Part - 1
Halric knocked on the door, three measured taps against the weather-worn wood.
Inside, a hush fell over the whispers. Then the hinges creaked as the door eased open. A man stood in the doorway, wary, lean, and dressed in a simple wool shirt. Behind him, a woman hovered protectively, her eyes wide with fear.
They didn't speak at first. Their gaze swept past Halric to the ten knights standing silently behind him, armored in glistening white plate, their helmets glinting like stars in the moonlight. But it wasn't the soldiers that made the man take a half-step back.
It was the figure behind Halric.
Taller by a full head, a knight in crimson plate armor, its surface reflecting firelight like liquid flame. The golden longsword emblazoned across his breastplate gleamed even in the dim light, its point aimed skyward. His long, golden hair falls over his shoulders like a lion's mane, Aurelius stood motionless. The sword at his hip bore engravings the couple had never seen symbols alien to any known order.
Halric had anticipated this.
He lifted his hands, palms outward. "Calm yourselves. We mean no harm. We're here to talk."
The man's stance didn't ease, but the woman's eyes flicked over the armored escort. Resistance was a fool's gamble.
They exchanged a glance, and then the tension drained from their shoulders. Resigned, if not trusting.
"Can we come in?" Halric asked politely.
The man hesitated. "All of you?"
Halric allowed himself a small smile. "Only myself and the knight behind me. The others will remain outside."
Reluctantly, the man stepped aside. "Alright. But don't try anything."
Halric and Aurelius entered. The interior of the farmhouse was humble timber walls, a hearth with dying embers, a worn rug near the door. The dining table was hand-carved, its edges smooth with age. Dried herbs hung from the beams, and a pair of iron candlesticks flickered near the window.
They sat, the wood creaking beneath their weight. The man gestured for his wife, and she nodded, disappearing into the adjoining kitchen.
"Forgive us for the intrusion," Halric said.
The man didn't respond at first, his fingers tapping the table as if weighing every word. Then, gathering courage, he looked up.
"Can I ask a question first?"
Halric inclined his head. "Of course. It is only fair."
From beneath his cloak, Halric withdrew a leather pouch and placed it on the table. The drawstring loosened. A cascade of silver coins spilled out, catching the candlelight.
The man blinked, stunned.
"We offer this as compensation for the sudden... disturbance."
The farmer stared, then slowly pushed the bag closer to his chest, not rejecting it. His suspicion lingered, but the weight of the coin seemed to settle his voice.
"My only question is... who are you people? And how the hell did a city appear out of nowhere in front of my farm?"
Halric looked at Aurelius for a brief moment, then turned back.
"That... is a long answer. And perhaps neither of us is ready to believe just yet."
Part - 2
Veylen drifted back into the waking world to the scent of incense earthy, bitter, with a touch of lavender. Candlelight danced across the carved stone wall. The sheets beneath him were unfamiliar.
Clean. Tucked. His muscles ached.
He opened his eyes slowly. The flickering light made him squint. A figure sat by the bedside a woman in robe, her silver hair catching the firelight. The High Priestess.
Another figure softer, brighter leaned in as his vision cleared. Elyria.
"You're awake," she breathed, voice trembling with relief.
Veylen blinked. His throat felt dry,"Where... am I?"
"In your chambers," the High Priestess said, calm but watching him closely. "You collapsed."
He tried to sit up. His limbs resisted,"No. I was in the forest. Wilderwood. I remember the trees. The smell of moss. And then someone behind me. A figure. I couldn't see their face. Then...."
The women looked at each other. A flicker of something passed between them not fear, but understanding sharpened by fear.
Elyria's voice was hesitant. "You don't remember the punishment Ser Halric gave you? Or the sparring match with Aurelius?"
He shook his head, slowly. "What punishment? What match?"
Silence again. But heavier now. A silence that dropped into the room like a stone into deep water.
The High Priestess rose slightly. Her voice was lower now,"The boy we brought back from the forest. He looked like you. Spoke like you. But he wasn't you."
Elyria swallowed hard. "Or maybe you were it was you but that thing attached."
