It was between the cliff’s pass that I was reminded of the horrors of the Barrens once more. From under the heavy blanket’s protection, I watched as my horse’s hooves cracked bone covered ground, each step sending a new wave of bitter reality over me.

Besides the handful of guards posted and flanking the narrow entrance, I saw no new soldier waiting for us after we snuck between their ranks, although every so often, I would see a glimmer of silver shining between rocks in the high wall. Each side of the cliff’s face seemed ready to swallow us whole, forever to rest with those at our feet, as the shadowed edges reached into the starred sky. With every hoof slip of my clumsy, sleepy steed, I half expected an arrow to pierce my heart, straight through heavy cloth and armor. The walls seemed to stretch forever but, although it came slowly, our party of three was able to make it through a majority of the narrow pass unharmed.

Yet, just as we approached the opening into the southern Barrens, Cylie suddenly stopped. I looked up, struggling to see in the pinhole light between blanket weaves. In front of Cylie’s blanketed form and horse was the glittering silver armor of a Herculea soldier.

My breath caught in my lungs, and my head began to pound.

We were so close.

I watched Cylie, waiting for any queue. Would she run, fight?

My horse twitched beneath me, adjusting its weight, and I heard a huff of Aixel’s horse behind me. Cylie remained unmoving, and I watched the soldier remain where he stood, staring straight at her.

A further tense moment passed, and I began to feel sick. Although it was only one soldier, a simple signal could alert whatever mass hiding above and in the walls to the intruders below. I searched the soldier’s uncovered face. He looked young, with long, almost white hair glowing in the moonlight as he held his bow, firm in his palm. I then jumped in surprise as he suddenly knelt to the ground, eyes staring directly at the horse’s legs.

He then began to whisper something. Even in the silence, I could not make out his words. Although the horse’s legs were not covered, the spell should have kept us completely concealed.

The horses. He was talking to the horses.

Despite my efforts, I let out a gasp, quickly covering my mouth and hoping that the soldier did not hear. Thankfully, he did not stur, and continued his quiet conversation with Cylie’s horse.

The soldier then slowly stood, nodded, and stepped to the side.

I searched his face, but he remained stoic, looking past us and into the pass behind. There was hesitation in front of me, until Cylie lightly urged the horse to move forward. I followed stiffly, watching the soldier as we passed, but I could not read his face.

We breached into the clearing, with the South Barren’s gate now in view, but remained silent under the magicked blanket’s cover. The high-fenced gate that protected the southern Barrens reached higher than the neighboring trees, piled high with the salted sea stone, and crowned with chiseled spikes, ancient and opposing.

Cylie slowed in front of me, as we approached the towering gates, and she and Aixel threw their shrouded blankets off. I followed their lead as I watched a narrow opening appear in the wall, eye level to the approaching Cylie.

“Binding Chain?” said a low voice from beyond, and Cylie lifted the chain into view. I did the same, leading my horse beside hers.

“Where’s yours?” said the voice, more hostile this time, directed towards Aixel.

I turned to see Aixel approach the opening, pulling his eye open to dramatically reveal its voided black color, and the voice responded with a grunt.

There were screeching metal noises from beyond the wall, and eventually, two tall barn doors opened in the gate wall, allowing for our passage. As we finally made passage into the South Barrens, I let out a sigh, almost collapsing onto the ground in relief. Cylie let out a holler of joy and threw her arms around her horse’s neck.

Beyond the gate, there was a small encampment, with huddled groups of traveling blood mages and patrolling guards, either cloaked in black or clad in their signature collage of armor. I watched as Aixel then threw one of our two packs to one of the guards beside the door. His eyes caught mine.

“Donations,” he answered, reading my thoughts.

I nodded, watching as the guard thanked Aixel, before bringing the pack inside one of the nearby structures. I looked into the lantern lit window to see a young boy, eyes voided, staring back at me.

Beside me, Cylie was still thanking her horse, eagerly feeding it whatever she could find at the bottom of the pack she was carrying.

