracus snapped awake at the sound of a voice. He looked around the room and realised they were still alone. He wondered if he’d been dreaming, and then shook Bandor’s peaceful body. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

Bandor’s ears twitched and he lifted his head. Then Oracus realised what he had heard.

“You can talk, can’t you?” he said to the Lion.

There wasn’t an immediate response, but then Bandor’s mouth moved and a soft reply came, “Yes.”

For a moment, Oracus said nothing, he just looked into Bandor’s big yellow eyes. But then a smile spread across his face for the first time since his father had died. “How long have you been able to?” he said.

Bandor blinked and purred quietly. “I don’t know. It just feels right today.” His voice was so calm and deliberate it instantly relaxed Oracus. It was like listening to the patter of rain on a window.

“I have so many questions to ask you,” Oracus said.

“I already know what your questions are,” Bandor replied. “But I won’t be able to answer them. I know nothing except what I’ve learned from you.”

“So you don’t know where you came from or why you landed in the forest?” Oracus pressed.

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Bandor shook his feline head. “All I know is my arrival here has forced you out of your home, and I’m sorry for that.”

Oracus stood up and walked over to the window. Down below, a bustling market square was full of life. In one corner, a butcher was swinging a cleaver dangerously above his head and hollering about ‘the finest cuts of meat in Afarra’, while in another corner, several women were eyeing the gems on a jewellery stall. In the centre of the square, two boys were pushing their way through the crowd to see the swords at the weaponry stall, just like Oracus and Garrin used to do in Thessley when they were younger.

An emptiness filled Oracus as he turned back towards Bandor. What he’d give to be back by the hearth in his home with his father sitting in the rocking chair and blowing smoke-rings at the ceiling. “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you,” Oracus assured Bandor. “But everything I used to rely on has gone. Even the people from Thessley don’t seem the same anymore.” Oracus turned his attention back to the market. “I mean, what are we supposed to do here? Is this our home forever now?”

Bandor crept forward and rubbed his head affectionately against Oracus’s leg. “Maybe all this is happening for a reason. Maybe we found each other in the forest because it’s our destiny to take on the world together.”

Oracus looked down at Bandor but withheld his response. Right now, an adventure of some kind was the last thing he wanted.

“I understand,” Bandor said. “Nobody expects you to forget about your father or Thessley, but you can’t stay in this room forever without speaking to the people you care about.”

“I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone,” Oracus replied with a shrug. “I don’t have anything to say to them.”

“At some point you’ll have to. They’ll come to you if you don’t find them first. And don’t you want to discover more about Pharia now it’s no longer a secret?”

The truth was that Oracus was extremely interested in discovering more about Pharia. For years he had wanted to know the answers that were being kept from him. But it was his curiosity that had got him into this mess in the first place, so he was reluctant to go asking questions in case it made everything worse.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Bandor said. “Being in the sunshine might cheer you up.”

Oracus grumbled but peeled his eyes away from the people in the market square. “We could go to the far side of the city and see the ocean. I haven’t seen the ocean before.”

“Neither have I,” Bandor added.

Bandor had grown to twice the size since Oracus had first found him, and Oracus’s shirt could no longer contain him. So Oracus manufactured a harness out of the bedsheets and put Bandor inside. When they were both comfortable, they exited the house through the back door and took to the narrow, cobbled lanes outside.

In the backstreets of Afarra, the laughter of children bounced off the stone buildings, and the wonderful smell of cooking meat lingered in the summer air. While the children played, the elderly stood watchfully in porches and doorways, mostly knitting, or smoking, or hanging clothes out to dry in the sun.

After several minutes of walking, the lanes opened out and the yellow stone buildings were replaced by tiny thatched homes with short fences surrounding them and flowers on the windowsills. Outside one of the houses, an old lady was pruning a bush, just like Oracus would have seen in Thessley. The sight made him smile, but sorrow soon followed, and he looked away and quickened his pace.

When the sun had reached its highest point, Oracus and Bandor arrived at a field bestrewn with apple trees. The field was full of joy and laughter, with children flying kites and throwing balls with their parents, while apple-pickers climbed ladders to reach the highest fruits. Beyond the field, Oracus caught his first ever glimpse of the ocean, with its gentle blue waves glimmering with white in the sunlight. The sound of the water crashing onto the sandy shore was even more calming than the trickle of stream water in the forest.

