Blair’s small company pressed on through the gathering dusk, their weary horses’ hooves clattering over a narrow track choked with brambles and creeping ivy. Each labored breath sent puffs of dust into the amber light as the sun slipped below distant ridges. At last, through the tangle of pines, they made out a lone cabin in a moonlit clearing: timbers blackened by weather, the sagging roof weighed down by moss, its shuttered windows staring blankly into the gloaming. In that half-light it could have been abandoned for years.
“This can’t be right,” Kumar muttered, clutching his sword hilt until the leather straps creaked.
Blair slid from his mount, joints stiff as iron hinges in winter. He ran a hand over Comet’s ornately carved pommel. “Wait here,” he ordered softly, voice low. Edging forward, he approached the door, then it swung open without a sound.
A tall, wiry woman filled the frame, two strides taller than Blair. Her hair, a drift of silver waves, fell to her chest in unruly curls. Deep lines furrowed her cheeks, but her bright eyes shone with a sharp, welcoming intelligence. She wore a simple gown of forest green, belted at the waist, the fabric catching the last glimmer of daylight. “Prince Willow,” she said, voice warm and clear. “You and your companions are welcome.” She lifted her chin, inspecting him as though weighing his honor. “I am Aurin Sweetwater.”
Blair dipped into a formal salute. When his gauntleted forearm met hers, her grip was like leather bound in iron. “You’re too kind, madam,” he said, stepping back. “May we stable our horses first?”
“Of course,” Aurin replied, stepping aside. “Return soon, I’ll have something hot waiting.”
Blair led Blaze across the clearing to a sturdy oak. Rika and Kumar followed, silent as owls. Once out of earshot, Blair's fingers fumbled with the reins. "She knows my name," he whispered, voice taut. "No ordinary hermit. Stay alert." Kumar nodded grimly; Rika's hand drifted to her dagger.
The cabin's interior matched its decrepit exterior, cold hearth, splintered chairs, cobwebs shrouding every corner. Aurin stood just inside the doorway, waiting.
"Come in," she said. The words hung in the air like a binding spell.
The moment Blair closed the door, the room transformed. Polished parquet gleamed beneath a crackling fire. Two velvet couches faced each other across a glass table on an oval rug of black and white. Blair and Kumar froze; Rika's breath caught. Aurin glided to the hearth and lifted the lid from a cast-iron pot. The rich aroma of pork-and-potato stew, laced with rosemary and garlic, filled the chamber. Fresh bread steamed on the windowsill.
"Sit," Aurin said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "I'll fetch bowls. Prince, the wine and glasses are in that chest."
She pressed a hidden panel in the wall, revealing a small alcove lined with shelves. Blair retrieved a dusty bottle and four crystal goblets, setting them carefully on the table. As Kumar and Rika seated themselves, Blair noticed how the elf's ears had sharpened to perfect points, his skin faintly glowing along delicate runes. Rika, still absorbing their surroundings, hadn't noticed.
Aurin returned with steaming bowls. She placed one before Blair, then settled beside him. "Eat," she said softly. "Only I can see this place as it truly is."
The stew melted on Blair's tongue, earthy potato, tender pork, a whisper of thyme. Midway through his second bite, his arm grew heavy, immovable. He set down his bowl with a clatter. "We came by Sido Byers's request, not to be manipulated." He tried to stand. Couldn't.
Aurin's hands swept in a slow arc. "Dangerous times demand caution." Blue light bloomed at Blair's hip, wreathed Comet's scabbard, and rippled across his body. The paralysis shattered.
Blair scrambled back, levering Comet free. "That sword is more potent than I knew," Aurin murmured, eyeing its cornflower glow. "Introduce me properly, then I'll release them."
Blair took a breath. "Kumar, Rika, this is Aurin Sweetwater." At his words, Kumar and Rika slumped forward, free again. Rika brushed off her blouse with a small huff. "Do you need to terrify everyone for hospitality?" she asked. Without missing a beat she added, "Your home is lovely. The stew is excellent." The contrast between her tone and her scowl was striking.
Aurin laughed, delighted. "I like your frankness. And you, elf, thank you for the release. You fought me well." She turned to Blair. "So, you found the Mistress. She fares well?"