“I don’t know what you said to that soldier but thank you - thank you - thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I jumped and Cylie froze, only to find that the voice came from behind the dappled steed. A man walked from behind the horse, white hair shining bright in the lantern light as he chuckled.

“Sorry - Couldn’t help myself,” the tall man laughed, patting the horse’s neck. “But really - it’s Milea you should be thanking - though Dots here did help. She’s the one who let me know you two were on your way through the pass. Thankfully, I told my son in time. A girl and a void mage. He was a bit confused when he saw a party of three making their way through, but Dots here was able to clear everything up.”

“Barros, is it?” said Aixel, stepping forward from behind me.

“Ah, Aixel the void mage. I’ve heard many things about you.”

Barros then stepped forward, holding out his hand to Aixel. Their eyes met, and Aixel brow furrowed, arms remaining at his side. Barros lowered his hand, brushing it off with his other palm as if to wipe away the slight. His smile only faltered for a moment before he turned to me.

“And you must be the golden eyed one who Herculea has set her sights on,” he smiled warmly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

His eyes were kind, betrayed only by the aged scars that lined his face, dark and deep. Yet, when I peered back at him, his eyes were not full of the blood mage mist, but were a rich brown color, reflecting the lamplight flames that surrounded us.

“Your son?” I asked, thinking of the young herculean soldier who had blocked our path.

“She’s always watching us, what’s a few eyes watching back?” he smiled, “But enough of that. Come now, let’s get you all inside and washed up. I’m sure you’re ready for a real bed and warm water.”

Camp Twin Trees was one of the last, and largest camps in the whole of the mainland Lucerna Barrens. Only the island encampments rivaled the military presence of the high-walled barracks, although numbers had greatly diminished in recent years. Decades of fighting pushed the camp, once a stronghold in the Silkworm Woods, further and further south, until they were finally able to build their defenses with their backs against the south sea.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The dirt streets were filled with the Silkworm Woods survivors and refugees from around the realm, with all residents making peace, void mage and blood mage alike, rewarding those brave enough to make it this far south. Most of those who walked the streets had either made their way through the dangerous cliff pass through the Western Barren route, or braved their way past the several growing stronghold forts at the border just to the north of the often contested border.

As I dried my hair, finally clean after a much needed and appreciated bath, my eyes caught their reflection in a small mirror nailed to the bathroom door. Even now, golden eyes stared back at me. Even if I wanted to forget him, would my eyes still be a constant reminder of when he held me in the darkness?

The Fates had always been cruel, so I suppose things could be worse.

I peered closer, and pulled at my bottom lid, looking at the tiny inkblot of black touched by the void. How many times would I have to corrupt someone before the darkness consumed all of it?

No, never again.

There was a knock on the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Nearly done,” I shouted, rushing to get dressed.

“Take your time.”

It was Aixel.

I opened the door a creak, suspicious, to find him standing there outside the door, something small in his hand.

Our eyes met.

“Give me your hand,” he said flatly.

“Why?”

He sighed.

“Stop being weird and give me your hand.”

I offered my palm, and he placed a small brown square on it. I lifted it to my face, giving it a smell. Chocolate.

“What’s this? A peace offering?” I asked.

His brows furrowed.

“Were we at war?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Maybe,” I said slyly, putting the small sweet square in my mouth.

He shook his head, turning away, and I could tell he was suppressing a smile.

“‘Night, Mira,” he said.

“Goodnight, Aixel.”

The chocolate didn’t taste like sand.

I was nervous to sleep without the comfort of a dozen grass wards surrounding my head, but Barros assured us that we were as safe as we could be on the mainland - just to avoid any mirrors. There was no use trying to hide from the Guides here. Unlike the underground, Camp Twin Trees was not hidden nor did it try to be. The well-fortified walls had earned their place after decades of defending from the strongest of blood mages still standing.

When I finally drifted to sleep, there was a familiar crow waiting for me, preening long black feathers, stark against the white sands. I knelt before it, wishing now more than ever to have the gifts of my mother and sister. Lumo or not, this frequent dream visitor must have something to say with all these visits.

