The road stretched before them like a thread of light flowing between the hills,
guarded by towering trees, and serenaded by birds with melodies that didn't belong to this world.
Leaves danced in the air as if welcoming the travelers,
and the light filtering through the branches shimmered on their faces,
as if the sun itself reached down to gently touch them.
The carriage moved with steady steps, and the world around them seemed still.
In the distance, the golden peaks of Kalvera waved from afar,
emerging from mist to light, as if slowly rising from a long dream.
A silver butterfly fluttered near Leora's face.
She smiled silently… then closed her eyes for a moment,
hearing what couldn't be said… feeling what couldn't be understood.
In that moment, none of them thought of the dangers
that lay in wait along the road.
In that moment, none of them thought of the danger,
nor of the Zerath lurking in silence behind the forest's veil…
creatures born and sent by the Azareem.
All they knew then…
was that the road was calm, the breeze was warm,
and the carriage carried them through a world that seemed to hold its breath.
"How much longer?"
Leora asked as she stretched lazily, then leaned forward,
poking Raven's forehead with her finger.
"How much longer, oh wise one? Ten minutes? An hour? Another seven years?"
Raven didn't respond. He simply exhaled slowly, staring out the window without turning.
But Leora wasn't one to give up easily.
Tap.
Her finger pressed his forehead again.
"Hey. I'm talking to you."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Each poke lighter than the last… but filled with stubborn, childish persistence.
He replied without changing tone:
"Leora… I'll turn you into a squirrel if you don't stop."
She laughed, and her laughter flowed through the carriage like winter warmth.
Then came Kyle's voice, dry and amused:
"Sometimes, I honestly wonder… why did I ever agree to travel with you two?"
Leora turned to him slowly, eyes wide in mock shock:
"Huh?!"
Kyle continued with a faint side-smile:
"You two really are fools… At least you make it less boring."
Without turning, Raven said sarcastically:
"I'll make sure you hate your life for coming along."
Kyle simply grinned in reply, shrugging.
Raven growled:
"Don't hold me back, Leora. Let me smack this idiot—"
Suddenly… the carriage stopped.
Leora, surprised:
"So this is the capital… wow."
Raven got off first, eyes scanning the surroundings carefully. Leora and Kyle followed close behind—
and what met their eyes was a scene none of them were quite ready for.
The city's noise greeted them like a storm of life.
Kalvera, the capital, was bustling with motion. Vendors' shouts mingled with the rhythm of footsteps, children's laughter mixed with the calls of guards, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh bread and exotic spices.
The streets were paved with dark, glimmering stones, from which narrow alleys branched off, packed with tiny shops crammed side by side, as if competing in colors and scents.
At every corner, a different story was told:
Handcrafted jewelry, magical trinkets in the shape of charms, dusty old books, and fabrics that danced in the wind in sunset hues.
Crowds passed all around them, each lost in their own world—yet the steps never stopped… as if the city never slept.
Leora spun slowly in place, eyes sparkling:
"This… is more beautiful than I imagined."
But before they could be swept away again by the details of carvings and decorations, Kyle's voice cut in, firmer this time:
"This isn't the time to be impressed.
We're here for one reason: to learn everything we can about the Azareem."
Raven stepped closer, his voice more serious than before:
"Then… where do we start?"
They fell silent.
The noise of the city still roared around them, but now it sounded like background static to a greater storm approaching.
Kyle calmly said:
"There's a place I know… old, loud, overflowing with gossip and knowledge."
He glanced around the city as if scanning it in one look, then added:
"Follow me."
Leora raised an eyebrow, hesitant:
"To where?"
Kyle groaned:
"Just follow me."
Minutes later, they stopped in front of a low stone building, a faded black sign hanging above the door—scrawled in broken runes:
Black Memory
Leora raised an eyebrow.
"What a strange name…"
They entered the tavern.
The smell of strong drink mixed with rising smoke and sharp, unnamed spices.
The lights were dim, flickering, as if trying to hide the secrets etched into the walls.
Behind the bar stood a large man, mixing a drink that changed color with every swirl.
He didn't look up, didn't ask anything—
as if their presence hadn't yet registered.
Kyle stepped forward, leaned slightly, and said in a low voice like summoning a sleeping ghost:
"Valmera… watches."
The man froze.
A heavy silence fell over the room, as if a forbidden name had been spoken.
Then he slowly looked up at Kyle… and recognized him.
He nodded toward a shadowy corner and whispered:
"The mirror… will open the way."
Kyle moved quietly, followed by Raven and Leora, weaving through the crowded tavern.
They passed tables full of blurred faces and mugs steaming with dark-colored brews.
In the corner, they stood before a round mirror mounted on a dark wooden wall.
Kyle reached out, pressed a small hidden notch behind it.
A soft click… then the wall began to open.
A narrow stone passage revealed itself, breathing damp, ancient air… like it hadn't moved in years.
The passage opened slowly, as if exhaling after a long silence.
Kyle stepped in first, followed by Raven and Leora.
The wall closed quietly behind them, leaving the city above unaware of the secrets below.
The passage was like a hidden market—tight but alive.
Hooded figures whispered in strange tongues, exchanged glowing scrolls and luminous stones.
To one side, a woman sold masks that changed based on the wearer.
A bald man displayed runes carved into old bones.
Everything had a price… and not all of it was gold.
Leora whispered to Raven:
"This… is another world."
Kyle replied without turning:
"This is the Black Market.
If you want something… you'll find it here."
Raven whispered to Kyle:
"If you find a charm that makes her quiet for five minutes… tell me."
Leora, without looking, smacked his shoulder lightly.
