Chapter Two
And Then, He Saw Her
He was trained to feel nothing. And then he saw her—and felt everything.
The moon hung luminous above the elven camp, its silver light catching the flame at the gate. Smoke from the eclipse feast had drifted away, leaving the grounds hushed and sleeping.
Elves indulged in all things, especially rest—and most had surrendered to it. Only a few humans lingered, still moving through the shadows.
Viktor passed beneath the watch of the same guards he’d met earlier.
“Leaving us already?” one called down.
“With any luck,” Viktor said, hands braced on his hips as he waited for the gate to creak open, “I’ll be back by dusk tomorrow.”
“Do you ever sleep, Captain?” the guard asked, half-grinning.
Viktor’s mouth curved. “When there’s peace to guard.”
He tipped a salute and vanished through the gate.
Sleep was a discipline, not a need—something he could summon when duty allowed.
Tonight, it wouldn’t come.
His body was too alive. His thoughts, too loud.
He set his course: across the flats, along the river bend, through the painted rocks by midnight… the desert by sunrise.
Glaston by daybreak.
The flame behind him guttered out.
Darkness opened before him—vast and soundless.
His runners whispered over stone. Each step drew him farther from the walls, from safety, from thought.
A doe drank at the river’s edge.
He knelt beside her, cupped water to his lips.
She startled, vanished into the dark.
He kept moving.
Beyond lay the painted rocks of Kryon, shadows stretching long beneath a cold moon.
His stride lengthened. His lungs filled.
Running always brought him home—to the salt, the sea, his brother’s laugh echoing beneath the pier.
Then the memory changed. The face he chased became a corpse.
A howl tore through the quiet.
A dog writhed in the dirt, its legs tangled in a trap.
Viktor drew his knife, knelt, and steadied the beast with one hand.
“Caught in a trap meant for something twice your size,” he murmured.
The dog lunged, teeth flashing, and Viktor huffed a laugh.
“You weren’t out here picking fights with bears, were you?”
He sliced through the ropes.
The animal bolted—then stopped, tail thumping, eyes bright with mischief.
Viktor shook his head, mouth curving.
“Go on. And try not to take on anything that could eat you, eh?”
The creature vanished into night.
Stars brightened above.
Viktor tipped his head back, lungs full of cold air.
“Almost there…”
Gemini glowed over the western horizon—the twins’ constellation, bright and eternal.
He whispered, “Race you, Adamar,” and ran harder.
By dawn, the desert was behind him.
The Glaston trees rose ahead, green against stone.
He reached a pool shimmering like glass, tore off his pack, and splashed water across his face and hands.
Fish darted. Turtles basked. Late spring stirred.
A spoon-billed bird nosed at his pack.
“Careful, thief,” Viktor muttered, tearing a cracker in half and tossing it over.
The bird squawked, unimpressed, and drifted off to the shallows.
Viktor ate, amused.
“Don’t let elvish food spoil you,” he called.
Then movement caught his eye—flocks bursting westward in waves, screaming.
His body stilled.
He packed quickly, scanning the trembling canopy.
Finding a low branch within reach, he hauled himself upward, climbing into the trees for vantage. From that height, he saw deer fleeing, one trapped and tearing itself free.
The forest shuddered with warning.
Viktor steadied himself against the branches and drew a breath, letting it harden into vow:
I’ll find her. No matter what waits ahead.
He slipped from the tree and pressed deeper, silent between trunks.
A horse’s panicked cry tore through the forest, drawing him to a muddy rise.
He pulled himself higher, hand to branch, teeth gritted.
At the top, he found the animal thrashing, reins snarled in branches, golden trim glinting in the morning light.
Viktor’s pulse kicked hard.
He slashed it free with practiced speed, sent it fleeing with a slap, then sprinted after the trail of ruin.
He vaulted fallen logs—
then the ground vanished beneath him.
The earth split into a hidden crevasse and he plunged, knife flashing as he drove it into a root to break his fall. His body swung above the black void, breath tearing in his throat.
Cries rose from below.
Hauling himself flat to the dirt, he edged forward and peered into the chasm.
An elf stared up, dagger in hand. “Quiet! It will hear you!”
“Is Storne’s daughter with you?” Viktor demanded.
The elf hesitated.
“How do you—”
“Amerei?”
And then she appeared—golden hair spilling like light into the shadows, emerald eyes wide, breath trembling against parted lips.
Viktor froze.
Not at the pit.
Not at the mission.
At her.
For a heartbeat, he forgot his own name—forgot even the ground beneath him.
By the stars…
He snapped himself back.
“Stay here.”
He rolled aside, sliding his knife into its sheath, heart hammering.
His voice came sharper now.
“Stay here. No matter what you hear.”
On one knee, he unhooked the corded leather sling from his back. From his chest pack he drew the rock he’d mined from Oustinon—rough, heavy, volatile.
Rising, he scanned the moss for bearings. The monster’s trail carved southwest. He turned north, moving faster, breath quickening.
Branches thinned. Light opened ahead—
A clearing.
Viktor slipped the stone into the sling’s cradle. He swung once, twice—then snapped his arm forward.
The rock shrieked skyward—
and exploded.
His pulse thundered as he tore back through the trees, eyes flicking between path and canopy, one hand brushing his daggers.
The forest thickened at the base of a bluff. Brambles clawed close.
He ducked low, listening—
Then he climbed. Sandstone scraped his palms as he pulled upward.
