The chamber was quiet except for the faint crackle of a torch. Serenya sat at the edge of the table, the map stretched out in front of her. She traced the path with her finger, from Emberholme to the jagged outline of the Ashspire Peaks. Every stop was a danger. Every name carried weight.
The Weeping Woods. The River of Glass. The Orchard of Fire.
She remembered Harlowe's words. *Knights who went mad. Sorcerers turned to ash. Caravans swallowed whole.* No one had ever come back.
Her jaw tightened. If she went alone, only she would pay the price. That was simple. Cleaner. But if she took others… then their blood would be on her hands.
*Better to go alone,* she thought. *A knight's oath is mine alone to bear.*
She was already packing light — just her armor, her sword, and enough rations for one.
That's when the door creaked open.
"Planning a trip, are we?"
Serenya looked up sharply. Kael leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes went to the packs stacked near her chair. His expression soured.
"You weren't planning to leave me behind, were you?"
Serenya frowned and rolled the map back up. "This isn't for you to worry about, Kael."
"Not for me to worry about?" He stepped into the room, his voice rising. "You think I haven't trained for this? You think I don't know what it means to follow you?"
"This isn't training," she snapped. "This is life and death."
"Exactly." He jabbed a finger at her pack. "Which is why you'll need me. I'll be more use alive at your side than I will be sitting here, rotting in shame while you risk everything."
Serenya's eyes narrowed. "You'd rather die chasing a fruit no one's ever seen?"
Kael gave a crooked grin. "Better than dying of boredom in the castle. Besides…" He tapped the rolled map. "Someone's got to hold that when you're too busy stabbing illusions, right?"
Serenya shook her head, trying not to show the twitch of a smile that almost broke through. He was too bold for his own good.
"Kael, listen to me. Out there, it's not practice swings and sparring bouts. It's monsters. It's rivers that kill you if you look at them wrong. It's—"
"It's exactly what I've been preparing for," he cut in, more serious now. His voice had lost the boyish edge, and that caught her off guard. "If you go alone, you dishonor me."
Serenya froze. "…What?"
"A squire's oath," he said firmly. "It's not just polishing armor and fetching swords. It's sharing the burden of the knight I serve. If you shut me out, you're saying I was never worthy in the first place."
For a long moment, the chamber was silent again.
Serenya studied him. His stance was stubborn, almost defiant. There was fear in his eyes, yes — he was still young — but behind it was something sharper. Fire.
Part of her wanted to shut him down, to tell him no and lock the door. But another part of her, the part that remembered herself at his age, understood.
"You realize what you're asking?" she said quietly.
Kael nodded without hesitation. "I do."
Serenya exhaled slowly, her hand resting on the map. The oath she carried was already heavy. Could she really ask him to carry even a piece of it?
Before she could give her answer, the sound of boots echoed in the hall outside. The door opened again.
A man stepped in, robes brushing the stone floor, a faint smell of smoke trailing with him. His hair was dark, his expression calm, almost amused.
"Forgive the intrusion," he said smoothly. "But I've been sent by Her Majesty. The Queen has commanded that I accompany you on your quest."
Serenya stiffened. Her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword. "The Queen?"
"Yes." The man gave a polite bow. "Dorian, at your service. The Queen felt it… unwise, sending a knight alone into lands where steel may not be enough. Magic, she believes, will be required."
Serenya's eyes narrowed. "The Queen has never trusted me. Why would she give me aid now?"
Dorian shrugged lightly. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps she wants you watched. Or perhaps she truly wishes for your success. Who can say? My task is simple: I follow you. Nothing more."
Kael glanced between them, uneasy. Serenya studied Dorian for a long moment. His calmness was too practiced. She didn't like it. Not one bit. But she couldn't refuse a royal order.
She turned back to Kael. The boy stood tall, chin raised, waiting for her decision.
Finally, she nodded once.
"Congratulations, squire," she said. "You're in the quest."
Kael's eyes lit up, a grin breaking across his face.
Dorian smiled faintly, folding his arms. "Well, this should be interesting."
Serenya rolled up the map with a snap. Two companions. One chosen by loyalty, the other forced by politics. Either way, the road ahead had just become far more complicated.
Serenya was still weighing Kael's words when the door creaked open again. Her head snapped toward it, hand brushing the hilt of her sword out of instinct.
A tall man stepped inside as if he owned the place. His dark robes brushed against the stone floor, and he moved with the kind of ease that set her teeth on edge. His face was calm, maybe too calm, and his eyes scanned the room with mild amusement.
"Well," he said, closing the door behind him, "I see I've arrived just in time."
Serenya rose slowly from her chair. "Who are you?"
The man bowed slightly, though the gesture looked more like mockery than respect. "Dorian. Court magician. At your service."
Kael glanced at Serenya, confused. "Magician? What's he—"
Dorian cut in smoothly, his voice carrying a casual confidence. "The Queen has commanded me to accompany you. A knight with steel is one thing, but fire and shadow bow only to sorcery."
The words landed heavy in the chamber. Serenya's eyes narrowed, her hand still close to her sword.
"The Queen sent you?" she asked slowly, her voice tight.
"Yes," Dorian answered with a faint smile. "You didn't think the crown would let you wander off without more… reliable support, did you?"
Serenya stiffened. Reliable. That was how the Queen saw him, while she herself was treated like a pawn. She could feel the insult in the choice of words.
The Queen had never hidden her dislike. Serenya's closeness to the King had always been a sore point in the court. Why would the Queen suddenly decide to help her now?
Something about it stank.
Serenya's voice dropped, sharp and direct. "Why would the Queen send you, when she'd sooner see me fail?"
Dorian tilted his head, not looking offended at all. If anything, he seemed entertained. "A fair question. Ask her yourself, if you dare. My task is simple: I follow you. Nothing more, nothing less."
His shrug was casual, like this was nothing but a chore for him. That only made her trust him less.
Kael stepped forward, frowning. "Why didn't the King say anything about this?"
"Because the King is not the only one who cares about the fate of Emberholme," Dorian replied smoothly. "The Queen is, after all, the one who must deal with the nobles while His Majesty fights for his next breath. She understands better than anyone what happens if you fail."
Serenya's jaw tightened. "And what happens if you decide I'm the one who should fail?"
That made Dorian smile. "Then I'd be a fool to stand in the way of a Valeblood with a sword."
The smugness in his tone grated on her. But she knew the truth: she couldn't refuse him. A royal order, even from the Queen, was binding. If she tried to send him away, she'd be accused of defying the crown.
The tension in the chamber thickened. Serenya could feel Kael's eyes on her, waiting for her judgment.
She turned to Kael, studying him for a long moment. He stood straight, not flinching under her gaze. For all his nerves, he'd shown more fire tonight than ever before.
At last, Serenya gave a short nod.
"Congratulations, squire," she said firmly. "You're on this quest."
Kael blinked, then grinned so wide it almost split his face. Relief and pride washed over him at once. "I won't let you down, my lady."
Behind him, Dorian smirked, folding his arms. "Well then. Looks like we're a team. A swordswoman, a squire, and a magician. I almost pity whatever waits for us out there."
Serenya ignored his tone. She rolled up the map and set it aside, her mind already racing ahead.
Two allies. One chosen by loyalty. One forced on her by politics. Both would shape the path ahead, for better or worse.
She slid her sword back into its scabbard and straightened.
The road ahead just became more dangerous, she thought. And not only because of what lies beyond Emberholme.