Chapter 11: Princess Knight

EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series

Marco always harbored a deep distrust of wizards. From a very young age, he had an aversion to magic, as most people in the realm did. It was an unpredictable, unrestrained power, and those who could harness and wield it were viewed with distrust. He didn’t mind the healers who cared for the sick and the messengers who helped spread and receive news far and wide. He certainly didn’t mind the sorcerers who used their magic to entertain the masses with ethereal fireworks. They served the people and were, at best, benign. But as he stood in the darkened corridor, crisscrossed by stone arches casting ominous shadows, he remembered why he still harbored this childhood fear.

Gregory Francey was the unassuming name of a man who was far from it—a tall, lean elder gentleman whose gray hair made him look older against the various shades of black in his uniform. He was one of the high members of the Council of Mages, but unlike his fat, comfortable compatriots, who treated the organization as a private social club rather than counselors to the King. Marco bristled at being summoned to a meeting with him, especially in the middle of a deserted castle courtyard.

“I cannot change the King’s mind,” the sorcerer said in a firm, deliberate tone, keeping his voice low in the empty walkway. “He is convinced Edinrahn will be a powerful acquisition. But the idea of elves and unicorns mingling freely with our people after all they’ve done is blasphemous. However, I recommend you and your guard go to Edinrahn to ensure this alliance happens.”

Marco stood stock-still, his attention fixed on every word. Bile burned the back of his throat. Dealing with the Mage Council was difficult. Even though they looked like men, his insides screamed in their presence, reacting to that low hum that accompanied them and was especially loud now. Marco didn’t know Mage Gregory’s magical specialty, but it certainly wasn’t carnival tricks. As a member of the council, he had to be powerful enough to hold his position, but it was apparent that magic was not where this man drew his true power. And now, Marco was being asked to go to the most dangerous place anyone could send a mortal.

“But what of the magic? And the dragons? My men cannot expect to survive—” He knew better than to think he was being given a choice to refuse.

A sharp grin crossed the mage’s face. “I’m not expecting you to fight. On the contrary, I want you to avoid it at all costs. If anyone is to pay the price, it should be the half-breed. After all, it’s by her own words that she is the only one who can defeat the Dragon Lords.”

Marco heard about the boast through barracks gossip, finding it hard to reconcile with the awkward unicorn girl who barely made it through the tournament contests but survived the Tower just the same. A shiver ran through him at the memory of his own ordeal in the chamber.

“You and your men must ensure that Ternam’s interests are embedded. Then the mages can attempt to neutralize the curse of that place, allowing the rest of the army to come in.”

The knight tightened his lips, his mind racing through all he could recall of his studies, which weren’t much, on the Dragon Lords—the Raikashans of the far mountains. “And how are we to do that?” He had never seen one and would rather keep it that way.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Mage Gregory straightened his back even further. “The king does not authorize this, but as one of the Council, I can proclaim decisions on his behalf…”

“Which, of course, you tell me under secrecy,” Marco added, unable to stop a smirk from slipping. The mage was not amused.

“Once the unicorn girl takes power, kill her.”

* * *

Lucas and Marco stared at each other as the loose boards creaked ominously. The same thought crossed their minds without a word. We did not survive the Trial of the Tower to become assassins. Their loyalty was to King Jason and the kingdom of Ternam, as ordered by the great sun god Mithrea Helo—not to be petty usurpers for deceitful wizards. Yet an order had been given in the name of the king they had sworn to serve.

“There’s nothing we can do here. We will see our fill of dragons soon enough.” Egoraven’s voice echoed through the ruined town, followed by shuffling footsteps heading back to the waiting horses.

The two Riders felt their chests sink and exited the shack, still processing what they had seen and what waited for them next—

And especially what awaited her.

Continuing their journey, the usually rambunctious Riders rode in silence. Their need for loud conversation and even louder singing of obscene ballads was replaced by a somber realization of their mission. The three blacksmiths, the sorcerer, and a unicorn woman riding beside them welcomed the reprieve.

“The longer we ride, the more I’m realizing there will be no proper sleep in a proper inn in a proper town,” whined a Rider as he slumped in his saddle.

“The dragons made their mark much farther than expected. At least that Valley magic kept them from getting too close to more populated areas,” answered his companion.

Already annoyed, Desmond trotted his horse. “A small comfort to the villages they devastated,” he chided. The knights sucked their teeth as he passed.

Egoraven rode ahead, leading the group. Daniel rode close behind as Johar and Morgan bickered over a word game beside him. Exhaustion showed in her posture before Desmond saw it on her face. Dark circles formed under her eyes, like permanent shadows against her paler-than-usual skin. She absentmindedly scratched at the base of her throat.

Desmond rode closer. Catching Daniel’s gaze, they shared a concerned look. Clearing his throat, the unicorn perked up and forced an enthusiastic smile.

“The dragons have been testing how far they can go without being driven back,” Desmond started. “But I can’t imagine with what spells or how. That’s powerful magic they’re fighting.”

Her brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, I might have an idea. Rillian had a talisman made of unicorn horn—the one he used to carve this sigil into my neck. They must be using something similar. My only question is what price was paid by my kin for it.” She scratched her throat again.

“So, how are you feeling?” Desmond asked, discreetly pointing to his collarbone.

Egoraven pressed her fingers on the cleft of hers, resisting the urge to claw through her tunic. “The most I could do was scar it over some more, but there’s still enough to cause problems. No matter what I do, it still fights and burns.”

The sorcerer let out a frustrated sigh. “I wish I could help. I was lucky enough to bring you back from that other wound for your own healing to take over.”

Rushed hoofbeats followed a loud whinny. “Yeah, what kind of sorcerer are you, even?” Morgan pulled up, his horse not appreciating the rough handling of the reins or the pack pony being dragged from behind. “I thought you guys were supposed to be all-powerful, and Egoraven almost died anyway!”

Johar tapped his forehead. “Great Creator, give me patience…” he whispered, then, “Morgan, don’t make me come over there...”

The fox was not deterred. “Come over here, then. If he could barely save Egoraven, what’s he going to do when we get to the castle?” He pointed an accusatory claw.

Desmond snapped back, offended. “I am not a combat sorcerer if that’s what you’re getting at. What we’re going to need to do is something we will only find out when we get there. You can’t really plan for that type of magic.” He let out an indignant huff.

Morgan hunched in his saddle. “You know what is planned? A dagger in the back. And I got a dagger with that cretin Rillian’s name all over it.” He seethed at speaking the elf prince’s name.

“We all have our talents, Morgan,” Egoraven answered. “And we will all discover what ours are at the moment we need them most.” She trotted Warking back to the lead to hide her face. Since the trial, she had refused to think about Rillian, but hearing his name flooded her with hatred and grief. She clutched the collar of her cloak, fruitlessly trying to ease the throbbing scar. Catching Desmond sensing her magic, she saw no point in keeping secrets. “Rillian... Whatever warmth I had from memories of us has long turned to poison, and I resent him deeply for it.”

Not knowing what to say, he remained silent.

The well-worn roads alongside the tended fields they traveled beside began to disappear. The route became wild and overgrown as the forest reclaimed the land. It was the buffer territory between Ternam and Edinrahn—a no-man’s-land that mortals entered at their own risk. Not even hunters dared to follow game, lest they accidentally cross a border they would never return from.

Marco charged to the front. “We should make camp here,” he announced. “It will probably be the last night before we reach Edinrahn.”

The Riders suspiciously eyed the area. “Are you sure it’s safe?” Lucas asked.

Egoraven dismounted. “If we haven’t encountered dragons yet, it’s because they stopped trying to come out. Which means they might be gathering for something bigger than ambush raids.”

Marco jumped out of his saddle. “All the same. We must save our strength to face whatever we are riding into.” His words triggered the Riders to follow his lead.

Setting up for another night in the forest, the Riders took their place on one side of the clearing while Egoraven and the others took the opposite side. Between them stood the campfire, where hares on spits roasted over a pan of foraged vegetables—the melting fat sizzling as it dripped. Johar tended to the food, adding fragrant herbs while ignoring the grumbles from the men complaining about eating rabbit again.

“If you didn’t want rabbit, then you shouldn’t have caught more rabbit,” the horse man answered.

Tied to a makeshift hitching post, the horses shuffled restlessly as Morgan and Daniel tended to them.

“It’s the magic of the Valley,” Egoraven explained as she unpacked supplies. “They’re very sensitive to it.”

Morgan shook and fluffed out his fur. “Ugh. I can only imagine. We have talismans, and I’ve been tingling all over since we got this far.” He shuddered again.

“Better to tingle than become a slave to the place,” an elder Rider named Paul replied gruffly as he walked by with the last of the ale stash. Morgan rolled his eyes.

