The path to Dravemont wound through thinning trees and sun-dappled clearings, the forest quieter here—less dense, less alive. Kaelthar walked in a steady rhythm. His quarterstaff tapped gently against the dirt, his free hand adjusting the straps of his pack. Above him, birds occasionally shifted in the branches—but otherwise, all was still.

  Neeko perched comfortably on his shoulder, one paw curled around a leather strap, the other idly brushing a lock of Kaelthar’s black-and-white-streaked hair aside. The silence between them had lasted nearly an hour.

  Naturally, Neeko couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Soooo…” he began, tail flicking. “What’s your favorite food? Or your favorite color? Oh! Are you actually a dragon? Do you have wings? What’s your favorite color? Did I ask that already?”

  Kaelthar blinked slowly. “You did.”

  “Well, you didn’t answer the first time, so really, it doesn’t count.”

  The dragonborn said nothing at first, just kept walking. His gaze remained fixed forward, his expression unreadable.

  “Black,” Kaelthar said at last.

  Neeko tilted his head. “That’s your favorite color? That’s kind of dramatic.”

  “It’s efficient,” Kaelthar replied. “It absorbs heat. Conceals movement. Requires no dye.”

  Neeko blinked. “You think like a shadow.” Kaelthar’s mouth twitched—maybe amusement. Maybe not.

  “And food?” Neeko pressed.

  “Mushroom broth. Root-seasoned. Hot.”

  “Wow,” Neeko said with mock gravity, “you are a party.”

  A quiet beat passed before Kaelthar added, just under his breath, “And blood oranges.”

  Neeko sat up straighter, his ears perking. “Wait, what?” Kaelthar didn’t repeat himself. “You do have a favorite.” Another silence.

  Then Kaelthar turned his head slightly toward Neeko. “You talk to keep the silence away.” Neeko’s tail curled inward a little, fidgeting with the strap on Kaelthar’s pack.

  “And you don’t talk enough,” Neeko mumbled. “But I like your shoulder.”

  Kaelthar nodded once, accepting the truce.

  As they rounded a bend in the trail, the trees parted slightly ahead, revealing the faint outline of stone structures in the distance—Dravemont, still several miles off, half-shrouded in haze. The air shifted. Kaelthar slowed, his eyes narrowing.

  Neeko stiffened on his shoulder, nose twitching. “…do you smell that?”

  “Ash,” Kaelthar said simply. It was not fresh, but recent enough to linger. He reached back, tightening the strap of his staff, and continued walking—his pace unchanged, but his posture sharpened. The lightness between them faded, but the bond had deepened.

  And Dravemont waited.

  * * *

  The path to Dravemont was well-trodden, bordered by wildflowers and tall grasses that swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze.

  Kaelthar walked with unhurried confidence, the weight of his staff balanced effortlessly on one shoulder. Neeko perched atop the other, his small form half-hidden against the Dragonborn’s dark armor—though his constant motion gave him away.

  Neeko continued swinging his legs, cheerful as they continued. Sure, they had come here with a task to be completed, but it appeared that the odd little creature still enjoyed all the little joys that came with traveling.

  “This is exciting,” he beamed. “A little adventure. Maybe we’ll find something shiny.”

  Kaelthar’s golden eyes flicked toward him briefly, then back to the trail. “We are here for the boy. Not trinkets.”

  Neeko huffed with a grin. “Who’s to say we can’t find both?”

  It wasn’t long before they finally made it to the town itself. Dravemont pulsed with midday life. Narrow cobbled streets were crowded with vendors hawking produce, cloth, charms, and more. The scent of spices and smoke from the fire lingered in the air. As Kaelthar stepped into the market, the crowd parted instinctively—some out of caution, others out of awe. His presence was hard to ignore.

  Neeko, however, drew curious glances, whispers, and cautious stares.

  Vendors eyed him suspiciously, as if they could somehow sense his tendency to steal things. “What kind of creature is that?” one of them asked.

  Neeko grinned, waving. “The friendly kind! I bite only when provoked.”

  Kaelthar reached back, one large hand gently pulling Neeko away by the scruff of his hood. “We’re not here to perform,” he reminded him firmly.

  Neeko grinned over his shoulder. “Speak for yourself.”

  Kaelthar, meanwhile, had fallen silent, lost deep in thought. In a city this large with crowded streets and unfamiliar faces, it was hard to know where to begin. One wrong question posed to the wrong person could land him and Neeko in trouble, and that was the last thing Kaelthar wanted. He needed to move quickly and quietly, find the boy, and return to the forest. It was simple in theory, but far harder in practice.

  As he searched the square, his gaze settled on a woman tending a small fruit stand. She wore a warm smile, her hair neatly braided, and her stall was bright with apples and oranges stacked in tidy rows. Children came and went, curious eyes drawn in by the colors and the smell. That alone wasn’t surprising.

