Chapter 7 Revealing Secrets and Forging New Bonds

In the morning, deep within the Darkbanes' hidden territory, in a place known as the "Grim Wastes," Davhil and Eowyn found themselves confined within the dark bane cage. Eowyn awoke to the cacophony of taunts and cheers in this grim and desolate place.

A chaotic brawl was underway, and the crowd was fervently rooting for their chosen champions. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as bets were placed, and general conversation flowed like a river.

Verit, seated on a raised platform, addressed the chaotic crowd, his voice carrying above the uproar. "The two who will compete today are Akru, the Storm Mage, versus Sahat, a Water Mage! Let the battle commence!"

The barbarian crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers, making the entire place reverberate with their exuberance.

Eowyn, observing the intense situation, shook her brother, Davhil, awake. "Hey, hey, wake up," she urged urgently.

Davhil, still half-asleep, groggily stood up, rubbing his eyes. "What is it?" he mumbled, stifling a yawn.

Eowyn, her annoyance evident, asked, "How can you sleep soundly in this kind of place?"

Davhil, now more alert, replied, "I was just really tired. What's happening?"

Eowyn gestured toward the raucous brawl. "Look at them," she pointed out. "We should get out of here while they're distracted."

Davhil, scanning the throngs of people, voiced his concern, "But how can we possibly navigate through this crowd?"

Eowyn, with a mischievous glint in her eye, responded confidently, "Leave it to me."

Eowyn, her nimble fingers working despite her wrists being tied, reached for her hairpin. With skillful precision, she used the hairpin to cut the rope binding her hands, leaving her brother Davhil in awe of her resourcefulness. Not wasting a moment, she deftly cut the ropes that bound Davhil as well.

As the two siblings regained their freedom, Eowyn's shadow magic came into play. She used it discreetly to snatch the keys from a nearby table while their guard's attention was diverted. With a silent, triumphant nod, Eowyn secured the keys. Davhil couldn't hide his relief, "You got it!"

Eowyn quickly silenced her brother with a shushing gesture. She then approached the cage door and, with a click, unlocked it using the purloined keys. With their newfound freedom, Eowyn summoned her shadow magic once more to shroud them in an inky veil, rendering them practically invisible.

"Come on," she whispered to Davhil, guiding him out of the cage with a gentle hand. Together, they moved with utmost stealth, slipping past the rowdy barbarians who remained blissfully unaware of their escape.

Just as the siblings neared the main exit, an unforeseen barrier of energy sent them sprawling to the ground, shattering their concealment. The Grim Wastes had more secrets than they'd imagined. The darkbanes turned their heads in their direction, their sinister gazes locking onto Eowyn and Davhil, who had been pushed back by the mysterious surge of energy. The real test of their survival had just begun.

In the quaint, cozy hut, nestled deep within the heart of the dense forest, Rosche, her brother, and their friend sought refuge for the night. Unbeknownst to them, the elderly man who had kindly welcomed them was none other than Sylvanus Ironforge, a legendary figure in the realm of magic. The scent of hot, aromatic tea and freshly baked breads filled the air, enveloping the room in warmth and comfort.

As Rosche stirred from her slumber, she was greeted by the presence of Master Sylvanus, who was already preparing the morning repast. She yawned and stretched, then addressed him with a friendly smile, "you're awake... Have a seat and eat," Sylvanus urged.

Rosche obliged, taking a piece of bread and savoring it. "This is delicious," she commented with delight.

Sylvanus, too, partook of the bread, nodding appreciatively. Between bites, he inquired, "Where are your friends?"

"They are still sleeping," Rosche responded, and Sylvanus nodded in understanding. Then, he asked about their wounded comrade, "How about that wounded friend of yours?"

"He seems to be recovering well, and ...we only met him yesterday," Rosche disclosed, her gratitude evident in her words.

Sylvanus acknowledged this with a simple, "Well, it seems like it." As they continued to eat, Rosche found herself unable to contain her curiosity any longer. She looked at the wise old man and asked, "You are Sylvanus Ironforge, right?"

Sylvanus met her gaze, and replied with a humble nod, "Yes."

Rosche's face lit up with delight. "I've heard so much about you, Master Sylvanus, in Crystalpeak, and I've read the books you've written," she said, her admiration evident.

Sylvanus, seemingly unimpressed, reached for a steaming cup of tea. "Oh, really?" he said nonchalantly, taking a sip.

As she contemplated her next words, Rosche took another bite of the delicious bread, savoring the taste while trying to gather her thoughts. Sylvanus, meanwhile, continued to sip his tea, his gaze distant, lost in contemplation of days long gone.

The old man's enigmatic response had raised more questions than answers. Rosche desperately wanted to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Darkbanes, the Verdant Spire, and the Twelve, but she wasn't sure how to proceed. She was acutely aware that Sylvanus was not easily impressed, and she didn't want to overstep or push too hard for information.

After a few moments, she decided to approach the conversation from a different angle. "I heard the Darkbanes also attacked the nearby villages of Celestoria," Rosche continued. "It was a relief they didn't find your place here."