As camp setup neared completion, welcome plates of hot food, despite the repetitive menu, began to be passed around. With alcohol warming their bellies, the Riders gathered and fell into a round of raucous storytelling and singing. Egoraven, Desmond, Daniel, Morgan, and Johar stayed by the fire.

As dusk began to fall, the Riders kept up their incessant chatter—their energy only mildly tempered by the meal and drink as the unsettled horses added to the noise.

“At least that racket will frighten away any predators from here for miles,” Johar quipped as he untied his bedroll.

“Or they might attack just to shut them up,” Morgan groused.

Johar unrolled his blanket, revealing a small wool rug with an intricate foreign pattern and tasseled edges. Tucking it under his arm, he turned to Daniel. “I’ll just be nearby. I don’t want to disturb the esteemed Riders with my prayers.”

Daniel smirked at the usually stoic horseman’s sarcasm. “No problem,” he answered. Finishing his space, he tucked his quarterstaff along the edge of his bedroll. Desmond sat beside him, reading. The blacksmith tried to make out a title, but there was nothing but embossed symbols on the well-worn cover. “What are you reading?”

Desmond popped up from his book. “Oh, just catching up on some spellwork. I have no idea what we might encounter, so I want to be prepared.”

Daniel took a seat on his blanket. “I should have thought of that.”

“Learning spells?”

“Bringing a book,” Daniel laughed. “Not like I knew we would end up on the road like this.”

Desmond looked down at the page. “I don’t think any of us ever thought we’d end up like this. The one thing we were all taught since childhood never to do, and here we are doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Following a unicorn into Edinrahn.”

Daniel let out an awkward chuckle and looked away. I would follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked me, he thought, then felt his breath cut short. “Wait—where’s Egoraven?” Her bedroll was set up, with weapons neatly bundled beside it, but she was nowhere in the clearing. He jumped to his feet.

Desmond kept his attention on the page. “She probably just went to relieve herself.”

Daniel felt irritated at the answer as he tried to remember when he had last seen her. “I think she’s been gone a little too long for that.” He looked over to the increasingly anxious horses. “Morgan, did you see Egoraven?”

The fox pointed in the direction of the woods.

“I’ll be right back,” Daniel said as he walked off. With one last glance, Desmond returned to his reading.

Trudging through overgrowth in the waning daylight, Daniel regretted not bringing his staff, but he was too committed to his task to turn back. Just as he was about to worry about losing his way, he heard the soft sound of sniffling, accompanied by the faint glow of Egoraven’s horn breaking the shadows. An uncontrolled smile matched his relief, and just as quickly, he stopped. What if Desmond was right, and she really was busy with personal business? And here he was about to walk in on her.

Rude.

Daniel cautiously approached. Egoraven sat on a twisted tree branch that hung low off the ground, not paying attention to her surroundings. Hearing more sniffling, Daniel realized she was crying.

He paused, fighting the overwhelming urge to rush to her. “Egoraven?” he called out. Rustling followed as she dropped from the branch.

“I’m here…” she answered, her voice cracking. She quickly wiped her face.

He held himself back from embracing her. “I was worried when I didn’t see you.”

Egoraven felt fresh tears well up. “I’m sorry,” she barely got out. “I just needed some time alone. The Riders make too much noise, and I felt overwhelmed.”

He stepped closer. “I don’t blame you. They even have Morgan wishing they’d get eaten by bears.”

They both laughed as she wiped her face again with a loud sniff.

“Uhm… Do you want me to leave? I just came to see if you’re okay…”

Egoraven wrung her hands. “Can you stay with me for a bit?”

As if I could ever say no to you, Daniel thought, his face softening at the invitation. “Yeah, sure,” he answered, climbing the tree branch with her. They sat in the quiet until Egoraven spoke.

“Returning to Edinrahn makes me more nervous than I thought it would. It’s becoming harder than what I faced in the Tower.” She took a gulp, finding it hard to speak. “I fought all this way to get back, only to be unsure it’s the right thing to do.”

Daniel pressed his shoulder against hers. “That’s how you felt about becoming a knight, remember? You thought you were in over your head, but here you are. You’re a princess knight of Ternam, returning to reclaim your kingdom. I couldn’t be prouder of what you’ve accomplished.”

Egoraven’s face went hot as her words came out in a squeak. “You’re proud? Of me?”

“Of course, I’m proud of you. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Egoraven didn’t know how to answer. Accepting her new title was difficult, and hearing him acknowledge it without question felt unreal. She stared, looking for any sign of mockery, and finding none. “I’m not a princess anymore,” she reluctantly corrected.

“You’ll always be a princess to me,” Daniel answered.

The tip of her tail wagged as she swung her hooves. “I’m afraid to find out how different everything might be when we get there. What if it’s too late?”

He gave a sympathetic sigh. “Dragons haven’t overrun the realm yet, regardless of what we’ve seen. There’s still hope all of this can be stopped.”

Tucking her hands under her, she brushed against his leg, resisting touching him further. “Do you remember the first time I came to Doornham?”

A chuckle escaped. “How could I forget a unicorn girl showing up to my forge, determined to carry two hundred pounds of weapons by herself?”

Egoraven cringed at the memory. “I didn’t know what came over me. That was such a silly thing for me to do.”

“You were glorious…” he said under his breath.

Egoraven cheeks flushed, unsure he had meant for her to hear. “You took me to my first weekend market. I had never seen so many people crowded in one place before.”

“You were so worried about what everyone would think of you,” Daniel replied. “You were ready to run back to the forge to hide.”

She placed her hands back on her lap, this time purposefully brushing against his thigh. “That’s how I feel right now. The closer I get to Edinrahn, the more I want to run away and hide.”

Daniel picked a loose strand of hair from her face. “Well, it’s not exactly the same thing, but you did make it into the market. And I remember us having a nice time.”

Egoraven held her breath as he tucked the lock behind her ear. Her tail swished at how close he was, and a sudden warmth low in her belly wanted him closer. She let out a timid laugh. “You held my hand,” she said.

He grinned. “I also remember saying the other option was tying you to my belt with a leash so you wouldn’t get lost, but that would have made people ask even more questions.”

They giggled, imagining the scene, and then she looked at him, their eyes meeting. “You make me feel safe.” Egoraven hesitantly reached out her hand. “And I really need to feel safe now.”

Daniel saw three golden fingers crowned with soft brown fur hovering beside him. Without a thought, he entwined his fingers with hers. They let out simultaneous sighs.

“Egoraven?”

She turned, feeling his grip tighten. Her heart skipped.

“Yes…?”

They slowly leaned into each other, breaths mingling, their lips about to touch with the perfume of roses blooming around them.

“Great Helo, why did you go so far from camp? I was sure I was about to get lost!”

Desmond burst through the brush with all the grace of a stampeding cow. A small, illuminated sphere floated above his palm.

Daniel felt Egoraven wrench her hand as she jumped from her seat, awkwardly brushing down her clothing. The warmth he felt fell like a stone. He couldn’t help but scrunch his face, holding back his anger toward the hapless sorcerer with horrendous timing.

Desmond noticed that the blacksmith glared back as the unicorn bumbled around the tree they had been sitting on.

“Is everything okay?” Egoraven asked, flustered.

“Uhm, the horses keep getting more and more agitated, making the knights even more obnoxious, which is driving Morgan crazy, and he said you had a spell to help calm them down—uh, the horses, not the Riders,” Desmond stammered.

Egoraven nodded at the news. “Yes, yes. I will take care of them. It’s getting dark anyway.” Averting her eyes, she rushed back to camp, trailing a quickly fading scent of roses. Desmond let out a heavy breath as Daniel appeared, the glow from the light sphere exaggerating his features. At least the look on his face had shifted from murderous to merely annoyed.

“Sorry,” Desmond offered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you two were doing.”

“It’s fine. We were just talking,” Daniel growled as he stomped off.

Desmond frowned sheepishly, following after them.

The clearing was eerily quiet. None of the usual forest noises accompanied the darkness under the perpetual full moon, which glowed red in a field of stars. It was as if wild animals knew better than to be in this stretch of cursed wood, unlike the humans who slept there, ready to venture further into it in the morning.

Hacksaw snoring alternated between the Riders and one small fox. Daniel wasn’t sure whether it was the snoring that kept him up or the odd sensations he had been feeling since entering the area. He clutched the crude talisman around his neck. Reciting a little prayer for Amadaeo gave him some respite from the constant static tingling, but not enough to stop it completely. Turning over, Daniel saw Egoraven’s still faintly glowing horn peeking as she slept between Johar and Morgan. His heart ached.

