Twilight bled across the horizon as Danish stood upon the castle rampart. Two knights by his side. At all times he found himself guarded by them. As the adopted son of the king, he was to be under constant watch. For fear of tragedy befalling him.

According to King Dante, his parents had been dear friends of him. So, when his true family perished years ago, leaving Danish as the only living member, he took in the young child once they found him barely clinging to life among the corpses.

It was far from saddening for young Danish. He had never gotten to know his true family, so there was no room in his heart and mind to miss them. All he knew of them was that he once had two brothers: Horace and Vincent. There were times when he wondered if he would have gotten along with these brothers. Wondered if he had anything in common with them.

Dante had told Danish that he was a perfect blend of his parents. The sandy hair of his father with his mother’s gray eyes. However, no pictures of the two had survived for him to ever see their faces.

“We should make our way back inside,” spoke up one of the guards. “Your father won’t be pleased if we stay out too late.”

“Just a while longer,” Danish said. Eventually remembering to add, “Please.”

The second knight chuckled. “A few more minutes won’t hurt.” She then stretched her arms overhead. “Besides, I don’t think the young price has ever seen the night sky.”

“Wait, never?” questioned the first knight.

Danish shook his head. “Father prefers me in bed early. By now I should have had supper and been put to bed. I just want to experience this once. I’ll make sure neither of you get into trouble for this. I promise.”

“All right, but just this once.”

Danish smiled. It was true that he had never seen the night sky. His elder brother—the blood-son and heir of Dante, Gregor—he had spoken of what night was like. Thousands or more small lights dancing in the darkness above, surrounding an ever-changing silver orb called the moon. And he truly did want to see this for himself. But his true reason for wishing to stay out was something he saw every day of his life.

Just beyond the castle boundaries stood an ancient forest. The Runebound Grove. A forest said to be brimming with magic. They said that at night you could see the trees come to life with magical energies not visible during the day. Some even claimed to hear voices whisper from the trees.

Since he could remember, Danish had had a fondness for nature. His adoptive mother, the queen of Caembra, had allowed him to join her in the garden on many occasions. Though as he got older, those trips to the garden had become less frequent. Due to Danish feeling as though he were being watched by the plant life. When asked to explain his aversion to the rose bushes or the old willow, he had no definite answer.

The last light of day vanished beyond their sight. The air colder than young Danish was used to. Eyes locked upon the forest ahead.

Eyes wide as the magic came to life out in the distance.

Though the air was still, the leaves had began to rustle; playing out a soothing song as they started to glow with all the colors of a rainbow and then some. He was unable to decern their shape, but he could see patterns illuminated in a white-blue glow creep over the trunks of the trees.

“Time to go in,” the woman by Danish’s side spoke up. Her hand fell on his shoulder.

Danish had not picked up on her voice or touch as he remained mesmerized by the beauty of the Runebound Grove. Heart swelling with awe and admiration.

His heart skipped and his breath grew shallow. A figure walked from beneath the cover of the canopy. Its gaze turned Danish’s way. Was the figure looking at him? It couldn’t have, it wouldn’t have known he was there.

Jittering, the figure moved with an unnatural twitch. Like a puppet whose joints continued to snag. Unable to move with its full articulation. Then, its head cocked to the side. Turning with a half-circle. Ending in an upside-down position.

Danish blinked and the figure was done. The rest of the world returned to his senses.

“Young prince?” the first knight called to him. Annoyance held each word. “It’s time to go.”

“Right,” Danish felt a cold sweat dot his brow. His heartbeat slowly returned to a frequent and steady pace. Following his guards, Danish made his way through the castle and into the dining hall. The royal family still sat, waiting patiently for him to join them before partaking in their meal.

Roasted hens, spiced potatoes, and seasoned spinach sat on each plate. Honey glazed over the perfectly crisped skin of the chicken. Fresh bread and wine was soon fetched from the kitchen, as well as bite-sized cakes topped with strawberries.

Danish had barely taken his seat when Dante spoke up. “We’re pleased we don’t need to send a party to search for you.” Dante was a kindly man in his early fifties, though one could barely tell that he was any older than thirty. While his good looks and muscular build had remained, the hair he was once proud of had migrated into a greying beard speckled with remnants of its original black.

“Very poor manners to keep up waiting,” Queen Ariya added. She was half the age of the king: hair like spun gold and eyes like the sea. Always carrying an air of authority in each action she took. Even the way she held her fork to eat would make one question if they had been doing so correctly their entire life. A feeling Danish had hoped would have faded. “And for what reason did you keep us from being able to sup?”

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Danish shrank in his seat. “I’m sorry mother. I was curious. I wanted to see the moon and stars.”

“They’re beautiful!” his adoptive brother shouted out. Even if the two weren’t related by blood, Danish and Gregor shared their physical features. He was not the child of Ariya, but she had taken to Gregor better than she had Danish. Though he was unsure as to why.

“Not now, Gregor,” scolded the queen. Her eyes fell on Danish. She spoke between mouthfuls of food. “You think your silly night sky is more important than punctuality? You know when we eat, Danish. You know what is expected of you.”

“Sorry mother,” Danish said. Gingerly stabbing at the spinach on his plate. No longer feeling hungry for the night. Even if his stomach still groaned at him for keeping it empty for so long.