  What surprising was that the woman handed out some of the fruit for free.

  A small kindness in a place like this said much about her nature. If anyone would speak honestly—or notice a frightened child—it would likely be her.

  Neeko hopped off Kaelthar’s shoulder and darted into the maze of nearby stalls, chattering excitedly as Kaelthar stepped forward toward the fruit stall. The woman glanced up, visibly startled by his towering presence, but her expression stayed warm.

  “How can I help you?” she asked cheerfully. “I have apples, oranges, and—”

  “I’m not here for the fruit,” Kaelthar said gently, cutting her off. “I’ve seen many children gather around your stall—likely because of your generosity. I was wondering if a boy named Elrin has been here.”

  The woman’s smile faltered with thought. “I don’t know all of their names … but I don’t think so. If I do see him, should I tell him you’re looking for him?”

  Kaelthar shook his head immediately. That would only drive the boy further into hiding. “No. But thank you for your kindness.”

  He dipped his head respectfully before stepping back from the stall, eyes scanning the crowd once more as he searched for Neeko. He found him jumping from stall to stall, eyes wide, tail twitching with delight. At one booth, he paused—eyes locking onto a sparkling blue crystal. He reached out.

  The jeweler slapped his paw away. “Hey! Hands off unless you’re buying!”

  “I wasn’t stealing! I was admiring! Admiration is free, right?”

  Before the man could argue, Kaelthar stepped into his shadow, gaze unreadable. They didn’t have the time for any of this. “He’s under control,” he assured the jeweler.

  “I’m never under control,” Neeko corrected. Kaelthar gave him one look that proved otherwise. “No luck with asking about Elrin, I assume?”

  Kaelthar shook his head, but no words followed. There was nothing more to say. Instead, he and Neeko pressed on, weaving through the crowded marketplace. Stall after stall, they approached merchants and passersby, repeating the same question—had anyone seen a boy named Elrin? And stall after stall, they received the same answer. Blank looks, polite confusion, and nothing but shrugs.

  It was as if the boy had never existed at all.

  By the time they reached the far end of the market square, Kaelthar’s jaw had tightened, and Neeko’s tail drooped with frustration. At last, the small creature looked up at the dragonborn, his big eyes filled with an unusual seriousness.

  “Maybe we should leave the marketplace,” Neeko suggested quietly. “Try the streets instead? The alleys? Children hide better than grown-ups think.”

  Kaelthar considered this, then gave a single, firm nod. “Agreed.”

  But as they moved toward the edge of the market, the path forward came to an abrupt halt. A group of rough-looking men stood across the narrow road with broad shoulders, heavy boots, and grim expressions. Their clothing was worn, marked by dirt and old fights, and several of them had hands resting near their belts, where blades hung in plain sight. It was clear that they weren’t shopping or passing through. They were blocking the way.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  One of the men stepped forward. His expression was carved into a scowl, and his clothes hung unevenly off his frame, torn at the sleeves and frayed at the edges, marked by dirt and old blood. Jagged scars ran down the side of his face, pale against his weathered skin. He cracked his knuckles slowly as he moved closer, sizing Kaelthar up with a look that made his intentions painfully clear. “What do we have here?” the man sneered. “A big lizard… and his little pet.”

  Kaelthar halted immediately, his gaze locking onto the man. “Move,” he said. “We have no quarrel with you.”

  The leader let out a low, mocking laugh. “Oh, but we’ve got one with . That little fey of yours is worth something. Folks pay good coin for creatures like him.”

  Neeko’s ears twitched sharply. He dropped from Kaelthar’s shoulder and landed lightly on the dirt, a faint glow building in his eyes.

  “I’m not a trinket,” Neeko snapped, his tiny body bristling with defiance. Kaelthar lifted an arm in front of him without breaking eye contact with the men.

  “Stay behind me,” the dragonborn warned.

  The leader lunged with a knife held low, trying to aim for Kaelthar’s ribs. He was fast, but Kaelthar was faster. The dragonborn stepped in instead of back, catching the man’s wrist mid-strike. A single twist forced the knife free. The leader gasped, his hand spasming, and Kaelthar shoved him aside with a sharp strike to the chest that sent him staggering to the dirt.

  The second man rushed in from the left, swinging a thick wooden club meant to take Kaelthar’s head clean off. Kaelthar pivoted and swept his heavy tail low across the ground. The man’s legs flew out from under him, the club spinning from his grip as he crashed onto his back with a grunt of pain.

  The third man—a leaner figure with quick steps—tried to circle the two of them, aiming for Neeko. He lunged, fingers reaching to grab the small fey like he might snatch a stray coin. But Neeko was already gone in a flicker of motion, leaping backward and snapping his fingers.