The horses shuffled and softly snorted, the unicorn’s calming magic helping them resist the enchantment’s attempt to creep into the very fiber of their being. Sitting up, he rubbed his face and dragged his fingers through his hair, wondering if he would be able to get any sleep that night. The sound of footsteps caught his attention.

Snatching his glasses from beside his pillow, he noticed Desmond’s empty bedroll. As his vision adjusted, he saw the sorcerer pacing around the horses, digging through the saddlebags.

“I guess you can’t sleep either?” Daniel kept his voice low as he approached. Desmond pulled a smaller bag from the packs and rifled through it.

“The magic is wreaking havoc with mine, but I’m dealing with it.” Letting out a satisfied hum, he pulled out another book. “How about you?”

Daniel shrugged. “It’s not the magic keeping me up.” He nodded toward the group of men, who didn’t seem to have any trouble sleeping without a care. “What do you think of those King’s Riders or whatever they’re called?”

Desmond frowned. “I don’t trust them at all, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

He led Daniel away from the horses before speaking. “King Jason doesn’t send his personal guard out on a whim. And they are not exactly hiding their dislike for the journey. Not that I blame them.”

Daniel folded his arms across his chest. “The journey is not the only thing they dislike. I hear how they talk about us behind our backs...” He paused, glancing at Egoraven, “...how they talk about her...” He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I don’t think the dragons are going to be her biggest threat.”

The sorcerer flipped through the pages of the book. “I feel the same way. There seems to be more going on than a king’s command, and they’re sloppy about hiding their intentions.”

Daniel kicked at some rocks. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them in case they try anything.”

Desmond shook his head. “No. They need Egoraven for whatever mission they’re on. If they try anything, it will be once we’re in Edinrahn.” He tapped the book in his hand. “I’ll take over your watch. I’m used to staying up all night studying. You need to get some sleep. We need you well-rested and ready... she needs you.”

They turned in unison, watching Egoraven sleep, albeit not soundly. Brow furrowed, she let out startled whimpers at whatever haunted her dreams. Daniel hated keeping himself from rushing to her side, holding her tight, and chasing away whatever nightmares plagued her.

You make me feel safe…

The two men turned back to each other, and Desmond gave Daniel a knowing look. “You need her, especially,” Desmond replied softly.

Daniel did not answer.

* * *

The forest stretched before them like a sea of never-ending green as the company of knights stared down from their rocky height at the vast expanse. Egoraven scanned the trees as memories she thought had faded returned in full. Ordained by a god as its caretaker, this land was in her blood, as it was for all the unicorns. “The border of Edinrahn is there,” she announced to the Riders. “Once we cross it, there will be no turning back.”

Marco frowned. “I have never wanted not to enter a territory as badly as this.”

Warking pranced restlessly as Egoraven spun him around. “If any of you want to change your mind, now is the time to decide. I will not judge you, but I cannot say the same for our king.”

The Riders glanced at each other, but no decision was to be made. They had come this far in service to the crown and would continue onward to do so.

A Rider named Arnold plucked the makeshift charm from his collar to take a closer look. His lip twisted as he studied the odd bone-like artifact. “These talismans better work then,” he muttered.

His attempt to keep the snide comment to himself was no match for the keen ears of the horseman nearby. “These are not mere trinkets you wear around your neck,” Johar snapped with uncharacteristic anger. “They came at too high a price, so you’d better put your respect where it belongs.” Johar clutched his talisman and chanted in his native tongue to calm himself. He chastised himself for becoming emotional in front of the humans, but the violent memories of the elder unicorn’s demise were still too fresh a wound.

Even with Egoraven’s spellwork, the horses remained too skittish to ride, so the decision was to walk. The unicorn and the sorcerer took the lead. “It looks like Alaric managed to bring me to Edinrahn anyway,” Desmond quipped.

Egoraven smiled. “I hope we can say now it’s under better circumstances—” With a hard yank, Warking snatched the reins from her hand, eliciting a piercing whinny that the other horses answered. Chaos erupted as the animals balked and resisted. No amount of coaxing or yelling would make them move.

“The horses are refusing to go any further. Even they know this place is cursed,” Marco spat.

Placing a hand on Warking’s forehead, Egoraven tried her spell again, but to no avail. “There is too much fear in them. We will have to leave them behind,” she replied.

A flurry of profanity swept through the Riders. “Pack up what you can carry,” Marco ordered. “We are only wasting our time fighting them when there will be plenty of real fighting ahead of us.”

Morgan was distraught upon hearing the news. “What will happen to the horses if we leave them here?”

Johar sniffed the air. “Considering the lack of predators in this strange neck of the woods, there’s a good chance they will survive until we return, or they may try to return home on their own.”

The answer did not comfort the fox, who gave a tearful farewell to Warking and the pack pony. He hoped Johar was right.

Checking their supplies and weapons, the group realized this was their last chance to join the horses. They wondered who would be the first to change their mind. Strengthening their resolve, they crossed one by one over the invisible threshold into Edinrahn.

* * *

The sun disappeared into the thick forest canopy. The group continued their nervous march through the dense growth. Only the lone unicorn walked without the oppressive air weighing on the mortals following her.

The men couldn’t help being overcautious about their surroundings. The wind rustled branches, birds took flight, and small animals scurried to their hiding places as they passed. Even a deer or two was spotted leaping deeper into the brush. This should have been no different from the woods they were already familiar with and roamed through. But this was Edinrahn, and being just another forest was the last place this was.

The younger Riders walked together as the elder members trailed, already weary from the magic suffocating them. Even with their numerous stops, there was no rest to be had, but they were all grateful for each opportunity.

“I know we just entered this Helo-forsaken forest, but why do I feel like I have no idea where we are?” Arnold kept his voice low as he wiped his brow.

Lucas shook his head, trying to stave off the disorientation he had been feeling since crossing the border. “I feel like we have been traveling for days and minutes at the same time,” he added.

An irritated voice came from the group the Riders followed. “That’s the magic trying to impose its will on us,” Desmond answered without looking back. “The fact that you know what’s happening means the talismans are working.” The sorcerer let out a deep breath as he tried to ignore the incessant ringing in his ears.

Johar clutched the shard around his neck and closed his eyes. “May Helo grant Amadaeo peace for his sacrifice.”

Morgan clenched his fists. “And may Helo bless my bow the next time I see that grimy elf,” he grumbled.

“Indeed,” the horse man whispered back.

They all fell back into silence.

Daniel leaned on his staff as what should have been a simple walk became increasingly difficult the longer they went. His entire being felt dense and foggy, barely able to follow the little direction he was giving it. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. It took every ounce of energy to move forward.

Egoraven was the opposite—alert, with a strong, energized gait. He decided it was silly to ask how she was feeling. Edinrahn was her home. She belonged here. In a drunken-like stupor, Daniel focused on how her faun-shaped legs and swishing tail exaggerated the sway of her very lovely hips. Her hand swung at her side, three golden fingers peeking beneath soft brown fur. Itching to grasp them, his mind wandered, fuzzy with enchantment. The memory of holding her hand repeated like a waking dream, warming his belly. His mouth went dry. He longed to touch her again, to pull her into his arms and feel his lips against hers. He reached out his hand—

Daniel’s knee hit the ground with a violent lurch, snapping him out of his reverie. His foot caught on a twisted root, and his staff kept him from tumbling face-first onto the ground.

“Daniel! Are you alright?” Egoraven gasped as she, Johar, and Morgan all clutched at him. The blacksmith sheepishly waved them off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

Grabbing his arm, Egoraven helped him back to his feet. He adjusted his glasses, hiding the intense blush crossing his face.

Marco marched to the front of the line. “We have walked far too long without knowing where we are going. How long until we reach the castle?”

Egoraven kept her ears from pinning back at the brusque tone. “Unless you want to confront dragons sooner than expected, we are not heading to the castle,” she replied. “We are heading to the farthest meadow, where we should find some of my kin. There, we can camp safely and plan our next steps.”

An elder Rider scoffed. “Safe? With unicorns? Now I’ve heard everything.”

Egoraven let out an annoyed huff.

Taking advantage, they agreed another break was in order. Relieved, the men took whatever seats they could, fitting in catnaps before moving on. Egoraven stood guard, watching over the exhausted mortals. Even Desmond, with his protective magic, looked worse for wear. As he sat with his eyes closed, she couldn’t tell whether he was meditating as Johar did in these moments or simply sleeping. Seeing Daniel stretch his bruised leg, she rushed to him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She knelt, reflexively massaging his knee. The blacksmith flinched, not from pain, but from the flush of heat coursing through him at her unexpected touch.

“It’s fine,” Daniel answered, averting his eyes. I only fell because I was distracted, fantasizing about you, he thought—the words effervescent in his head, threatening to bubble out on a tongue loosened by magic. He gave Egoraven a tight smile. Relieved that he was in no need of healing, she stood back up and continued her vigil.

