The team gathered once more at the eastern gate of Trade Town.
The sky was painted in deep purples and blues — the last colors before night swallowed the horizon. The streets were quiet, lanterns burning low as the townsfolk settled in. But beside the gate stood a sturdy wooden wagon marked with the sigil of the Mazze Merchant Group — a stylized serpentine S carved into polished oak.
Valen eyed the wagon thoughtfully.
"Apparently our contractor wants us to reach the Neutral Zone as soon as possible."
Daphne stretched her arms above her head.
Lyra smirked.
Elliot clutched his bag like he was heading to his own execution.
"Well," Daphne said lightly, "it is a year-long contract. I guess they're in a hurry to start profiting off us."
Lyra nudged her.
"They're paying 300 gold each of us. They can rush us a little."
They loaded their belongings onto the wagon — weapons, potions, Elliot's books, and Lyra's suspiciously large sack of dried meat.
Valen climbed into the front seat, taking hold of the reins.
Daphne hopped up beside him.
Lyra and Elliot settled in the back, legs dangling over the edge.
The air felt cool and familiar — the kind of cold that precedes a long journey.
Valen flicked the reins gently.
"Let's go."
The horses started forward, hooves echoing softly against the stone road as the town slowly disappeared behind them.
The Road Beneath the Moonlight
Hours passed as darkness deepened.
A lantern on the wagon swayed with each bump in the road, casting long shadows into the night.
Elliot tried telling a story — one involving exploding potions, a cursed chicken, and an old professor — but Lyra kept interrupting him with exaggerated reenactments.
Daphne kept laughing, covering her mouth as if trying not to encourage them further.
Valen shot a glance at her.
"You like traveling at night?"
Daphne looked up at the stars.
Her expression softened in a way Valen hadn't seen before.
"It's quieter," she said. "The world feels… honest. No crowds. No expectations. Just the road and the people who chose to walk it with you."
Valen hummed.
"I get that."
Daphne leaned back slightly, arms resting behind her.
"You know… when I first met you, I didn't picture this."
Valen smirked.
"A disastrous Inn fight?"
"That too."
She nudged his shoulder lightly.
"But I mean… you feel different now. Stronger. More sure of yourself."
Valen didn't answer at first.
He flicked the reins lightly, eyes fixed on the path illuminated by the moon.
"I think… the road changes people," he said quietly.
"It has to. Otherwise we stay weak."
Daphne smiled in a way that made Valen's chest tighten for a moment.
"Well, if the road keeps making you stronger…"
She looked straight ahead.
"…then I don't mind walking it with you."
Before Valen could say anything, Lyra shouted from the back:
"HEY, LOVE BIRDS! KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!"
Valen sighed.
Daphne turned bright red.
Elliot cackled.
The horses snorted as if laughing too.
A Smooth Journey… for Now
The rest of the night passed without incident.
No bandits.
No wolves.
No trouble — a rarity for long-distance travel.
The stars shifted overhead as they ventured farther into unfamiliar lands.
At dawn, the horizon glowed gold.
Valen slowed the wagon slightly, looking ahead.
"We'll reach the first outpost by noon," he said.
"Rest there, then move on."
Daphne nodded.
Lyra yawned.
Elliot fell asleep sitting upright.
Their journey had officially begun — a road leading into danger, into shadow, into Azerium.
And none of them knew how deeply that land would carve itself into their fate.
They arrived at the outpost to gather information about the long road ahead.
They still had months of travel before reaching Azerium Domain, and the exhaustion of their first day had begun to settle deep into their bones.
Elliot, rubbing his eyes, complained:
"Just for one night… can we please sleep somewhere that isn't mud and rocks?"
It was one of the few nights where they were still in safe territory, so the group agreed without hesitation.
Valen asked one of the soldiers:
"Is there a tavern nearby?"
The soldier pointed down the dark road.
"The closest one is about twenty kilometers south.
A place called Mistere."
Valen's inner thoughts tightened.