Sylvanus leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant. "Even if they did, they wouldn't see this place. My home is enchanted, and only those whom I permit can see it."

Rosche nodded, remembering how they had almost missed the hut despite passing through this part of the forest multiple times. "But I heard the Darkbanes have grown in number and recruited formidable allies from different mage communities," she ventured.

"It's not their numbers that make them formidable," Sylvanus said cryptically. "It's what they possess."

Perplexed, Rosche asked, "What do you mean, Master Sylvanus?"

Sylvanus leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "How do you think those barbarians managed to kill one of the strongest mages in the realm?"

Rosche was stumped, and she shook her head. "I don't know."

"They must have the Ardentbane Arrow," Sylvanus declared solemnly.

"The Ardentbane Arrow... What is that?" Rosche inquired with curiosity.

"The Lost Assassin's Quill, or what you know as the Ardentbane arrow, is a menacing relic forged by an ancient and malevolent mage who later chose to worship the dark entity. The material used to forge that arrow originated in a sacred place called the Verdant Spire," Sylvanus explained.

Rosche's eyes widened at the mention of the Verdant Spire, a place she was not only familiar with but had personally visited. "That place must be truly mysterious," she mused.

Sylvanus sighed, his gaze fixed on some distant memory. "There's so much you young people don't know. The Darkbanes didn't win battles simply because they were numerous or had capable mages. It's because they possess a multitude of ancient artifacts from the Verdant Spire." His voice grew quieter, more intense. "And let me tell you something more. Each artifact from that Spire represents death to each member of the Twelve."

Rosche sat in stunned silence, the weight of Sylvanus's words sinking in. The hut, the tea, and the bread had become a backdrop to a much larger, more intricate tapestry of danger, intrigue, and ancient magic. Sylvanus Ironforge had unwittingly initiated Rosche into a world of secrets and mysteries, and the journey had only just begun.

Eowyn and Davhil found themselves enclosed in the cage again. Their predicament had grown even more dire after the unforeseen energy barrier had exposed their presence and underscored the malevolence of their captors.

Within the double-locked cage, surrounded by magical barriers, Davhil couldn't help but succumb to a sense of hopelessness. The darkbanes appeared to be well-prepared for any attempts at escape. Turning to his sister, he expressed his concerns.

"What's our next move, Eowyn?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry. "These barbarians seem formidable."

Eowyn met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I refuse to believe that we can't break free," she responded. "We've overcome adversity in the past, and we'll overcome this too."

The ongoing fight among the darkbanes was a small silver lining, diverting their attention from the captives. Eowyn knew they had to take advantage of this moment to plan their escape.

Davhil nodded in agreement, fully grasping the gravity of their situation. They understood that the darkbanes, armed with their magical abilities and knowledge of the Grim Wastes, presented a formidable challenge.

Back at their hut, Rosche couldn't contain her curiosity and asked, "What do you mean by that, Master?"

"It's all connected," Master Sylvanus began, his eyes filled with a sense of knowing. "From the ancient artifact to the deaths of each of the kings, everything is happening according to the prophecy."

"What prophecy?" Rosche inquired.

"An Aurerian seer foretold all of this, didn't you know?" Master Sylvanus responded. "The dark entity's twelve seals signify the souls of the twelve kings, which means if one of them dies, one seal will be broken, and it's happening now."

"I didn't know there was such a prophecy," Rosche admitted. "The twelve kings are so selfless to tie their lives to the seals of the dark entity."

"Selfless?" Master Sylvanus smirked. "You mean hypocrites. What tied them to those seals is not their selflessness but their greediness. And those twelve artifacts of Verdant Spire are their curse."

"Curse?" Rosche was confused. "I haven't heard anything about a curse. I've spent most of my life in Crystalpeak, reading countless books, and there's no mention of a curse in any of the historical records of Arantle."

"History is written by the victors," Master Sylvanus explained. "There's always something amiss when it comes to the real truth that all of you know. If it wasn't for those twelve kings, the Aurerians would not have gone extinct, and the dark entity would not have gathered so much power."

Rosche didn't know what to say and remained silent.

"Don't worry, eventually, the world will come to know the truth," Master Sylvanus reassured.

Just as their conversation was about to delve deeper, they heard a sound coming from the wounded young man's room. They immediately rushed to his side. The man was awake and sitting in bed, his torso covered in bandages.

"How are you feeling?" Rosche asked with concern.

The young man remained quiet, assessing his body.

Master Sylvanus handed him a bowl of medicine. "Drink this."

The young man took the bowl but hesitated, smelling the contents.

"It's not poisoned," Master Sylvanus said. "If I wanted to harm you, I could have let you die from poison yesterday."

"It's true, you must have been half-conscious and didn't remember," Rosche added, offering her assurance.

The young man finally took a deep breath and drank the medicine in one go, placing the empty bowl on a nearby table.

"By the way, what's your name?" Rosche asked.

The young man looked at her, his eyes harboring a sense of distrust. "I am Kir," he hesitated, "Kiryo."

"Kiryo," Rosche acknowledged. "I'm Rosche, and this is Master Sylvanus. He's the one who saved you," she added.

