The night was thick with mist as Nimara, Fearyn, Darian, and Jace slipped beyond the city walls, vanishing into the dense woods. Moonlight filtered weakly through the canopy, casting strange, elongated shadows across the forest floor. The air was damp, the scent of moss and rotting leaves clinging to them as they pressed forward, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the Magistrate's reach.
"Careful," Nimara whispered, grabbing Fearyn's arm as the elf nearly stumbled over a protruding root. "The ground's treacherous here."
"I can see that," Fearyn hissed back, yanking her arm free. Her eyes, reflective in the dim light like a predator's, scanned the undergrowth ahead. "We need to move faster. The Magistrate's hunters will be on our trail by dawn."
Behind them, Jace coughed weakly, doubling over. Darian's arm tightened around his companion's waist, supporting his weight.
"He's not going to make it much further," Darian said, his deep voice laced with concern. "The wounds are too deep."
Jace was still weak, his breath ragged as Darian half-carried him, supporting his weight with each step. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandages, a dark stain spreading across his tunic. His skin was ghostly pale in the moonlight, eyes glazed with pain.
"I'm fine," Jace protested through gritted teeth, though he winced with every step. "Just a flesh wound."
"Bullshit," Nimara muttered, falling back to examine him. She pressed a hand against his forehead, frowning at the heat radiating from his skin. "He's burning up. Fearyn, couldn't you do more for him?"
Fearyn's shoulders tensed. "I've done what I can. My healing abilities aren't unlimited, you know." She turned, her expression softening as she took in Jace's condition. "But you're right. We need shelter, somewhere I can work on him properly."
"I said I'm fine," Jace insisted, attempting to stand straighter before a spasm of pain made him double over again, a string of colorful curses spilling from his lips.
"Sure you are," Darian said dryly, adjusting his grip to better support the wounded man. "And I'm the fucking Emperor of Xyrelia."
Nimara sighed, scanning the dense trees ahead. "Let's just keep moving. There has to be something—"
It wasn't long before they stumbled upon an old, forgotten farmhouse, long abandoned and nearly swallowed by the forest. The roof sagged in places, the wooden beams splintered with age, but it would do. Vines crawled up the stone walls, nature reclaiming what man had abandoned. A broken fence encircled what had once been a garden, now overgrown with weeds and wildflowers.
"There," Nimara whispered, pointing toward the structure. "It looks abandoned."
Fearyn's hand moved to the blade at her hip. "Or it looks like the perfect place for an ambush."
"We don't have much choice," Darian replied, Jace's weight growing heavier against him. "He needs rest, and we all need cover."
Fearyn hesitated, then nodded. "I'll go first. Keep him back until I signal."
With the grace of a predator, she moved ahead, sliding between the shadows until she reached the door of the farmhouse. She pressed her ear against the weathered wood, listening for any sounds of life within. After a long moment, she tried the handle. The door creaked open, hinges protesting after years of disuse.
Fearyn disappeared inside, the darkness swallowing her slender form. The others waited, tension building with each passing second. Finally, her face appeared in the doorway.
"It's clear," she called softly. "But it's not exactly the Grand Palace."
They slipped inside, shutting the door behind them. The interior was a single large room, dusty and filled with cobwebs. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, cold ashes still in the hearth. A rickety table and two chairs stood in one corner, and the remains of a cot were pushed against the far wall.
Nimara guided Jace to the dusty remains of the cot, helping him settle. His skin was pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air. He groaned as he lay back, eyes shut tight against the pain.
"Thanks, gorgeous," he murmured, attempting a smile that came out more as a grimace. "Always knew you'd get me into bed someday."
Nimara rolled her eyes, but there was worry behind her exasperation. "Shut up and save your strength." She turned to Fearyn. "Can you do anything more for him?"
Fearyn was already kneeling beside the cot, her slender fingers unwrapping the blood-soaked bandages. She sucked in a sharp breath as the wound was revealed—a deep gash that ran across Jace's ribs, the flesh around it an angry red.