Blair opened his mouth, silence came. He stared at his lips. He tried again; no sound emerged.
Aurin recoiled. "Attacked? By whom?"
Rika straightened. "Northmen," she said firmly. "When I touched one, I saw his daughter being roasted alive if he didn't kill Prince Willow. They came through the White Barrier north of the Waste."
Aurin's composure wavered. "The Barrier… myth. How did you learn this?"
"I read his mind," Rika replied coolly.
A tense beat passed before Aurin stood and faced her. "You're a witch."
Rika's eyes narrowed, then closed. Her body froze. Blair felt the air chill. Then her eyes snapped open. She stared at Aurin, accusing, and spoke without moving her lips. "She's a coward. She doubts her magic and fears death." She blinked, shook herself, and lifted her bowl.
Aurin's teeth ground together; her body trembled. When she regained control, she straightened her skirt. "I admire you," she said hoarsely. "Who are you?"
"Astral," Rika answered around a mouthful of stew. "Is that familiar?"
Aurin's eyes widened. "None have appeared in centuries. Prince, you're blessed with such an ally, and in such a form. Have you… bedded her yet?"
Blair's face darkened. "I'll ask you to show some respect. She is my companion by duty and by honor."
Aurin raised her palms. "No offense meant." She turned to Rika. "And you, Queen's Maid, how long have you traveled with him?"
"Since the new moon. I found him at the ferry."
"Then they haven't met," Aurin murmured, eyes gleaming. "I'd love to witness that." She rose, smoothing her skirts. "Giants are just code. You need Golden Heart and Friend to All, Dagmar, the fairy warrior. He'll answer only to the Mistress of Fire and her golden rule: treat others as you wish to be treated." She plucked a map from a shelf. "Search for hidden places: hollows under roots, gaps in stones. And have her touch him with her magic; let friendship guide you."
From a nearby table, she produced a delicate pendant. Rika caught it: a blue stone encased in white starbursts. "Star of Serenity," Aurin explained. "It shields your body from magic, lets your spirit wander safely. But your spirit itself remains exposed." She placed it in Rika's palm, folding her fingers around it. "Guard this with your life."
Dawn found them rested, if wary. Aurin stood in the doorway as they prepared to leave. "The shadows hide you from Northmen eyes," she said. "Make haste to the temple."
Blair bowed once. "We ride now," he told Kumar and Rika, voice pitched low. "Shandar must know what we've learned."
As they mounted their horses, Kumar leaned close to Blair. "Do you trust what she told us?"
"Not entirely," Blair replied, "but we have little choice."
Their breath clouded in the morning chill as they set off toward the temple, the weight of prophecy heavy on their shoulders.
Merric arrived at the palace as twilight gathered. Muffled voices carried through Queen Ellis's chamber door. He entered without knocking and found the royal couple huddled over a map, their faces drawn with worry.
Ellis looked up, hope flashing across her features. "Is Blair with you?"
Merric shook his head. The queen's shoulders fell as he relayed everything: the cabin, Aurin Sweetwater, the Star of Serenity, the Northmen's infiltration through the White Barrier.
King Vardon's face grew ashen. He pulled a silken cord by the hearth. Minutes later, Sholin A'Tai swept into the chamber, his silver-threaded robes catching the firelight.
"The prophecy speaks true, then," the wizard said after hearing Merric's account. His voice dropped to a near-whisper as he recited:
Mistress of Fire, Seeker of Stone
Reflection in the eyes of demon unknown
Loins of Royalty hold the key.
Only triumph shall set the Nations free.
Castle builders deal with Stone
Golden Heart and Friend to All
Will be Seven to seal the Dome.
Evil grows within them all.
Distorting the Path, the Mistress Calls
Within each heart lurks disaster’s face.
Only Death Opens the Gate
Mixture of several tongues
Comes the freedom and Hope of the young
True belief in companion’s worth
Is all that’s needed to save the Hearth.”
"We must prepare," Sholin said finally. "Our lands will soon face forces beyond imagining."
Vardon straightened, his crown gleaming dully in the candlelight. "Then we defend what's ours." His voice carried the weight of generations of Willow kings. "Check the messenger cotes. Plan evacuation routes. Alert the border garrisons."
