Adrian hurried towards the bustling crowd near the settlent’s entrance. The crowd provided him with the perfect cover to slip away unnoticed. However, his heart flipped as he approached the gate.
’So, it was them after all,’ Adrian thought when his eyes fell on Vincent and the rest of his forr teammates.
They had their backs turned towards him, but Adrian knew it was them. He could have mistaken the rest, but there was no mistaking the sword Vincent used, as it was the only moon-blade that existed in the entirety of Nexaria.
"Just keep walking," Adrian murmured, his gaze fixed on the ground. "They won’t recognise you, not with this face. Besides, you’re dead to them. They can’t be here for you..."
Repeating those words of confidence in his head, Adrian quickly walked past his team while they chatted with one of the tribals.
However, as he approached them, Adrian noticed soone new. It was a red-haired woman he hadn’t seen before with his team.
’They didn’t waste any ti replacing , huh?’ Adrian shook his head and kept moving forward, but as he brushed past the woman, a sharp jolt of pain shot through his skull, causing him to stutter for a mont.
He had felt the subtle pain ever since absorbing the minotaur’s heart, but this ti, it surged on a whole new level like never before. It felt like sothing inside his head was pounding on his skull to break out of confinent.
At the sa ti, Sophia felt sothing strangely familiar. Strangely enough, she felt like Adrian was sowhere around her, even though she knew he couldn’t be there.
She turned slowly, scanning the crowd behind her. Then her eyes t Adrian’s for a fleeting mont, but there was no hint of recognition in them. She was rely staring at a stranger.
Adrian couldn’t shake the strange feeling that washed over him when he looked into the woman’s eyes. It was like he knew her from sowhere but couldn’t quite rember where.
He racked his brain, trying to place her face sowhere in his mories; the more he tried, the faster it slipped through his mind like a forgotten dream.
Sophia’s brow furrowed as she t his gaze again. She hadn’t seen the man before, so why did her heart keep pointing towards the stranger?
"Let’s go," Vincent said, gently tapping Sophia’s shoulder. "The chieftain would like to et us."
"...sure," Sophia replied as she disappeared into the crowd after taking a final look at the stranger.
Adrian swallowed hard as the headache finally subsided, and he could breathe freely. But still, his heart felt heavy as he watched the woman leave.
"Who was she? And why did she feel so... important?" Adrian mumbled, but no one had the answers to those questions.
***
"This should be enough," Adrian murmured before turning around.
The settlent was nowhere in sight, which was expected since he had run a reasonable distance. He did it to avoid being spotted by anyone, as it would have caused him unnecessary trouble.
Once content with his preparations, he shut his eyes and began visualising Milka’s appearance. Unlike his earlier transformation, he had to replicate Milka’s features perfectly, and there was no room for a mistake. Any flaw could lead to discovery, and that was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.
Last ti, it only took him monts to change his appearance, but this ti, it took him over half an hour to perfect it. But eventually, it happened. However, there was still a problem he needed to take care of.
’My face might be perfect, however... what can I do about the voice?’
The ti he had spent around Milka before killing him couldn’t be more than a couple of hours. As such, he won’t be able to replicate his voice perfectly. It was the sa case with behaviour. Adrian couldn’t copy it either. Suddenly, an idea hit him.
"Trauma can do weird stuff to humans," Adrian remarked with a faint smile. "It’s not unusual for people to experience mory loss or difficulty speaking after sustaining brain injuries."
***
An hour later...
The Tulka riders galloped through the dense forest, their direwolves sniffing the air, searching the forest for any signs of the missing people.
Suddenly, they spotted a figure lying on the ground near so bushes, soaked in blood. They stooped the wolves and dismounted. Their brows furrowed as they cautiously approached the fallen figure.
"Who’s that?" one rider asked, eyeing the blood-soaked clothes.
"Judging by the clothes, it looks like one of the slaves," another replied, squinting at the figure.
They were about to leave when soone suggested they should at least look at him. Slave or not, the man could provide them with information regarding the disappearances.
With so reluctance, they agreed and quickly turned the man over, and imdiately, their hearts sank at the sight of his pale, bloodied face. Gasps escaped their lips as they recognised Milka, the Advisor’s son.
"By the ancestors’ grace! It’s Milka!" one of them gasped. "What happened to him?"
"It’s not the ti for questions! He’s hurt bad," another rider exclaid. "We need to get him back to the settlent now!"
Without hesitation, they carefully lifted Milka onto one of the direwolves, not wanting to cause any more injuries to him.
"Hang in there, Milka," one of them murmured. "Don’t die on us!"
They were concerned, but not about Milka. The riders were worried that if sothing happened to Milka after they had found him, the Advisor would kill them all in a fit of rage. If anything, they were pissed that he was still alive because he wasn’t exactly loved by them.
With Milka secured on the direwolf, the riders mounted their beasts and rushed towards the settlent without delay.
"We gotta hurry. He’s barely hangin’ on," one rider urged, glancing back at Milka’s pale face.
"Can’t lose the Advisor’s son," another agreed, his brow furrowed with worry. "Not if we want our heads to stay in place."
Through the twisting paths of the forest, they pushed their mounts harder and faster than ever before. As the settlent ca into view, relief washed over them. They thundered through the gates, drawing the attention of the villagers.
"Get the healer! It’s Milka!" they shouted while charging towards the square.
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