The next morning came in slower than I expected. The little barred window in my so-called room—no more than a prisoner's cell, if you asked me—was already glowing with faint light when I forced my eyes open. My back ached from the hard mattress, my neck was stiff, but I knew there would be no comfort waiting if I complained.
This was the Chancellor's castle. Comfort was reserved for nobles, soldiers, and those who had proven themselves. Me? I was still an outsider, a foreigner who could be crushed with a single word from the Chancellor's tongue.
I dragged myself upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Another day," I muttered to myself. "Another test."
After washing at the clay basin in the corner, I pulled on the white shirt and purple robe Elira had forced me into yesterday. The cloth felt heavy against my skin, not like the rags I once wore. I strapped the brown boots tight, adjusted the belt at my waist, and finally reached for my bag.
Inside lay the one object I both feared and trusted—the sword. Oblivor. Even when I wasn't touching it, I felt its presence, like a beast gnawing at the edges of my soul. It didn't whisper now, but I knew it was waiting, patient, hungry.
I slid it carefully into the bag, checking the small pocket dimension to be sure it fit. Then I slung the bag across my shoulder, tightened the straps, and breathed out.
Today, I would have to meet Cidd.
The castle's hallways were unlike anything I had ever seen. Gold-lined torches lit the stone corridors, the walls carved with marks of an age I didn't understand. Some showed battles—men raising swords against shadows, creatures of horns and wings. Others were calmer scenes, kings on thrones, crowned in laurels.
But what caught my attention most was the people. Servants moved in lines, quiet and quick, their eyes lowered as if the walls themselves were watching them. Guards in polished steel paced the intersections, spears glimmering in the torchlight. A pair of nobles passed me once, their perfumes choking the air. Their whispers died the moment they saw me.
It reminded me—I did not belong here. Not yet.
I turned corner after corner, searching for Cidd. The castle was a maze, with staircases spiraling upward, balconies looking down into courtyards, and gardens so well-kept they almost didn't look real.
Finally, after wandering for what felt like half an hour, I reached a quiet open space. A fountain stood in the center, its water catching morning light and scattering it in silver sparks. Around it, trimmed bushes curved in circles, and the smell of fresh roses reached me.
And there, standing like a shadow carved into daylight, was Cidd.
He wore the same brown robe as yesterday, a white scarf hiding his face, only his eyes visible—dark, unblinking, unreadable. For a moment, I thought he hadn't noticed me. Then, without a word, he stepped forward.
My instinct was to greet him, but before I could, he reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll. He pressed it into my hand.
The parchment was thick, the seal crimson wax stamped with the Chancellor's insignia. My chest tightened. Whatever this was, it would decide my path.
I broke the seal with trembling fingers and unrolled it.
The words were simple, written in sharp black strokes:
"Mission: Retrieve the Selfur Stone from the bandit group called Goots.
Location: West Valley Forest, Avreth."
That was all. No details, no maps, no warnings. Just an order.
I lifted my head, my mouth opening to ask Cidd what this meant. But—he was gone.
The space where he stood was empty. Not even footsteps echoed. It was as if he had never been there at all.
I stood frozen by the fountain, scroll still clutched in my hand, until the water's splashes reminded me I was alone. "So that's how you play it, huh," I muttered. "Silent, mysterious, vanishing into thin air."
I rolled the scroll back, slipped it into my bag, and sighed. My journey had begun.
Leaving the castle was harder than entering. The gates were crowded with merchants, soldiers, and travelers begging for entry. I kept my head down, sliding past armored guards, careful not to draw attention.
But then something caught me.
At the very gate, a figure entered the kingdom. A man in a dark violet robe, hood drawn low. His presence was… different. Heavy, like the air bent around him.
I brushed past him as I exited. The moment our shoulders touched, a sharp jolt raced through me—like lightning crawling under my skin. My breath caught, my heartbeat stumbled.
I spun around.
But the man was gone.
My eyes darted everywhere—at the crowd, the guards, the merchants—but he wasn't there. It was impossible. A figure like that couldn't just vanish in open daylight. And yet he had.
I swallowed hard, forcing the chill down my spine. "No. Not now. Focus on the mission."
I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped onto the dirt road leading away from Avreth.
The land stretched wide before me.
The first kilometer was soft under my boots. A field of green grass rippled with the wind, every blade swaying like waves on a sea. Wildflowers bloomed in shades of yellow and white, filling the air with a sweet, almost honey-like fragrance.
For a moment, I forgot the mission, forgot the Chancellor, even forgot the curse I carried.
It was peaceful.
Until the sky darkened—not with clouds, but with wings.
I tilted my head up, and my breath froze.
High above, a colossal bird soared. Its wings were silver, gleaming so bright they reflected sunlight like mirrors. Its entire body shimmered with metallic sheen, each flap sending shivers through the air. The creature's cry echoed across the plain, deep and resonant, as if the heavens themselves were singing.
I stood rooted, unable to move, unable to even breathe. I had never seen such a thing. Not in my old world, not in this one. It was… divine.
As it passed above me, something drifted down. A single feather, silver as moonlight.
It spiraled slowly, dancing in the breeze, until it landed softly into my open palms.
Warm. That was the first thing I felt. It wasn't like normal feathers—it pulsed faintly, as if carrying a heartbeat.
I stared at it, my throat dry. "What… are you?"
No answer came, only the soft rustle of grass in the wind.
I slipped the feather carefully into my bag, wrapping it in a cloth so it wouldn't be damaged. Somehow, I knew this was more than a simple gift. It was… a sign.
I closed my eyes, whispering to myself, "I'll keep it safe. Whatever happens."
Then I adjusted my robe, gripped the strap of my bag tighter, and started walking again.
West Valley Forest awaited. The bandits, the Selfur Stone, and perhaps more dangers than I could imagine.
But that feather… it gave me hope.
And hope was something I hadn't held in a very long time.