Ceremus and Atilla were led to their next destination, with the Chief of the Brotherhood—Kishar—in the lead.
Ceremus clenched his jaw as Kishar launched into yet another long-winded explanation. The longer the king spent with Kishar, the less he liked him. The man had a voice as smooth as polished marble, yet it grated on his nerves like sand against steel. If Orion hadn't been keeping him in check, Ceremus might have found a creative way to silence him permanently.
Perhaps Orion had sensed this—hence why he was more on top of Kishar than usual.
Ceremus couldn't help but wonder how many like Kishar were chosen to lead men. To him, the chief was no better than King Aeson, who used flowery words to get what he wanted. Those were the kind of people Ceremus disliked the most. One didn't need eloquent speech to persuade others to do their bidding. A true leader inspired through action.
Atilla shifted in his saddle, glancing between Kishar and Ceremus. The one-sided conversation was painful, like watching someone pour wine into a cup with a hole at the bottom. He cleared his throat. "So… where exactly is this place where 'the sun doesn't set'?"
The chief turned to the young knight with sparkling eyes. "The place where the sun doesn't set is somewhere you must be guided to. You can't reach it alone," Kishar explained. "The only way there is through permission from our patron goddess—Galatea. I can't tell you much else."
"Just who is this Tiresias that we have to go to such lengths to find him?" Atilla wondered.
"The Elder is a special man. He isn't one of us," Yuri explained.
"Isn't one of us?" Atilla echoed, raising a brow.
Yuri's gaze shifted to Ceremus, and Atilla understood without needing further explanation.
"I see."
The rest nodded in silent agreement as they continued their walk until they reached an overpass, where a bridge connected to the other side. A shiver crawled up Ceremus' spine as he neared the bridge. The very air shimmered like heat rising from stone, though the cold bit into his skin. It was as if something ancient watched from the other side, silent but aware.
He knew instantly that someone of great power awaited their arrival.
Kishar glanced at the two with a sad smile. "I'm afraid this is where we part ways."
"You won't be joining us?" Atilla asked.
Orion shook his head. "We were warned never to enter unless we have a specific purpose. Since we have none, the path won't open for us."
"What happens if you go in anyway?"
"You will be lost, forever wandering the path until death comes to claim you," Kishar said ominously.
Atilla glanced at the bridge warily. Suddenly, the prospect of crossing it didn't seem so appealing.
Ceremus, who had been silent for a while, finally spoke. "What about the Kalamma River? Where will we cross it?"
The chief smiled before pressing a hand to his chest in mock delight. "Be still, my heart! The silent king graces me with words at last. Was it my charm or my sheer persistence that won you over?"
The others let out exasperated sighs as Ceremus stared Kishar down with a deadly smile in return.
His piercing glare made the hairs at the back of his neck stand in attention. Kishar swallowed and let out a nervous laugh. "You know I jest. The river you seek is just up ahead. Once you enter the path beyond the bridge, you will see it. A boat will be waiting for you—if the goddess deems you worthy."
Ceremus nodded and urged his horse forward, crossing the bridge without hesitation. Atilla hesitated for a moment before following.
Kishar inclined his head, an unusual seriousness settling in his gaze. "Farewell, travelers. May the goddess guide your steps... and may you return to tell the tale."
Ceremus remained silent, while Atilla gave a small wave before passing through.
As they rode away, Kishar watched their retreating figures with a bitter smile. "It's a shame he's already claimed. How I would have loved to make such a stubborn man mine," he said longingly.
"Chief, you already have a little wife waiting for you back home," Orion said with displeasure.
"Ah, that little one. He's still angry with me for reasons I cannot fathom."
Orion rolled his eyes. "I certainly can," he muttered under his breath.
~*~
At that same moment, Meliše, who had been expertly following them through the shadows, found herself facing a problem.
Traveling through shadows was already a difficult skill, even for a skilled sorcerer.
Meliše's limbs ached as she pushed forward, her body resisting the unnatural pull of the shadows. Every shift through the darkness felt like wading through a frozen lake, numbing her fingers, slowing her breath. She gritted her teeth. If it weren't for Dicaeus, she wouldn't be in this pathetic state—drained, desperate, forced to crawl through the night like a ghost clinging to its last scraps of existence.
Unfortunately, one had to adhere to the laws of nature when using such abilities. Shadows dictated movement—they could not be conjured from thin air.
Fortunately for Meliše, the current weather allowed her some leeway, but that didn't mean her journey was effortless. The weather was unpredictable, especially during snowstorms. Whenever there was too much light, she was forced to retreat into her own dimension—a task that drained her considerably. She no longer had the magic reserves she once did.
She wanted to curse Dicaeus every time she thought about it. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't have to strain herself like this. Hell, she wouldn't even be in this predicament. Thinking of Dicaeus sent shivers down her spine. At any moment, he could strike her. She had failed her mission, and instead of returning as ordered, she had been taken prisoner.
Perhaps her captivity had been a blessing in disguise. Dicaeus couldn't act freely for fear of alerting Anos to his plans. Once Anos got involved, no one was safe.
For a while, things had been going well. Meliše had managed to follow them to the shop, to the inn, and even through their encounters with the mountain bandits. But now, they had reached a bridge leading to another goddess's domain—Galatea, the goddess of guidance.
Galatea famously did not get along with Dianae, and since Meliše was directly connected to Dianae, she knew she could not enter. Her purpose for being here was too dubious.
Meliše had no choice but to take a step back and wait for their return. Exhausted from moving through shadows and dimensions, she stepped out of the spiritual realm and onto solid ground for the first time since her journey began.
As Kishar and his men made their way back, they encountered a lone woman walking through the snow. The chief squinted, unsure of what he was seeing, until she drew closer.
Kishar's breath nearly caught in his throat at the sight of her.
Orion, however, was already rolling his eyes. "Great. More trouble."