"Twenty kilometers isn't bad.
If we reach it quickly, we can leave early tomorrow…"
The group cheered.
Time spent in a tavern was never dull for them.
They eventually arrived at Mistere.
A warm glow shone from its windows, and the muffled sound of laughter leaked into the night.
Inside, it looked like any ordinary tavern—
Travelers sharing stories, mugs slamming on tables, merchants yelling at each other over prices.
Normal.
Safe.
They ordered steaks, beer, and wine.
Lyra smirked at Valen.
"Maybe if you stopped staring at Daphne while driving the wagon, we'd get places faster."
Daphne instantly covered her face, blushing bright red.
Valen sighed.Stood up.
Yes… maybe he had stolen a few glances.
But that wasn't why he stood up from the table.
He simply wanted to be cautious.
He went to the restroom to wash his face—the dirt and fatigue of the road had clung to him like a second skin.
He splashed water, took a deep breath, then pushed open the door back to the tavern's main lounge.
And froze.
Everyone was gone.
Workers.
Customers.
Every voice that filled the room only minutes ago—
Vanished.
And worst of all—
Daphne, Lyra, Elliot.
Gone.
Valen's heart dropped into a cold void.
"Not again…
No, no, no… NOT AGAIN…"
He tore through the tavern like a storm—
flipping tables, smashing crates, ripping doors off hinges—desperate for any trace, any sign, any footprint.
Breathing hard, chest burning, he slammed his fist on a wall.
Then he saw it.
A mark.
A sign.
A message carved into the wooden pillar.
No—
One riddle.
Three messages left behind, as if mocking him.
As if inviting him.
As if luring him.
Valen's Descent into the Elf Forest
Valen was furious —
furious in a way he hadn't been since the day he lost Leon.
Every breath he took trembled with rage, and he kept repeating under his breath:
"I'm gonna kill them… I'm gonna kill them…"
When he read the riddle, everything clicked.
He was the target.
From the start.
Only someone who knew him would leave such a clue.
And the riddle pointed to one place:
The Elf Forest — within Noir territory.
Although the forest lay inside Noir lands, the first Patriarch had made a pact with the Elder Elves long ago.
Both sides stayed out of each other's affairs.
Not a single intruder stepped foot inside—
Noir protected the borders,
Elves kept the monsters under control in the forest.
A delicate balance.
A balance someone had now broken.
Valen didn't waste a second.
He cut loose one of the wagon's horses, mounted it, and stormed toward the Elf Forest, pushing the beast to its limits.
When the horse began to slow, Valen jumped off, grabbed his backpack, and ran.
His heart pounded violently as the pain of Leon's death resurfaced.
The ache was sharp, as if the wound had been ripped open again.
(Inner monologue)
Not again…
Not again…
I'll get them back.
No matter what.
NO MATTER WHAT.
But his body was failing him.
So he drew his sword and activated the Blood Sword—
burning through his own life force to enhance his speed.
He was killing himself just to run faster.
When he was on the verge of collapse, he took out a stamina potion and a health potion, downed them back-to-back, and forced his body to move again.
He reached the forest in six hours.
But he was barely standing.
His legs trembled.
His breath shook.
His entire body screamed in pain—even after all the potions, he'd pushed himself far too hard.
He stood before the towering trees of the Elf Forest, sword in hand, gripping it loosely.
"I have to continue… I have to…"
"I won't fall here… not now…"
He clenched the sword tighter, gathering whatever strength remained.
Then—
He stepped into the forest.
Instantly, every sense vanished.
He couldn't see.
He couldn't hear.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't even feel the air on his skin.
A wave of shock paralyzed him.
Then a voice echoed—
not in his ears,
but deep inside his skull.
"Come to me, child of Noir…
If you wish to rescue your friends."
"You will find me where your ancestors betrayed you."
Valen froze.
Betrayed him?
His ancestors?
He had no idea what those words meant—
but the location was clear.
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