Chapter 24: The Port of Promises
**CYBAL CITY - THREE DAYS LATER**
The capital city of the human kingdom sprawled before them like a promise carved from stone and ambition.
Cybal City was everything Briarkeep wasn't—massive walls that stretched toward the sky, towers that pierced clouds, streets wide enough for six wagons abreast, and a port that hosted ships from every continent. The air smelled of salt water, exotic spices, and the particular mixture of hope and desperation that defined all great cities.
Hexia's party entered through the eastern gate, leading their horses and the eight bound prisoners. The children walked between them—thirty lives saved, now facing uncertain futures but at least alive to face them.
Kiara walked beside Hexia's horse, her crimson hair catching afternoon sun, emerald eyes taking in everything with hungry curiosity.
"It's huge," she breathed. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Wait until you see the port district," Lhoralaine said from behind. "Ships from every continent dock there. You can buy anything if you know where to look."
"And if you have the coin," Sirenia added pragmatically. "Which we do, thanks to the quest rewards."
They'd stopped at the Adventurer's Guild in Briarkeep before leaving. Astrid had personally signed off on their promotions—Sirenia and Lhoralaine now officially A-rank adventurers. The payment for thirty-five ogres plus the slave trader capture had been substantial.
More importantly, Astrid had provided letters of introduction to her counterpart in Cybal City—a woman named Ysolde Steelheart, known for her combat prowess and tactical brilliance.
"First stop—city guard station," Hexia said, his voice carrying authority despite its flatness. "We turn over the prisoners, ensure the children are placed in proper care."
"And then?" Kiara asked.
"Then we find accommodations, resupply, and wait for our ship." He glanced at her. "You'll stay with the orphanage we arrange. It'll be safer than following us to another continent."
"About that—" Kiara started.
"No."
"You didn't hear what I was going to say!"
"You were going to ask to come with us. The answer is no. We're heading into danger. Searching for a hero we've never met. Possibly fighting dwarven military if things go wrong. You're fifteen."
"I'm *almost* sixteen."
"Still no."
Kiara's jaw set stubbornly, but she didn't argue further. Yet.
---
**THE CITY GUARD STATION**
Captain Marcus Vrell was having a normal day until three blood-stained adventurers walked into his station with eight prisoners and thirty orphaned children.
"What in the seven hells—"
"Slave traders," Hexia said simply, dropping a sack on the captain's desk. "Eight survivors from a network of thirty-five. They've already confessed and agreed to testify. Here's the documentation from Briarkeep's guild."
Captain Vrell stared at the sack. Then at Hexia. Then at the mark on Hexia's right hand that was glowing faintly even through his glove.
"You're... you're the chosen hero. The one from the trial."
"Yes. These children were their cargo. They need proper care—orphanage placement, counseling, eventually homes if possible."
"Of course. Of course! We'll handle it immediately." The captain called for his staff, who began processing the children with practiced efficiency. "And the prisoners?"
"Should be tried within the week. They have extensive knowledge of slave trading routes, client lists, safe houses. Everything your investigators need to dismantle the network."
"This is... this is exceptional work." Captain Vrell's respect was genuine. "On behalf of Cybal City, thank you."
"Just doing what's necessary." Hexia turned to the children, who were being led toward the care facilities. Most went quietly. A few looked back with grateful, tear-stained faces.
Kiara hung back, approaching Hexia one final time.
"You're really leaving tomorrow?"
"Yes. Early morning tide."
"And you're really coming back?"
"I promised to train you. I keep my promises." His crimson eyes softened slightly. "Stay safe, Kiara. Learn what you can here. When we return—and we will return—I'll teach you everything I know about surviving in a world that's trying to kill you."
She surprised him by hugging him—quick, fierce, then pulling back before he could react.
"Don't die on another continent. That would be inconvenient for my training schedule."
Despite himself, Hexia smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."
As the children disappeared into the city's care system, Sirenia touched his arm gently. "You did good. Saving them. Giving her hope."
"We all did good. This was a team effort."
"But you made the decisions. You led." Lhoralaine joined them. "That's what heroes do."