"Varos blades," she muttered. "Designed to cause maximum pain and resist healing magic." She looked up at Nimara. "I need clean water, and check if there are any herbs growing outside. Thornroot or silverleaf would be ideal."
"I'll look for water," Darian said, already heading for the door. "There might be a well somewhere on the property."
Nimara sighed, reaching into her satchel, pulling out Beeps. The small mechanical creature let out a weak, strained chirp before going still, its power source nearly drained. She turned him over in her hands, inspecting his inner mechanisms. The crystal that powered him—a Xyrelian Core—was flickering weakly, barely holding a charge.
"What's wrong with the little metal rat?" Fearyn asked, her hands glowing faintly as she placed them over Jace's wound.
"He's dying," Nimara answered flatly. "Just like the rest of us will be if the Magistrate's hunters find us."
She muttered under her breath, voice tight with frustration. "I don't have any spares... I don't have anything..." She pressed her lips together and set Beeps on the table. Reaching for her welder, she tried to make repairs where she could, but it was no use. The core was failing, and without a replacement, Beeps would soon be nothing more than an ornate paperweight.
Darian returned with a bucket of murky water. "Well's still working, but it hasn't been cleaned in years."
"It'll have to do," Fearyn said, taking the bucket. She dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning Jace's wound. He hissed in pain, muscles tensing.
"Easy," she murmured. "I know it hurts."
"No shit," Jace ground out. "Maybe next time warn a guy before you start scrubbing his insides."
Fearyn's lips quirked upward. "Where's the fun in that?"
Nimara watched them from the table, her fingers still working on Beeps' mechanisms even as her mind drifted elsewhere. The events of the past day played through her mind on a loop
Why were they after her? What could they possibly want with a backstreet mechanic who barely made enough to cover rent?
Behind her, Fearyn closed the farmhouse door with a heavy wooden beam and exhaled. "Alright, we weren't followed. I checked the perimeter. No signs of pursuit... yet." She walked toward Nimara cautiously. "Is he going to be okay?"
Nimara didn't answer. She was staring at Beeps, jaw clenched, fingers tightening into fists. The little mechanical companion had been with her for years, her only consistent friend in a world that had taken everything else from her.
Then, she murmured, "This is all your fault."
Fearyn frowned. "What was that?"
Nimara slammed her hands against the table, making Beeps let out a weak, pitiful chirp.
"This is all your fucking fault!" she yelled, spinning toward Fearyn, rage flashing in her eyes. "You almost got him killed. You almost killed the only real friend I had—because of you!"
Fearyn flinched but didn't look away. Her face remained impassive, but something flickered in her eyes—guilt, perhaps, or sorrow. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Nimara spat the word like poison. "Sorry doesn't fix what's broken. Sorry doesn't stop the Magistrate from hunting us. Sorry doesn't heal Jace or fix Beeps!"
Fearyn reached out, attempting to place a hand on Nimara's shoulder. "Nimara, I—"
Nimara pushed her hand away when she tried to reach out. "Don't fucking touch me! We all almost died. And I don't know what's going on!" She took a step closer, glaring. "Tell me. Right now. What the fuck is happening? Why are they really after me? And why the fuck do you know my mother?"
The room fell into silence, tension thick as smoke. Darian had stopped his pacing, watching the confrontation with wary eyes. Even Jace, despite his injuries, had pushed himself up slightly on his elbows, his face grave.
"Nimara," Fearyn began, her voice soft but firm. "It's complicated—"
"Then uncomplicate it," Nimara interrupted. "No more secrets. No more half-truths. I want to know everything."
Jace, weak but determined, slowly sat up, groaning from the pain in his ribs. The bandages across his torso were already stained with fresh blood, but his eyes were clear as he looked at Nimara.
"She's right," he said, his voice strained but resolute. "She deserves to know." He looked at Nimara, his expression tired yet serious. "Nimara... we are the Veilborn."
The name cut through the air like a blade. Nimara felt her breath catch in her throat, the weight of those words pressing down on her chest.