Veylen pressed his palm to his temple. A dull pressure throbbed behind his eyes. "Then what did I do?"
"You did nothing," the High Priestess said. "But your name... your face... was used."
A silence settled. Not peace. The kind of silence before storms, or behind closed doors where truths were buried.
Elyria tried to change the subject, her smile returning, if strained. "You're safe now. That's what matters. Get some rest. You must be hungry. I'll have something brought."
"What would you like?" the High Priestess added.
He blinked again, a moment's pause before he answered, like memory took effort to pull. "Roasted duck. In goldenfruit glaze. And the softbread rolls with lavender butter. The kind the palace kitchen used to make on the Moon Festival."
Elyria chuckled faintly. "Still a prince, I see. I'll let the maid know."
As she walked toward the door, Veylen's gaze drifted to the window.
Then his breath caught.
The sky outside was dark. He spoke, barely above a whisper. "Why is it dark outside? What happened?"
Both women froze. The High Priestess turned slowly. Elyria hesitated at the door.
"You should rest..."
"No," he said, firmer now. "Tell me."
The High Priestess exhaled through her nose, then sat back down beside him. "After the ritual failed... after the figure fled... the oath was broken."
Elyria's voice was softer. "Lord Nirash cast us out."
Veylen leaned back slowly, as if the weight of that sentence had pressed against his chest. "Then this is...?
"Exile," the High Priestess said.
His voice came after a long pause. "Where are Halric and Aurelius?"
"Guarding the perimeter. Gathering what knowledge they can."
He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening. "I let this happen. If I hadn't gone into Wilderwood..."
"Stop," Elyria said, more sharply than intended. She softened it with a step closer. "You were targeted. It was going to find a way in, one way or another."
Still, the guilt sat with him. Heavy. "When they return," he said, "send them to me. I need to speak with them. Apologize. And hear what we face."
The High Priestess nodded. "We will."
Elyria lingered at the door. "And your food will be here soon."
He managed a thin smile. But inside him, a question stirred like ash in water:
What else came back from Wilderwood wearing my face?
Part - 3
Harlic thought and decided to tell the whole story,"Well," said Halric, clearing his throat, "I'm listening."said the man.
The man leaned forward, elbows on the table. Halric began to explain. Slowly at first how the ritual went wrong, and how, after the fleeing of that thing, the sky darkened and the light abandoned them. How their people were cast into some unknown place.
The man listened without interruption, his eyes narrowing as the tale deepened. When Halric finished, silence stretched between them.
Then, the man leaned back with a thoughtful expression and said, "Oh. So you're a fellow Aethreian."
Halric blinked. "A what?"
"A worshipper of the Old Gods," the man said, as though it were obvious.
Halric frowned. "Old Gods?"
Aurelius, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward. "Are there some gods that are new too?" he asked mockingly.
The man looked at them for a long moment, then let out a low whistle. "You really aren't from around here. All right, I'll explain."
He leaned in, his voice lowering as though afraid the walls might listen.
"There are two kinds of gods people worship. The first are the Aethryn gods born of divinity, ancient and endless. They existed long before even our oldest histories. The second... are the Thalorim.
Those who were once mortal. Heroes, martyrs, kings, or saints who transcended death and rose to godhood through sacrifice or greatness."
Halric exchanged a glance with Aurelius. "Never heard of this."
"Not surprising," the man said. "Where you came from... must still be ruled by the Aethryn. But here in..."
He was interrupted as his wife entered, balancing a tray of clay cups and a steaming kettle. She poured dark tea into each cup, setting them gently before the guests.
"Arcadia," she said, picking up the thread as though she had been listening all along. "You're in the Kingdom of Arcadia. We live under the guidance of Thariel, the God of Order one of the Thalorim."
Halric looked into the cup, the steam curling like pale fingers. "So this kingdom... follows a man who became a god?"
"More than that," the man added. "The People believe they will understand us because they were once us. Their mercy is shaped by pain, their justice forged in sacrifice. Thariel was once a general.
He brought peace by blood."
Halric looked at the man and said, "We might have to ask more than a few questions."
End of Chapter.