Ellis gripped the table's edge, knuckles white. "And Blair? What of our son?"
Sholin placed a weathered hand on her arm. "Your son walks the path the prophecy demanded, Your Majesty. And he does not walk alone." He turned to Merric. "The Queen's Maid, this Astral, she may be as crucial as the Mistress herself."
"I'll prepare scrolls," Sholin continued. "Ancient knowledge for Blair, and everything we know of Astrals for the maid." He fixed Merric with a penetrating stare. "Would you accompany them to Wund Mound at Nailk Lake? Few know its secrets as you do."
Merric nodded, surprised but resolute. "I serve the crown. And Blair."
"Then rest tonight," Vardon commanded. "You ride at first light."
As Merric bowed and turned to leave, he caught Ellis wiping a tear from her cheek, her queen's composure momentarily broken by a mother's fear.
Dawn cracked like bone against the horizon as Blair, Rika, and Kumar approached the Temple of Lashnar. The air tasted of singed cedar, smoke swirling low around the stables.
A flash of crimson split the morning mist.
Shandar moved like a storm given form. Her staff cut through the air trailing flame, her feet barely touching ground as she executed flawless combat forms. Each movement spoke of exhaustion hammered into precision, of power barely contained.
Rika halted her mount, transfixed. Shandar hadn't noticed them yet.
But when she did, her flames intensified.
A bolt of fire erupted from her staff, targeted and purposeful. It surged toward Rika with terrifying speed.
Comet appeared in Blair's hand as if called by blood. His blade intercepted the blast, steam hissing as magic met enchanted steel.
"Shandar!" Blair's voice carried command. "She's with us."
The flames vanished instantly.
Shandar lowered her staff, offering the barest nod that passed for acknowledgment. Her face revealed nothing—no apology, no regret.
Blair dismounted, his movements deliberate. Kumar helped Rika down, her pulse visible at her throat.
"Your forms have improved," Blair said, studying Shandar. "Less forced now?"
A hint of pride flickered across her features before she masked it.
"This is Rika Gresso," Blair continued. "Queen's Maid and Astral walker. We need her abilities."
Rika stepped forward, her curtsy precise—a perfect blend of dignity and formality that spoke of years at court.
"I've heard much about the Mistress of Fire," she said, her voice steady despite the lingering tension. "Perhaps as I discover my own abilities, we might learn from each other."
Shandar's eyes narrowed, assessing Rika with unsettling intensity. Something dangerous kindled in her gaze.
"Do all Queen's maids dress for the wilderness?" she asked, each word carefully weighted. "I expected someone more... refined."
Rika didn't flinch. "And I can feel your power from here," she replied with glacial calm. "It makes the air crackle. Makes your hair stand like you've been struck by lightning."
Shandar stepped forward. The ground beneath her boots smoldered. Her staff remained unlit, but the threat was unmistakable.
"Enough." Blair's voice cut between them, not raised but final. The single word carried the weariness of someone who had expected this confrontation but hoped to avoid it.
Several heartbeats passed in strained silence before Shandar's posture softened. Then, with unexpected grace, she moved past Blair and embraced him.
"I worried," she murmured against his shoulder. "When you didn't return yesterday."
The vulnerability in her voice was genuine, startling in its contrast to her earlier aggression.
"Training alone has been..." she exhaled against his collar, "relentless."
Blair returned the embrace, though tension remained in his frame. As they separated, he caught Shandar's glance darting past him toward Rika, a look that mingled challenge with something more complex.
He shifted subtly, positioning himself where he could see both women clearly.
Their expressions transformed simultaneously, forced smiles that didn't reach their eyes, poisoned honey coating steel.
Blair sighed and stepped back. "Show us to the kitchens," he said, resignation clear in his voice. "We have much to discuss, and daylight to waste."
As they walked toward the temple, Kumar fell in beside Blair. "That went well," he murmured dryly.
Blair's response was too quiet for either woman to hear: "This is only the beginning."
Above them, storm clouds gathered over the Temple of Lashnar, as if the very sky recognized the forces now assembled beneath it.