  A burst of sharp wind spiraled out, sweeping the man’s feet from under him. Before he could recover, Neeko launched a glittering orb of energy straight at his chest. It hummed as it struck him, knocking him flat with a shocked yelp.

  Only the fourth man remained. He was another bald, scarred brute who took a single step toward Kaelthar and then froze. His eyes darted from the fallen men to the dragonborn’s unbroken stance, almost as if he had just then realized the skill that the dragonborn possessed. He turned and ran.

  The entire scuffle lasted only a few moments. Kaelthar exhaled slowly, returning to stillness, while Neeko hopped back to his side with a huff, tail raised triumphantly. He let out a slight grin. “See? Adventure and entertainment.”

  Kaelthar said nothing, but the corner of his mouth lifted. Just a fraction.

  Finally, they could go on their way. Kaelthar and Neeko moved toward the outer edge of the village, away from the chatter of vendors and into a quieter part of town—where the buildings were crooked with age, and the alleys narrowed into soft corridors of shade and ivy.

  The smell of earth and damp wood clung to the air. Neeko was quiet for once. He sat cross-legged atop Kaelthar’s pack now, tail wrapped loosely around one strap. His usual chatter was absent, eyes sweeping over the rooftops and shadows with something between curiosity and suspicion.

  “This place feels... pinched,” Neeko finally muttered.

  Kaelthar gave a small nod. His gaze lingered on a shuttered window—too tightly closed for the mild weather. “Something hides here.”

  “Do you think the boy is hiding, too?”

  “Perhaps. Or he’s being hidden.”

  They turned down a narrow alley, where the moss had begun to creep over cobblestones and old rain barrels overflowed with murky water. A small wooden shrine stood there—tucked between two leaning buildings, its paint faded, its offerings long since weathered.

  A cluster of small, handmade trinkets hung beneath the archway—tiny bundles of herbs, broken buttons, charms woven from dried grass. Neeko slid down from Kaelthar’s shoulder, drawn to one in particular.

  “Look at this …” he murmured. He held up a charm: three strands of ivy wrapped around a stone, bound by a blue thread.

  Kaelthar’s brow furrowed. “I’ve seen this before.”

  “I’ve seen Ivy tie these,” Neeko said, voice softer now. “For protection. When she met children in the forest.” He turned the charm over. Scratched into the underside of the stone was a single word, almost faded from rain and time. . Kaelthar and Neeko seemed to both share the same thought—was it possible that Ivy had come across this boy before, without even knowing it?

  Kaelthar’s eyes narrowed. “It was left here for someone.”

  “Or by someone,” Neeko whispered.

  Behind them, a door creaked open. An older woman peered out from a crooked frame. Her eyes were rimmed red, her hair bound in a loose braid streaked with white.

  “You’re not from here,” she said flatly. “What do you want?”

  Kaelthar turned toward her. “We seek a boy. Elrin.” He raised the charm that had his name on it. The woman’s jaw tightened.

  “No one by that name lives here.”

  “But he did,” Neeko offered, lifting the charm, as if to point out that the woman had been lying. Her lip quivered, and she drew in a sharp breath, as if something had broken deep inside her.

  Her eyes fell on it—and in them, something broke. She opened the door wider.

  “Come inside. Quickly. Before someone sees,” she demanded. “And mind your step.”

  Kaelthar and Neeko did as she requested, stepping inside. Kaelthar had to bend down to fit through the frame and remain in such a position as he moved through the space. The woman’s house was narrow and worn with time, pressed close between two leaning buildings, as if trying to disappear. Inside, the air smelled of dried sage, old stone, and a long-untouched hearth. Dust softened every corner, and the only light came from a single oil lamp, flickering gently on the wooden table between them.

  Outside, the streets of Dravemont had turned to shadow, bathed in a somber blue. The voices from the market were gone now. The hush wasn’t peaceful—it was a silence that listened back.

  Kaelthar stood by the door, unmoving but alert, while Neeko perched on a stool, his tail flicking slowly across the floorboards. The woman sat across from them, her hands folded over each other, knuckles pale. Her braid had loosened since she let them in. Her eyes, red-rimmed and tired, watched the flickering lamp more than either of them.

  “You shouldn’t ask about Elrin,” she said quietly. “Not here. Not like this. You’re not the only one asking for him. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, do you?”

  Kaelthar remained silent for a moment. “He may be in danger.”

  “He is in danger. That’s why he’s hiding.” She sighed, brushing a hand down her arm like trying to smooth away the chill.

  “So … you know him?” Neeko asked. “How do you know him?”

