The stranger did not flee when the mercenaries vanished into the cliffs.
They remained still, balanced easily upon the ridge as if the wind itself held them there.
Aurelian did not reach for his blade. Instead, he allowed his presence to settle, shadows coiling calmly at his feet. Whoever this was, they had watched without panic—and that alone set them apart from most men.
"You hide poorly for someone standing in plain sight," the figure called down. Their voice was low, measured, carrying the faint edge of command.
"And you watch boldly for someone who does not yet know what they are seeing," Aurelian replied.
The figure descended the rocky path with careful confidence. As they drew closer, details emerged: a woman, lean and sharp-eyed, dressed in weather-worn leathers rather than armor. A short sword hung at her hip, untouched.
"A sorcerer?" she asked, studying him openly. "Or something worse?"
Aurelian tilted his head slightly. "Those are not mutually exclusive."
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. "Fair enough."
She stopped a few paces away, far enough to show caution, close enough to show intent. "Name's Elayne Rivers. I track strange things for people who pay in silver—or answers."
Her eyes flicked briefly to the scorched sand, the broken crate, and the absence of bodies. "This was more than strange."
Aurelian considered her. She carried no visible magic, yet her gaze lingered where spells had recently been woven, as if she could feel the echo. That alone made her dangerous.
"You should forget what you saw here," he said. "That would be safest."
Elayne snorted. "If forgetting kept people safe, Westeros would be a kinder place."
The Veil Anchor pulsed faintly beneath Aurelian's cloak, reacting to her presence—or perhaps to the land itself. He could not linger. Others would feel this disturbance soon.
"I am seeking passage inland," he said at last. "Quiet passage."
Elayne raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like the quiet sort."
"I can be," Aurelian replied. "When necessary."
She studied him a moment longer, then nodded once. "There's a smuggler's road north of here. Avoids patrols. Avoids questions. For a price."
Aurelian met her gaze. "Silver?"
"No," Elayne said slowly. "Truth. About what you are."
The wind rose between them, carrying salt and distant thunder. Aurelian weighed his mother's lessons carefully.
"I am a prince," he said. "From a realm your maps do not remember."
Elayne exhaled softly, more intrigued than afraid. "Then Westeros just became very interesting."
Together, they left the shore behind.
Far to the east, ravens took flight from a blackened tower, their wings beating warnings into the sky.