Hayden stirred, his senses slowly returning as consciousness crept back in. The first thing he felt was the ache in his head, a dull throb that pulsed with every beat of his heart. His body felt heavy, sluggish, as though he had been dragged through the mud. He blinked his eyes open, squinting against the faint light of the early morning, his surroundings blurring into focus.

He was in a camp, though not one he recognized. Around him, four figures in gray leathers and cloaks were quietly packing up their belongings—bedrolls, small pouches, and packs strapped to their backs. They moved with practiced efficiency, saying little, their faces obscured by hoods.

Nearby, Hayden noticed their mounts—massive panthers, their sleek forms resting near the edge of the camp, alert and watchful.

Hayden shifted, and the faint rustle of his movement caught the attention of one of the figures. She straightened, turning toward him, her face revealed as she lowered her hood. It was a woman, tall and sharp-featured, her eyes the color of the sea and her expression calculating, though not unkind.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said smoothly, her voice calm. She crossed the short distance to where Hayden lay, her gaze assessing him. “You gave us quite a scare last night.”

Hayden blinked, still disoriented. His memories of the previous night were fuzzy—images of the fellbadger, the fight, his frantic escape—but it was all jumbled in his mind.

“What…happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse. His throat felt dry, and he tried to sit up, though a sharp ache in his ribs made him wince.

The woman, whom Hayden assumed was the leader of the group, crouched beside him, watching him carefully. “You were lucky we came along when we did,” she said. “You were being chased by a fellbadger. Nasty creature. It had you pinned down in a ravine but we managed to take it out before it could finish the job. You’re welcome, by the way.” Her lips quirked into a small, amused smile.

Hayden’s head spun as he tried to piece it all together. The fellbadger, his goat…Argent! Panic seized him as he remembered his loyal mount facing off against the beast. “Argent…what about my goat? Is he alright?”

The woman raised a hand, her expression turning more reassuring. “He’s fine,” she said. “We were able to heal him up, good as new. He’s been a little…protective, though. One of my men is taking him out to forage right now, but it took some convincing to even let the goat leave your side.”

Hayden sagged with relief, his muscles relaxing slightly. Argent was alive. That was something, at least. He took a moment to let that sink in before glancing around the camp again, his gaze drifting back to the panthers lounging nearby. They were huge, their sleek black fur blending into the shadows, their eyes gleaming faintly in the morning light. Something about the scene felt off—these people weren’t just travelers.

Before he could ask more questions, another figure approached from the edge of the camp. His face was grim, his movements tense as he walked up to the woman. “We’ve got a problem, Lyra,” he said quietly, casting a wary glance at Hayden.

The woman—Lyra—stood, her expression hardening. “What is it, Gareth?”

“Knights from Crystalspire,” Gareth said, his voice urgent. “They’re spreading out in every direction. A search party. We’ve got a few hours, maybe less before they close in on us. If they’ve got skilled mages among them, they might be able to track the…events from last night.

Lyra’s gaze flicked to Hayden, her expression unreadable for a moment before she turned back to Gareth. “Right, then. We’ll need to move quickly.”

Hayden felt a chill run down his spine. Crystalspire knights? His father’s men. They were looking for him. Panic welled up inside of him as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. He had to get away—he couldn’t go back. Not after everything that had happened.

“What are they searching for?” Lyra asked, her voice cool and even though Hayden sensed an underlying edge of suspicion.

Hayden hesitated, unsure of how much to say. But he couldn’t afford to waste time. “It’s me, they’re looking for me,” he admitted, his voice tight with urgency. “I—I ran away from Crystalspire. I need to get as far away from there as possible. Please… I can’t let them find me.”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Hayden could feel her assessing him, weighing his words. “Ran away, did you?” she murmured, her tone almost teasing. “That’s quite the story.”

Hayden’s heart pounded in his chest. “I’m serious,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “I need to leave now. If they find me, I—” He stopped himself, realizing how desperate he sounded, but the fear was real. He didn’t have time to explain the details. All that mattered was getting away.

Lyra exchanged a glance with Gareth, her expression unreadable for a moment longer. Then she shrugged, her voice taking on a more casual tone. “Well, we’re heading north ourselves. Away from Crystalspire. You’re welcome to join us—though I’d have to wonder why a bunch of knights would be so interested in some runaway boy.” She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity clearly piqued, though her tone remained light.

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Hayden froze. North? He’d planned to head south, toward Ignaris, but now…the knights were spreading out. If they were searching all the roads, it didn’t matter which way he went—they’d find him. Heading north with these strangers was the only option for now.

“North is fine,” Hayden said quickly, the urgency in his voice clear. “I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s away from here.”

As Hayden gathered his bearings, one of Lyra’s men emerged from the trees, leading Argent by the reins. The goat, though clearly tied, appeared unharmed. Its dark fur gleamed in the morning light, and as soon as it spotted Hayden, Argent let out a soft bleat and trotted over, nuzzling his shoulder with surprising affection for such a large, sturdy creature.