"I'm not a hero. I'm just someone who couldn't stand by and watch children suffer."
"That's literally the definition of a hero," Sirenia pointed out.
"Then the definition needs work."
They left the station, stepping back into Cybal's busy streets. The port district beckoned—their ship would depart in eighteen hours. Time enough to resupply, rest, and mentally prepare for meeting the second hero.
---
**THE ADVENTURER'S GUILD - CYBAL BRANCH**
The Cybal Guild hall made Briarkeep's look like a village tavern.
Three stories of polished stone and hardwood. Training yards visible through massive windows. A tavern area that could seat two hundred. Quest boards covering entire walls with contracts ranging from mundane to suicidal.
And everywhere—adventurers. E-rank, D-rank, C-rank, B-rank, even a few A-ranks visible by their distinctive badges. Warriors, mages, rogues, rangers. Every class and specialization represented.
The noise level was deafening—deals being negotiated, stories being exaggerated, friendships being forged over shared alcohol and mutual survival.
It all stopped when Hexia walked in.
The sudden silence was almost physical—conversations dying mid-word, tankards freezing halfway to mouths, even the bards stopped playing.
Because everyone recognized him.
The trial in Briarkeep had been public. The angel's proclamation had been witnessed by thousands. By now, every guild on the continent knew about the chosen hero, the mark, the prophecy.
And here he was. Walking into their hall like any other adventurer despite being chosen by heaven and hell simultaneously.
"Well," Sirenia muttered. "So much for staying low-key."
"Too late for that about three days ago," Lhoralaine whispered back.
A woman approached from the back office—tall, muscular, with steel-gray hair cut military short and eyes that had seen too many battles to be impressed by reputation alone.
Guild Master Ysolde Steelheart.
"So." Her voice carried parade ground authority. "The legend walks into my hall. Should I be honored or concerned?"
"Neither." Hexia met her gaze steadily. "We're here to confirm our ship passage and register our party with this branch. Standard procedure."
"Standard procedure." Ysolde's lips twitched. "Right. Because S-rank heroes register at local guilds all the time. Come. My office. Before my people start treating you like a circus attraction."
She led them through the crowd, which parted like water around sharks. Whispers followed in their wake:
"That's really him..."
"Did you see the mark?"
"His companions are both A-rank now..."
"I heard he killed fifty bandits..."
"I heard it was a hundred..."
"I heard he can't die..."
Ysolde's office was sparse—functional furniture, weapon racks, tactical maps. A soldier's space, not a politician's.
"Sit." She gestured to chairs while closing the door, cutting off the curious stares. "I received Astrid's letters. She speaks highly of you—which is notable because Astrid doesn't speak highly of anyone."
"We had productive interactions."
"I bet you did. She also mentioned you're looking for others like you. Heroes bearing marks." Ysolde pulled out a folder. "I have information. Unconfirmed, but promising."
Hexia leaned forward. "Tell me."
"Three reports. All from the dwarven continent. Ironforge Kingdom specifically." She laid out documents. "First—a princess of the royal family demonstrated void magic during a training exercise. Not normal darkness magic—actual void. Creation and destruction simultaneously."
"Nerissa Nassiren," Sirenia read from the report. "Princess, sixteen years old, marked on her right hand with a glowing symbol."
"Second report." Ysolde continued. "An engineer in the same kingdom created weapons that shouldn't exist. Mechanical devices powered by magic circuits. He calls them 'innovations' but witnesses describe them as 'impossible.'"
"Durgan Gearbeared," Lhoralaine read. "Legendary craftsman. Also marked."
"Third report—another dwarf, master smith, created a pair of warhammers that channel lightning through metal. The weapons are apparently indestructible and grow stronger with each use."
"Durin Thunderbeared." Hexia studied the documents. "Three marked individuals. All in Ironforge. That's not coincidence."
"No. It's not." Ysolde leaned back. "Which is why your ship passage isn't to Ironforge City directly. You're docking at Ar-Modan, the port city. From there, it's three days' journey inland to the capital—plenty of time to assess the situation before announcing your presence."