Letting out a controlled breath and trying to think of anything but how desperately he wanted Egoraven to touch him again, Daniel caught Morgan staring back with a toothy, mischievous grin. The blacksmith twisted his mouth, shooting a glare that only made the fox smile wider. He snatched off his glasses, pretending to clean them.

Morgan chuckled at his flustered friend and reached into his belt pouch for one of the last pieces of jerky. He sighed at the salty taste, his chewing offering a brief distraction from the constant buzzing that made his fur fluff out uncomfortably. Johar sat next to him, softly praying.

Egoraven fidgeted as she fell into deep thought. While the mortals suffered from entering Edinrahn, her magic awakened even more. The spark the tower had triggered now burned steadily within her. She scratched the base of her throat, noticing that whatever spell the sigil held was not as strong as before. Calling on her healing, the sigil tingled as it fought, but she managed to scar it over further. It wasn’t enough to be rid of it, but the attempt accomplished something, and that pleased her. If only her magic were strong enough to help the men she led.

Listening to the breeze rustle the leaves, the walk wouldn’t take much longer to reach the far meadow, though the humans in their condition would think otherwise. Even from here, she could feel her herd’s presence and knew their magic would help protect them further. Despite being so long away, she recognized every path through the woods, made by unicorns older than the ancient trees surrounding them. Unconsciously, she felt the white dagger tucked into her belt at her back. If Edinrahn was her home, why did she feel like an intruder?

Egoraven jerked her head up as her ears swiveled and pointed skyward. Behind her, Johar and Morgan reacted the same way, but the humans didn’t notice until the sound of her sword unsheathing brought them to attention.

“There’s something on the wind,” Johar announced, drawing his blade. Morgan notched his bow.

“Both scent and sound,” Egoraven replied. “Something is coming.”

The ringing of weapons sang as the men jumped to their feet.

“What’s going on?” One of the Riders muttered.

“Something spooked the dobs,” another answered.

The slur was noted but ignored as the group formed a tight circle, following the unicorn’s lead. Seconds felt like minutes as they took a defensive stance. The restless Riders were ready to consider the moment a false alarm until they realized their surroundings had gone deathly still, except for slow rustling and a low chittering. Egoraven’s whole body tightened. Scanning the brush, she searched for the source of her nightmares, catching a pair of black pupils in a golden sea, constricting into slits. And she knew there wouldn’t be just one.

An explosion of metal and scales erupted as two armored Rakan burst through the brush. With a collective roar, the knights charged, only for another to burst through from behind, seeking to take advantage of their distraction. Barely avoiding the lethal pike and the equally dangerous hooked claws, Johar rushed forward with a precise strike at the serpentine throat, ending the dragon’s sneak attack.

Egoraven did not wait for the Rakan stalking her to make its move as she surged, flushing the creature out. Fueled by rage and unwanted memories, her movements were a blur—a combination of graceful dodges and brutal strikes against ruddy, scaled skin unprotected by plate mail. Its hide was tough enough not to hack through easily, but a few more blows gave Egoraven the kill she wanted.

Daniel, Desmond, and Morgan huddled together at the center of the chaos. As Morgan readied his arrow, a movement caught his peripheral vision.

“DANIEL! LOOK OUT!”

A fifth Rakan joined the fray. With a hard swing, the blacksmith struck the creature’s head with his staff, sending a loud crack through the air. The surprised Rakan stumbled, dropping its blade, but it was no less treacherous without it. Yellow teeth gleaming with saliva, it charged the human, lashing out with black claws.

Daniel jumped back, knowing that one strike would end his adventure right then and there. He swung his staff again. The giant lizard dodged, avoiding another blow, but not without angling its head in a way that gave the blacksmith a rash idea. With as much force as he could muster, Daniel jabbed the staff’s metal tip into the exposed underside and hooked its jaw. His arms burned as the confused Rakan choked and squealed, slashing at the air and pushing its weight against him—struggling against the awkward control of its head.

Knowing there were only seconds to spare, Morgan leaped onto the dragon, scurried over its armor, and braced a foothold on the gorget. Frantic yet decisive, he notched his bow and loosed the arrow, sending it the short distance to the back of the Rakan’s head. The beast collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, nearly landing on Daniel as he was knocked to the ground. Looking ahead at the dragon’s lifeless eyes, Daniel could barely hear his name called through the rushing in his ears. Scrambling to his feet, he faced a furious Morgan still poised on the dragon’s back.

“This is why I keep telling you to learn to use a weapon with a sharp end!”

Helping him down, Daniel couldn’t help but accept the scolding. “And so you have,” he answered, hoping the fox didn’t notice his shaking hands.

With five Rakans dead, the group returned to their defensive circle, as they had at the start, but the rustling continued. Everyone shared fearful glances as more chittering surrounded them.

Desmond let out a series of incomprehensible words. Gesturing dramatically, he chanted to the glow that seeped from his hands, the light trailing and growing brighter as his voice grew forceful. With a final yell, the sorcerer released a blinding flash of light as more Rakans bounded toward them.

The stunned company shook off the disorienting effects of the spell, even more surprised by what lay before them. More dragon bodies were strewn about, and several more never made it out of the brush before being cut down. Instead of being relieved, Marco screamed at the sorcerer. “You could have killed them from the beginning!”

Desmond glared at him. “I wasn’t expecting the spell to work like that,” he shouted back. “The Valley must be enhancing my ability somehow.”

Daniel poked at a body with his staff, relieved that these things were indeed dead. “Well, it may not have been what you wanted, but I’ll take it.”

A scream drew their attention to where one of the elder Riders sat with a long gash in his leg. Another tried to tend to the wound as the rest gathered to help him.

“Aye, Patrick,” Marco sucked his teeth sympathetically.

Lucas looked up and shook his head. “I can’t stop the bleeding.” He tore strips from the lining of his surcoat to use as makeshift bandages. “No way this is going to heal.”

Patrick tried to brace himself against the agony, but to no avail. “Damn this place and everything in it! I don’t want to die here,” he howled.

Desmond walked up, annoyed. “You are not going to die here,” he grumbled, pressing his hand to the wound. Blue-violet light seeped from his fingers as the remaining Riders stepped back, not wanting to risk being entangled in the healing spell. Patrick hissed at the sensation, stuffing his leather glove between clenched teeth, unsure whether the pain of the wound was worse than the pain of his flesh being stitched back together.

Still wary, Egoraven trotted over. “We need to hurry. There might be more Rakans where they came from.” Leaning down, she reached out and placed her hand on Desmond’s. Golden light flared from her sparking fingers and mingled with his violet-blue spell. Patrick let out a panicked cry as his body stiffened, and Desmond was just as startled by the surge of magic. Egoraven tightened her grip on the sorcerer’s hand to keep him from pulling away. Ignoring frantic yet muffled screams, she braced the wounded leg with her other hand as the writhing knight fought against the intense magic and the agony it brought. With a flash, the healing was complete.

Gasping and sweating profusely, Patrick eyed his now whole leg. Aside from the tattered leggings and shredded chainmail, there was no other evidence of the damage the Rakan had inflicted. Still disoriented by the lingering misery that would take time to fade, he aimed what little energy he had left at the unicorn and the sorcerer. “Curse your black magic,” he hissed.

Egoraven frowned but said nothing. Desmond was less polite. “Next time, we’ll let you bleed to death if you prefer,” he barked. Still holding Egoraven’s hand, he felt her rise. “It’s not the Valley,” he said, not letting go.

She pulled him up. “What?”

Desmond cupped her hand, fascinated by how his magic responded to her touch. “It’s you. My magic is tapping into you somehow.”

Her ears perked forward. “I don’t understand—”

More rustling from the surrounding brush drew everyone’s attention.

“Now is not the time to discuss the esoterica of the healing arts!” Daniel yelled as he prepared his staff. “More of them are coming!”

The Riders nervously shifted on their feet, bracing for another attack. “At this rate, we will never get past this spot, much less reach the castle.” Lucas turned to Marco, noting the concerned look on his Captain’s face.

“Maybe it would help if you all weren’t so noisy and didn’t attract predators so easily.”

Figures poured out from the green, surrounding them with readied bows and spears. Expecting dragons, the group was thrown off by being met by humans instead—except they weren’t humans at all. The air was thick with tension as an unarmed elf stepped into the circle, focusing solely on the unicorn woman.

Egoraven’s face showed hesitant recognition. “Connor!” she cried. Her voice triggered more rustling.

“Egoraven!” A gray unicorn bounded out of the brush toward her.

Egoraven’s face lit up, and a huge smile that she had not given to the elf stretched across it. “Cousin Yancy!” Rushing to meet him, she gave the unicorn a tight embrace.

