The night stretched long and heavy over Skarnhold, thick as ink. A storm had rolled in from the eastern seas, its howl shaking the ancient walls, but within the keep, the shadows seemed deeper still. The great hearths had long since dimmed, and the faint glow of moonlight filtered through the cold, wet stone windows. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the stone floors, slick and worn, reflected the faint glow of distant torches.
Kaleon Skarn stood by the window, his back to the sleeping halls of House Skarn, listening to the rhythm of the storm. The distant crash of thunder seemed to echo within him, as if the storm outside mirrored the chaos inside. His fingers drummed softly on the stone wall, a nervous habit he'd long tried to shake. His eyes, sharp and full of purpose, flicked briefly to the shadows of the room, to Theo Leveros, who was crouched by the low-burning fire, packing their last few essentials.
The time had come.
There was no turning back now.
The truth they had uncovered, buried deep within the Chamber of the Flameheart, had ignited something in them—something that could never be extinguished. Kaleon's mind buzzed with fragments of the visions they'd seen: the looming shadow of a dragon's wings, the whispers of ancient voices, the weight of fate pressing down on their shoulders. Whatever they had uncovered in that forsaken place could change everything. But for now, all that mattered was that they had to leave.
Theo lifted his head, his youthful face pale from the strain of their decision. His once-bright green eyes were dull with fear and excitement in equal measure. He held a leather-bound map, its edges frayed, covered in smudged ink. "Are we sure about this?" he whispered, his voice a mix of worry and anticipation.
Kaleon glanced over at him, his jaw set in a firm line. He didn't need to answer. Theo knew. The truth was out there, and they had to find it—whatever it was.
The storm outside seemed to grow louder, as though the world itself had stirred at their decision. They both looked down at the satchels in their hands, full of everything they could carry. Weapons, food, a few essentials—nothing that would be enough for the long journey ahead.
Theo grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose we're going to do this, then."
Kaleon didn't answer. His gaze drifted to the far corner of the room where a small chest sat—where he had placed the broken shard from the monolith. The piece of stone, imbued with a strange, pulsing warmth, lay hidden beneath a thick cloth. The warmth had only grown stronger over the past few days, until it had become impossible to ignore. Whatever it was, it was calling them, urging them onward.
Theo followed his gaze. "You really think this is the answer?"
Kaleon finally turned his back on the chest. "There's only one way to find out."
With a final glance around the chamber, they moved silently through the corridors, their footsteps muffled on the cold stone floors. The sound of their movement was drowned by the roar of the storm outside, the wind howling through cracks in the ancient walls, but in their hearts, they knew it was time to leave.
A Few Hours Before Departure — In the Shadows of Skarnhold
It was still dark, the stars faint against the heavy clouds rolling over the peaks. The castle lay in silence, its stone corridors whispering only to the wind. The torches along the walls had burned low, their flames flickering weakly in the drafts that wound through Skarnhold's ancient halls.
In a small, dimly lit storeroom near the eastern stables, two boys huddled close, their faces lit only by the faint glow of a lantern placed carefully between them.
Theo leaned against a stack of grain sacks, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His face, usually so full of mischief, was drawn and serious now.
"It's going to be hard," Theo muttered, breaking the heavy silence. "We're not just leaving a few miles behind. We're crossing kingdoms, rivers, wastelands... Two eight-year-old boys..." He trailed off, the weight of it settling over them like a blanket of snow.
Kaleon nodded slowly, his gray eyes reflecting the dim lantern light. "I know." His voice was steady, but low. "But if we stay… we'll be crushed before we even know what we could become."
Theo's hands clenched into fists on his knees. "I don't care about becoming anything. I just don't want to see everyone… chained to lies. Chained to a fate we can't choose."
A small smile tugged at Kaleon's lips—sad and proud at once. He reached into a satchel slung beside him and pulled out a few items, laying them carefully between them.
First, a soft leather pouch—unremarkable, but marked with a faint, swirling silver rune.
"This," Kaleon said, his voice barely above a whisper, "is the Never-Ending Pouch. Maelor gave it to me on my eighth nameday… he brought it from the High Elves far in the north." He paused, running his fingers over the worn leather. "It can hold anything. No matter how much. As long as we need, as far as we go."
Theo leaned closer, wonder flickering in his eyes. "That's... incredible."
Kaleon nodded again, pulling out the next item—two small vials filled with a shimmering, swirling liquid that seemed to catch even the faintest light and bend it strangely.
"And these," he said, "Face-changing Potions. They'll let us change how we look—just for a while. Enough to fool anyone. We only have two vials... so we need to use them carefully."
Theo reached out, almost touching one before pulling his hand back. "How long will it last?"
"Maybe four months... if we time it right," Kaleon said grimly. "Enough to get far from Eldravia. Far from the eyes that would hunt us."
Lastly, Kaleon dragged a small, heavy crate closer. He flipped it open to reveal stacks of gold coins glinting in the lantern light.
"A fortune," Theo breathed.
"It was given to me last winter by Lord Verion... for saving his son during the Hunt of Broken Pines," Kaleon said, shrugging as if embarrassed by the memory. "I stored it away. Never used it."
