The week passed faster than Thiriel expected.
The days were filled with joint training with the other members of the expedition. Marcus had insisted that they practice basic formations and group tactics before venturing into the cave. It was a sensible precaution, and Thiriel had not argued.
The guild's training ground became his second home.
They practiced for hours: how to move in a tight formation through narrow tunnels, how to react to ambushes, how to cover each companion's blind spots. It was tedious but necessary.
And during that time, Thiriel learned a lot about his future companions.
Marcus was exactly what he appeared to be: a veteran seasoned in a thousand battles, pragmatic to the core, with an unbreakable code of honor. He did not speak much, but when he did, his words carried weight.
Kira, the woman with the braid, turned out to be more accessible than her appearance suggested. She had a dark sense of humor that emerged at the most unexpected moments, and her knowledge of traps and locks was vast.
Gorath, the giant, was surprisingly gentle outside of combat. He spoke little, but smiled often, and had the habit of sharing his food with whoever was nearby.
Vex, the archer, was the most sociable of the group. He told stories of his past adventures with infectious enthusiasm, although Thiriel suspected that at least half were exaggerations.
And then there was Maren.
The mage was... different.
He did not participate in casual conversations. He did not share stories. He did not smile. He performed the group exercises with competence, but without any kind of camaraderie.
It was as if he were there out of obligation, not by choice.
Thiriel had tried to speak with him on a couple of occasions. The responses were curt monosyllables that did not invite continuing the conversation.
Something is bothering him, he thought. Or someone forced him to be here.
It was not his problem. As long as Maren fulfilled his role in the expedition, his personal attitude was irrelevant.
The night before the departure, Thiriel could not sleep.
He sat by the window of his room, looking at the stars over Oakhaven. His mind wandered between the completed preparations, the dangers that awaited them, and the people he was leaving behind.
Caethiriel will be fine, he told himself. Arielle will look after her.
But the worry persisted.
When dawn tinted the sky orange, Thiriel was already dressed and ready.
He went down the stairs with his minimal luggage: the sword at his belt, basic supplies in his spatial pouch, and the light armor he had bought specifically for the expedition. Nothing excessive.
Caethiriel was waiting for him in the lobby.
His sister had dark circles that betrayed an equally sleepless night. She looked at him with those eyes of worry that he had seen so many times.
"Brother."
"Cae."
They looked at each other in silence for a moment.
"Do you have everything?" she finally asked.
"Yes."
"Enough food?"
"Yes."
"Healing ointments?"
"Yes."
"And—?"
"I have everything, Cae." Thiriel smiled softly. "It's not my first mission."
"It's your first mission to a cave where others have died."
He couldn't argue with that.
The inn door opened and Arielle entered. She had gotten up early specifically for this, her hair still slightly disheveled, her eyes showing the same worry as Caethiriel's.
"I made it in time," she said, slightly out of breath. "I thought... I wanted..."
The words died on her lips.
Thiriel looked at the two people who had become more important to him than he had anticipated. His sister, who had been with him from the beginning, and Arielle, who had healed his wounds and had the courage to confess her feelings to him.
Two people who would be in danger if something happened to him.
Two people who made it worth returning.
Without thinking too much, he took a step forward and wrapped them both in a hug.
Caethiriel tensed with surprise; Thiriel rarely showed physical affection. But after a moment, she relaxed her shoulders and returned the hug tightly.
Arielle was trembling slightly against him.
"Don't worry," Thiriel said, his voice low but firm. "I will return."
He pulled away from Caethiriel, but Arielle did not let go.
Her arms were still wrapped around him, her face buried in his chest. He could feel the warmth of her body, the trembling of her shoulders, the moisture of held-back tears soaking his shirt.
"Arielle."
She did not respond.
Thiriel sighed softly. Carefully, he took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.
Her eyes were red, shining with tears she refused to let fall. Her lower lip trembled with the effort of maintaining her composure.
"I will return," he repeated, looking her directly in the eyes. "I promise you."
Arielle opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
Finally, she nodded.
A small movement, almost imperceptible, but enough.
Thiriel let her go and took a step back.
"Take care of Cae while I'm gone."
"I-I will." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Thiriel nodded toward them both one last time, then turned around and left the inn.
He did not look back.
If he did, it would be harder for the three of them.
The south gate of Oakhaven was more crowded than usual that morning.
A large carriage, clearly prepared for long journeys, waited by the walls. The other five members of the expedition were already there: Marcus checking his equipment, Kira sharpening a dagger, Gorath loading supplies, Vex adjusting his quiver, and Maren standing apart, his expression as impenetrable as ever.
"The last to arrive," Vex commented with a smile. "Emotional goodbyes?"
Thiriel did not respond.
Marcus looked up from his gear.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Then let's climb in. The sooner we depart, the sooner we arrive."
The carriage was spacious but austere. Wooden benches on both sides, space for luggage in the center, thick curtains that blocked the sunlight. It was not comfortable, but it would serve for the two-day journey.
They settled into their seats while the driver urged the horses on.
The carriage began to move.
Thiriel watched through the window as Oakhaven gradually receded. The walls grew smaller. The buildings became distant dots. Soon, only the fields of crops remained, stretching toward the horizon.
The first day of travel passed without incident.
The landscape changed gradually: fields giving way to hills, hills giving way to denser forests. The road became more irregular, the carriage shaking with every pothole and loose stone.
They spoke little. Each seemed lost in their own thoughts, preparing themselves mentally for what was to come.
The night was spent camping by the road. They set watches in turns, although there was no threat beyond the normal sounds of the nighttime forest.
The second day was similar.
More forest. More silence. More tension building in the air.
Toward midday, the terrain began to rise. The trees became scarcer, replaced by rocks and hardy shrubs. The sound of rushing water grew louder with every kilometer.
"We're close," Marcus announced. "The Veldran River is just ahead."
Sure enough, the carriage stopped shortly after.
The river was wider than Thiriel had imagined, its dark waters flowing strongly toward the east. And beyond the river, rising like a natural wall, were the cliffs.
Gray and black rocks rose vertically, their surfaces eroded by centuries of wind and water. Somewhere in that formation imponent was the cave they were looking for.
"We walk from here," Marcus said, stepping down from the carriage. "The terrain is too irregular for the vehicle."
The others followed suit.
Thiriel jumped from the carriage and his feet touched the rocky ground.
And then he felt it.
A pulse.
Not physical. Not audible. Something deeper. Something that resonated directly in his magical core, as if an invisible string had been plucked inside him.
He stood motionless.
The pulse repeated. Stronger this time. An attraction that pulled at him toward the cliffs, toward something hidden somewhere among those rocks.
What is this?, he thought, his hand moving unconsciously toward his abdomen where the magic core resided.
He had never felt anything like it. It was as if something inside the cave were calling him. Something that recognized his presence. Something that was waiting for him.
"Thiriel?"
Marcus's voice snapped him out of his trance.
"Are you all right? You went pale."
Thiriel blinked, returning to the present.
The others were looking at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. Even Maren had raised an eyebrow.
"I'm fine," he lied. "Just... feeling the terrain."
Marcus did not look convinced, but he did not press.
"Then move. We have a cave to find."
The group began to move toward the cliffs.
Thiriel followed them, but his mind was elsewhere.
On that strange pulse.
On that inexplicable attraction that it seemed only he had felt, not even the other mage.
And on the growing certainty that whatever was inside that cave...
Was waiting for him.