It was enough of a signal for the humans to stand down, but not enough to put away their weapons. With a wave from the elf named Connor, bows and spears were lowered. Relieved sighs passed through the men.

“I never thought I’d ever say I’m glad you’re here,” Connor said, his tone far from welcoming.

Egoraven separated from her cousin, who kept nuzzling and huffing gleefully in her hair. “You and me both,” she replied with as much snark. “What are you all doing this far from the castle?”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “You have no idea what has happened since that night—”

“Those horrible dragons took over everything!” the excited unicorn interrupted. “Many of us are still trapped in the castle! Some of us were able to escape, but those stupid dragons make it hard to hide in these woods—”

Conner returned the interruption, “So, we decided to turn the tables and hunt them down instead.”

The elves stripped the raptors of their weapons and armor with well-practiced precision. Egoraven realized that every elf was wearing armor similar to what the dragons had worn. The decadent elves forced to live in the wilds now didn’t waste a thing.

“We were chasing them and saw them get distracted,” Connor continued. “We thought there were more escaped Eihdans in the wood, so we followed them to you.”

“You let them attack us?!” Morgan squealed in outrage.

The elf stepped aside to get a better look at the odd beast yelling at him. “Since when do foxes talk?”

Morgan clenched his fists and was about to stomp over when Johar held him back.

“And horse men too? The world outside must truly be a strange place.” Connor took a double-take at the rest of the humans and was relieved that, at least, they were still exactly the way humans were supposed to look.

“These are my friends Morgan, Johar, Desmond, and Daniel,” Egoraven said, waving her hand to introduce them. Cousin Yancy swished his tail and skipped over, eager to introduce himself. She then pointed to the Riders, who huddled together, suspiciously eyeing the elves who worked around them. “The knights are from Varcyn, the capital of one of the outer kingdoms. They are a contingent of King Jason’s personal guard sent to accompany me here.”

Noting her matching uniform, Connor was not impressed. “I guess we can use all the help we can get,” he shrugged. He called to the other elves to quickly finish their tasks. “Don’t worry about the handlers,” he told Egoraven. “We took them down already. Without their control, the Rakans get wild and disorganized enough to pick off. Although I prefer what your wizard did.” Connor looked over Desmond with a judgmental hum. Giving a small sniff, he walked away.

“I have been found wanting,” Desmond grumbled. Egoraven glanced at him apologetically.

As they made their way to camp, Connor admitted he was concerned about how close the dragons had come when they encountered Egoraven’s group.

“They’ve been trying to figure out how to leave the Valley,” Egoraven offered. “They have already attacked several of the human villages near Edinrahn.”

Although the elves Connor led began to show curiosity about the humans, he remained cold. “The dragons are fools to think they can fight the will of the Pull,” he answered. “Even you had to come back eventually. How did you manage to stay outside for so long?”

Egoraven’s ears drooped as she tightened her lips, unsure how much to admit. “I don’t know,” she answered, deciding not to elaborate. The elf grunted. As much as she hoped her time away would have softened her feelings toward her bullies, she resented feeling like that same girl in the courtyard, forced to show respect that would never be returned. She trotted up to her cousin. At least he was happy to see her again.

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone,” Yancy said. “Even the magic of the Valley is different.”

Egoraven nodded. “I can feel it. I had a vision that they put Alaric in a collar.”

The unicorn flicked his ears. “Yes, the dragons are holding him prisoner. We haven’t seen him since that first night.”

“What about the others?” she hesitated.

“We haven’t seen Lilith or Blackavar in a long time either,” Yancy said softly. “Many have disappeared, but we can still feel them, just as with Alaric. They are all still alive, at least.” He came to a realization. “I thought Amadaeo escaped with you. Where is he?”

Egoraven suddenly stopped, feeling as if she were about to choke. “Uhm… he’s—” She dug under her collar, pulling out a broken shard of braided twine. She took it off and held it gently in her palm, allowing Yancy to sniff it. “He’s gone.” Her words barely came out.

Despair crossed her cousin’s muzzle. “We’ve lost so many.”

Flashes of the shadows in the tower crossed her mind as Egoraven closed her fingers around the piece of horn in her hand. “And I swear on my life that we will lose no more,” she answered.

* * *

Elven life in Edinrahn centered predominantly around the castle, while the unicorns spread their numbers throughout the valley. The great herd of the King Stallion was composed of several smaller herds, each led by a breeding pair that oversaw an extended family unit and occupied a distinct territory.

The magic kept the Valley in perpetual spring; however, when the celestial bodies called, the unicorns gathered at each equinox and solstice, as their divine ancestors had. Births were celebrated, mates were found, and those who traveled to the Otherlands were sung for. Even the elves could not deny the strength of the magic on those sacred nights and joined them.

Tents covered in tarps made from a patchwork of scavenged fabric dotted the meadow in tight clusters. Elves and unicorns were side by side once more, but no celebrations would take place here.

A nervous elfess fiddled with her sword as she helped stand guard at the forest line. She had managed to avoid using a weapon so far, much less against a Rakan, and hoped her luck would hold steadier than her hands. Her unicorn companion watched over her as much as he watched for dragons. Even with the Rakans able to cover great distances, an uncontrolled chase would mean an equally unwanted several-day trek back, and the dragons preferred not to stretch their already thin numbers by trying to reach the far end of the Valley. But the few close calls the elves had suffered had made them wary. Looking out at the other elf and unicorn pairs guarding the camp, she let out a loud exhale, earning a gentle nudge from the unicorn beside her. No matter what happened, at least she wasn’t alone. The group slowly inched into the forest, the dense wood muffling the sound of the camp behind them.

The unicorns reacted first, raising their heads in alarm as their large ears twitched and pointed forward. The elves followed, hearing the rustling and brandishing weapons in untested, fearful grips.

“Is it a Rakan raid?” the elfess asked in a shaky voice.

The unicorn’s muzzle shifted from concerned to excited. “No—that’s a scent I haven’t encountered since that night—”

Familiar voices broke through the brush as Connor appeared. Relief washed over the makeshift guards, but not before surprised gasps escaped them.

“Egoraven!” the unicorns cried in unison, surrounding her.

“We thought you had perished!” another shouted as they all huffed and nuzzled her.

Egoraven wished she had more hands as she returned their greeting with fierce hugs, ecstatic to see family again, no matter how distant. “I guess it takes a little bit more to get rid of me,” she answered, squinting back tears she was not yet ready to shed.

The elves gathered with equal excitement and hesitation, shocked to see humans again in their midst. The Riders remained huddled together, unsure of what to make of their new predicament as they were scrutinized like animals at a carnival.

Desmond and Daniel managed a few awkward, reticent greetings, while Johar and Morgan received the most astonished attention. Johar took the sudden poking and prodding with patience as Morgan pressed against his legs, trying to get away from the unwanted touching.

Cousin Yancy nudged his sister, a pale, ginger-maned filly, to direct her gaze toward the poor fox, slapping away at curious elvish hands. Taking advantage of his distraction, the two unicorns leapt and grabbed his collar. Morgan let out a squeal as he was pulled away. Realizing his captors were unicorns, not elves, Morgan found his courage.

“Let me go!” he shouted as they playfully smashed him between their muzzles.

Yancy’s sister whinnied with delight. “A talking fox!”

“I told you!” Yancy replied as they kept shoving him around. “I’ve never seen one before, either!”

Morgan grabbed their nostrils. “Stop it! I don’t even let my own horses do that!”

The two unicorns stopped their affectionate assault and watched intently as the fox roughly brushed his tunic and combed his fur back into a presentable shape.

The filly swished her tail excitedly. “I’m Egoraven’s cousin, Dinah! Are you magic like us?”

Morgan chuckled at the question. “I’m not magic like anyone. I’m just me.” He then held out his hand, inviting the unicorn to continue fussing, which she happily did.

Daniel leaned on his staff, noticing Desmond standing with his arms folded and a pained grimace on his face. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

Desmond shivered as an intense tingling coursed through him, blurring his vision with stars. “I can’t even begin to describe how my magic is acting up right now,” he replied. “I haven’t felt this way since Egoraven’s father—” The sorcerer turned, coming face-to-face with a giant red stallion staring back at him with brilliant jade eyes. His magic flared uncomfortably.

“The fox may not be magic, but you are,” the red unicorn sternly spoke.

Desmond flinched at the tone. Composing himself, he faced the unicorn. “Yes, I am a teacher at the Varcyn College of Sorcery in the capital of the Kingdom of Ternam.”

The unicorn continued his hard stare without responding to the comment.

“Maybe you’ve heard of it?” Desmond added quickly.

“You have a familiar scent about you,” the unicorn snorted.