"The Veilborn?" she echoed, disbelief coloring her voice. "You mean the secret society from the old legends? The ones who supposedly guard the boundary between worlds?" She shook her head. "That's just a myth, a bedtime story parents tell children."
"It's no myth," Jace continued, wincing as he shifted position. "We work for them. They work with your mother."
He winced, pressing a hand to his abdomen before continuing. "She sought their help to find the city of Aeloria. A city that—according to history—no longer exists."
Fearyn took over, her voice softer. "All that remains are rumors... whispers of an ancient Elven city, lost to time. Its people... extinct."
She hesitated, then met Nimara's eyes. "But your mother... she found something. An old scripture. It told a story of a great war—one wiped from the historical records. A time forgotten by the world."
Nimara stood frozen, her mind racing to process what she was hearing. "My mother disappeared five years ago," she said slowly. "Everyone told me she was dead. That she'd ventured into the Deadlands and never returned. And now you're telling me she's working with some secret society to find a lost city?"
Her voice rose with each word, anger and confusion building. "Why? What could possibly be so important about a city that doesn't exist anymore?"
Nimara opened her mouth to fire back, but before she could, Jace groaned and spoke first.
"I know—ahhh." He winced, pain cutting through his words. "This isn't the answer you wanted, but we're just as lost as you are. We don't know why they fear you... what makes you so—fuck." He gritted his teeth, clutching his side.
Darian stepped forward, brow furrowed. "Jace, don't push yourself."
"I'm fine," Jace shot back, though the strain in his voice said otherwise. "All I'm saying is... we don't know what's going on. But we do know where to get answers."
He exhaled shakily. "We need to reach Dûm Karath."
The name hung in the air, heavy with significance. Nimara had heard of it—the mountain city, shrouded in perpetual fog, where outcasts and exiles gathered, where the rules of the Magistrate held no sway.
"It's where we'll find the Veilborn." Jace took a slow, careful breath. "But it's on the other side of the continent... past the borders of Aeloria."
"Which means it won't be easy," Fearyn cut in, her expression tense. "It's far. Too far to travel on foot. We're going to have to steal a Skybreaker if we want to make it in time."
Nimara arched a brow. "A Skybreaker? You're talking about hijacking one of those Magistrate ships? Are you insane?"
Fearyn crossed her arms. "Unless you've got a better plan to get us across the continent before the Magistrate tracks us down?"
Silence fell over the room, each of them acutely aware of the impossible task that lay before them. Stealing a Skybreaker wasn't just difficult—it was a death sentence if they were caught.
Nimara ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the tangled strands in frustration. "Even if we somehow managed to steal one of those ships without getting ourselves killed, do any of you actually know how to fly it?"
A smirk spread across Jace's face despite his pain. "You're looking at the best pilot this side of the Shattered Sea." At Nimara's skeptical look, he added, "What? You think I've always been a pretty face on the run? I've flown everything from cargo shuttles to military-grade warships."
"He's not lying," Darian confirmed reluctantly. "For once."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Jace muttered.
Nimara looked between them, doubt written across her features. "And what about the rest of us? We're not exactly inconspicuous. I've got a bounty on my head, Fearyn is—" she gestured vaguely at the elf, "—well, an elf, which isn't exactly common in Magistrate territory, and you two are clearly not model citizens."
"We've managed this far," Fearyn pointed out. "Besides, the docks are always crowded. It's the perfect place to blend in."
Jace leaned back, exhaustion weighing on him. "We'll need to reach Blackmoor Docks first. That's where they dock the Skybreakers before they depart over the sea. If we get there, we might even find the parts you need for Beeps."
Nimara glanced at the small mechanical creature on the table, its light flickering weakly like a candle in the wind. She'd built Beeps herself, piece by piece, salvaging parts from the junkyard and infusing the little bot with a personality all its own. The thought of losing it was another weight on her already heavy heart.
She let out a slow breath and glanced back at Beeps, his dim core flickering weakly. She pressed a hand against his metal casing and sighed.
"Fine."
