The sun was slowly hiding behind the mountains when Lesky and Liffel reached the Frixt forest. The trees were tall and dense, covering the path with a quiet gloom. Lesky leaned Liffel against a rock and began to inspect the wound in his shoulder. The arrow had penetrated deep into the shoulder but the young man worked patiently to extract it.

Liffel gritted his teeth, his eyes glistening with pain.

-This will hurt a little, but I have to get it out now,” Lesky said, his voice calm but firm.

She nodded silently, letting him continue. When the arrow finally came out, Liffel let out a sigh, feeling relief that quickly turned to burning as Lesky cleaned the wound with water from a jar. After applying a makeshift bandage with strips of his cloak, Lesky stood up and carried her in his arms again.

-Get some rest. We still have some way to go,” he said without waiting for her response.

Liffel closed her eyes, surrendered to the tiredness and trust she was beginning to feel towards him.

When they reached the city of Markkus, the bustle of the market greeted them. Carts laden with fruit, looms hanging on the stalls, and the murmur of the inhabitants gave them a respite from the tension of the forest. Lesky left Liffel leaning against a stone wall as she shopped for a set of simple clothes at a store near the town's border.

She returned with a damaged gray hooded dress, a dark cloak and a pair of light boots.

-Here, this will help you go unnoticed.

Liffel took the garments and looked around, looking for a place to change.

-I'm going to those bushes. Don't you dare look,” she said, trying to sound authoritative, but a slight blush covered her cheeks.

Lesky let out a light chuckle and held up his hands in innocence.

-Don't worry, I'm not going to look. I'll be nearby in case anything happens.

Liffel wandered off into the foliage. As she changed, she felt something strange stirring in her chest. It wasn't love, but that mixture of gratitude and closeness unnerved her.

In the forest they left behind, a staggering figure emerged from the trees. Fliork, battered and covered in dust, cursed aloud as he lit another cigarette.

-Damn them... They left me like trash lying on the ground,” he snarled, referring to the group of assassins.

The path he was taking led him directly towards a group of armed men advancing in formation. They wore light but sturdy armor, with witch hunter insignia. Leading the group was an imposing man with dark hair and a cold gaze: Zafius.

Fliork couldn't help but sneer when he recognized him.

-Well, well. If it isn't the famous witch hunter Zafius.

The leader of the group stopped, giving Fliork a withering look.

-Shut your mouth, scum. Tell me where the witch is.

Fliork gave a sarcastic laugh as he exhaled smoke.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

-What do I know? She left me lying on the ground with a giant bolt of lightning. Shall I track her down?

Zafius stepped forward, his voice laden with menace.

-Then get out of my way. If I see you again, I'll finish you.

Fliork raised his hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender.

-Of course, of course, great Zafius. Same here,” he replied mockingly, but he did not wait for an answer and continued on his way.

Zafius ignored him, signaling his group to move forward.

-Heading south to Bratbah in the Kingdom of Arcaladia. Information suggests that they may be headed there.

Meanwhile, Fliork continued to follow Lesky and Liffel's trail, not knowing exactly where he was going, but determined to settle the score.

Liffel and Lesky entered the city of Markkus wrapped in old and damaged clothing, with Liffel's head covered by a hood to avoid prying eyes. Lesky had also changed his attire, wearing humble clothes that made him go unnoticed in the crowd.

They decided to look for work, as their money was quickly running out, but were turned down at every place they went. Their threadbare clothes and fatigued appearance provoked distrust in shopkeepers and workshop owners. Desperation began to weigh on them as they walked the crowded streets of the city, searching for a solution.

After several refusals, Liffel and Lesky found work in a mine on the outskirts of the city. For two months, they shared long days underground, lifting heavy rocks and enduring exhaustion. Despite the hardships, their relationship as partners grew stronger. Both learned to trust each other more, and though words were few, the camaraderie grew with each day.

One morning, while Lesky was still working, Liffel took advantage of his day off to return to Frixt Forest. There, amidst the stillness of the trees and the rustle of the wind, he found a peculiar man. He had messy red hair, a visibly deformed hand and dressed with a flamboyant air. He was seated next to an easel with blank canvases and paint stains everywhere.

-Who are you? -Liffel asked curiously, though on guard.

The man looked up and smiled.

-Billaf, a simple painter and dreamer. And you, young lady shrouded in mystery?

Liffel decided to introduce herself cautiously, leaving out the details of her origin. Thus began a conversation that soon took a more personal turn.

Billaf sighed, staring at his empty canvas.

-I never finish my paintings. The war robbed me of time, calm and clear memories of my lover, Brallet. I can't remember his face precisely, but his essence is still here, in my mind.

Liffel watched him, intrigued by his melancholy.

-I'd like to paint you,” Billaf said suddenly, a sparkle in his eyes. Rarely do they see witches these days, and your face is perfect.

Liffel was surprised, but finally nodded.

-I don't mind, go ahead.

As she prepared the canvas, Billaf spoke wistfully.

-You remind me of Brallet, you know, I think you have a similar air. She was a witch too. More than lovers, we were soul mates. Even though we barely knew each other, we were always there for each other, facing whatever life threw at us.

Liffel looked at him carefully.

-What happened to Brallet? -he asked, with slight trepidation.

Billaf dropped the brush and clenched his jaw.

-She was chased. By one Balker... and by the one they called the Hero of Alik.

Liffel blinked, incredulous.

-The hero of the war?

Billaf nodded bitterly.

-I was a coward. Too weak to protect her. If I saw her again, I'd give my life for her, but it's too late.... -Billaf said, with a deep sadness in his voice, while his eyes reflected the pain of a lost love.

Liffel, her eyes shining with determination, asked Billaf:

-I'm looking for him, do you know where he might be?

Meanwhile, in the Tower of Lamentation, in Arcaladia, 30 minutes ago....

Marze, with a cold expression, looked at Balker and gave him the order:

-Balker, eliminate the witnesses who know my whereabouts and don't fail again.

Balker nodded and left with Kario, ready to fulfill his mission. Marze then turned to a man in the room.

-Send Fallen. Tell him to kill the one-armed painter and capture Brallet, the witch of the lineage of Truth. If he cannot capture her, let him kill her.

Meanwhile, Liffel and Billaf were still talking. As Billaf was about to say something to her, a spear pierced his chest from afar.

As Billaf was about to say something to her, a spear pierced her chest from afar. Liffel became alert at the sight of the wound, but he, with a last effort, finished his portrait before falling to the ground. Billf's blood stained the portrait. Billaf's life faded away, but he died knowing he had fulfilled his last wish.

Liffel with a racing heart felt the situation become more dangerous. Wasting no time, she got up, determined not to waste any more magic. She ran towards the city, looking for Lesky to leave the City of Markkus before it was too late.