Desmond froze, flashing back to his violent encounter with Egoraven in a back alley over a black braid he still kept in his pouch. “I may be carrying something—” he stammered, praying he would not find out what chance he would have against a real unicorn.

Egoraven slid over, taking him in a friendly embrace. “Mattan—Desmond is here as a friend. He met Alaric once and was forever touched by the experience.” She smiled at the stallion while the sorcerer held his breath.

The grim unicorn’s ears twitched, considering. He turned his eye, still skeptical. “If Egoraven says you are a friend… then you are.” He let out a loud huff and walked away.

Desmond leaned into Egoraven as her touch calmed his agitated magic. “I really didn’t want to come all this way only to be trampled to death by a unicorn,” he whined.

Egoraven gave a sly grin. “Well, I could have just introduced you as my other father.”

He choked on a ragged gasp. “I would have much preferred to be trampled, thank you.” Desmond could accept a lot at this moment, but that truth was one he was nowhere near ready for. Egoraven giggled, giving a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Egoraven didn’t know what to make of the sprawling camp. A small hunting party passed by, carrying a freshly hunted buck. Another small group mended a tarp. Others prepared more food in an outdoor kitchen. The camp was in constant motion, with everyone having a job to do. She felt ashamed for ever thinking they would be weak and unable to survive without the castle.

“My men and I are going to make camp,” Marco announced, pointing to an area away from the hub where the other men had gathered and were already unpacking. Even in the safety of the meadow, the Riders were not going to share their space just yet.

Egoraven nodded. “Good idea, Captain. I am sure the elves will be more than happy to help, and I will send some unicorns with you to keep watch.”

Connor bristled at her authoritative tone, unable to hide his continued displeasure. Excited yelling drew their attention.

“Look! Look! This one says he’s a blacksmith!” An elfess ran by, dragging Daniel toward a ramshackle canopy as Johar and Morgan followed.

“Finally!” An obviously frustrated male dropped a piece of plate armor, one of many scattered pieces and broken weapons surrounding him.

“We salvaged what we could from the castle,” another added, pleading with the human and the odd horse and fox, “but without our forgemaster, we can’t figure this out.”

Daniel, Johar, and Morgan recognized the makeshift forge and could already see that it was not properly set up for whatever the hapless elves were attempting.

“We’re here to help any way we can,” Daniel answered. After such a long trek, he looked forward to returning to familiar work. As he assessed what needed to be changed, a figure appeared, blocking his path. An elfess with golden hair tied in elaborate braids towered over him, placing thin, firm hands on his chest. Daniel cringed at the touch, looking up at sharp features and shimmering eyes that seemed to look through him. Her eyebrow arched.

“I have never seen a human act this way,” she purred, studying him. Her fingers wandered over his shoulders. “I’m so used to them not saying anything and just doing what I tell them to do.” She squeezed, trying to gauge his build. Daniel recoiled, but she kept up the invasive fondling. Cupping his face, she appraised him like a show horse. “Do I have to ask him for everything now? Does he do everything?” She yanked him against her. Daniel could feel her strength through her lithe figure and a sharp tingling radiating from his talisman. This was no curious elf maiden. He was in the arms of a predator.

Decorum be damned, Daniel gave a hard shove. “Fuckoffme,” he snarled, breaking her attempt at enchantment.

Prancing back, instead of being offended, the elfess stood amused by his charming aggression and continued ogling.

“Just leave him to the forge,” Egoraven’s angry voice interrupted. “You’ll find him more useful if he is not distracted.”

Daniel staggered back, watching her walk by, accompanied by Connor and his guards. Her ears pinned back, she stared at the elfess. He had never seen so much hate in her eyes.

Returning the unicorn’s glare and glancing back at the flustered blacksmith, the elfess let out a laugh. “Of course, you are right. There’s plenty of work here to be done.” As if nothing unusual had transpired, she walked away. “How I long to return to palace life,” she shouted dramatically to no one.

Shaking his head, Desmond caught a younger-looking elfess staring at him as she cradled a small pot with a seedling dangling from it. With a startled gasp, she scurried off. “And I thought it just couldn’t get weirder,” he sighed. “I’m surprised they’ve survived this long on their own.”

Daniel shivered, patting his cloak as if he could still feel those groping hands. The tingling from the talisman faded back to a comfortable hum. He gave it a quick touch and silently thanked Amadaeo for his protection.

Morgan dug through the boxes piled around, inspecting the tools inside and ignoring the elves’ attempts at interaction. Johar chewed his lip. “Well, let’s see what we can make of this mess and get started.”

At least being surrounded by weapons would help keep them safe as much as magic talismans did.

* * *

Jared felt a pit in his stomach as he mindlessly shuffled papers across the table. Word had spread quickly of Egoraven’s return. Combing his fingers through his red-brown hair, he waited for her to be inevitably brought to him. The last thing he wanted to do was go out to meet her. Bowen stood aside, nervously rocking on his heels. Jared felt disgust at the display. Bowen was always the weaker of the three, eager to follow rather than lead, but there was no reason to feel intimidated by a ridiculous half-breed.

Connor entered first, pulling aside the tent flap to let the unicorn woman in. Egoraven stood taller and more filled out than he remembered. She proudly wore human armor with the sun symbol emblazoned on the surcoat. Bile tickled the back of his throat. While the elves were scraping together what they could to survive, it was clear she had been living a very different life away from the Valley. “Well, look who’s decided to join us. Took you long enough,” he sneered.

Bowen chuckled. “I thought I had seen the last of the Mule that night.” He gave Jared a playful pat on the shoulder, but Jared did not react.

Egoraven swallowed hard at the sight of these infernal pests together again before her. She might as well be barefoot, holding a wooden sword in a courtyard. “It’s a thrill to see you all again, too.” Her reply dripped with sarcasm.

Jared remained seated. “We only need Nolan to finish the reunion, but the Raikashans are holding him prisoner, along with everyone else who hasn’t yet escaped.”

“Is that what’s been happening? Rescuing Eihdans and hunting Rakans?” Egoraven was eager to shift her thoughts from the past.

The elf shrugged. “It’s all we can do right now. They are ruthless, and getting near the castle is dangerous. But that doesn’t stop others from trying to escape. So we help them.”

Bowen shook his head. “They send the Rakans to hunt us, but it’s not like there are many of them.”

“Just enough of them,” Jared concluded. It was agreed that even one Rakan was too many.

“What is going on at the castle anyway?” Egoraven asked.

Jared shuffled the papers on the desk without looking at her. “The Raikashans were quick to slaughter our humans, replacing them with us as their slaves. Then they rounded up as many unicorns as they could to harness the Valley’s magic. And recently, a great shadow dragon began emerging from the castle. Luckily for us so far, it disappears faster than it can find the camp.”

“But it’s only a matter of time,” Bowen continued. “They’re obviously tired of losing their lizards to us.”

Egoraven leaned forward at the news. “Has anyone gotten back into the castle?”

The two elves glanced at each other, their brows furrowing. “Just claiming the ones who manage to get out is hard enough,” Jared answered as he stood up. A few steps into the small tent placed him before the unicorn. She held her ground, neither stepping back nor flinching, defiance dancing behind her eyes. This was not the same odd girl he had been forced to train with to gain favor with a king. “I know we haven’t been much of friends—maybe we still aren’t. Maybe we will never be. But know that we are glad you are here. Hopefully, your knights and your sorcerer will prove useful.” He returned to his seat. “Nice to know that even humans get their chance to play with magic.” He couldn’t help the resentment in his voice. He waved the blond elf over. “Have a space set up for Egoraven and her company.” Bowen nodded, always ready to follow commands.

“The King’s Riders will be setting up their own camp, but I’m sure you can spare others to help them as well,” Egoraven added.

“Of course,” Jared answered. “I will see you later.”

The meeting was adjourned with polite nods. Egoraven exited the tent, with Bowen following. Alone with the unicorn, he fidgeted, drawing her attention. “You know I only called you the Mule to be funny, right? I don’t really mean it…” His words trailed off as he anxiously looked away.

“Hmm…” she answered, a deep frown pulling at her mouth.

* * *

The assigned tents were surprisingly cozy despite their scavenged condition. Slightly taller than average to allow a curious unicorn to rifle through, each housed two beds, a table, and a few storage trunks. The ground was covered with mismatched rugs and remnant skins. Random, colorful scarves and broken jewelry hung from support beams in an attempt at decoration, adding to the patchwork that made it look like a traveler’s caravan rather than a rebel camp. It was fortunate that the Valley’s mild, eternal spring weather made it unnecessary to prepare for anything harsher than a light rain.