"Smart." Hexia approved. "If we walk into Ironforge claiming to be prophesied heroes, we'll be treated as either saviors or threats. Better to approach carefully."
"Exactly. Your ship is the *Northern Star*—dwarven trade vessel, makes the crossing regularly. Captain Bjorn Ironheart. Good man, trustworthy, won't sell information about his passengers."
"Appreciated." Hexia stood. "We'll board tomorrow at dawn."
"One more thing." Ysolde's expression turned serious. "The dwarven kingdoms are militaristic. Proud. They don't take kindly to outsiders interfering in royal affairs. If Princess Nerissa is truly a hero, approaching her won't be simple."
"We'll be diplomatic."
"You? Diplomatic?" Ysolde's skepticism was palpable.
"I can be diplomatic when necessary."
Sirenia and Lhoralaine exchanged glances that suggested they had doubts about this claim.
"Just... try not to start an international incident," Ysolde said. "We don't need human-dwarf relations strained because you accidentally insulted someone's honor."
"I don't *accidentally* insult people. When I insult someone, it's very deliberate."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." Hexia headed for the door. "Thank you for the information, Guild Master. We'll report back when we return."
"If you return," Ysolde corrected. "You're heading into unknown territory to recruit strangers into a quest to save the world from ancient god-monsters. Survival isn't guaranteed."
"Survival never is. We work with what we have."
They left the office, emerging back into the guild hall's noise. The staring resumed immediately, but Hexia ignored it with the practice of someone who'd learned to tune out unwanted attention.
"Accommodations," he said. "Then food. Then sleep. We sail at dawn."
"There's an inn near the port," Sirenia suggested. "The Salty Serpent. I stayed there once—clean rooms, good food, doesn't ask too many questions."
"Perfect. Lead the way."
As they navigated through Cybal's evening crowds, Lhoralaine moved closer to Hexia. "Are you nervous? About meeting another hero?"
"Should I be?"
"Well, it's the second piece of a six-piece puzzle to save the world. And she's a princess. And we're walking into a military kingdom uninvited to ask her to abandon her life and follow us into apocalypse. So... maybe?"
"When you put it that way, it does sound concerning."
"That's because it is concerning!"
"Then yes. I'm nervous. Terrified, actually." His voice remained flat despite the admission. "But terror is just another emotion and i'll just ignore until it becomes useful."
"That's the most Hexia sentence I've ever heard," Sirenia said.
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I'm aware."
---
**THE SALTY SERPENT INN - EVENING**
The inn was exactly as described—clean, efficient, populated by sailors and merchants who had better things to do than gawk at celebrities.
They secured three rooms—two bedrooms and a common area between them. Professional arrangement that gave privacy while maintaining proximity for safety.
"First watch?" Lhoralaine asked as they settled in.
"No watch," Hexia said. "We're in a city with guard patrols. And frankly, if someone wants to assassinate us badly enough to penetrate an inn, a watch rotation won't stop them."
"Comforting thought."
"I'm practical, not comforting." He stretched, joints popping. "Sleep. Real sleep. We'll need it for the voyage."
But after the others retired to their rooms, Hexia found himself unable to follow his own advice.
He sat by the window overlooking the port, watching ships bob in the harbor. Lanterns created constellations on water, reflections dancing with the tide.
Tomorrow, they'd sail. Tomorrow, the quest became real. No more preparation. No more delay. Just action and consequence.
A knock at his door.
"Come in."
Sirenia entered, wrapped in a night robe, hair loose around her shoulders. "Couldn't sleep either?"
"Too much to think about."
"Mind company?"
"Please."
She sat beside him, their shoulders touching in comfortable proximity. Neither spoke for a moment—just existing together in the quiet.
"Are we doing the right thing?" Sirenia finally asked. "Dragging strangers into this? Asking them to risk everything?"
"I don't know. But if we don't try, the Ancients rise and everyone dies anyway." Hexia's voice was tired. "At least this way, we're fighting. Giving the world a chance."
"Even though you never wanted to be the one leading the fight?"
