The previous night, Zaiela was first to realise the severity of the situation.

“Adrian! Leyon’s not here… He could still be alive!” She said, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.

Adrian felt a small kernel of hope blossom, then Zaiela continued, “Leyon’s smart… he would surely have made it to Kenstel by now. Oh, Adrian… What if he thinks we’re dead too?! We won’t be able to make it to Kenstel until late tomorrow even if we rode non-stop.”

Adrian stood up, brushing the mud off his knees to the best of his ability—it honestly didn’t matter much, for he was soaked to the skin and the rain was still pouring down—and helped Zaiela stagger to her feet.

“What about the bodies?” He whispered, “We can’t just leave them to rot out here. We need to bury them!”

Zaiela agreed, but they realised that they had no tools to work with. Eventually, they decided to cover the bodies in branches and leaves from the forest floor. Adrian walked over to his father’s body and lifted it, half dragging it to where his mother and sister lay. He laid them down side by side and then he and Zaiela began the arduous task of scavenging for tree branches and leaves. When they finished the grave, Adrian found a single sturdy stick and stuck it into the ground in front of the grave.

He knelt and bowed his head, reciting a prayer for them, “Ic aum reca ai Ether deseuam… iie ic aum vyl untoth.”

Then he said his last farewells and left a promise, “Saeyni, Ofadr, Omadr iie eunam hyotr. Au yavei au fei uretsu aum.”

Farewell, Father, Mother and dear sister. I promise I will avenge you!

He rose and joined Zaiela as they, too, began their journey to Kenstel.

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Leyon awoke with a numb feeling under a ceiling he did not recognise. For a moment, he wondered where he was. Then the memories of the past days came crashing down upon him, accompanied by a wave of emotions.

Oh… right. I’m all alone now… He realised, heaving himself out of bed. It was an awful feeling, but Leyon did his best to suppress those thoughts as he considered his next plan of action.

He thought back to his father’s parting words: “Seek the guardians.”

Leyon knew that his father had been extensively gathering information on the recent movements of the guardians, since Lord Throeyns had reported an awakening in his territory.

I suppose I’ll head over to Throeyns castle then, He decided.

With a fresh goal in mind, Leyon swiftly departed the city and headed to Throeyns castle. Throeyns fief was relatively large, though most of it was the Ahyeld forest and the rest was farmland. Only a few towns and cities of medium size were dotted around the territory. Throeyns castle was near the centre of the territory, and the largest city was built up around it—the trade hub, Naebel.

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The sun was setting as Leyon rode into Naebel. After inspection at the city gates, he’d been quickly escorted to Throeyns castle by one of the city guards upon showing the royal emblem. Leyon’s mind, however, was busy trying to think about how to approach Lord Throeyns. The fifteen year old had little experience in political matters, and had last met the lord when he was a child.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

If Lord Throeyns knows that I am the sole heir to the throne, he may claim the ties we had when I was a child to influence me. I have to ensure that he treats me as a prince, no… a king, He thought, Intimidation will be the key. I’ve seen Father do it countless times.

It really hasn’t changed, huh, Leyon thought, peering up at the slate grey stone structure. Throeyns castle wasn’t exactly massive, and it was built to be more aesthetically pleasing than practical—which became abundantly obvious when Leyon was led through the arched hallways beside the massive courtyards. The hallways were completely open and exposed to the elements, which answered Leyon’s idle curiosity as to why the servants wore so many layers. The design of the castle was inconceivable to Leyon, who’d grown up in a sturdy fortress perched high enough that the chilling mountain winds made winters freezing and summers only mildly warm. Leyon was incredibly grateful that it was early Frostleaf, not Silvermoon. The leaves had begun to fall, but the weather had not become too cold yet.

Lord Throeyns met Leyon in the great hall. What was clearly a hastily prepared table with snacks and drinks was placed in the middle of the room. Two chairs were prepared and Lord Throeyns stood nervously, waiting for Leyon to arrive. When the man heard the footsteps, he scurried up to Leyon and bowed deeply.

“Greetings, your highness! My, how you’ve grown since I saw you last,” He said, eyeing Leyon.

Lord Throeyns had crafted his words carefully—a respectful, but not excessive greeting and a subtle hint at their close relationship. Leyon was determined not to let the man control the conversation, so he cut right to the chase.

“Lord Throeyns, I heard that the gold guardian recently appeared at your castle and that your daughter left with him? Do you know where they went?”

Lord Throeyns stiffened, an unreadable expression briefly passing over his face, before he forced the corners of his lips up in a janky smile.

“O-Of course it’s the greatest honour that my daughter would accompany the golden guardian… as for where they went… I’m afraid I haven’t heard any news since they left Jaromaen, presumably headed for Silvardor,” He answered evasively, seemingly determined to spin the narrative that it was his will that his daughter go with the golden guardian.

Leyon had read the reports on the incident, though, and knew that the man was lying. The reports had indicated that he’d sent a horde of guards after them, though they’d returned empty-handed.

Leyon kept up a pleasant face as his voice hardened and he said sharply, “Let me use your portal.”

Lord Throeyns’ face immediately morphed into one of fear and he took a shaky step back.

“H-How do you know of the portal, your highness?!” He cried.

The portal that Leyon was referring to was one of four ancient portals located within Sanobar, two of which, the location was unknown. They’d been created during the time when magic was commonplace, of ancient technology lost to the ages. The other portals were logged in the royal ledgers, though the knowledge of them remained a strictly kept secret. This particular portal was one that connected Sanobar to the once prosperous kingdom of Anhua. The whereabouts of the direct portal to Silvardor had been lost, the portal presumed to be destroyed.

Leyon frowned and Lord Throeyns shrunk back, shutting his mouth with an audible clop.

It’s quite useful to glare at people, Leyon thought, Because they tend to assume things themselves.

Lord Throeyns wordlessly led Leyon down into the depths of the castle and into a room that looked more like a cavern than a man-made creation. There was a distinct, damp scent and Leyon thought he could dimly hear the sound of running water. The rocky walls were greenish in places, with moss and algae growing upon them. In the centre stood the portal, supported by rusty metal chains. The portal itself was a beauty—runes in Ovaal circled the outside of the portal, inset in precious gems. At the top was a massive ruby carved into the shape of a shield and a set of stone stairs led up to the portal opening. Through the portal, Leyon could see a different room, which he assumed was the receiving portal room.

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As Leyon stepped through the portal, setting foot on new lands, Adrian and Zaiela arrived, breathless, at the gates of Naebel.