"Raven… you idiot."
Kyle cut them off:
"Enough, we're close."
"Look there… the end of the passage."
Leora looked up and saw a dark wooden table in a quiet corner, where even the light seemed to hesitate.
An old man sat behind it, hunched over, hands resting on a crooked staff.
His eyes half-closed… yet watching everything.
People came and went.
Some whispered and left with scrolls. Others placed glowing stones, spoke in his ear, and vanished.
Kyle whispered:
"That old man… is our goal.
His name is Harvis.
Don't worry, he knows me. I buy information from him—and sometimes he teaches me bits of magic… if he feels like it."
Leora stepped forward, watching the old man surrounded by a strange aura. She muttered:
"But how would he know anything about the Azareem?
Or where to find them?"
They approached.
Kyle spoke as if explaining something forbidden:
"He's not just an old man."
"Harvis is a network of eyes… he hears through birds, sees through cats, crows… even some people."
"His eyes aren't his own… he borrows them."
Leora froze, eyes wide:
"All that… just to sell information?"
Kyle nodded seriously:
"Exactly. He's stingy. Demands insane prices.
But he knows… almost everything."
They reached the table.
Harvis sat silently, as if waiting centuries.
Eyes half-lidded.
A faint smile on his lips, like he heard their steps long before they arrived.
Kyle tapped the table and leaned forward, sarcastically:
"Oh, you old fool… miss me?"
Harvis looked up slowly, his voice full of disdain:
"I was enjoying a peaceful moment… then you showed up.
The last thing I needed today… was your face."
Kyle chuckled and gestured to Raven and Leora:
"Look… brought you some fresh idiots.
No charge."
Harvis glanced slowly at them and sighed:
"Just what I needed… two more fools."
Raven stepped forward, sarcasm in his voice:
"Oh, oh, wait a second, old man—
What do you mean fools?
We're here for something important.
Something simple… just saving the world."
Harvis didn't answer.
He was staring at something—
Raven's neck.
A dark pendant with a faint, nearly invisible symbol.
But Harvis saw it.
And knew.
His expression changed—briefly.
As if a dangerous name had been spoken without sound.
Then he turned slowly to Leora…
She wore nothing visible.
But something in her aura made him shiver.
He stared, not in fear—
but in wary anticipation.
Then he said softly, without sarcasm this time:
"Well… it seems this visit won't be like the others."
He gestured to the seats before him.
"Sit."
It wasn't a command…
It wasn't an invitation.
It was as if the walls themselves asked.
They sat.
Harvis leaned forward, eyes locked on them, voice like a blade's edge:
"Why have you really come?"
Leora hesitated… then said the word that froze the air:
"The Azareem.
Where can we find them?"
Everything shrank.
Even the walls seemed to pull inward.
Harvis's face changed.
He whispered:
"To say that name here… is no small matter."
Then he looked at Kyle:
"This is what you brought me this time…?"
He whispered a single word:
"Verahil…"
And suddenly, a pale light flared from the ground.
A magical barrier enveloped them, sealing them from the world outside.
"What I tell you now…"
"Must not leave this circle."
He looked at Leora first. Then Raven.
"If you want to find the Azareem… you must go somewhere few dare even mention anymore."
Pause.
"In the Black Dome of Iskarel."
Silence.
Kyle whispered:
"I thought that was a myth… an old mercenary tale."
Harvis gave a dry laugh:
"Most legends… start with something true."
Leora:
"What is it? Where is it?"
Harvis:
"A vast structure hidden in a mountain on the western coast.
No maps lead to it. No roads.
The Azareem built it to vanish… and to plan."
He studied them quietly.
"I told you this… because for the first time in ages, I felt something close to hope… in your hands."
He looked to Leora.
"You… what's your name?"
She answered:
"Leora."
Harvis raised an eyebrow slowly.
"As I thought… you're from that island."
Kyle turned to them in shock:
"Island? What island?"
Leora, wary:
"How do you know that?"
Harvis smiled faintly:
"Nothing escapes these eyes."
Then looked at Kyle:
"And this is the first time you've chosen good company, you stubborn man."
As they stood to leave, Harvis called out:
"Wait…"
He rose slowly, reaching into his coat.
Pulled out a small dark wooden piece, carved with faint rings—out of time.
He handed it to Leora:
"I'm not generous… but this is for you."
She asked:
"What is it?"
Harvis:
"Don't worry about what it is now.
Just don't lose it.
You'll need it one day—
when no one has the answer…
and your heart has no certainty."
Then he turned away.
Leora stared at it.
Smooth, old, strangely warm.
On one end—
a carved symbol: a circle enclosing three crossing lines, radiating calm.
Harvis murmured without looking:
"That piece… was carved from a tree that grows only once per era.
They say it drank the blood of a lineage that dreams of peace…
but never had it."
The three left in silence.
The air felt different.
The world had changed.
Kyle walked ahead.
Raven glanced at Leora's wooden token.
She walked in a daze, hearing something no one else could.
At the tavern door, Kyle said:
"The next step… might have no return."
Raven:
"If there's even a return to begin with."
Leora laughed softly as she stepped out—
But the laugh never finished.
She collided with someone.
A gray cloak hid their face.
Their steps didn't pause.
Leora froze.
Hand to chest.
A gasp.
Her eyes glowed.
Her body trembled.
Blood boiling.
"Leora?!"
Raven rushed to catch her.
"Leora, what's wrong?!"
Her breath heavy.
Hand clenched around the wooden token.
A glow from her eyes…
Then—
Darkness.
She collapsed.
And everything faded.