Theo gave a low whistle. "Enough to live for years… if we're careful."
Kaleon carefully packed the items back into the pouch, tying it tight.
"This is everything," he said quietly. "Our plan, our supplies, our hope."
Theo was silent for a long moment, staring at the flickering lantern. Then he looked up, his voice low but fierce. "Whatever happens, Kaleon… we stay together."
Kaleon grinned—a real, fierce grin. "Always."
They clasped wrists, a silent oath passing between them.
Outside, the first winds of a coming storm whispered against the stone. It was nearly time.
Without another word, the two boys gathered their things, slipping quietly into the shadows of Skarnhold, moving toward the gates and the unknown beyond.
"It's not just a potion," Kaleon said, slapping the bottle into Theo's chest. "It's your damned face for the next week."
Theo twisted the stopper and sniffed. Immediately recoiled.
"Smells like a troll's armpit."
"Better than smelling like yourself," Kaleon smirked.
"Drink."
Theo drank. Regretted it instantly.
The jungle of Sarthal awaited.
And so did the rest of their destiny.
It was still dark when they left, the first glimmer of dawn hours away. The maids had long gone to sleep, the torches in the halls had burned low, and the castle slept in peaceful ignorance. Kaleon and Theo moved swiftly through the shadows, exiting the keep unnoticed. The gates of Skarnhold creaked open, groaning under the weight of time, and as they stepped outside, they were met with the cold, biting wind that howled down from the peaks.
The jungle of Sarthal loomed ahead, a vast, dark expanse of thick foliage and tangled trees, known for both its beauty and danger. The air felt charged with energy—something ancient, something that called to them, like a whisper in the dark.
The boys hesitated for a brief moment on the threshold of their world. Behind them stood the towering spires of Skarnhold, their home—the warmth of the halls, the comfort of familiar voices, the memories of a life they could never return to. Ahead, only uncertainty.
Theo exhaled slowly, mist curling from his mouth in the freezing air. "This is it," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Kaleon tightened the straps of his satchel, the weight of the never-ending pouch pressing lightly against his side. He looked once more over his shoulder, a pang twisting deep in his chest. "There's no turning back now."
Without another word, they pressed forward, boots crunching lightly over frost-covered stones. The path beyond the walls grew wild quickly—gnarled roots tearing through the ground, vines drooping from skeletal trees.
Each step away from Skarnhold felt heavier, as though the shadows themselves tried to cling to them, whispering doubts and regrets. Yet they moved on, hand over hand, heart over heart, two small figures swallowed by the looming forest.
The cold bit at their faces, numbing fingers and toes, but neither complained. Their breaths came in soft, careful gasps as they weaved between ancient oaks and towering evergreens, the world narrowing to the slivers of moonlight that broke through the dense canopy.
For a while, they traveled in silence, the only sounds the creak of their packs and the distant calls of unseen creatures. The deeper they went into the jungle, the thicker the mist grew, curling around their ankles and chilling the very air they breathed.
Finally, when the castle was no more than a memory behind them, Theo broke the silence with a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "We actually did it."
Kaleon smirked, though his heart still hammered in his chest. "We did."
They shared a brief glance—fear, excitement, sadness, and hope all tangled together. They had left behind everything they'd ever known, driven only by the dream of something more.
Ahead, the shadows deepened, and the jungle of Sarthal opened its arms to receive them.
Their plan was simple in its madness: travel through the wilderness, stay out of sight, avoid pursuers, and reach the far side of the kingdom before anyone could drag them back.
It was then, just as they packed up and started moving again, that the undergrowth ahead rustled violently.
Theo froze. "Tell me that's just the wind."
It wasn't.
From the darkness, a pack of wild beasts burst forth—small, snarling creatures with sharp teeth and wiry bodies. Not as dangerous as the horrors deeper in Sarthal, but their sheer numbers made them deadly.
Without hesitation, the boys fought. Theo swung a broken branch with surprising skill, knocking one of the beasts aside. Kaleon ducked and rolled, drawing a short blade from his belt and slashing through another.
Claws scraped against stone, teeth gnashed in the dark, but the boys moved like shadows, back to back, striking and dodging with the reckless desperation of youth.
Minutes later, the beasts lay scattered and still around them. Neither boy had a scratch to show for it—though their breathing was heavy and sweat clung to their brows.
Theo nudged one of the fallen beasts with his boot. "That all you got?" he muttered, grinning.
Amidst the fallen creatures, they found the spoils of the hunt—small fruits, edible roots, and even a fresh spring trickling nearby. Enough food and water to last a few days if they rationed carefully.
Theo was about to suggest setting camp when Kaleon shook his head firmly.
"We can't stop," Kaleon said, wiping his blade clean on the grass. His voice was low, serious. "By morning, they'll realize we're gone. They'll send riders. Search parties."
He tightened the straps of his pack and glanced eastward, where the first hints of grey touched the sky. "We keep moving until we're too far to catch."
Theo nodded grimly. Together, they vanished once more into the deep folds of Sarthal, two shadows swallowed by the coming dawn.