The river whispered beside them, narrow but endless, its current running against their steps. Mist drifted low over the water, and the sky above was a dull gray, heavy with unfallen rain.
Thalia walked barefoot now, her boots slung at her side, her feet sinking softly into the damp earth. Every step felt quieter than the last, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Ahead, Anisda walked with that same strange grace — soundless, deliberate, his dark cloak brushing through reeds.
They had been walking for hours when Thalia finally broke the silence."Anisda," she said, her voice soft but steady, "this elder you speak of… who is she truly?"
He slowed, glancing over his shoulder. "You will meet her soon enough."
"That isn't an answer," Thalia pressed.
Anisda's mouth twitched into the faintest smirk. "No, it isn't." He let the silence stretch a little before relenting. "She is my mother. My elder. A witch of old blood. Her power was not learned — it was given. The gods themselves touched her, and nature did not deny her claim. She became the bridge between what lives above and what crawls below."
Thalia blinked. "Your mother… a witch of gods and nature?"
"Yes," he said simply. "And I am her son — shaped by both light and shadow."
Thalia studied him for a moment. The way his voice carried — calm but heavy, like every word bore weight. Her eyes lingered on his skin, dark as onyx under the dim sky. "Then tell me," she said quietly, "why is your skin so dark? It's different from anyone I've ever known — even among the Welch Folk."
Anisda didn't stop walking. "It's the way I was brought into this world," he said. "I had no say in the color of my birth, nor in the sins I was born from. But the shade of my skin, Princess, has never darkened the clarity of my purpose."
Thalia lowered her gaze. There was no insult meant, but his words carried the weight of one anyway — not toward her, but toward the world that had likely made him say it too many times before.
They walked in silence again for a while. The river narrowed and deepened; the water darkened to mirror the clouds.
Then a thought struck her — sudden, sharp. She stopped walking.
"The kingdom…" she murmured.
Anisda turned. "What of it?"
She stared down the path that followed the river south — the way they had come. "Yainna has no ruler. My father is gone. If Virvo has taken the throne, then the people are still there — my people. They need someone." She turned her head toward the path leading north, where the fog thickened toward the Welch Lands. "And yet we're headed there, chasing shadows."
Her voice hardened. "Why, Anisda? Why should I follow you into the frost while my father's crown lies in ruin?"
Anisda stopped a few paces ahead of her, his figure outlined by the mist. He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, his voice calm but heavy with restrained conviction."Because, Thalia," he said, "that crown you speak of lies buried under ash."
Thalia's jaw tightened.
"That night," Anisda continued, taking a step toward her, "when I carried you from Yainna in my arms, I looked back. There was nothing left — no kingdom, no men, no mercy. I need you to understand this: Yainna was not the first kingdom Virvo burned. It will not be his last."
His tone deepened, each word measured, deliberate. "He takes what stands before him — cities, armies, souls — and feeds the fire with them. To stop him, to save what remains of this world, you must come with me. My elder — my mother — she can hone what sleeps inside you. She can teach you to wield it rather than drown in it."
Thalia looked away, torn. Her eyes stung. "You speak as if I have some great power. Yet I fainted like a child the last time I tried to use it."
Anisda's gaze softened, though his tone stayed grave. "You passed out not because you are weak, but because the power consumed you. That kind of strength will eat its master unless it is tempered. With proper honing, fainting will be a thing of the past." He paused, his lips curving faintly. "And quite frankly, I am curious to see what you truly have up your sleeve."
For the first time, Thalia smiled — faint, hesitant. She studied him, really studied him: the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his eyes gleamed like stormlight under the gray sky. Despite the darkness that seemed to follow him, there was a kind of beauty there — a quiet, unseen one. Something that was never written about, never sung, but always felt.
She exhaled slowly. "You're right," she said at last. "If I'm to face Virvo again, I can't do it as I am now."
But another thought crept in, quick and bold. "Then why not you? Why can't you face him?"
Anisda's steps slowed. His face turned solemn again. "Because to defeat him would demand more than power. It would require a sacrifice — one that even I am not willing to pay."
Thalia frowned. "What kind of sacrifice?"
He looked at her, his expression distant. "In order to challenge Virvo directly, I would need to draw strength from the very essence that gives life — blood. All of it. I would have to consume the vitality of living things, until there was nothing left but silence."
Thalia wrinkled her nose. "Then why not… I don't know, feed on a bunch of deer or rabbits?" she said, half teasing.
For a moment, Anisda almost smiled — almost. But he didn't answer. His gaze drifted upward toward the dull sky. "Strange," he murmured. "The weather favors me today. It seldom does."
Then, without another word, he turned away and began walking again.
Thalia blinked, stunned by the sudden shift. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?" She hurried to catch up. "I'm asking you a serious question, Anisda."
He didn't look at her. "If I tell you the truth, you'll think me a devil," he said quietly. "And perhaps… you would not be wrong."
She slowed, unsure what to say. The river beside them gurgled softly, as if listening.
After a while, he exhaled and gestured ahead. "Come. There's a bridge just upriver. It will carry us across before nightfall."
Thalia nodded faintly but didn't speak. Her thoughts swirled like the water beside her — of her father, her kingdom, the man walking before her, and the uncertain road ahead.
As they walked, the wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain and distant ash. The river bent north, vanishing into the trees. And though the path led away from home, Thalia could not help but feel that every step toward the Welch Lands was a step closer to the truth.