Hayden couldn’t help but smile, his earlier fears momentarily easing as he ran his hands over Argent’s sturdy frame, checking for any signs of injury. The goat seemed none the worse for wear—no cuts, no bruises, just the faint remnants of dried blood from the earlier skirmish. Whatever healing magic these people had used, it had worked wonders. Argent gently nudged Hayden’s arm with his nose, as if reassuring him.

Good to see you, too,” Haydsen muttered softly, scratching the goat behind its ears. Argent snorted in response, nudging him again before lowering its head to graze on some nearby grass.

Relieved, Hayden stood and glanced around the camp, his mind turning to his next concern—his belongings. Moving quickly, he knelt by the small pile of gear that had been left for him near his bedroll. His sword and bow were there, his quiver of arrows intact, and even his cloak and change of clothes. But as he rifled through the items, he realized with a sinking feeling that something was missing.

His coins. And worse, his map.

He cursed silently under his breath. Of course. He should have expected it. These people—whoever they were—weren’t likely to pass up on the chance to lighten his load, especially when they thought he might not make it through the night. He glanced toward the group packing their belongings, suspicion gnawing at him, but he swallowed it down. They had saved his life, after all, and considering the alternative—being left to die at the hands of the fellbadger—he supposed losing a few coins and a map wasn’t the worst price to pay.

Sighing, he shook his head. A cheap price to stay alive and clear of his father’s knights.

Within an hour, the camp was broken down, and they were on the move. Hayden rode atop Argent, grateful for the goat’s sure footing as they moved steadily along a narrow mountain path. The terrain was rugged, but Argent handled it with ease, navigating the uneven ground without missing a step. Hayden had been right to trust him, and now, more than ever, he was grateful to have the goat by his side.

Ahead of him, Lyra rode her panther, the sleek creature’s side rippling like liquid shadow as it padded silently over the rocky trail. She moved with the same deadly grace as her mount, her eyes constantly scanning the horizon. Though they hadn’t spoken much since leaving the camp, Hayden found himself riding alongside her now, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

He cleared his throat. “So… who are you?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Lyra glanced over at him, her lips curving into that faint, amused smile he’d seen earlier. “Independent smugglers,” she answered, her tone light but deliberate. “We move goods from Strumveil to Ignaris and back. Trade is difficult between the two, with the Sturmveil constantly attacking Terravorn and Ignaris stiffly protective of their borders. People like us…well, we make sure the most important and valuable goods get where they need to go without all the corrupt nobility getting their fingers in the pie.”

Hayden frowned slightly, not entirely convinced by her story, but unable to find any holes in it either. He knew a bit about the Sturmbveil Kingdom, the storm cultivators to the north, and their strained relations with Ignaris to the south. It made sense that smugglers would be needed to bypass the tensions. Still, something about Lyra’s calm, practiced demeanor made him uneasy. Smugglers carrying goods, no matter how valuable they were, couldn’t easily put down a fellbadger, heal his mount, and be on their way like it was a normal morning.

“And why would Crystalspire knights be interested in you?” Lyra turned the tables with a knowing smirk.

Hayden tried to hide his frustration. He knew she was only asking so that he would stop prying into their background. He was young, but he was a court-trained noble. He knew a conversational tactic when he spied one, but he didn’t push the matter. For now, his priority was getting away from Crystalspire, and whatever Lyra and her group were up to, he didn’t have much of a choice but to trust them for now.

They rode in silence for a while, the mountain looming around them like jagged teeth, casting long shadows over the rocky terrain. The path grew steeper as they ascended, the air colder and thinner, but Lyra and her group moved with practiced ease, their panthers gliding over the ground like shadows.

Just when Hayden thought they might have some time to breathe, Gareth appeared from the rear of the group, his face grim. “We’ve got trouble, Lyra.”

Lyran reined in her mount, her eyes narrowing as she turned to him. “What is it?”

The Crystalspire knights,” Gareth muttered disdainfully. “They’ve got a mage with them. I sensed their magic—it’s faint, but they’ve picked up our trail. They’re gaining ground.”

Hayden’s heart lurched in his chest. A mage. Of course. It was likely one of his siblings. If the knights had brought someone like Seraphine with the ability to track them magically, there would be no outrunning them.

Lyra’s expression darkened, her eyes flicking to Hayden for a brief moment before she spoke. “Looks like we’ll have to move faster. Gareth, Faline—scout ahead, make sure we’re not walking into a trap.”

Gareth nodded and disappeared into the shadows, his form blending seamlessly with the surrounding landscape as he and the others spread out to scout the area.

Lyra turned back to Hayden, her tone softer but still blade sharp with focus. “We need to move. Stay close, and don’t fall behind.”

Hayden nodded, gripping Argent’s reins tightly. His stomach twisted with a mix of fear and urgency. The knights were coming, and if they caught up…there was no telling what would happen next.