The Luminars were not running; they were tearing through the fabric of the night. Their hooves hit the ground with the speed of a heartbeat, covering miles in mere seconds. The familiar silver gardens of the palace soon dissolved into the rugged, wild beauty of the outer lands.
"Look, Vae!" Azeal shouted, pointing toward a shimmering horizon. "The borders of Lysvaen. My grandparents' kingdom. It takes days for the royal caravan to reach here, yet we've done it before the moon has even moved."
They pulled the reins, the Luminars slowing to a graceful trot. For a moment, they stood at the edge of the world they knew, bathed in the soft glow of their steeds' manes.
"We should turn back, Azeal," Vaelora said, her voice tight with a sudden, unexplainable unease. "The sun will rise soon. We need to be back in our chambers before the first guard changes."
Azeal looked at the vast, open world ahead. The thrill of the speed was still buzzing in his veins. "The night is still young, Vae. Just a little further. Let's see what lies on the other side."
Vaelora wanted to refuse. Every warrior's instinct in her body was screaming to go home. But she looked at Azeal's eager face and sighed. Against her better judgment, she nudged her mare forward.
They rode into the silence.
The landscape began to change. The silver grass turned to grey ash, and the lush trees became twisted, leafless skeletons. They had unknowingly crossed into the desolate fringes of Zhalver.
They stopped at the edge of a jagged cliff. Below them, nestled between barren, black mountains, stood a fortress of shadows. It was a massive, obsidian castle that seemed to swallow the moonlight itself. No birds sang here. The air tasted of iron and ancient hate.
"What is this place?" Azeal whispered, the wonder in his voice replaced by a cold shiver.
Vaelora gripped her reins until her knuckles turned white. "I don't know. But it feels like a grave."
They stared at the dark palace, unaware that they were standing at the doorstep of their greatest enemy, Draeven Zareth. To their luck, the scouts of Zhalver were occupied in the lower pits, and the two silhouettes remained unnoticed against the midnight sky.
"We leave. Now," Vaelora commanded. This time, there was no room for argument.
They turned the Luminars and fled. They rode harder than they ever had, the wind no longer a friend but a cold hand chasing them. By the time the silver spires of Solthera appeared, the first rays of the sun were breaking over the horizon.
As they slipped through the secret entrance and into the main courtyard, the silence they expected wasn't there. The palace was alive. Torches were lit, and the sound of heavy boots echoed everywhere.
They saw King Aetheron and Lord Kaelor standing near the stables, their faces pale and etched with a fury that Azeal had never seen before.
The secret was out. The Prince and the Warrior had returned, but the world they had left behind last night was already gone.