Egoraven sat on one of the low beds opposite Desmond as they sorted through their bags. Morgan lay sprawled on the ground between them, the usually rough-and-tumble fox unable to resist a nap after their long trek. Johar and Daniel took the tent beside them, and she swiveled her ears to eavesdrop, taking comfort in their easy banter. It had been a while since they had all felt safe enough to relax in each other’s company.

Gazing out the wide opening of the tent, Egoraven sighed at the sight of several unicorns lazily shuffling nearby, feeling both at home and grateful that their presence kept the more curious elves at a distance. After their earlier welcome, she knew the men would appreciate not being treated as curious beasts for the time being. There would be enough time to acclimate to the elves’ intrusive attention. She thought a bit about the King’s Riders camped at the opposite end, but decided they were experienced enough to take care of themselves.

Tucking her satchel and her weapons into the corner at the head of her bed, Egoraven skipped over the napping fox and stepped outside into the open. The unicorns stopped grazing and gathered around her. She hugged each one that came, their greetings silent save for soft huffing and the clapping of inquisitive mouths pulling at her clothes. What concern she had about being an outsider in her own home vanished.

Loud, sing-song laughter, accompanied by enthusiastic conversation, caught her attention. The unicorns remained nonplussed by the sound, while Johar and Daniel emerged from their tent, wondering what was going on. A large group of elves, dressed simply and carrying small baskets, made their way through the meadow with the calm of a picnic, with several elder unicorns following.

“What’s going on?” Daniel asked, wondering whether the elves’ merriment was anything to worry about.

Cousin Dinah turned a disinterested eye toward the elves. “It’s bathtime. They’re going to the river. They alternate groups so the camp isn’t left empty.”

Johar crossed his arms. “They don’t seem too concerned about dragon attacks,” he commented.

“The dragons don’t come this far,” Dinah answered with certainty.

Egoraven tilted her head. “That earlier attack seemed close enough. Even I was surprised.”

The unicorn shook her withers, imitating a shrug. “They got lucky because they ran into you. Once we cover the leylines, they’ll just go back to getting lost.”

Desmond popped out of the tent at the word. “Leylines?”

Egoraven nodded. “It’s how we got here so quickly.”

“Quickly?” Daniel sounded incredulous. “It felt like we were walking forever. How long does it usually take?”

The unicorns fell silent. “I don’t know,” Egoraven answered as she kept thinking. “Maybe you’d still be walking without getting any closer to anywhere.”

“Lovely,” he answered, cringing.

A loud yawn came from the tent. “Yanno what would really be lovely? A bath.” Morgan emerged, still sluggish from his nap. The men grunted in agreement.

The last of the elves disappeared from their line of sight. “Do you want to join them at the river?” Egoraven asked, confident in her guess of their response.

The men shuffled uncomfortably. “We would do well to bathe and wash our clothing,” Johar began.

“But absolutely not with the elves,” Daniel finished, clutching his talisman as if another aggressive elfess were about to pounce at any moment.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Egoraven leaned toward Dinah. “We can take them to the sacred pool,” she said quietly.

Dinah’s ears perked up. “There have never been humans at the sacred pool. Will they be able to handle it? The magic there scares even the elves away.”

Egoraven nodded. “They are under my protection. Arias will understand.”

Gathering their supplies, Egoraven, a small group of unicorns, and four odd men set out into the wood.

The walk was different from their original trek to the camp. Instead of sluggishness and disorientation, the mortals strolled clear-headed, conversing with themselves. The unicorns were initially confused by all the talk, but it didn’t take long for them to regale the humans with questions of their own, enjoying learning about them and the outside world.

“Tell me more about these leylines,” Desmond asked Egoraven.

She looked over, surprised at his excitement over what she thought was such a mundane topic.

“You don’t understand how important this is. Sorcerers have been debating for centuries about their existence, trying to explain why magic existed in some places but not others and why magical creatures can hide so efficiently. I’m going to have to take copious notes to bring back to the college. I might even write a dissertation about it.” His speech bordered on babbling.

Egoraven wasn’t sure how to feel about that information. “Edinrahn is a sacred place for unicorns, and the entire Valley is crisscrossed with them. It’s how we can travel long distances in such a short time.”

Desmond’s mouth dropped open. “Is that what we’re doing now? Are we walking a leyline? That explains why my magic is suddenly acting up like crazy.”

She reached out her hand in response to the comment, and Desmond readily took it. The fiery sparks within him subsided to a low tingle. They continued walking hand in hand.

She nodded. “Without a unicorn to guide you, the magic would not allow you to pass through. Humans caught in our borders were fortunate to be found and brought to the castle.”

The wizard wrinkled his nose, considering what happened to humans who ended up in the company of the elves. “What happened to the humans who weren’t found?”

A pause met the question. Given how short-lived the humans who made it to the castle were, she figured the lost ones would have died even sooner, a fact she decided to keep to herself.

“They were never found, I suppose,” Egoraven answered casually. Desmond let go of her hand.

The sound of rushing water echoed as they reached an overhang. The men couldn’t help but gasp as they looked over what they thought would be an ordinary pond. The thick canopy opened just enough to reveal several interlocking pools, all connecting to the largest main pool, fed by a diversion from the river via a waterfall. The water glowed a molten gold, mixed with an ethereal blue light. More unicorns dotted the edges and swam within the water.

“That looks so… magical,” Desmond whispered, the sorcerer at a loss for words.

Egoraven gave a proud smile. “It is named Arias’ Womb—the birthplace of all unicorns and the center of our magic. All the leylines of Edinrahn begin and end here.” She turned to the rest of them. “I need to go ahead on my own. You will be escorted to a more private pool nearby. We will meet later.” The unicorns separated from the men, except for a young stallion who nodded for them to follow.

The area around the pools was lush with greenery and blooming flowers, more than anywhere else they had seen in Edinrahn so far. Morgan stared at the enchanted water. “Is it really okay for us to bathe here?” he asked hesitantly.

The unicorn nodded. “You would not be here if you weren’t welcome. Egoraven has told us of your great feats and all you have done for her and Amadaeo. You are more friends to the unicorns than the elves ever will be.” He spoke with his head held high, as if he were in the presence of heroes. Daniel and Johar glanced at each other, amused at being thought of as such.

A loud splash broke the moment. Clothing was strewn about in a trail, ending with the head of a fox breaking the surface. “This water is perfect!” he cried before diving under again.

Pleased with the review, Johar and Daniel began undoing their clothes as Desmond wavered. “I don’t know…” the sorcerer started. “My magic is flaring up again…”

“Our talismans are reacting to the magic here as well,” Johar answered with mild annoyance at the whining. As he waded into the pool, he let out a satisfied huff. “The water truly is wonderful.”

Daniel tossed his tunic and shirt in a pile atop his boots, keeping Desmond in the corner of his eye. “I don’t know about you, but if I catch another whiff of myself, I’m going to pass out.” Peeling off his pants, he entered the water.

Desmond turned to their escort. “Is it really safe? I mean, around here.” He waved his finger, pointing in all directions.

The unicorn nodded. “Even the dragons stay away.”

The sorcerer stripped down as he spoke. “Why wasn’t the camp built closer if it’s that safe?”

“The elves are not welcome here,” the unicorn answered sternly, punctuated by a dramatic snort, a swing of his horn, and a stomp of his cloven hoof.

After a thorough initial wash, the men lounged in the bath, soaking and luxuriating in the strange water that left them feeling cleaner and refreshed. A glowing sigil nearby, drawn in the soft soil, radiated heat onto the damp clothing hanging over it on a branch. The unicorn lay next to it, enjoying the warmth and occasionally poking at it, wiggling his nose at the tickle of human magic. Desmond chuckled at the display, never imagining a simple spell could entertain a unicorn, of all things.

It began as a hum riding the air, turning into a melody. “What is that?” Daniel asked, and a song rose, heavy with melancholy.

The unicorn listened for a moment, with sadness in his eyes. “It is a lamentation for Amadaeo,” he answered as he stood up. “I must go and join them. I will be back for you.” In a blink, he disappeared into the brush.

The men quietly stayed where they were, the song washing over them as the water did. They thought of the elder unicorn, Egoraven’s uncle—a loyal companion and friend to all of them, taken so violently and unjustly from the world.

“I’m going closer,” Morgan said as he pushed away from the edge.

Startled to see Morgan swimming toward the narrow connection to the next pool, Johar followed. “Don’t interfere with a private moment,” he hoarsely called out, not wanting to shout. Morgan vanished through the opening. The horse man grumbled under his breath and continued after the fox, at least to make sure Morgan stayed respectful. Daniel and Desmond looked at each other, unsure what to do.

“We don’t have to get too close,” Daniel shrugged. “And I don’t think they’ll mind us paying our respects either.” They waded out towards the others.