  “He came stumbling into the city one day,” the woman began, her voice softening with memory. “I’d seen him wandering the streets before, always asking for help. He looked … frightened. Constantly looking over his shoulder, as if something was chasing him that no one else could see.” She folded her hands together, gaze drifting toward the crackling fireplace as she continued. “It was the middle of winter—bitter cold—and I found him lying on the street, shivering so badly his teeth chattered. I couldn’t just leave him there. So I brought him inside, let him warm himself by the fire. It was only supposed to be for one night.” She gave a slight, gentle shrug. “But he stayed. He needed a home … and I needed company. I had lost my whole family, every last one of them. For a time, having him there felt like the world had given me a small piece of kindness back.”

  Neeko leaned forward, eyes wide. “And then?” He glanced up at Kaelthar, as if bracing for something darker.

  The woman sighed. “You need to understand something about Elrin. He was … gifted. The forest would speak, and he would listen. Not like normal children do—no. He knew things. He spoke about moments that happened before he was even born. And sometimes he spoke of things that hadn’t happened yet. Things far in the future.” She tapped her fingers against her arm, troubled. “I didn’t believe him at first, of course. But then he proved it. Again and again.”

  Her breath hitched slightly as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I warned him never to tell anyone. There are wicked people in this world who would use a boy like him, twist and break him to get what they want. I wanted to protect him … I to protect him.” Her voice lowered. “Then came the moment when everything changed.”

  Neeko’s ears twitched. “Changed how?”

  The woman lifted her gaze as if she was afraid the truth might crumble her if she looked at them too long. “He stopped sleeping,” she said quietly. “Barely closed his eyes at all. And the paranoia worsened. He jumped at every sound and every shadow. Then one night, he mentioned someone.” Her voice dropped lower. “A brother.” She stood abruptly and crossed the room to the fireplace, rubbing her arms as though the crackling warmth could chase away memories colder than winter.

  “I once heard a story,” she continued, staring into the flames. “A rumor, really—about a village far from Dravemont. Most of us dismissed it as nonsense. But after meeting Elrin, I began to wonder.” She swallowed, her throat tightening. “It was said there were two brothers. The younger was loved by everyone—gentle, gifted, and able to coax life from dying crops and heal the land just by being near it. A blessing, they called him.” She paused, the fire crackling softly in the silence. “The older brother was different. An outcast. Strange. No one ever knew what happened between them, but one night their home went up in flames. The younger boy escaped. The older did not—at least, not whole.” Her voice trembled. “When the villagers found him, half his body was burned and melted. Unrecognizable.” She closed her eyes. “And he swore—right there as they pulled him from the ashes—that he’d ruin this world. Burn it the way it had burned him.” The fire popped, sending sparks leaping into the air.

  The woman turned back toward them, her hands twisting together nervously. Neeko tilted his head, studying her with wide, curious eyes.

  “And you think one of those brothers is Elrin?” he asked.

  The woman gave a helpless shrug. “He may as well be. It’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.” She drew a slow breath. “I once saw him talking to someone. Or … something. At first, I brushed it off. I thought I was exhausted and imagining things. But the more I think about it, the more everything lines up.”

  Kaelthar and Neeko exchanged a look, but neither spoke. The silence stretched until the woman swallowed hard and shook her head.

  “You must think I’m losing my mind,” she whispered. “Most people would. But I swear to you, on the graves of those I’ve lost, I saw him. A figure with a half-melted face and a grin that didn’t belong on anything living.” Her voice trembled. “I’ve never seen anything like it. .” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if the memory alone chilled her to the bone.

  “Elrin ran from him,” she said softly. “He came back only long enough to tell me goodbye … and then he disappeared into the night.” Her eyes glistened with grief and fear woven together. “I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know if he’s alive out there.”

  “Do you know where he has gone?” Neeko asked softly.

  “He wouldn’t say. Just left his charms. He said it would guide anyone who needed to find him.” The woman sighed. “So, I’m guessing it was meant to find the two of you.”

  Kaelthar stayed silent for a long moment, letting every word settle. The boy was still missing, but now they finally had a thread to follow through the chaos. Elrin had been here. Recently enough that the trail hadn’t gone cold. If he was hiding, he’d stay close to what he knew. Children didn’t flee into the unknown when hunted—they clung to familiar corners, familiar streets, places where they believed they could disappear. It was unlikely he’d left the city at all, which meant Kaelthar and Neeko still had a chance.

  “When did all of this happen?” Kaelthar asked quietly.

  The woman pressed her lips together. “Two months ago, I suppose. Gods … that’s how long it’s been since I last saw him. He used to spend time out in the forest, you know, at the shrine. I’d gone there, day after day, to look for him, but I haven’t found him.”

  Kaelthar nodded. He turned toward the door, gripping his staff. The simple motion was enough for Neeko—he scurried after the dragonborn immediately, light on his feet. The woman followed them to the threshold, worry painted across every line of her face.

  Kaelthar paused just long enough to look back at her. “We’ll find Elrin,” he said.

  The woman rose slowly. Her lips trembled, but she met his eyes. “Then please, if you do … bring him back. Or make sure he doesn’t die alone.”