Hayden lay on his bed, his breathing slowly evening out as the storm of emotions inside him began to settle. His mind, once awash with anger and confusion, now turned to a cold, clear thought—he couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t bear to remain in Crystalspire Keep, enduring the whispers, the sideways glances, the disappointment etched on his father’s face. His failure as an ascendant was a weight that would crush him if he stayed.

Exile, he thought. Some nobles, when they failed their families chose to exile themselves rather than bring further shame. It was a path no one spoke of openly, but Hayden knew it had been done before. He wasn’t sure where he would go—his knowledge of the world beyond the fief was limited—but anywhere had to be better than this.

The fire kingdom came to mind. Ignaris, a land far to the south, known for its warm climate and volcanic mountains, was home to fire-based ascendants due to the ambient fire mana in the region. There was a minor noble house in a trade town there—House Emberlin—that had loose ties to his family through a series of distant trade deals. It was far enough that he wouldn’t be noticed, but familiar enough that he might not be completely out of place. It was a long journey, but it was a destination. And more than that—it was away from here.

Decision tentatively made, Hayden sat up on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his sandy brown hair as he mentally listed what he would need for the journey. If he was going to do this, he had to leave quickly, before his father or the others could stop him. He couldn’t afford to waste time.

Hayden rose and began to move around his room, gathering what little he had of value. His heart was still heavy, but the act of preparing to leave gave him some measure of control over his situation—something that had been sorely lacking just hours before.

He opened a small chest at the foot of his bed, revealing a set of coins, collected over the years from various allowances and small rewards for services he had performed around the keep. He grabbed a leather pouch and filled it with coins of various denominations—silver, gold, and copper, ensuring he had enough to buy food, shelter, and if necessary, passage to Ignaris.

Next, he moved to the wardrobe and pulled out a change of clothing, something practical—dark trousers, a long-sleeved tunic, and sturdy boots that could handle the wear of long travel. Then he grabbed his thick cloak, knowing that the mountain air would be biting cold this time of year. The cloak was heavy, lined with fur to keep out the worst of the wind, and it had a deep hood that would help him blend into the crowds in the town below.

He changed quickly, exchanging his court attire for the more practical outfit before drawing out another from the wardrobe and momentarily setting the clothing aside with his cloak. Near a waiting knapsack.

Clothing settled, moved to the rack where his weapons were kept. He wasn’t a warrior like some of his siblings, but he knew enough about the martial path to keep himself alive. As a member of the noble house, he had been required to learn the bow, dagger, longsword, mace, staff, spear, and more.

He took his ironwood bow, carefully slinging a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. Then he reached for his most prized possession: a gemforged longsword crafted by his brother Eldric.

The blade shimmered faintly in the dim light, its edge honed to perfection, with a small gem embedded in the hilt, amplifying its durability and keenness.

Despite his harsh words earlier, Eldric had gifted the swords years ago on his naming day, back when he still believed Hayden might have a bright future. The sword was a symbol of what might have been, but now it would serve as his defense on the road ahead, and perhaps an option to barter for more coins if necessary.

Hayden hesitated for a moment as he strapped the sword to his waist, a pang of sorrow shooting through him at the thought of leaving his family behind, but he quickly shook it off. There was no going back now. He had made his decision.

The last item was a map, fished from a stack of scrolls on his writing desk that picked out the trade routes between Crystalspire and the southern kingdoms. It wasn’t the most detailed, but it was enough to guide him as far as Ignaris. He rolled it up carefully before returning to his knapsack.

He placed the spare clothing, coin pouch, miscellaneous sundries and the carefully rolled map inside while he thought about his next steps. He couldn’t risk heading to the kitchens, likely one of his father’s knights would catch him along the way. He would have to head directly to the stables to find a mount. Navigating the mountains this time of year on foot would be an exercise in stupidity. Once he had everything packed, he donned his cloak and slung the oiled leather knapsack over his shoulders.

Without wasting another moment, Hayden moved quickly and quietly toward the door. Before he left, he caught sight of himself in the mirror affixed to the inside of his wardrobe door. His reflection stared back—pale, tired eyes set in a face far too young to carry such weight. His light hair—a gift from his mother—was disheveled, and there was a hollowness to his expression, the remnants of his earlier despair still etched into his features.

He straightened his tunic and adjusted the cloak draped over his shoulders, trying to make himself look more like a traveler than a runaway noble. For a moment, he wondered if anyone would even recognize him once he left. His eyes lingered on the sword at his waist—the one piece of him that still connected him to his house. It felt strange, almost surreal, to be leaving, but the face in the mirror was no longer that of the youth who belonged there.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Turning, he slipped into the hallway, making his way through the familiar corridors of Crystalspire Keep. He stuck to the paths that were least likely to contain a guard or a member of his family. Fortunately, the servants were either sleeping or too busy with their nightly duties to notice him. The halls, dimly lit by glowing crystals, were cold and silent, like a fortress long abandoned.

