The morning after.
"We can leave!"
Rhuven's voice echoed through the quiet morning streets of Halmswick. He already had the horses harnessed, supplies packed, everything secured with the kind of routine that suggested he'd done this many times before.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs to his house, hands on his hips, and called upward:
"Are you coming?"
Noen was still lying on the mattress in the living room — the same one he had collapsed onto the night before. Blanket half on him, one hand pressed against his forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling.
His head… was a battlefield.
— What even is this? —
He breathed out quietly.
— I'm supposed to travel for days to some city in the west just because I apparently have the only good Minigod power… which shouldn't even exist because all of them supposedly turned evil… —
His face twisted.
— …and then I'm supposed to train with the vice leader of an organization I didn't even know existed until a few days ago. Black Synod… pff. Sounds like a theater group for people who own too many black clothes. —
His stare somehow became even more lifeless.
"Are you coming?!"
Rhuven's voice ripped him straight out of the mental spiral.
Noen inhaled sharply, blinked, then called back:
"Yeah, I'm coming!"
Noen stepped out of the house and climbed onto the cart, sitting beside Rhuven. It was obvious he hadn't slept much — his eyes were dull, shoulders heavy, posture slumped.
"And off we go!" Rhuven announced, far too enthusiastic for the hour.
The horses began to move, hooves clacking against the cobblestone. Wheels creaked, the cart groaned — and slowly, the world behind them started shrinking.
"To Roseshire!" Rhuven said with a grin.
The horses trotted steadily over the dry dirt road, and the cart wheels creaked in a rhythmic pattern as Halmswick slowly disappeared behind them. The wind was cool—not cold—and carried the smell of damp earth and leaves.
Noen sat with his arms crossed beside Rhuven, staring down the road as if hoping it would eventually give him answers.
After a few quiet minutes, he finally asked:
"Yeah, but why do we have to—… wait. When will we even arrive?"
Rhuven replied without looking away from the road:
"About four days."
"Four. Days."
"Mhm."
Noen turned his head toward him.
"Why do we have to travel four days to some place I've never even heard of? You could train me—right here!"
Rhuven spoke calmly:
"No."
Noen stared at him, confused.
"…Why not?"
The cart jolted slightly as a wheel rolled over a stone. The horses snorted, and a thin trail of dust rose behind them.
Rhuven finally answered:
"We will need all stationary and non-stationary members if we want to stop Beldrin."
He paused—not dramatically, just matter-of-fact.
"And to work together as efficiently as possible… we need to prepare together."
Noen watched the fields passing by. His thoughts echoed:
— stationary? —
After a moment he asked quietly:
"Wait… stationary? You have a—"
"Yes.
And it's in Roseshire."
The wind blew a bit of dust across the road. A bird flew overhead and disappeared into the treeline.
Noen frowned.
"So… that means we'll meet ALL members of the Black Synod?"
He quickly raised a hand.
"Except Varyn, obviously."
Rhuven gave a slight nod.
"Not all. Only of our area. And the president won't be present."
Noen relaxed just a fraction.
"Ahh, okay. He's probably super busy, right?"
"Yes. He has other, more important matters to handle."
There was a short pause.
Then Noen spoke again—softer:
"Hey… can I ask you something?"
Rhuven replied instantly:
"Of course. We have time."
Noen looked down at his hands.
"Saevin said… you already tried healing someone with a corrupted Minigod power."
Rhuven reacted at once—not with words, but with his eyes.
They widened. Sharpened.
"…and you failed."
Rhuven lowered his gaze again.
Instead of watching the road, he now stared at the wooden floor of the cart.
The wheels continued their steady rumble beneath them.
Noen waited—then finally added:
"How did you try? And… why?"
Rhuven raised his head again—not quickly, but slowly, almost heavily. He exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as if gathering strength.
"One of our best men was taken," he said quietly.
⸻
"Hey, Arlon! Everything good?"
A tall man—broader than Rhuven, with warm eyes and a calm expression.
"I walked up to him—like I did every day at that time.
I didn't know that…"
Arlon looked up—but something was wrong.
His pupils were tight. His stare was empty, yet burning.
"…that he was already corrupted."
"Arlon? Hey… are you okay?"
No answer.
"AHHHHH!!!"
He lunged—like an explosion with no warning.
"He charged at me—screaming..."
"Arlon! What is going on? Calm down!"
"…but it was already too late."