Kiryo gazed at them, his trust still a fragile thing. "Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

"We're happy to help," Rosche replied.

Master Sylvanus noticed Kiryo's actions and behavior. "Your kind tends to have similar behavior. You're a pyroclasmist, right? How did you end up here?" he inquired.

Kiryo reached for a robe near his bed and put it on. "I was attacked."

"Those darkbanes are indeed ruthless," Rosche commented.

"It wasn't the darkbanes," Kiryo revealed.

"Huh, it wasn't?" Rosche looked surprised. "Then who was it?"

"It was a demon," Kiryo stated.

"Demons... but the dagger that was impaled in you is from the darkbane, and the special poison from that dagger is from Umbralith... how did the demons get their hand on it?" Rosche asked, puzzled.

Master Sylvanus retrieved the bowl from the table. "Then they must all be connected somehow. The darkbane's daggers are custom-made, but the darkbane recruits different kinds of mages. Maybe one of them knew about the special poison of the Umbraweavers. But who knows, maybe it was all part of the demons' plan."

Rosche and Kiryo exchanged puzzled glances.

"Then we must report it to the Council of Twelve," Rosche suggested.

Master Sylvanus chuckled. "Do you really think they'll listen?"

"Why not?" Rosche challenged.

"They are not as heroic as you might think," Master Sylvanus replied. "Perhaps some of them already know about this but pretend to be ignorant."

Kiryo remained silent, listening closely while Rosche was engrossed in her thoughts.

The atmosphere grew tense, and the conversation shifted when Eamon and Geran arrived, carrying plenty of firewood with them.

"We're back," Geran announced.

The conversation diverted its course as the two entered.

"My woods!" Master Sylvanus exclaimed as he hurried toward Geran and Eamon.

Rosche stayed silent for a moment before heading over to her brother, Geran, her thoughts still lingering on the ominous revelations they had just heard.

Back in the Grim Wastes, the brawl had concluded. The Darbane tribe began to march in groups, gathering in front of their tents as if organizing something. Murmurs could be heard among the members of the tribe, and Eowyn continued to observe their actions.

"Do you know how we're going to get out of here?" Davhil asked.

"Not today," Eowyn replied. "But based on their actions, it seems like they are preparing for something."

Davhil tried to keep an eye on the tribe members. "Yeah," he said as he followed the movements of the men with his eyes.

Eowyn laid down on a straw bed and closed her eyes.

"What are you doing, Eowyn?" Davhil asked, puzzled. "Aren't we planning to escape?"

"Not today, and besides, we tried to escape a while ago. They must have heightened their surveillance," Eowyn explained with her eyes still closed and her hands resting above her head. "They're definitely up to something. For now, let's take a rest and replenish our energy."

Back in the hut, Eamon set up the fireplace, and Geran and Rosche sat side by side. Master Sylvanus, curious about their plans, asked, "So where are you guys going?"

Rosche explained, "Actually, we're from Ebonvale village, but our village was attacked by demons. We want to seek refuge in the land of Celestoria."

Turning to Kiryo, Master Sylvanus inquired, "What about you, young man?"

Kiryo replied, "I'm looking for someone, and we're set to meet in Ravenholm city."

Master Sylvanus, with a thoughtful expression, remarked, "Ravenholm city... that's in the land of Tempora, right? If you're headed to Tempora, you'll pass through Celestoria. I guess you all will be traveling together."

"But I think we should travel separately," Kiryo suggested, "and I work better on my own."

Eamon couldn't resist a smirk and remarked, "Coming from someone who got stabbed while traveling alone."

Rosche scolded Eamon, saying, "Eamon..."

"I don't want to intrude on your journey," Geran explained, "but I think it would be better to travel together, for the demons still wander around."

"My brother is right," Rosche agreed, "I know you barely know us, and the same goes for us. We just met you. Although we're all strangers, I think it's better to have as many people as possible for safety, at least until we get to our destination."

Kiryo hesitated, still unsure about the idea.

After setting up the fire in the fireplace, Eamon sat down next to Rosche.

"If he doesn't want to come, just let him," Eamon said, his jealousy thinly veiled, couldn't help but interject, "So, what's your deal? Scared of some demons? Or perhaps you just prefer your own company?"

Kiryo, his expression growing stern, replied, "It's not about fear. I work best alone, and I have my reasons."

Rosche, attempting to ease the tension, chimed in, "Eamon, let's not push him too hard.

Geran, sensing the need for unity, added, "We should be looking out for one another, especially in these dangerous times."

Eamon reluctantly nodded, his jealousy momentarily overridden by the practicality of sticking together. Kiryo's reluctance remained, but he didn't voice his objections any further.

Master Sylvanus interjected, "Then it's all set. You should all leave before sunset; it's more dangerous to travel at night."

"But aren't you coming with us?" Rosche asked. "You're also alone here. If you come with us, we can live in peace in Celestoria."

Master Sylvanus chuckled and said, "The Twelve Kingdoms are not the only safe places in this realm. Maybe it's safer here. Plus, my wine cellar is here; I can't just leave my lovely wines behind." He made a joking comment to lighten the mood.