Nira, drained of pain, lowered her gaze to the ground. Her voice trembled, yet her words spilled like a dagger piercing the heart: she described to Ioh every detail of Paleș's torture.
Ioh listened in silence. In his eyes, one could read a bitter understanding — this world was not only cruel; it was deceitful, stripped of honor, built on lies and men with hearts of stone.
Slowly, he raised his hand and, with a resolute gesture, traced the sign of the cross. It wasn't just a ritual — it was a silent oath, in honor of Paleș.
Nira watched him carefully, as if searching for hidden answers in that gesture.
"Do you know someone…" — her voice was low, almost a whisper — "who wears a helmet shaped like a bull's head?"
Ioh turned his gaze toward her. For a fleeting moment, a spark lit in his eyes, as if an old memory had been awakened.
"Yes," he said, his words slow and heavy. "A childhood friend used to wear such a helm."
He stopped. Nira's wide eyes followed him, sensing the story wasn't finished.
"And… where is he now?" she asked, impatience woven into her tone.
Ioh let out a long sigh.
"I haven't seen him… in many years…" His voice carried the weight of nostalgia. "And yet, not a day passes without me wondering if he's still alive."
A heavy silence fell between them, but within it glimmered a spark — the beginning of a bond between Ioh's past and the path Nira had to follow.
Nira continued with the final part of her story:
"Everything seemed over… but I knew better. The promise between Paleș and the Sor the Silent had to be honored. Yet when one breaks his word, everything turns into a hunt. Paleș died with honor… and I, with a shattered soul, tried to lose myself among branches and shadows. I felt in every fiber of my body that it would not end there. Someone like the Sor the Silent, who thrives on torture and suffering, would never let his prey slip away. To him, it was only a game.
I ran until my lungs burned like fire. My body was a knot of barbed wire, yet the thunder of hooves behind me pushed me further. Suddenly, a cave appeared among the trees, and I threw myself into its darkness, my throat dry with terror. The cold walls tried to dry my sweat-soaked clothes. Time no longer mattered — only that they would not find me.
When I began to believe I was safe, a shadow covered the entrance. A man, scarcely dressed, wearing a bull-shaped helm. His stare was fixed, unshakable.
'What are you doing… in my hiding place?'
His voice was not merely cruel. It was sharp, like a blade scraping against bone. Every word dripped into my ears like warm blood from a fresh wound.
I swallowed hard.
'I'm being hunted by Sor the Silent… and if he finds me, he will kill me. I've lost someone… Paleș… a guardian.' My voice broke.
I saw his brow furrow. It wasn't just curiosity… it was restrained fury.
'How… did he die?' he asked, as if he needed to be certain.
I told him everything. Every detail. Every scream.
The silence that followed was as heavy as a blade pressed to my throat. Then his gaze softened.
'I will take you to White Claw… the border with Eastern Wallachia.'
I introduced myself, then asked who he was.
No answer.
'Are you deaf, or do you just prefer to remain anonymous?' I said, sharper than I intended.
Only a faint smile. And I let the question die.
As he said, so he did. We left the cave, the light striking my eyes. But at the first step on the road, a horn ripped through the air. Someone had seen us.
The footsteps of soldiers grew nearer, marching. The stench of blood and battlefield dust crept closer. It wasn't long before the riders reached us — twenty armed men, and at their head… Sor the Silent.
He looked at me with eyes ablaze, hungry for blood.
'Have you found another guardian?' he asked with a mocking grin. 'Shall we play another game?'
Before the horn sounded, the man asked me why I was being hunted. I told him everything — about Dacus, and even about you, Ioh. At the mention of your name, his eyes lit up for a brief instant.
'Fanar,' he introduced himself shortly. His gaze lingered on the bull helm, and with a rough smile he added:
'Ioh… once told me that such a helm is the mark of a vow: to protect your brothers, even if it costs your life.'
He fell silent, his eyes piercing me. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword with a force that seemed to crush old memories.
'I will save you.'
His voice scraped like rusted iron. This promise is not for me, I thought, but I had no time to speak — a chill cut my breath short.
Sor the Silent gave the signal. A horn tore through the night. His hand rose, and the riders surged forward.
'Fall back!' Fanar roared at them, stepping between me and the charge. 'And no one will die!'
The only reply was the voivode's sick laughter. Then, as if at one command, the horses stormed toward us.
I barely blinked. Fanar's blade flashed. The air itself seemed to tear before his strikes. Horses and riders fell in pieces — two, three, four at once. Blood sprayed across damp leaves, intestines scattered beneath hooves still striking the void.
Only three riders remained. I watched them tremble, pull hard on their reins, searching around in panic. Then they turned to flee. They thought they could escape.