She sat back down, picking up her welder again and continuing to tinker with Beeps. The familiar motion was calming, giving her hands something to do while her mind processed everything she'd just learned.
Fearyn exhaled in relief before turning back to Jace. Without another word, she sat beside him and placed her hands over his wounds, her fingers glowing faintly as she worked to heal him faster.
"This will hurt," she warned, her eyes meeting his.
Jace managed a weak grin. "I like it when you're rough with me."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide the smile that tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."
"Yet here you are, saving my life again." His voice was softer now, almost serious.
Fearyn's gaze lingered on his for a moment longer than necessary before she looked away, focusing on the task at hand. "Don't read too much into it."
Darian stretched and rubbed his arms against the cold night air. "Alright, I'll get a fire going. It's freezing in here."
He moved to gather wood from the broken remains of the farmhouse, the sound of splintering furniture crackling in the silence. Nimara watched him work, his massive frame dwarfing the small room as he moved with surprising gentleness, arranging the wood in the ancient hearth.
"You're worried about him," Fearyn observed quietly, nodding toward Jace, who had finally fallen into a fitful sleep.
Nimara didn't look up from Beeps. "I'm worried about all of us."
"He's stronger than he looks," Fearyn assured her. "And stubborn as hell. He'll pull through."
Nimara's fingers stilled. "And what if the next wound is worse? What if next time, your magic isn't enough?" She finally met Fearyn's gaze. "We're not invincible, Fearyn. We're just people, caught in something bigger than ourselves."
Fearyn's expression softened. "I know. But that's why we need to reach Dûm Karath. The Veilborn have answers that we need—answers about your mother, about why the Magistrate wants you so badly."
"And what if they don't?" Nimara challenged. "What if we risk everything to get there, only to find more questions?"
Fearyn's gaze was steady. "Then at least we tried."
As the others settled in—licking their wounds, bracing themselves for what came next—Nimara found herself staring into the flames of the newly lit fire, watching the shadows dance across the walls of the abandoned farmhouse. Her life had been upended in a matter of hours, everything she thought she knew about herself and her mother thrown into question.
The journey ahead would only get more dangerous. But for now, they had shelter, they had each other, and they had a plan—no matter how desperate it might be.
Nimara looked at the faces of her companions—Jace, finally resting, his features relaxed in sleep; Fearyn, watchful and alert by the window; Darian, steady and reliable as he kept the fire burning. Strangers just days ago, now the only people standing between her and whatever fate the Magistrate had planned.
She didn't know if she could trust them fully, but she had little choice. The past was a mystery, the future uncertain, but for now, survival was all that mattered.
The night deepened, and one by one, they succumbed to exhaustion, sleep claiming them despite the dangers that lurked beyond the walls of their temporary sanctuary
A New Day, A New Challenge
A dull thunk against Nimara's forehead jolted her awake.
Thunk. Thunk.
She blinked groggily and looked up to see Beeps hovering unevenly above her, his small metal frame swaying stiffly in circles. The morning light streamed through the cracks in the roof, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air around them.
"Hey, little guy," she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "You feeling better?"
Beeps let out a low hum, his movements jerky and unsteady as he continued his slow, wobbly rotation. The new crystal she'd installed was working, but barely—not enough power to maintain his usual agility.
Nimara sighed, reaching up to trace a finger along his dented chassis. "Yeah, I know. It's not my best work."
Beeps nudged against her palm, his core pulsing weakly. The little machine had been her constant companion for years, a creation born from loneliness and genius in equal measure. She'd programmed him to be independent, but there was something about his presence that always seemed more alive than mere code should allow.
She smirked. "Great. I guess I built a cat."
A quiet chuckle escaped her lips just as Fearyn's voice rang from across the room.
"You're awake."
Nimara looked over to see Fearyn leaning against the battered old counter, arms crossed, her eyes flicking toward the crackling Emberburn Stove in the corner. The elven woman looked like she hadn't slept, dark circles beneath her eyes, but her posture remained alert, watchful.
"Looks like this shithole still has a working stove," Fearyn said, motioning toward the faintly glowing runes carved into the metal. "So, I made breakfast. We leave in a few hours."