“Now, now,” Dante spoke up. “Let the boy enjoy himself. You only get to be young once.” A quick glance from his wife caused pause in the king’s words, but he continued. “He is getting older. Danish is no child anymore, why he’d almost a man. It’s about time he gets more freedom.”

“You’ll spoil the boy,” she retorted. “Then he’ll never behave.”

“He’s at that age where he should misbehave. And besides that, he only had use wait a few minutes more than usual. You act as though he’d kept us for hours.”

Fed up with her husband, the queen dismissed herself from the dining table. Taking her meal to their chambers.

“I messed up,” Danish admitted.

“No,” the king smiled. “No, you were merely being a boy. She will see passed this by the morning. Do not fret and enjoy your meal.”

“Is Danish old enough to join me at horseback lessons?” Gregor spoke up. Excited to hear his brother was starting to be treated less like a child by their father.

“I would say it is a bit early for those lessons,” the king scratched at his beard. “But, if he wishes, Danish can join you in practicing swordplay. A bit soon for sparring, but he could join you for drills in cutting. If he wishes.”

Danish popped up so fast, one might think he was going to fly from his seat. What few stories he’d been told about his family had always involved swords and fighting. His father having been named the greatest warrior of his generation. Blades were said to run through his blood. The men of the Vickery family being the most skilled in all the land, even those who had no passion for the art were capable warriors.

I can live up to your legacy. After a moment, he was unable to hold back his smile. “I would love to.”

“Then it’s settled,” Dante said. Grabbing one of the small cakes before he ever touched his main course. Something his wife would have reprimanded him for if she had still been in the room. Gregor tried to do the same, but was stopped by his father. “Not until you’re king, mister.”

“I can wait until tomorrow,” the boy shot back. Causing both to laugh.

Danish did not join in with them. He’d already lost one father, he was not ready to lose another. Even if he couldn’t remember his true father, he still wished he were there. Wished he could have seen the place his family had once called home.

When he asked to visit the graves, or even the Keep that had once been theirs, Dante had refused to allow such a thing. But the king had just admitted to him being older now. It might be worth a chance at asking once more. It wasn’t too big of an ask, was it?

Toiling with the idea, Danish swallowed down his inhibitions. “Father, would it be all right for me to finally visit the graves of my family?”

The king put down his half-eaten cake. Solemnly watching over Danish. Pleading eyes looking over the boy. He was not upset, but he still seemed to be hurt. “We’ll go tomorrow,” he finally answered. “Enough time has passed, it should be fine.”

Danish started to smile. But it fell as he watched his father’s face. There was still pain and anguish. Had each request been denied not for Danish’s sake, but for the king’s? Did he miss his old friends that much?

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence. Danish the first to finish. Skipping on the cakes, he excused himself to his room. His two guards met him outside the dining hall and escorted him up the tower to his room.

As he closed the door, he made his way over toward the small table at his bedside. Placed upon a plush cushion was a metal orb around the size of a melon. Engraved upon the polished silver surface was the insignia of a phoenix—the crest of his family.

When the Vickery Keep had been assaulted, the vaults had been emptied as well. Only this relic had remained as it would be impossible to sell, and it held no practical use. It couldn’t even be used as a trophy as anyone who boasted about being part of the raid would likely face the wrath of the kingdom under order of the king. And so, it had been given to Danish on his fifth birthday. His only connection to home.

Now that he had seen the moon, he couldn’t help but draw comparisons to it and the orb. Though he enjoyed the orb much more than the moon. Seeing as it was something he could physically touch. It did make him wonder if the moon was made of the same material. Was the object in the sky as smooth? Would there ever be a day someone could touch the moon and discover everything about it?

He brushed a hand against the orb. “I wonder if you have any secrets?”

As he caressed the orb gently, tiredness washed over him. Before he knew it, Danish had collapsed to the floor. Deep asleep.

Danish found himself standing in an open field; flowers blossomed all around him. Ther petals scattered on the wind, a spiral of blues, whites, and yellows swept around him. Transforming into a flock of butterflies that carried themselves high into the sky. Where the sun should have been was his orb. Shimmering with the same light the Runebound Grove had illuminated itself with.

“You must go there.” When Danish turned to the voice, he found no one there. Only an old gnarled, knotted tree that seemed to have the face of a man etched into the bark.

“Who’s there?” Danish called into the empty space. But he got no answer. But now, each time he turned to face a new direction, that same tree was in his view. Each time the face in the bark changed expressions. It never made him feel unsafe. In fact, it was rather comforting. Like seeing an old friend after being apart for years.

“Go there,” the voice spoke again. And when Danish turned to it this time, he found himself facing a spectral horse. The voice came from this beast. “Go there, and meet him.”

“Meet who?” Danish questioned.

“Go,” the horse spoke as it was pulled away. The horse itself did not move, but the land beneath it moved to create a great gap between him and the beast.

Danish began to give chase, but was never able to catch up with the creature. If it had continued to speak to him, he was too far off to hear a single word.

Coming to a stop, Danish looked around once more. Finding the lush field replaced with a barren landscape of ash. Where there had once been flowers, only bones remained.