When Oracus stepped onto the field, Bandor’s sensitive nose rose out of the sheet harness and sniffed the air. His metal whiskers tickled Oracus’s chin.

“This part of the city is beautiful,” Oracus observed. “Why didn’t we come here sooner?” He walked across the field and between the trees, until his feet sank into the soft sand.

With the water splashing at his feet, Oracus inhaled a deep, peaceful breath and tasted the salt in the air. Then there was a screech from behind, and he turned around to see Garrin and the Eagle soaring over the field towards him.

The Eagle landed with a small hop and ruffled its metal feathers. It snapped its beak several times and Oracus took a surprised step away.

“She won’t hurt you,” Garrin said as he dropped from the saddle on the Eagle’s back. “She just looks fierce.”

The Eagle stood a foot taller than Oracus and its sharp eyes had locked onto him. He wasn’t convinced it was completely harmless.

“Her name’s Aquila,” Garrin went on, stroking her neck. “She actually already knows quite a lot about you.”

Oracus struggled to take his eyes off Aquila, but when Bandor poked his head out of the harness, Oracus looked down. “This is Bandor,” he said.

Garrin stroked Bandor’s head and grinned, then his expression turned more serious. “You’ve been avoiding everyone since the funeral,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Oracus shrugged. “I just wanted to be alone for a while.”

“I came to see you, but you’d locked yourself away.”

“I just wasn’t in the mood for visitors, that’s all.”

Unsurprisingly, the sound of excited voices soon came from all around them. Because of Garrin and Aquila’s overt arrival, the peaceful spot on the shore was suddenly being invaded by people wanting to meet them.

Garrin was quick to react and pulled Oracus to Aquila’s side. “Get on,” he ordered.

Just as they’d done when escaping from Thessley, Oracus and Garrin climbed onto Aquila’s back and they took off into the sky. Disappointed shouts reached them, but soon the people were out of sight and a spectacular view of miles and miles of ocean was all Oracus could see.

High above the land was a truly incredible place to be, but it also brought about a frustration in Oracus that he couldn’t explain. “Why did you keep all this from me, Garrin?” he asked sternly.

Garrin fidgeted in the saddle behind Oracus. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I made a promise to say nothing because I thought it would keep Thessley safe.”

“But it didn’t,” Oracus contended. “If anything, your secrets were the reason the soldiers found Thessley. If you’d been honest with me then I would never have been in the forest to find Bandor, and the village would never have been discovered.”

“I asked you not to speak to Elnir but you went and did it anyway,” Garrin argued. “I tried to warn you.”

“You lied to me!”

“I didn’t lie,” Garrin defended.

“You told me Elnir’s stories were nonsense, but you knew they weren’t. You tried to convince me this world outside Thessley didn’t exist when you were actually a Rider all along.” Oracus shook his head. “My best friend became a Rider and didn’t even tell me.”

“I wish I could have,” Garrin said. “Every day I wanted to share it with you.”

“But you didn’t, and now my father is dead.”

Garrin stiffened in his seat at those words. For a short time, he said nothing at all, and Oracus began to feel guilty for being so cutting. He knew Garrin would never have purposely put his father’s life in danger, but he had harboured so much anger since leaving Thessley that he’d needed to release it somehow.

When Garrin did eventually speak, each word caught in his throat. “Do you think I haven’t thought about it a thousand times since? I wish I could turn back time and change something, but I can’t! I’m sorry, Oracus. I really am.”

The view of the ocean became less breathtaking when marred by regret. Oracus ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “No, it’s me who should be sorry, Garrin. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. Blaming you wasn’t fair.”

Garrin put his hand on Oracus’s shoulder. “Shall we forget about our disagreements and start afresh?” he said.

“Only if you now promise to tell me everything you know about Pharia,” Oracus replied.

“Well, the leader of this city has been quite keen to meet you since you arrived,” Garrin said. “His name is Torvanon and he’s a Rider too. How about I take you to meet him?”

Oracus nodded his head. “I think I’d like that.”

Following Oracus’s approval, Aquila’s right wing declined and she arched back towards the city. In the very centre of Afarra, a palace stood tall and magnificent, and the Eagle soared effortlessly towards it.