At the Palace's main gate, Zahreen murmured faint incantations before approaching. The massive doors swung open before him, ponderously slow.
One of the guards looked at his comrade in astonishment, then asked Zahreen: "My Lord?... How did the gate open?"
Zahreen offered no reply. He walked silently between them, leaving the Palace without a backward glance.
The first guard whispered to the second: "I think this Palace… is haunted."
The second laughed, shaking his head. "You are a monster, man."
The first responded, annoyed, "Ghosts frighten me, monster or not."
The second slapped his forehead, muttering sarcastically, "By the Gods, how did they make you a guard?"
Zahreen stood in the broad stone courtyard and lifted his gaze to the sky. The moon was half-lit, half-drowned in shadow.
He whispered to himself: "It is done."
But the light fall of footsteps tore through the silence. He did not turn. In a quiet voice, he said: "Raven."
The steps halted.
A heavy moment passed before a trembling voice reached him: "Zahreen…" The voice held a mixture of astonishment, fear, and concern.
Zahreen turned.
It was Raven, his childhood friend, the silent witness to every moment of his vulnerability. Now, his eyes widened in terror as he stared at Zahreen's silver hair, which gleamed under the moonlight.
He took a step closer and whispered: "Your hair… You did it!" His sentence was not an accusation, but a plea that what he saw was not real.
Zahreen nodded slowly, a melancholy smile crossing his lips. "I found what I was searching for."
Raven suddenly lunged, gripping his shoulders violently. "You are mad! This thing… it will destroy you! What have you done to yourself?"
"It is all over, Raven. I have nothing left to lose."
Raven looked at him with troubled eyes. "You are cold, Zahreen. Have you lost your heart as well?"
Zahreen gently touched his friend's shoulder. "No, Raven, but it is no longer naive. It has been forged from the bitterness of trials and learned to be strong."
Raven swallowed, whispering, "Your father… he will kill you for this."
Zahreen merely nodded. "Let him try."
Raven tightened his grip, his eyes burning with resolve. "You will not go alone."
Zahreen looked at him in surprise.
But Raven finished with a jesting tone: "I will not let my reckless friend have all the adventure to himself."
Zahreen gazed at him for a long moment before offering a warm smile. "Do you realize you will be a fugitive because of me?"
Raven laughed, a tired sound full of shared memories. "I always have been, you fool."
A short silence fell. Then Raven said, his gaze direct: "Teach me."
Zahreen's eyes widened. "What?"
Raven smiled with conviction. "Teach me the magic. I want to fight with you, not behind you. I will not be merely a shadow. If you burn, I will burn with you. If you are reborn, let my hand be in yours."
Zahreen chuckled, teasing his friend: "When will I ever be rid of you? Always clinging to me."
He then returned to a serious tone, placing his hand on Raven's chest, directly over his heart. "Magic is not a gift; it is a burden. An unquenchable fire that burns within you every day. It reveals your deepest fears and forces you to live your pain."
Raven replied with a gentle smile: "I do not fear the fire… if you are in it."
Zahreen closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them, pure gratitude in his gaze. "Then… you will come."
He turned toward the distant forest behind the Palace, took a deep breath, and said: "We must go now. My father… he will not be long."
Raven asked in a low voice: "Where to?"
Zahreen smiled, a look of mystery and certainty about it: "To the realm of Men."
With sure steps, he began to walk toward his destiny. Raven followed without hesitation.
Behind them… the horns of the Palace blared across the night.
The Chase had begun.
They dashed into the dark forest that encircled the Royal Palace like a wall of dense shadows. The trees were towering, their interwoven branches blotting out the moonlight. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and sharp pine.
From behind them, the sound of the horns repeated… but now closer, sharper, and more urgent.
The King's soldiers were sent after them.
Zahreen stopped abruptly amid the frenzy, turning to Raven, his eyes alight with gravity. "Be ready… merely escaping will not be enough this time."
The moment gave Raven no chance to question.
From the dark shadows, a group of soldiers emerged from the gloom of the trees, like vengeful specters. Their faces were grim, their eyes like embers, and their footsteps promised blood. The King's personal guard—hunters trained for ruthless killing.
Their leader, tall and heavily armed, stepped forward. "The King's order is clear… return with us willingly, or we will bring you back in pieces. And your friend? His name will not even be mentioned in the Books of Mercy."
Zahreen extended his hand forward, slowly, charged with a hidden energy. His fingers trembled for a moment… then steadied. He opened his palm and began to murmur.
The winds around them shuddered, as if the forest was listening to its rebellious son.
Zahreen opened his eyes, and they glowed with an enchanting, phosphorescent blue.
The leader cried out, realizing the battle was uneven: "Attack!"
The soldiers surged forward, but Zahreen's hand suddenly dropped.
The ground split open before them, and sharp, crystalline blades erupted from it, rising with astonishing speed. They embedded themselves in the soldiers' legs, pinning them without killing them—only preventing their advance.
Raven stood beside him, stunned. "What is that?! This is… beyond description!"
Zahreen replied without turning, his voice confident: "That… is the simplest of my spells. Now, run and do not stop."
They continued to flee, but the hunters did not cease.
More soldiers emerged from the branches, their eyes savage, their weapons gleaming beneath the faint moonlight.
Zahreen stopped again. He raised his hand, tracing three interwoven circles in the air, then thrust his palm forward.
In the next instant, walls of blue light surged, crashing into the soldiers like overwhelming waves, throwing them down one after the other, casting them far away as a storm sweeps away leaves.
Raven gasped behind him: "How do you memorize all this?! How do you control this power?"
Zahreen smiled confidently. They reached the edge of a deep ravine, a dark abyss before them, and death running behind them with heavy steps.
"No path!" Raven cried in distress.
But Zahreen stood at the edge, closed his eyes, and raised his hand to the sky. He muttered—but this time, the words were longer, more complex. A portal appeared beneath the chasm.
The winds intensified.
Zahreen opened his eyes and looked into Raven's. "The realm of Men… is the only place my father will not easily find us."
Raven hesitated for a moment, then grasped his friend's hand, as if entrusting him with his soul. "I am with you."
They leaped together, in unison, into the portal.
The moment they vanished, the hordes of soldiers arrived.
The leader stopped at the edge, his breath ragged, fury boiling in his chest.
He roared: "He is gone!"