Nimara sat up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested after a night spent on the hard floor. She glanced around the small room, noting that Jace was still asleep on the cot, his chest rising and falling steadily, while Darian was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the big guy?" she asked, standing and stretching with a grimace.
"Scouting," Fearyn replied, turning to stir something in a pot on the stove. "Making sure our trail's still cold."
Nimara nodded, moving closer to inspect whatever Fearyn was cooking. The scent that rose from the pot was surprisingly pleasant—herbs and some kind of grain, maybe oats. "Where did you find food?"
Fearyn gestured toward the window. "There's a garden out back. Most of it's overgrown, but I found some herbs and hardy vegetables. The previous owners left dry goods in a cellar beneath the floorboards."
Nimara raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."
"Basic survival," Fearyn corrected, her tone matter-of-fact. "Something you might want to learn if we're going to make it to Dûm Karath alive."
The jab stung, but Nimara bit back a retort. Instead, she asked, "Where are the others?"
Fearyn gestured toward the door. "They went to—well, steal some supplies for the trip to Blackmoor Docks."
Nimara frowned. "When will they be back?"
"Not long now."
Silence stretched between them, awkward and heavy with unspoken tension. Nimara absently stroked Beeps, who had settled against her shoulder, his core humming weakly.
Finally, Nimara muttered, "I'm sorry about last night. It wasn't fair to you."
Fearyn sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "You were angry. And scared. I understand." She turned, her violet eyes meeting Nimara's. "But if we're going to survive this, we need to trust each other. At least a little."
"Trust is earned," Nimara replied, but there was less bite to her words than before.
Before Fearyn could answer, the door creaked open.
"Speaking of the devils," she said with a smirk.
Darian and Jace stepped inside, both carrying sacks of supplies. Jace, still moving stiffly, let out a dry chuckle when he saw Nimara.
"Ahhh, welcome back to the world of the living," he said, flashing her a grin. His face was pale, but some color had returned to his cheeks, and he stood straighter than the night before, clearly benefiting from Fearyn's healing magic.
Nimara arched a brow. "You look better."
Jace smirked, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. "Of course. It'll take more than that to kill me." He winked, the gesture somehow both arrogant and charming. "I'm too pretty to die young."
Before he could say more, Darian clapped a hand against the back of Jace's head.
"Hey!" Jace yelped, rubbing the spot. "I was joking, jeez. No need for violence, you brute."
Darian's expression remained stoic, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Careful. Your wounds could reopen if your head swells any larger."
Fearyn rolled her eyes at their banter and asked, "So, what did you get?"
Darian dumped the supplies onto the table with a sigh. "Not much, but enough to get us by. The city's on high alert. Our faces are plastered all over the Echo Shards."
Nimara stiffened. "Echo Shards?"
Echo Shards were magical devices used by the Magistrate for public announcements and wanted posters—crystalline fragments that projected images and messages throughout the city. If their faces were on the Echo Shards, there was nowhere in the city they could hide.
Jace nodded. "Yeah. You know, those fancy floating wanted posters? Apparently, we're very popular right now." Despite his light tone, his eyes were serious. "The Magistrate's putting everything they have into finding us."
Darian folded his arms. "And there's a 5,000 gold bounty on your head, Nimara."
A heavy silence filled the room. Five thousand gold was more money than most people saw in a lifetime—enough to tempt even the most honest citizen into turning them in.
Nimara exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "Well... shit."
Jace let out a low whistle. "That's actually impressive. What did you do to piss them off so badly?"
"I have no idea," Nimara replied, anxiety curling in her stomach. "I'm just a mechanic. I fix things, I build little gadgets like Beeps. I'm nobody."
"Clearly, the Magistrate disagrees," Fearyn murmured, her expression thoughtful. "Whatever your mother discovered, it must be significant."
"My mother disappeared years ago," Nimara reminded her. "Why come after me now?"
Fearyn and Jace exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them.
