Valerian

Morning arrived with a vengeance, bringing the most excruciating headache I’ve ever experienced. I’ve endured my fair share of pain, but nothing compared to this. The beating I took from Atlas back in Elyria was child’s play in comparison, and even the time I died felt mild; this tea Rundire brewed was worse than a thousand poisons. Silas was unusually chipper, as if the drink had no effect on him. Orion was grumpy, as usual, so it was hard to tell if it bothered him at all. But Finn—he had it the worst. He looked like a walking corpse. Despite the hangover, we had to keep moving south toward the White Castle, which had already come into view.

Before leaving the Quassari home, we squeezed every bit of information we could from Rundire. Beneath the White Castle lies a sprawling city overrun by the Dragonsworn Conclave, and inside the castle are only high-ranking officers and avians. It’s rare to see an avian outside of Elyria since their celestial essence diminishes quickly here, and they’d die if they stayed too long. If I had to guess, there are only a few avians in Isilrun, and they likely rotate every three days to recharge their essence before returning. My gut tells me Lucius has a hand in all this; the Dragonsworn Conclave’s primary goal is to resurrect dragons through necromancy, and Lucius wouldn’t pass up such an opportunity. No matter which avian I encounter, I just hope fate spares me from crossing paths with Atlas. He’s the one opponent I know I can’t defeat. And now that he no longer remembers me, I doubt he’d show the same mercy as last time.

Rundire briefed us on the castle’s defenses, warning that a head-on assault would be suicide, as a dragon guards the castle walls. The best approach is to infiltrate the castle’s dungeons through a tunnel the Quassari dug for smuggling food and supplies to their captured kin. The entrance is west of the castle. Rundire told us to follow the Golden River south, and when it veers west, we should follow it until we find a cave blocked by a boulder marked with yellow paint. Inside is a tunnel leading into the dungeons. If Rundire’s information is accurate, it is likely that Lyra and Kaela are being held in one of the cells, as any unauthorized visitor to this world is automatically imprisoned there. But if that’s the case, why weren’t we captured? Even if we find them, getting them out of those chains will be a challenge. Rundire mentioned that the chains binding the prisoners are unbreakable—heaven knows they’ve tried everything. But there’s no point worrying about that now. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

It was around midday, with the scorching sun hanging directly overhead. I was scouting ahead in the air, staying close to the treetops of the sprawling forest below to avoid being easily spotted. Finn, as usual, was darting from shadow to shadow, scouting the ground, albeit sluggishly because of a lingering hangover. He had already thrown up a few times along the way. Orion and Silas trailed slowly behind us.

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Finally, the river split in two. I landed and perched on a rock by the water, waiting for Silas and Orion to catch up.

“Why on earth did I drink last night?” Finn groaned as he emerged from a nearby shadow. “I should’ve known better by now—I can’t handle my liquor.”

“In your defense, for all you knew, it was just regular tea. Albeit with the color of poison and served in a jar.”

“Yeah, I guess I should’ve noticed the warning signs,” Finn admitted.

“Wait, are you even old enough to drink?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is there an age limit?” he replied, looking puzzled.

“I guess not.”

“Anyway, you don’t seem that much older than me! Why are you treating me like a kid? I’m eighteen, you know.”

“That’s pretty young, though maybe not in human years,” I said with a shrug.

“And how old are you?” he asked.

“Great question—how old am I?” I responded, realizing I didn’t actually know the answer. “Let’s see... Back in Elyria, I was well over fifty, which was still very young. When I became mortal, I couldn’t have been older than twelve, and then I was stuck in the Void for seven years... So, that would make me twenty-one in mortal years? Or seventy altogether,” I answered, a bit confused by the math.

“Well, you look like you’re twenty, so let’s just go with that.”

“Agreed.”

We waited a little while longer for Silas and Orion to arrive, sitting in comfortable silence. Well, silence isn’t quite the right word—we didn’t speak, but there was plenty of noise. Finn was skipping rocks across the river, having a one-sided competition with himself to see how far they could go. There were grunts and cheers as he played, and I couldn’t help but worry his childish behavior might give away our position. But in the end, he is still a kid, no matter how much he tries to convince me otherwise. He should have his fun, at least while he can; there’s no guarantee we’ll return alive from this mission.

“I told you we shouldn’t stray from the river!” Silas’s voice echoed through the woods as he and Orion emerged from behind a bush. “You may have big muscles and can crush someone’s skull with your bare hands, but you have no sense of direction. Next time, you listen to me and follow. Got it?”

“Bard?” Orion growled, barely containing his anger.

“Yes?” Silas replied, oblivious.

“Say one more thing, and it’ll be your brain splattered on my fists.”

“Now, now! Behave, you two. We’re halfway there. Let’s keep moving.” I shouted, trying to lighten the mood, so Orion’s warning wouldn’t come to pass.

“Fine.” Orion grunted. “Lead the way.”

With that, we continued following the river as it diverged westward.