The whisper still clung to Adrian's ears when he reached the old warehouse, its doors half-open, shadows spilling out like smoke.
"Chains bind you… heir of Thorns…"
The voice was not loud. It was not even forceful. Yet it carried a weight that pressed on his chest, pulling him forward step by step.
Adrian hesitated at the threshold. The warehouse loomed in silence, the scent of wood and iron thick in the air. Slowly, he stepped inside.
The sight that greeted him was ordinary at first glance—rows of loaded carriages stacked with crates and sacks. The air was filled with the faint smell of spices and sea salt. Yet the silence seemed heavier than it should have been, as if something unseen lingered among the shadows.
Adrian walked deeper. His hand brushed against a crate as he passed. Suddenly, with a groaning crack, one of the carriages tilted, about to topple.
His instincts flared. Without thinking, Adrian braced his body and kicked hard. The wood rattled as the carriage slammed back into balance, crates shifting but not falling. His heart pounded.
Footsteps clattered on the wooden floor. A merchant, dressed in a rough coat, rushed forward with wide eyes.
"My lord! Forgive us, forgive us!" the man cried, bowing deeply. His face was pale with fear. "We did not secure it properly. Please do not take offense!"
Adrian straightened slowly, brushing dust from his coat. His mind worked quickly.
"Where are these carriages headed?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.
The merchant hesitated, glancing nervously at the others who had begun to gather. "To the empire port, my lord. For shipment."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. The port. That was where the goods of the empire flowed in and out—wealth, secrets, perhaps even forbidden cargo.
"Take me with you," he said simply.
The merchant's face blanched. He shook his head frantically. "That cannot be done! If the nobles discover we carried one of their sons like common cargo… my family would be ruined. My lord, please—"
Adrian's gaze sharpened. His lips curved faintly into a cold smile.
"Just now, a noble's life was nearly lost because of your negligence. Do you realize? Had that carriage struck me, you would already be awaiting trial—or worse." His voice lowered, calm but cutting. "Unless you prefer I report this incident, you will grant me what I ask."
The man's hands trembled. Sweat beaded on his forehead. After a long silence, he swallowed hard and whispered, "At least… at least change your clothes, my lord. If you are seen like this, even I cannot protect you."
Adrian exhaled slowly, his expression softening just a little. "That much, I can do."
A set of plain garments was brought—a loose shirt of coarse fabric, a brown vest, and trousers fit for a commoner. Adrian changed swiftly, tying the belt tightly around his waist. His noble coat and polished boots were set aside. In the cracked mirror nailed to the wall, a different man stared back at him—rougher, plainer, forgettable.
"Better," the merchant said with relief.
Adrian ignored him. He felt lighter somehow, freer in the rough clothes. His hand brushed against one of the crates. The weight was considerable, yet when he pushed, it shifted easily. For a moment, he stared at his palm.
"…Strange," he murmured. His body felt sturdier than before, as if the weakness that once clung to him had been stripped away.
Without waiting for further comment, Adrian strode past the merchants and climbed into one of the horse-drawn carts.
The men exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. Soon, seven merchants joined him in the lead carriage, while several others followed in a line behind. The whip cracked, and the convoy began to roll.
The warehouse gates closed behind them.
The journey had begun.
The rhythm of wheels on stone filled the air. Adrian leaned against the wooden wall of the cart, chewing slowly on an apple one of the merchants had handed him. The sweetness cut through the dry air, but his mind was far from calm.
The city passed around them—crowded streets thinning into quieter roads, narrow alleys giving way to wide highways lined with trees. By the time the sun began to sink, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson, they approached the edge of the capital.
Ahead stood a check post, its iron gate gleaming faintly in the fading light. Guards in the empire's livery stood firm, blocking the road.
"Inspection!" one called.
Adrian tensed. His heart hammered against his ribs.
The merchant beside him shifted nervously, muttering, "Just stay quiet…"
The guards moved from cart to cart, lifting tarps, examining crates. Then came the announcement that made Adrian's blood run cold:
"A noble heir of the Blackthorn family is missing. No one leaves without inspection."
Adrian's breath caught. His palms grew damp. They already know…
The guards approached their carriage. Adrian lowered his head, pulling the rough cap further down to shadow his face. His commoner's clothes scratched against his skin, foreign yet lifesaving.
A guard's eyes lingered on him. For a terrifying moment, Adrian thought the man had recognized him.
But the guard only grunted, nodding at the crates. "Proceed."
The gates creaked open. The convoy rolled forward.
Adrian exhaled sharply, his chest aching. He could feel sweat on his brow.
That was too close…
The capital's lights faded behind them. The road stretched ahead, winding into the countryside.
Days passed.
The convoy traveled tirelessly, the landscape shifting from rolling fields to dense forests. Birds cried from the branches, and the air grew thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. At night, they camped by the roadside, lighting small fires, sharing food in silence.
Adrian kept mostly to himself, his thoughts drifting between fear of discovery and the relentless voice that haunted him. The words repeated in his dreams, whispering through the trees.
On the fifth evening, the horses slowed. Their flanks glistened with sweat, their steps heavy. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, and the shadows of the forest pressed in.
"We'll rest here," the lead merchant announced. "There's a village nearby, but we won't reach it before midnight. Too dangerous in the dark."
Camps were set up swiftly. Crates were stacked, fires lit, food prepared. Adrian joined the merchants by the flames, eating simple bread and stew. For a brief while, laughter and chatter filled the night, easing the tension of the long road.
But when the others settled, Adrian excused himself. The forest called to him, its darkness thick and heavy.
He walked alone among the trees, the firelight fading behind him.
The air was cold, damp. The branches above swayed, whispering faintly. He had intended only to find a quiet spot—a place to breathe, to clear his thoughts.
But then he heard it again.
"Chains bind you… heir of Thorns…"
Adrian froze. His fists clenched.
"Not now," he hissed under his breath. His voice trembled with frustration. "Not here!"
The voice ignored him. It pulled him deeper, past twisted roots and moss-covered stones.
And then he saw it.
A dead body.
The man's face was pale, twisted in horror. His throat bore dark, jagged marks, as though invisible chains had crushed him. Flies buzzed faintly around the wound.
Adrian staggered back, bile rising in his throat. His vision blurred.
The world tilted. He collapsed to his knees. A strangled cry tore from his throat.
Footsteps crashed through the trees behind him. Merchants, drawn by his shout. Torches flared, casting harsh light over the scene.
Gasps filled the air.
"Dead… he's dead!" one whispered.
Adrian forced himself to stand, his chest heaving. His eyes darted through the trees—
And then he saw it.
A shadow. A figure half-hidden behind a trunk, still, watching.
Without thinking, Adrian lunged forward. "Wait!" he shouted, crashing through the undergrowth.
The shadow slipped away, vanishing deeper into the forest. Adrian chased it desperately. His breath tore in his lungs, his legs burning.
And then he stumbled into another clearing.
Another dead body.
This one sprawled on the ground, eyes wide open, mouth frozen in a silent scream. The same dark marks coiled around his limbs.
Adrian's hands trembled violently. His heart pounded like a drum.
"What is happening…?" he whispered.
The merchants caught up, their faces pale with horror. Torches lit the scene in harsh, flickering light. Murmurs of fear spread like wildfire.
"Another one… there's another body…"
Adrian's gaze darted back to the trees. For just a moment, he thought he saw movement. A flicker of darkness, slipping between branches.
The whisper came again, softer this time, almost gentle:
"Chains bind you… heir of Thorns…"
Adrian's breath caught. His hands clenched into fists.
And the night pressed closer, heavy with death and dread.
Chapter 10 End