"What?" Nimara demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"
Jace sighed, wincing as he lowered himself into a chair. "Your mother resurfaced recently. She was seen in the Outer Territories, near the borders of the old Elven lands."
Nimara felt her heart skip a beat. "She's alive? You're sure?"
"The reports are reliable," Darian confirmed. "A woman matching her description, asking questions about Aeloria and the Veilborn."
"And then, three days later, the Magistrate put a bounty on your head" Fearyn added. "It's not a coincidence, Nimara."
Nimara's mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information. Her mother, alive after all these years. The Veilborn. Aeloria. The Magistrate's sudden interest in a backstreet mechanic with no political connections or criminal history.
"We need to move," Darian said, breaking the tense silence. "The longer we stay in one place, the more dangerous it becomes."
Fearyn nodded, already gathering the few possessions they had. "Blackmoor Docks is a day's journey from here, if we move quickly and stick to the forest paths."
"And how exactly are we supposed to steal a Skybreaker?" Nimara asked, still struggling to wrap her head around their audacious plan. "Those ships are heavily guarded. The Magistrate doesn't just leave them lying around for anyone to take."
Jace grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Leave that to me and Darian. We've got a plan."
"A plan?" Nimara echoed skeptically. "Care to share with the rest of us?"
"It's better if you don't know the details," Fearyn interjected. "If something goes wrong—"
"If something goes wrong, we're all dead anyway," Nimara cut in, irritation flaring. "I'm not walking into this blind."
Jace and Fearyn exchanged another look before Jace sighed. "Fine. The plan is simple. Darian and I create a distraction—something big, something that draws the guards away from the docks. While they're busy with that, you and Fearyn slip aboard one of the smaller Skybreakers. I join you, get the engines running, and we're gone before they realize what's happening."
Nimara stared at him. "That's your plan? Create a distraction and hope for the best?"
Jace shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. "Sometimes the simplest plans are the most effective. Besides, Darian and I are very good at causing trouble."
"It's true," Darian confirmed solemnly. "It's one of his few talents."
"Hey!" Jace protested, before a grin spread across his face. "Though I can't really argue with that assessment."
Fearyn stepped between them, her expression serious. "We need to focus. Gather your things. We leave in fifteen minutes."
As they prepared to depart, Nimara found herself at the table once more, carefully placing Beeps into her satchel. The little bot chirped weakly, its core flickering.
"Hang in there, little guy," she murmured. "We'll get you fixed up properly once we reach the docks."
Jace appeared beside her, his movements still cautious but more fluid than before. "He'll be alright. He's got you looking after him, doesn't he?"
Nimara glanced up, surprised by the genuine warmth in his voice. "I suppose so."
"Look, I know this is all happening fast," Jace said, his usual bravado softened. "And I know you're scared. You have every right to be. But you're not alone in this, Nimara. We're with you, whatever happens."
Nimara studied him, searching for any sign of deception in his eyes and finding none. "Why? Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"
Jace's smile turned rueful. "Would you believe me if I said it was the right thing to do?"
"No," Nimara replied bluntly.
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Fair enough. Let's just say we all have our reasons for wanting to find your mother and the Veilborn. And for now, those reasons align with keeping you alive."
Before Nimara could press further, Fearyn called from the doorway. "Time to go."
They slipped out of the farmhouse and back into the forest, the morning sun filtering through the canopy above. The air was crisp, birds singing in the branches overhead, nature indifferent to the human drama unfolding beneath its watchful gaze.
As they moved deeper into the woods, Nimara found herself wondering what awaited them at Blackmoor Docks—and beyond, in the fabled city of Dûm Karath. Her mother was alive, somewhere out there, searching for a lost city from legend. The Magistrate was hunting her with unprecedented intensity. And these three strangers—Fearyn, Jace, and Darian—were her only allies in a world that had suddenly become far more dangerous and complex than she'd ever imagined.
The road ahead was uncertain, fraught with peril. But for the first time in years, she felt a flicker of hope.
Her mother was alive. And Nimara was going to find her, no matter what stood in her way.