Four days. Four nights.But to Aerax and Minoros, they felt as long as a parched season, dragging through every muscle fiber, every heartbeat.
They had left the city of Neosis while the sky was still dim with mist, slipping quietly through peaceful streets where a few windows still glowed with the light of oil lamps. Minoros walked steadily in the lead, carrying a crude map he had drawn himself, while Aerax followed close behind, eyes scanning the surroundings like someone long accustomed to the wild. Two figures — one white, one black, one a sturdy bull, the other a towering horse — strode into unknown lands, carrying hope in their chests and blood that dared to challenge the gods.
The first day, they followed a long red dirt road, flanked on both sides by open grasslands and thorny shrubs. The sun rose slowly, warming every strand of fur on their bodies, stretching their shadows across the earth like two moving pillars. They walked without a midday break, stopping only briefly to drink from their water skins. By nightfall, they set camp beside a dry streambed, moonlight washing over sweat-slick hides.
The second day, the terrain began to change. They crossed low forests and waded through a small stream. Moss-covered rocks made the footing slick and slowed their pace. Aerax used his blade to cut through thick foliage, while Minoros studied old traces — marks from the time he had once patrolled this region centuries ago. They spoke little, relying instead on hand signals and glances to indicate when to change direction.
The third day, they climbed a range of steep, jagged cliffs. Every cautious step along the narrow ledges came with the sound of loose stones skittering into the abyss — a constant reminder of how close death lurked. By midday, they reached a mountain cleft and had to squeeze through a narrow, damp passage barely wide enough for their bodies. Aerax nearly got stuck due to his size, but Minoros pulled him through with a rope he had braided from jungle vines.
That night, they camped on a barren rocky plateau, setting up a makeshift hide tent and arranging stones into a windbreak. Firelight flickered across the rocks, casting strange, shifting shadows that kept them on edge until dawn.
The fourth day, they followed low mountain slopes that gradually descended toward the coast. The salt wind was stronger now, and the ground turned to black stone. They crossed a long path carved into the side of a cliff, where one misstep would mean falling into the depths. Minoros led, his steps sure and steady, with Aerax close behind, eyes fixed on the ground.
By midday, they climbed to the top of a high rock outcrop — and the world opened before them.
Far in the distance lay the sea, dark blue and violent, smashing against sheer cliffs. And below that outcrop — where the forest met the water — stretched a chain of vast caves, like the gaping maws of sea serpents waiting for prey. The wind howled with each crashing wave, carrying with it a deep, rumbling growl from somewhere inside the caverns.
Aerax stood still, fingers tightening around the boar-tusk hilt of his blade. His chest rose and fell, eyes fixed on the chaos where water and stone clashed. A strange mix of emotions swelled within him — anticipation, anger, and a fierce hunger to fight.This was where Prince Leos was held.This was where he would prove to the world that even a slave could defy the gods.
A vague memory flickered — the shattered hull of a ship, seawater swallowing him whole, darkness and despair without end. Aerax closed his eyes for a heartbeat, breathing in the sharp salt of the ocean, then opened them again — fire blazing within.
Minoros placed a hand on his shoulder. No words were needed. They understood each other.There would be no turning back.
That night, they camped on a rocky ledge overlooking the caves. The wind was fierce, but they shielded themselves with hide and stone. The fire burned low, enough to keep them warm as they roasted the last of their dried meat. They ate sparingly, drank from their water skins, and gazed down at the black waters below.
Down there, the prince was waiting. And so was a monster.And perhaps… a god watching from the dark.
Tomorrow, they would descend into the caves.And face the greatest trial yet.
Near midnight, Aerax still had not slept. He stood watch upon a jutting rock, eyes locked on the sea as if trying to tear apart the night itself. The wind lashed salt against his skin, but it could not cool the heat in his blood. Every distant roar felt like a whisper from Thalakor — god of the sea and the abyss, the one who had once dragged his ship to the ocean floor. Perhaps now, Thalakor was waiting for him to step into the caves… to see if a slave could conquer his final fear.
Minoros lay behind him, eyes closed but not truly asleep. He listened to the wind, to Aerax's steady breathing, and felt his heart grow lighter. He knew tomorrow would be a turning point. If they survived, they would no longer be wanderers. They would be symbols — whether the world welcomed it or not.
The moon drifted west, the night thinning like a sheet of silver silk. In their hearts, a steady flame still burned — quiet yet unyielding, like waves breaking upon rock.
When the first light of dawn broke, Aerax turned, eyes set with iron resolve.The new day had come.It was time to step into the dark.