“Hello, old friend,” I said, peering into black bead-eyes, “Any news?”

The bird, as usual, ignored me and continued primping its silky feathers.

“A lot has changed since we last spoke,” I sighed, leaning back and letting my head rest against the soft sand, “Made some friends… lost some friends.”

I stretched my hands into the sunless sky, flexing healed, voidless hands.

“... done things I will always regret… And things I now find pride in.”

I traced the sand around me, watching the thin line fill behind my finger’s path.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever be a hardened warrior, like Milea or Ciro… and when I see the faces of these people, fighting their entire lives, I still feel like an outsider - an intruder and fraud among them. Yet… they accept me all the same… Include me in their ranks… Allow me to hold my blade beside them, no matter how unskilled I may be.”

I turned back to the bird, who was pulling on a particularly long flight feather.

“An entire life of fighting, surviving. Will they ever be able to rest, unafraid?”

I sighed.

“Will I?”

The bird then plucked the feather from its wing, perhaps pulling it too hard, and the silky black plume dropped to the sand. I took it between my fingers, rolling the stem and watching where the light hit.

“A white feather for magic sacrifice… A black to fight against the filth in the Barrens.”

I let out a sad laugh.

“I suppose I don’t need this now that I’m already here.”

The crow then turned to me, eyes turning curiously before it let out an ear-piercing caw, causing me to jump.

“Oh? Finally noticing me now? Or are you just asking for your feather back?”

The crow screamed again and I placed the long feather at its agitated, hopping feet.

MIRA!

I opened my eyes to see Cylie above me, shaking my shoulders, and I let out a scream. She screamed back in surprise before she started to laugh, nose crinkling in amusement.

“Mira - I’ve been trying to wake you up for forever. Hurry up and get ready - we’re all hungry.”

Breakfast was awkward, as expected, and I thanked the Gods that Cylie was there to ease any tensions. Aixel, as expected, did not trust a Disciple of Herculea, no matter his storied history fighting for the South Barrens. So, while the void mage stared daggers into our kind host, Cylie filled the silence telling stories of her time raising direwolf pups in the mountains.

“Perhaps you can help us out in the corral,” he smiled, “It’s not much at the moment - fifty or so horses and a handful of griffins, but they can use all the help they can get.”

Cylie smiled, looking down at the buttered bread in her hands.

“Ah, I’m not so good with horses. I can ride ‘em but that’s about it. Direwolves are easy - like their space for the most part until they find their person. Keep ‘em fed and you won’t have any problems.”

“I can help.”

Barros turned to me, curious.

“Great - I’ll let them know to expect you today,” said Barros.

Aixel elbowed my side.

“Barely here a day and already offering free labor?” he whispered in my ear while gently pulling my unfinished plate away.

“Would you like to join her, Aixel? Or perhaps you’ll be paying for your bed and meals some other way while you’re here,” said Barros, warm tone masking his words. “Although I’m sure you’re eager to get back home soon.”

Aixel stopped, mid bite of my remaining breakfast, and swallowed.

“I’d love to help,” Aixel smiled, matching Barros’ energy. “I adore shoveling horse droppings. The smell really reminds me of the bogs back home.”

“Ah, it’s settled then,” said Barros, clapping his hands and scooting away from the table, “The stables it is.”

The days passed like blinks of an eye as I found comfort in new routine. Horses were familiar to me, and I could not help but be reminded of home as I cared for the many animals at the stables. The horses wore the same scars as the mages that cared for them, eyes tired but strong, and although I did not have much experience with the griffins, those I had worked beside were more than patient when they taught me how to care for the gentle and proud beasts.

The nights were full of laughter, with Cylie amusing us with tales of her morning adventures. She paid for her stay as she knew best, and hunted game in the bleached forest to the east of camp, her speckled horse friend, now affectionately known as Dots, as her unlikely companion. And with Cylie and Aixel at my side, face warm with laughter and firelight, I found comfort in a new life.

That was until the first war horns sounded.