He raised his head above the ledge—
Gold trim. The elf.
Dask. They moved.
He surged over the rocks, ripped through thorns, and tackled the elf to the ground.
“What are you doing?” the elf hissed.
Viktor clamped a hand over his mouth.
The elf struggled, then stilled, eyes wide.
A roar like a waterfall split the sky.
The beast from Oustinon swept overhead, its shadow swallowing the forest.
Viktor spread himself over the elf, arms wide to shield the glinting trim.
His gaze tracked the danger—
And then he saw her.
Amerei.
She stood rigid against a tree, as if stillness alone could erase her. Her arms crossed her chest, hiding the gold emblem as he had.
The monster’s screech tore through the forest like thunder from a cloudless sky.
Amerei’s eyes squeezed shut. A single tear traced her cheek.
Seconds stretched.
Then she opened them—slow, defiant—and turned to Viktor.
He lifted a hand. Wait.
His gaze stayed fixed on the canopy, following the dragon until it vanished into the light.
Only then did he nod, releasing the elf beneath him.
The elf scrambled to his knees, breath ragged.
“What did you do? How did you—”
He broke off, shaking his head.
“How?”
“We need to move.” Viktor extended a hand.
The elf slapped it away.
“We’ve been running from that beast since yesterday. What drove it off?”
Viktor slid his knife into its sheath and clipped the sling to his belt.
“Sling.”
He pulled his canteen and spilled water across the dirt.
“Cover anything that gleams,” he said, waving Amerei forward. “Especially gold.”
“I will not stain Casqadia’s emblem!” the elf snapped.
Viktor crouched, working mud between his palms.
“Then you’ll travel alone.”
“Evander…” Amerei’s voice softened as she knelt between them.
Without hesitation, she took the mud from Viktor and smeared it over her neck and chest.
Evander exhaled hard through his nose.
With clear misgiving, he dragged his hands through the mud and streaked it across his chest.
Viktor rose to his feet.
“Let’s go.”
A hand touched his shoulder.
He turned—and found her there.
“Who are you?” Amerei asked softly, her fingers light against him.
He shivered at her touch, the world narrowing to the space between them.
For a moment, he couldn’t answer.
Then he reached up—reluctant—and guided her hand away.
“Captain Viktor Seraphim,” he said, voice rough. “I was sent to find you. To take you to your father.”
“Thank you, Captain Seraphim.”
Her words were quiet, but her eyes lingered—long enough to haunt him.
She nudged Evander, who muttered, “Amerei and I were ready to wait all day in that pit, if we had to.”
Viktor gave a short nod and stepped forward, trampling the thorny vines that clawed from the earth, clearing a path for them. They moved with care, stepping over broken branches and shale, attuned to every sound.
“Hiding was a good idea,” Viktor said, eyes scanning ahead as he adjusted his canteen strap. “You could never have outrun that thing.”
Evander spat into the dirt.
“Do you even know what we’re up against, soldier?”
Viktor’s jaw tightened.
“A dragon,” he said at last—clipped, certain.
“Bred for war. Pulled from nightmare.”
Amerei’s gaze flicked to the treetops, her voice low.
“It will come back.”
Viktor met her eyes.
“And I’ll be ready for it.”
His gaze flicked to her tunic—ornate, embroidered—yet beneath it she wore soldier’s leggings. Practical. Unafraid. Both she and Evander wore high boots, caked in mud. The deeper it got, the more Viktor wished he’d worn his own.
The trail curved back into view, light filtering through the canopy.
Viktor raised his hand, listening.
His eyes swept the trees.
Then he pointed.
“The birds have returned.”
They pressed on in silence, helping one another over ravines, roots, and the jagged bones of the forest.
Each time Viktor steadied Amerei—just a hand to guide her, just a touch to lift—something tightened in his chest. He tried to hide it, to bury it, but the moments stayed with him all the same.
Small, ordinary… quietly magnificent.
“We’ve lost our horses,” Evander groaned, breaking the stillness. He tossed a pinecone from palm to palm. “…and our food.”
Viktor exhaled.
“They ran until they could no longer feel danger. And if I had to guess…”
He ducked beneath a low branch and pointed ahead.
“They stopped here.”
The forest opened.
Two horses waited by the water’s edge—one roan, one dark as night. One bore a glimmering blanket beneath its saddle; the other stood bare.
Evander ran ahead, catching both by the reins. The roan’s torn straps slipped through his hands, but he wrestled them into order.
Amerei gestured to the raven-dark stallion.
“Please—take mine, Captain Seraphim.”
Viktor hesitated, ready to refuse—until he looked at her.
She mounted the white horse behind Evander, her hands light on the saddle, her frame etched in pale morning light.
Something in him relented.
Without a word, he stepped to the black horse. He brushed a hand in front of its eye, stroked its muzzle, loosened the saddle, and lifted the gold-trimmed blanket.
His gaze found Amerei’s.
“Thank you,” he said, voice quiet.
She gave a small nod, a faint smile meeting his gaze before she looked away.
He tightened the girth and mounted, reins settling easily in his hands.
“We’ll ride through the forest,” he said, turning the stallion’s head. “The trees will keep us hidden.”
Evander fought with the torn reins of his own mount.
“It’ll be well after nightfall before we reach camp!”
Viktor pressed his heel lightly to the stallion’s side.
“We’ll ride hard once we pass Hythe’s Gap.”
His eyes stayed on Amerei—close enough to reach, yet already too far.