Hayden kept his head down as he made his way to the stables. His heart pounded in his chest as he walked, each step bringing him closer to leaving the life he had always known behind. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he reached Ignaris—perhaps work as a guard, or take up a minor role in one of the trade houses. All he knew was that he couldn’t stay there.

As he stepped outside, the chill of the mountain air hit him immediately. He pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders and made his way to the stables where the semi-intelligent goats of House Harstan were kept. These creatures, larger and stronger than any normal goat, had been raised from birth and magically enhanced to serve as swift and reliable mounts, capable of navigating the treacherous mountain terrain as easily as the open plains. Their sleek, muscular bodies were covered in short, shimmering silver fur, and their sharp, intelligent eyes followed Hayden as he approached.

His own goat, Argent, stood near the entrance of the stable, his gleaming coat catching the faint light of the moon. Argent was loyal, a rare breed even among the Harstan goats, with almost unsettling awareness of his surroundings. He bleated softly, the sound low and familiar, as Hayden approached him.

“Easy, boy," Hayden whispered, his hand moving to scratch behind him behind the ears. Argent tilted his head into the touch, his curling, wickedly sharp horns scraping against the wood-paneled wall, while his sharp eyes never left Hayden’s. There was a moment of stillness between them, a quiet understanding. The goat had been with him for years, through his training, his hunts, and the long rides through the mountainous regions around Crystalspire.

Hayden worked quickly, securing his belongings to Argent’s saddle and adjusting the enchanted reins. As he finished, the soft rustle of hay being disturbed alerted him to the presence of someone behind him.

He tensed, turning to find Joran, one of the stablehands, leaning against the stable door, arms crossed. The older man, dressed in a simple tunic and thick leather gloves, looked at Hayden with a curious expression, his brow furrowed slightly beneath a mop of graying hair.

“Bit late for a ride, don’t you think, milord?” Joran asked, his tone casual, but there was a note of suspicion in his voice. He took a step closer, eyes flicking to the bags strapped to Argent. “What’s all this for? You plannin’ to go somewhere?”

Hayden swallowed hard, his mind racing. Joran had worked at the stables for years and had always been loyal to House Harstan. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, but he also wasn’t someone who would let a noble’s son leave in the dead of night without asking questions. Worse, if Joran suspected anything and raised the alarm, it would all be over before it even started. Hayden needed to stay calm.

“I, uh…”Hayden began, clearing his throat and forcing himself to stand a little straighter. “I’m heading south. Just for a few days.” He tried to sound confident, casual, as if there was nothing strange about packing up in the middle of the night. “Father sent me on an errand to one of the towns on the border. He wanted it done quietly.”

Joran raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “An errand, huh? And no one told me you’d be needing Argent ready. That’s odd, don’t you think, milord?” The stablehand’s voice was calm, but there was a glint of knowing in his eyes. “If this is really your father’s errand, maybe I should check with the steward or the marshal first. You know, just to make sure.”

Hayden’s pulse quickened. He could feel the situation slipping, and if Joran so much as set foot outside the stables to raise a question, it would be over. Desperation clawed at him, but he forced a smile onto his face, trying to project ease where there was none.

“You don’t need to bother them,” Hayden said quickly, stepping forward. “Father doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s…delicate business.” He hesitated, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Something about trade deals with House Emberlin, south of here. I’m supposed to make it look like I’m traveling alone.”

Joran eyed him carefully, his weathered face betraying the years of experience dealing with noble affairs. “Trade business, is it? House Emberlin, you say?”

Hayden nodded, hoping the name would be enough to sway the stablehand. “Yeah, and you know how these things go…quiet, no fuss. If word gets out, it could mess things up with the royal family. Father said to keep it to ourselves.”

Joran’s gaze lingered on Hayden for a long moment. The stablehand sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly torn. He was a servant of the house, but he had seen the young master grow up—he understood the current situation, the mundane shame of it all.Hell, it was all the house servants had been talking about for the last few hours.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded.

“All right, lad.” Joran said slowly, “I’ll keep this quiet. But you be careful out there, understand? Your mother would die of grief if something goes wrong. Especially if you’re running errands in the dark like this.”

Hayden exhaled softly, relief flooding his chest. “Thanks, Joran. I’ll be careful.”

With one last glance, Joran stepped back from the stall and gave Argent an approving pat. “Remember, Milord. The path of ascension is never a straight one. Only you can decide the man you’re going to become.”

Hayden nodded, pulling himself onto Argent’s back as tears unconsciously pricked his eyes. “I’ll remember. Thanks, Joran.”

“Not some damned stone,” Joran muttered under his breath as the young noble nudged Argent forward and led him out of the stables. Hayden didn’t hear the older man but he could feel the tight coil of tension still sitting in his gut. Joran had let him go, but it was a narrow escape.