Behind them, like an iron statue, stood Sor the Silent.
'Where do you think you're going?!' he roared, his voice slicing the air like a knife.
He gave them no time to answer. His sword carved a gleaming arc, severing limbs. Horses screamed in agony as bodies collapsed, torn apart. A wave of nausea rose in my throat, but I could not move. I was a prisoner to the senseless carnage.
'How can you… kill your own men so easily?' I whispered, more to myself than to anyone.
'Go!' Fanar told me. 'I'll handle him!'
I turned one last time.
The first strike — Sor the Silent's forbidden invocation:
He raised his hand and carved in the air a pentagram blazing with blinding blue light. The lines burned like embers on ice, oozing a dense, viscous mist that devoured the light. From within that cloud came a sound… not human, but something ancient, famished. My heart froze, and my legs begged me to run faster.
The second strike — Fanar's counterattack:
With a violent motion, Fanar tore off his sleeves, revealing forearms scarred with old wounds. With fingers blackened as if by cinders, he traced a jagged mark across his skin, mixing soot and blood — a living sigil of forgotten symbols. Red ink, like a thin river, flowed over the black burn. The air paled around him as his palm struck the ground — and the earth cracked away from my feet, as if answering an ancient tongue. The very air clamped around my chest, stealing my breath even at a distance. I felt it then… the Ancient Aura. It wasn't merely power. It was the memory of a time when men ruled nothing, but were only prey.
The third strike — the clash:
Sor the Silent's mist twisted into colossal fangs, ready to devour. Fanar answered with a roar that pierced my bones, and from his palm burst a red light, like a sunset forged into a single spark. The two forces collided with a deafening crash. The forest groaned — leaves ripped from trees, stones split, the taste of blood thickened in the air.
I forced myself to turn away and ran. Behind me, light and shadow devoured each other, every heartbeat feeling like the last.
It was an epic battle, yet even then, Fanar's eyes followed me from the corner, urging me to flee faster.
And so I ran through the forest. I never stopped.
I reached White Claw with trembling legs. I rested briefly, then continued to the manor.
No one pursued me. And I knew why. Fanar had held the Voivode back.
—
In Ioh's eyes, a rare flame ignited — relief that Fanar still lived, mingled with iron resolve. He could feel his friend's presence, a shadow from the past returning at the right time. He bit his lip, suppressing a smile.
"Fanar… still… lives…"
His voice trembled, but not from fear — from hope. A hope he thought long buried, now branding his heart with fire.
The bull helm, that ancient symbol, resurfaced in his mind, a memory etched from childhood. He knew his friend had not lost the spirit to protect. That gave him a hope he hadn't felt in years.
He turned to Nira. The firelight bathed his weary face, but his eyes remained firm.
"You've endured too much… for one single purpose." His words carried more than recognition — they carried deep respect.
She lowered her gaze to her hands resting on her dress.
"Dacus… must be awakened. Too many lives have been broken for this."
Ioh clenched his fists, as if breaking the chains of an old decision.
"Then we will awaken him. At any cost."
As he uttered the final word, the manor's door creaked open… hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Luc and Nicolai burst in, eyes wide. Without hesitation, Luc ran to Ioh and clutched his cloak, while Nicolai darted straight into Nira's arms.
Luc peeked timidly from beneath the cloak, his breath uneven. His usually lively eyes now scanned the room with a chilling unease.
"Where is… Paleș?" he asked, his voice quivering.
The question struck Ioh like a blade, as if tasting the words for the first time. Nicolai, still clinging to Nira, turned his head toward the hunter, his fingers tightening on her sleeve. Ioh said nothing. He only lowered his head, the shadow on his face answering what none of them wished to hear.
Then, a window behind them slammed against the wall. The wind rushed in cold, yet oddly gentle, brushing their cheeks like a farewell caress.
Luc turned sharply, recognition flickering in his eyes.
Slowly, Ioh removed his hat, holding it in both hands as a sign of respect.
"Farewell, my friend…" he whispered.
He turned back to Nira. His gaze was sharp, unwavering.
"The riddle… I will solve it. No matter what it takes."
That night, the manor's silence was deceiving. Beyond the walls, the world prepared for a storm. Ioh felt the road's call in every heartbeat. He was the only one who could face these dangers. Anyone else would be nothing but flesh for fate's fangs.
He paced through the empty courtyard, eyes on the sky. His thoughts drifted to Ronan and his words about training the twins. Back then, he had ignored them. Now… he was no longer so sure.
He pulled his cloak tighter and murmured to himself:
"At dawn, I leave.
And if the road bares its fangs and claws before me… I will break those fangs and shatter those claws."