Asvaldur was a land of towering mountains, their jagged peaks shrouded in an almost perpetual veil of fog. Though not as bitterly cold as the Kingdom of Eira, the air here was crisp and damp, carrying the scent of earth and rain.
"Watch your step. Stay close to the person in front of you," commanded Sir Dusan, his voice firm but quiet. "With this fog, we can barely see a few feet ahead." As the highest-ranking General of the Nightwarden, he led the way with steady confidence, his silhouette barely visible in the thick mist.
The group had little advantage in these conditions—except for the werewolves. Their keen hearing could pierce through the fog’s deception, catching the faintest disturbances in the silence. But they only had two among them: Thorin and Puck.
To cover more ground, the two split up—Thorin taking the front, Puck guarding the rear—each tasked with detecting any approaching threat.
Wild animals weren’t the concern. Any beast lurking in the shadows would be heard long before it got close. The real danger was sothing else entirely. Vampires.
Unlike other creatures, vampires moved without sound, their very presence an absence rather than a disturbance. Thorin had witnessed it firsthand—how effortlessly Emperor Kaan had glided through a room, soundless even when not trying to be. If he were stalking them now, no ear, no matter how sharp, would detect him until it was too late.
And in this fog, sight was already lost.
But voicing these concerns to the group would only dampen their spirits. So Thorin told Puck to keep quiet.
Instead, they focused on sharpening their senses, hoping—praying—that the emperor wouldn’t descend upon them himself. Other vampires, they could detect. But if Emperor Kaan was lurking nearby, they’d never hear him coming.
There was no ti to waste, but they knew better than to fight on empty stomachs and exhausted limbs. They carved out brief monts to rest and eat, though sleep brought no solace to Riona.
Ever since she had left Eira for Asvaldur, the nightmares had followed her. Florian haunted her dreams with relentless persistence. And the closer she drew to Asvaldur, the more frequent and vivid they beca.
The mont her feet touched Asvaldur’s cursed ground, peaceful sleep beca a distant mory. But as the Fallen One had warned her, these were not just nightmares. They were Florian’s cries for help.
Riona fought to suppress the turmoil that threatened to consu her in sleep, forcing herself to analyze rather than feel. It was a battle within a battle.
She had never been the strategist—never the calculating mind. Those qualities belonged to her uncle, King Valentin. She had always been ruled by emotion, and in the dream realm, where Florian’s presence was raw and unfiltered, controlling those emotions beca a thousand tis harder.
But she had no choice. If she let her feelings take over, she would lose whatever ssage Florian was trying to send.
And that was a risk she couldn’t afford to take.
Riona jolted awake, panting. Her screams had roused the others—by now, they all knew the routine. And as always, the first face she saw was Thorin’s. Only he could bring her comfort in these monts.
Sotis, she collapsed into his arms, sobbing until exhaustion claid her again. Other tis, she poured out frantic whispers about the nightmares, trying to piece together what Florian was trying to tell her.
Like now.
Clutching Thorin’s sleeve, she rambled, her voice shaking. "It was the sa darkness. Florian was crying, like always. But sothing was different."
Thorin said nothing, just gently wiped the sweat from her temple and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Riona’s left hand moved through the air as if tracing sothing invisible, her wide eyes following.
"There was a cage. Transparent, but I knew it was there. Florian was trapped inside. He pounded against it, calling for —but I couldn’t hear his words. Only his cries. His sobbing." Her voice wavered. "Everything he said was... incomprehensible."
Her fingers curled into a fist as frustration flickered across her face.
"He was trying to tell you sothing," the Fallen One said, his frustration mirroring her own.
"I know!" Riona snapped at the empty air.
Thorin didn’t flinch. He knew exactly who she was talking to. The rest of the group, however, only exchanged uneasy glances. No one questioned it—not aloud, at least. They likely assud she was too distraught to think clearly.
"But I can’t tell what it is," she went on, gripping her temples as if she could pull the answer straight from her skull.
She was missing sothing. The dream was trying to tell her sothing. But the aning remained just out of reach—hidden behind the veil of silence.
"Think!" the Fallen One urged, his voice sharp, relentless.
"I am thinking!" Riona shot back, frustration tightening her throat. But thinking wasn’t enough. She needed to understand. And that was the part slipping through her fingers like mist.
"Let’s not overcomplicate this," Thorin said gently. His fingers traced soothing circles over Riona’s hand, grounding her. His voice was calm, steady—carefully asured so she wouldn’t spiral further. "You said he’s trapped. Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to tell you—he’s trapped."
Riona’s breathing slowed slightly, but uncertainty still clouded her eyes.
Lisbeth, who had been listening nearby, stepped forward and joined the conversation. "I think your boyfriend’s onto sothing," she said. "When Florian was still in the northern tower, I was the one bringing him his als. I saw how he acted... like he was fighting sothing inside him."
She frowned, eyes flickering as she searched her mory. "And when I fought the demon... it felt like Florian was there, but not there. You know what I an?"
Thorin’s grip on Riona’s hand tightened. "You’re saying he’s trapped in his own body."
"Exactly!" Lisbeth’s voice rose with certainty. "It’s like he’s locked inside while the demon controls his body."
Riona stiffened, a shiver running through her. It made sense. Too much sense. Florian wasn’t just lost. He was imprisoned.
"Wait. That’s it! Riona, that’s the answer! The way to save your brother and kill that demon!" the Fallen One shouted, his voice brimming with excitent.
Though invisible to everyone else, he was practically bouncing on his heels—if that was even possible. The revelation had electrified him. He had cracked the puzzle at last.
"Set him free," he urged. "Break the prison, and Florian will be saved."
His words hung in the air, heavy with both hope and uncertainty.
Riona swallowed hard. If only it were that simple.
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