The ground gave way easily as Egoraven dug a small hole under the giant willow, its drooping branches an embrace around her. Tears streaming down her face, she sang the ancient song that came to her tongue easily, though without the understanding the rest of the herd had. All she knew was that the words filled her with immense sorrow that threatened to burst her heart open. Taking the shard of his horn, she pressed it against her lips, and great sobs escaped, wracking her shoulders.

As the unicorns continued the song, she placed the shard into the hole, speaking a prayer not only for him but also for all the unicorns who walked into the Otherlands on their own and for those who were forced through to the other side. She then finished burying the shard, pushing the soil on top and patting it flat. Done with her somber task, Egoraven rose to her hooves and descended into the water of the main pool. The song faded into the sound of the waterfall, but her grief didn’t end. She waded deeper until she was submerged past her waist, joined by her herdkin.

Agitated shuffling snapped her out of her contemplation, and her gaze shot to the opposite shore. Another group of unicorns cautiously entered the area, but the rest of the herd’s reaction was far from welcoming. Pinned ears and bared teeth greeted the interlopers.

“Begone, outcasts,” an elder mare shouted, her tail splashing the water. “You were not called here.”

“Outcasts?” Egoraven studied the group, their horns dull and heads hung low.

“But we were indeed called,” the lead unicorn spoke. “The song of the Otherlands calls to all of us.”

Egoraven snapped out of her gloom. “Why do you call them outcasts?” she asked the mare beside her.

“Do you not recognize them, child?” the mare answered. “Traitors.”

The lead unicorn spoke. “We were pushed out because of Lilith’s treachery. We live in exile at the very edges of the Valley, but we heard the song and had to return.”

Several unicorns began to crowd the group. “Back to your banishment,” they called, trying to force them back out. The outcasts stood their ground, the lead unicorn turning to Egoraven in a silent plea.

“No! Wait!” Egoraven splashed forward, interrupting whatever fight the two groups were planning. “There is to be no bloodshed here. Let them be.” At her command, the unicorns backed off as the outcasts stepped toward the pool. Egoraven drew closer, finally recognizing them—Lilith’s sycophants. Enablers of the bronze queen mare, they helped her become her and her mother’s main tormentor, eventually convincing Lilith to join forces with Prince Rillian and allowing the dragons to take over Edinrahn.

Anger twisted in her gut, but it lasted only a moment. Egoraven knew what exile felt like, but unlike them, she had the chance to experience a whole new life until her return. These outcasts had no such opportunity. It would be so easy to continue their punishment, but enough unicorns had been lost, and Egoraven refused to be responsible for more, no matter how deserving it felt. “I will listen to you,” she finally said.

The lead outcast lowered their horn in deference to her, front hooves barely touching the water. “We came when we realized the song was for Amadaeo. Losing the brother of the great King stallion is a huge loss for our kin, which would never have happened if we weren’t so wrapped up in Lilith’s rage.” They paused, their ears twitching. “Not only have we been separated from the herd, but we also live in constant shame and regret. It binds us to the past, corrupting our immortality. No unicorn was meant to endure such a state.”

Another of the outcasts stepped forward. “Where we thought Lilith was a savior and you were the enemy, we have learned that it was the opposite. That it was you who returned to save the unicorns from the dragons while Lilith literally fed us to them.”

Egoraven flushed at their words. “I admit I’m not sure how much saving I can do, but I am willing to die trying,” she answered.

“We will die by your side if need be,” the lead outcast replied, lowering their horn just above the surface of the water. “We only ask to return to the herd.”

A strange pause stretched, prompting Egoraven to turn to the mare next to her. “Why is no one answering?”

The mare looked at the unicorn woman, puzzled. “Because it is for you to make that decision. Without Alaric, without Lilith, without Blackavar, your magic makes you next in line. What say you, Queen Mare Egoraven?”

Egoraven blanched. “I’m Queen Mare?”

“And we will follow your bidding.” The mare replied matter-of-factly, returning her gaze to the outcasts.

To her surprise, a calm settled over her, the realization that no matter what happened, her birthright was hers and that no one could take it away. All the unicorns in the grove watched and waited. The only thing that didn’t stop was the waterfall, which roared on, just as it had for millennia. To Egoraven, the answer was obvious, and she held out her arms.

“Welcome back into the herd of your kin. Regardless of what may have happened, not one unicorn will ever be left behind. Enter the pool and let Arias wash away your regret, so you can be one with us again.” A great relief broke the tension as Egoraven embraced the unicorns, all celebrating the restoration of an ancient order.

Behind a nearby cluster of reeds, two humans, a horseman and a fox, watched silently from their hiding place in the water. Finishing his own prayer, Johar turned to them and spoke softly. “We should head back. Our clothing should be dry by now.” He waded back, with Morgan following shortly behind, as Desmond and Daniel trailed, reflecting on what they had witnessed.

“I have seen many magical things,” Desmond replied as he toweled himself off. “But that has to be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Daniel dressed quietly, the image of Egoraven—resplendent in the water, claiming her mantle—burned into his memory. “Yes, she is,” he whispered.

The return to camp was reserved and somber. Lanterns dotted the dusk like glass fireflies as elfin friend groups gathered around scattered campfires, sharing drinks and stories before settling in for the night. The sound of the King’s Riders’ bawdy songs could be heard, drawing elves to their end of the encampment. Egoraven knew she should at least check in with them, but after the events of the past several hours, she was uninterested in knightly etiquette. She shook out her blankets and settled them onto the bed, ready to succumb to her exhaustion. A small hand tapped her arm. Morgan looked up at her with reddened eyes. “I miss Amadaeo, too,” he said, clutching her into an awkward hug at her hip.

Tears welled and fell from her cheeks. Dropping to her knees, she held him tightly against her. Another hand gently settled on her back. Her vision blurred, and she recognized Johar lowering to his knees and enveloping them both in his fierce embrace.

Desmond then came up to her. “I wish I could have known Amadaeo better,” he said, offering his own hug, then went back to making his bed. Egoraven let out a ragged sigh, wiping her face with the fur on her wrists.

Stepping out of the tent, she came face-to-face with Daniel. He tried to speak, but nothing came out, his chin trembling. Snatching his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back his tears. He turned away, trying to compose himself. “I—I’m…” He cleared his throat and turned back. “I’m sorry…” he finally got out, bringing her into his arms.

This time, it was the blacksmith’s turn to weep. Egoraven embraced him, burying her face in his neck as he trembled with sobs. She pressed closer, running her fingers through his hair, and his arms tightened around her. Realizing the hug had gone on longer than it should, they awkwardly separated.

Daniel wiped his face, returned his glasses to their perch, and noticed a cool, wet spot just above his collar. He tightened his lips into a small smile. Did she just kiss him?

“Thank you,” Egoraven whispered.

The quiet of the night fell on the meadow. In a pair of side-by-side tents, a blacksmith and a unicorn lay in their beds, not yet ready to surrender to sleep. Egoraven touched the canvas wall of her tent with a golden finger, then closed her eyes. A few feet away, Daniel ran his fingers along the side of his neck, imagining her lips, and slowly drifted off to the scent of roses.

* * *

Steel-gray scales stretched and writhed, glistening with sweat and torchlight. The chapel rumbled with chanting—words decipherable only to the Raikashans surrounding the glowing master sigil carved into the marble before the altar to the Mother Dragon.

Bilakath lay at the center, his body trembling, tail lashing, and his knuckles white from digging his claws into the glowing runes beneath him. Pain wracked his body as he summoned the enchantment to force the transformation that would be the key to his victory—if his body could hold out long enough to survive it.

This time, he could focus his mind on the change. The black unicorn that served as his anchor was missing from the great hall—the ringing of chains and the beast’s tortured whinnies no longer a distraction. The magic the dragons syphoned from the unicorns remained a deep well, yet the Mother Dragon still refused to manifest. But Bilakath was undeterred. He promised his zealots a goddess to rule them all, and he would give them one. He only had to suffer more.

The inky blackness crept through him, twisting and churning as the shift began. The dragon screamed as his limbs stretched, his skin taut and tearing as great wings sprouted from his back. The chanting grew louder, drowning out his torment, the price for harboring what little of Miraon she would deign to give. Scales that shone against the flickering light turned black as shadow, contrasting an underbelly of moonlight. With a roar, the black dragon reared and towered in the chapel, Bilakath engulfed by a creature of neither the heavens nor the earth, its body part mist, as the incense filled the chapel with its acrid balm.

With a great flap of leathery wings, the dragon sailed through the hall’s entrance. Guards along the corridor watched without awe as the shadow flew past until it escaped through deliberately open gates. With a roar that sounded of a looming storm, Bilakath rose to the sky, blotting out stars as he swept over the valley, under the scornful glow of a blood-red moon.