The day of our departure had arrived. We stood at the gates of Vixengaard, with the full moon hanging above, illuminating a dirt path that led into the forest. Before us was a wagon with two brown horses, driven by an old man named Archibald. Dressed in peasant clothes, with a straw hat atop his head and a pipe in his mouth, Archibald looked every bit the part. Beside us were Archmage Theros and little Forleen.

“It is wise to leave at nightfall when folk are asleep and there aren’t many eyes on you,” Theros said quietly.

“I still don’t understand why we can’t just use a portal. Isn’t the whole of Vixen’s Veil connected by them?” Silas asked.

“It is not safe. Gates are of magical nature, and other mages can sense when one is used nearby, especially if we were to teleport you in front of an enemy lair,” Theros explained.

“How long is the journey?” I asked.

“You should be there by noon. I advise you to get a good night’s rest, for who knows when you might get another chance.”

“Can we go now?” Orion asked impatiently.

“Yes, yes you may,” Theros chuckled.

With that, the four of us climbed onto the wagon. I took the left corner at the back, Silas the right, and Kaela and Silas the front. Lyra hadn’t boarded yet; she was still talking to Forleen.

“You come back in one piece, do you hear?” Forleen ordered in a tiny, shaky voice, fighting back tears.

Gently, Lyra patted her blonde hair as she knelt to match her gaze.

“Thank you for everything, honeybee. Every pleasant moment I spent at the academy was because of you; you made the bad go away. I love you more than you could ever imagine.” Lyra’s voice faltered as tears rolled down her rosy cheeks.

“I love you.” Forleen hugged Lyra with all her might, weeping into the stillness of the night.

When she opened her eyes, they pierced right through me. Releasing Lyra she hastily made her way toward me, with her makeup smudged from all the tears.

“Listen to me, you avian weirdo! If something happens to my Lyra, I will haunt you to the ends of the world! No matter where you hide, I’ll find you and parade your lifeless body through Vixengaard! And then, and then—”

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

“How am I supposed to take you seriously when your face is all smudged from crying? You remind me of a jester, honeybee,” I laughed, teasing her.

“H-How dare you speak to me like that! I-I will—”

Lyra tried to calm the furious Forleen. “He didn’t mean it, honeybee. Let it go.”

“Promise me you will come back...”

“I promise.”

With that, Lyra finally boarded the wagon. The old man, Archibald, picked up the reins, and the horses started galloping. As we went deeper into the forest, the forms of Theros and Forleen faded until they completely disappeared from view.

The carriage rattled along the uneven forest path, its wheels crunching over dry leaves and fallen branches. Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting silver beams that danced on the ground ahead. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, mingling with pine and fresh moss. The rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves echoed through the serene forest, accompanied by the constant chirping of crickets.

“So, what’s your relationship with that brat?” Silas asked Lyra, breaking the comforting silence of the night.

“What’s it to you?”

“Just making small talk, that’s all.”

“Then make it with someone else; I’m not in the mood.”

“I guess it’s that time of the month. Am I right, boys?” Silas laughed, but was met with silence.

“You’re disgusting,” Kaela commented.

“You can’t say that, Silas,” I added.

“W-Why not? You publicly humiliated a woman, and no one batted an eye!”

“That’s not the same; she deserved it,” Orion chimed in.

“Fine!” Silas exclaimed. “I’m sorry for trying to be funny. Don’t come running to me later, begging me to make you laugh; there will be no jokes for the rest of the ride!”

“Good!” Archibald yelled from the front of the wagon.

Seeing everyone against him, Silas crossed his arms and legs, sulking. Knowing him, he would be over it in five minutes; holding his tongue for so long was impossible.

Lyra seemed distant, and I was the only one in the carriage who knew why. Back at the academy, Forleen was her only friend, and leaving her behind was especially hard. When Lyra enrolled, she was an anomaly, a black sheep easily preyed upon by wolves. To escape, she often sought refuge in one of the libraries, where she met a child—Forleen, the youngest yet oldest mage of the academy.

Forleen’s story was known throughout the academy. She was a mage from the ancient times when the first mage hunts occurred. Unlike most mages who awaken their power young, Forleen lived a simple life on a farm, reaching her twenties without signs of magic. Neither she nor her family expected her to awaken, as they were from a long line of farmers. She enjoyed her simple life until, one day, uncontrollable magic erupted within her, destroying her village and killing her entire family. Ice spikes erupted from the ground, impaling her parents and little brother before her eyes. Driven to madness by grief and self-loathing, she cursed herself to revert to a child, erasing her memories of that day and believing her family died of natural causes. Since then, she lived trapped in a child’s form. Her mind also reverted, making her appear forever young.

In that library, two odd souls met and became what each needed—a friend. That’s why Lyra found it so hard to leave; she feared her friend would once again be alone in that library, with no one to talk to.

As we delved deeper into the woods, something strange, yet familiar, caught my eye. A figure moved from shadow to shadow, following us at a safe distance. It was clear who it was—the Talon we had spared back in Buckleberry and released when we arrived in Vixengaard.