Days blurred together. They followed the King's Road, which bent toward the heart of the kingdom. Traders passed them, soldiers in rusted mail, even pilgrims bound for holy shrines. All gave wary glances to Edran's staff and the boy with restless eyes.
One evening, the horizon brightened—not with sunset, but with the glow of countless torches. Beyond a ridge, the walls of the capital rose, vast and golden, crowned with banners.
Mira gasped. "I've never seen anything so… enormous."
Aric said nothing. His stomach churned. Somewhere beyond those walls lay answers, perhaps safety. But also danger, for if the goblin warbands and wraithbound hunted him already, the capital might hold enemies more cunning still.
Edran's expression was unreadable as the city lights flickered across his scarred face. "Welcome to Caelthorn, boy. Here your true journey begins."
Aric looked up at the towers and battlements and felt the fire inside him stir.
Whatever waited beyond those gates, there would be no turning back.