Vencian rode in the chilly winds. The weather was not nice to him.
His pace had slowed after riding nonstop for what felt like hours.
After leaving the cliff, he had to search for the path forward. But with Vencian's memory and Quenya scouting from above, they managed to stay on track.
He discarded the idea of going back to Vicorra Castle, the Moonfrost keep. The thought of returning to a familiar place where he wouldn't have to stay constantly on guard was tempting, but the journey itself was too dangerous.
Interrogating Rannon and Drek had already cost him valuable time.
There's a good chance a trap is waiting if he follows the route to his keep.
Quenya flew close, zipping through the air. Her black dress swirled with an almost ethereal grace.
"Where are we going?" She questioned.
As he answered, he realized the "we" in her sentence didn't bother him at all.
"Thaleon Barony. They're loyal vassals of the Vicorra family. I'll demand their support to march on the Laauar Plains."
"The Ortegas were supposed to be loyal too. And you saw how that turned out, didn't you?"
Vencian didn't answer. All he knew was that he couldn't do this alone. He needed allies.
Quenya didn't press but after a while muttered, "If we survive this... what next?"
Vencian blinked slowly. "That's optimistic of you."
"Not really." She shrugged. "I just believe you'll handle whatever shows up."
"That's... more confidence than I have." Vencian said surprised by her reassurance.
"So? Got a better plan?"
"Right now the plan is survive. Then find Sebastian. Then…" He paused. "I don't know."
Quenya floated closer, her knees drawn in slightly as if folding into herself.
"You want to go home?" she asked.
He didn't answer at first. Then shrugged.
"I don't know what that means anymore."
"You miss it, though."
"Some parts." He tilted his head. "Not all of it."
He looked at her, "What about you? If this ends, and you're free from that voice or whatever bound you to me… what then?"
Quenya thought about it longer than he expected.
"I think..." she said slowly, "I want to find out who I am. Not who I used to be. Just... who I've become."
She hesitated. "But if you still need me then, I'll stay."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward.
Vencian almost smiled.
"You know, for something born from a mystery voice, you're not bad company."
"I get that a lot," she said dryly.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Well. I would. If I let more people see me."
That got a small exhale out of him. Maybe a laugh, almost.
He lifted his face to the sky. The weather felt just as bleak as he had a few hours ago.
"Still don't know if going to Laauar is suicide."
"Then don't go," Quenya said.
Vencian shook his head. "That's not how this works."
Quenya didn't press the issue.
She stayed close for a while, then flew off again, as she tended to do from time to time.
Vencian couldn't tell if she was scouting the road ahead or just slipping back into her habit of sightseeing.
The road curved between bare trees. Wind pushed gently through the branches, rattling the last dead leaves.
The snow was thinner here. Patches of old mud showed where wheel ruts had been. A caravan, maybe, long passed.
A bird cawed overhead, then fell silent. The forest ahead closed in, just enough to set him on edge. Too few options if things went sideways.
His fingers twitched at the reins. He pulled slightly, slowing the horse.
Still nothing. Just cold air and the distant sigh of trees.
Then a flicker above.
Quenya descended gracefully from a higher perch, riding the air with ease. Instead of landing, she hovered effortlessly beside his shoulder, gliding as if weightless.
She didn't speak right away.
Vencian glanced sideways. "Sightseeing over?"
"Unfortunately, yes," she said. "You're not going to like it."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You've got company. Two riders. Been trailing you for the last mile. They're not making much noise. Just... pacing behind."
His hand tightened slightly around the reins.
"How far?"
"Close. I didn't have to fly far to find them."
"Uniforms?"
"No. Civilian coats. One of them has a shortbow on the saddle. The other's hiding something under a wrapped cloak. Could be steel."
Vencian looked ahead again.
The trees pressed in closer. The road curved more sharply than he liked. He considered laying another trap, but there was no time.
"Could be Ortega's scouts. Maybe more blades."
"Does it make a difference?"
He didn't respond.
"They're behind you," Quenya said. "Keeping their distance but not trying to hide."
Vencian exhaled through his nose. "Horse can manage one sprint. Maybe two, if I push it."
She drifted slightly closer. "You're thinking of making a run for it?"
"I don't want to let this turn into a flank," he said. "If I break early, I might force them to follow without regrouping."
A pause.
Quenya tilted her head. "Did you check the flanks already?"
He turned toward her, eyes narrowing. "You didn't?"
"I... thought they'd come from behind. Like last time."
"Dammit."
He didn't wait.
He yanked the reins, spurred the horse forward, and broke into a sprint.
Snow and dirt exploded beneath the hooves. The trees blurred at the edges. Wind slapped his face raw.
Quenya darted ahead, calling something over her shoulder, but he didn't catch it.
All he knew was that the road had one last bend—and he'd have to risk it.
He leaned forward, urging the horse faster.
They crested the next rise.
And ran straight into the net.
Four riders to the left. Three on the right. At least two more down the slope. Waiting.
His hand flew to his blade but stopped halfway.
Too many.
A crossbow bolt thudded into the snow ahead of his horse—warning shot. Not aimed to kill.
He pulled back.
The horse reared, then slowed as he forced it still.
Quenya hovered above him, small, silent, pale.
They had him.
From every side.
He stared at the men slowly closing in. Most of them looked like mercenaries. Hardened.
With steady posture, his gaze moved from one to the next.
There were nine altogether.
And then one of them moved.
He moved with quiet confidence, unhurried unlike the others. A dark travel cloak with a high collar draped around him, its folds brushing softly as he swung down from the saddle. A strip of cloth covered the lower half of his face.
He didn't draw the sword at his hip. He didn't need to.
"The game of cat and mouse is over," he said, voice muffled but clear. "Surrender now, or my men will make the decision for you."
Vencian stared at him. Something about the man's stillness. The way he didn't posture like a common thug.
He kept his voice low. "You're Mirel?
The man's brow twitched.
"Looks like the young lord isn't as clueless."
Vencian shifted in the saddle, just a touch. His gaze swept the surroundings in a slow, deliberate circle. He looked to the trees. The rising slope. At the sky, pale and quiet above.
Then he let the breath out through his mouth.
No play left.
"I surrender," he said.