"Especially because of that. I know what it's like to be forced into something you didn't choose. So when we meet Nerissa—when we meet all of them—I'll give them the choice. Really give it to them. Not manipulation. Not prophecy. Just honest choice."
"And if they say no?"
"Then we find others. Or we try with fewer heroes. Or we die fighting with whoever we have." He looked at her. "But we keep trying. Because the alternative is giving up. And I've tried giving up before. It doesn't work."
Sirenia rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you. You know that, right? How far you've come from that empty man in the training yard?"
"I'm still mostly empty. Just better at pretending."
"No. You're fuller than you think. You're just too stubborn to notice." She yawned. "Should probably sleep. Dawn comes early."
"Stay." The word escaped before he could stop it. "Just... stay. Here. Not anything inappropriate, just... company. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts tonight."
"Okay." She curled into the chair, her head still on his shoulder. "Wake me if you need to talk."
"I will."
He wouldn't. But having her there—solid, real, choosing to stay—was enough.
They sat like that through the night, watching ships and stars and the slow rotation of the world toward morning.
Toward the voyage. Toward the second hero. Toward whatever destiny or doom awaited them on another continent.
---
**DAWN - THE PORT**
The *Northern Star* was impressive—dwarven engineering made manifest in wood and sail. Shorter than human vessels but built like a fortress, designed to survive storms that would shatter lesser ships.
Captain Bjorn Ironheart stood at the gangplank, checking cargo manifests. He was classic dwarf—four and a half feet of compressed muscle and magnificent beard, his arms thicker than most humans' legs.
"You're the hero party?" His voice was gravel over steel. "Ysolde said you'd be early. Good. I like punctual passengers."
"We appreciate the passage, Captain." Hexia extended his hand.
Bjorn shook it, his grip testing, then approving. "Strong hands. Good. I respect strength. Your companions?"
"Sirenia and Lhoralaine. A-rank adventurers. Also strong."
"And beautiful, if you don't mind me saying." Bjorn's grin was appreciative without being crude. "Dwarven women are magnificent, but human women have their own appeal. You're a lucky man."
"I'm their companion, not their owner."
"Even better answer." Bjorn's respect increased. "Load your gear. We sail with the tide. Six days to Ar-Modan if weather holds. Probably seven because weather never holds."
They boarded, their supplies secured in cargo, their weapons kept close. The ship filled with other passengers—merchants, travelers, a few adventurers heading to dwarven territories for various reasons.
None recognized Hexia initially. His fame hadn't spread to those bound for other continents yet.
That would change soon enough.
As the *Northern Star* cast off, ropes falling away, sails filling with wind, Hexia stood at the rail watching Cybal City recede.
"Last chance to turn back," Lhoralaine said, joining him.
"No turning back now. The tide's going out, and we're going with it."
"Metaphorically and literally."
"The best kind of metaphor."
Sirenia appeared on his other side. "Six days at sea. What do we do?"
"Train. Plan. Prepare." Hexia's hand rested on his sword hilt. "And hope that when we meet the Void Hero, she doesn't try to kill us on sight."
"Why would she try to kill us?"
"Because we're strangers appearing in her kingdom claiming she's prophesied to save the world. I'd be suspicious too."
"Fair point."
The ship cut through waves, heading north toward another continent, another kingdom, another piece of the puzzle that would either save or doom them all.
Behind them, Cybal City disappeared into morning mist.
Ahead, the open ocean stretched toward an uncertain future.
And Hexia—who'd once jumped from a building to escape an uncertain future—now sailed toward one willingly.
Progress. Painful, terrifying progress.
But progress nonetheless.
---
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
*The voyage begins. Six days at sea. Six days to prepare for meeting royalty.*
*Six days until the Void Hero—Princess Nerissa, wielder of darkness and creation, marked by prophecy and confined by duty.*
*And two companions—Durgan the engineer, Durin the smith. Thunder and innovation. Tradition and revolution.*
*The human hero meets the dwarf hero. Light meets void.*
*Either they'll complement each other perfectly...*
*Or they'll tear each other apart trying.*
*Six days to find out.*