Cyrus found sleeping in a cave—his first night away from his cozy prince sized bed—unbearable. The floor was so cold-it might as well be ice-and his shredded cape was hardly an adequate blanket. Perhaps the most irritating thing, aside from Archibald’s snoring (Henry slept soundly and gently, much to Cyrus’ relief) was the drip, drip, drip of the water seeping off the stalactites. Not only was the light ker-plunk a water drop torture in itself, but sometimes the water would fall and assault his face personally. After a good three hours of having dirty cave water splash on his forehead, Cyrus vowed he would never allow his parents to sentence any of the royal prisoners to water drop torture again. When Cyrus finally managed to find a sweet spot where no water fell on his face, a beam of early morning sun shone upon his nose and he knew the night had passed. He grumbled and groaned but fell quiet as he watched Sir Celine quietly stand up and walk out into the daylight. The knight mysteriously covered his mouth and clinked quickly by in his chain mail. Cyrus realized he was up to something.

Cyrus waited until Henry was out of the cavern before he followed. Cyrus, contrary to his girth, was a master of stealth from of all the pranks he pulled in the castle. Cyrus reached the edge of the cavern and saw Henry stroll into a small clearing where sunlight shone on him. Henry (and Cyrus as well) looked onto the smoking ruins of several trees in the distance. It was then Cyrus noticed Henry’s face. Henry was standing far away but Cyrus could have sworn--unless it was a trick of the light--that the knight’s face was completely smooth. Henry reached into his brown leather satchel to remove a tube of some kind and squirted a paste on his glove. He began to smear his cheeks with it while Cyrus moved slowly to approach him. Cyrus had stealth on his side until the crunch of a twig ruined his plans. Henry quickly capped the tube and stuffed it away. He turned around and was fully bearded again.

Cyrus took a step back. “What’s going on?! What was that paste?”

“Do you not greet people with a good morning or a how are you?” The knight responded in a sassy tone of voice. “Is it just accusations with you, prince?”

“I saw your face. It was smooth! And then you put on some paste and you had a full beard again!”

The knight’s eyes looked troubled, before he calmly brushed it off. A sly smirk came over his face. “I think you were dreaming.”

Cyrus pointed his finger in the knight’s face who quickly dismissed it with his eyes. “I know what I saw. I may be a little sleepy, but my eyes never lie.”

Without a warning, Cyrus felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. “Rise and shine, it’s a brand new day!” Archibald said with a cheerful smile, his curly hair rising high from his bedhead. “It’s nice you youngins are taking advantage of it. It’s best we get a move on early in the day.”

“Archibald?” Cyrus yelled. “What do you make of this fiend who’s wearing false beard in order to seem manlier than me?”

“Seems like a real beard to me,” Archibald responded.

Cyrus glared at Henry and lifted his fingers to point at Henry’s eyes. “I’m on to you. I know you’re wearing a toupee on your face.”

Archibald walked up to Henry and nudged him in the ribs. “I think he’s saying you’re a bald faced liar.”

The boy knight let out the most preposterous laughs Cyrus had ever heard. “Good one, royal jester,” he said. “We men with facial hair have to stick together.”

Archibald’s face turned serious. “It’s best we get there as soon as possible. All the while, the Everbloods are making preparations for their ceremony. We need every second we can afford.”

“Well,” Cyrus responded, his cheeks turning bright red. “If we’re doing this for Trinity…”

“You’re doing it for yourself, even if you claim it’s for Trinity,” Henry muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?!” Cyrus shot back.

“He said,” Archibald cut in, “we’ve got the whole wide world to explore and it all lies before us.”

Cyrus, Henry and Archibald gathered their belongings and headed south. They followed along the edge of the red rocked mountain. On the outskirts of the forest, they could feel the sun without obstruction from nature’s own roof of trees. Henry mentioned to Cyrus and Archibald he crossed a bridge in order to get to the castle town. He was hoping to get assistance from the Coates kingdom before investigating the Moonlit Village.

After a mile of walking, the trio reached the bridge. Much to their dismay, it had collapsed under the weight of large charred tree that toppled into the ravine. Vicious rapids roared beneath them and they knew there was no way to proceed further.

“I wonder who did that?” said Henry sardonically, as he shrugged his shoulder pads.

“Well,” Cyrus responded quickly changing the subject. “If someone hadn’t dumped out all of our pixie dust to prove a very stupid point we could have floated across.”

“Hey, all of this builds character,” Archibald responded with a cheeky grin. “And at least we can still go through the mountain to reach the village.”

A loud crash of thunder startled all three of them. Following it, a creepy voice wavered and warned them, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Cyrus and his allies turned around to see a scraggly old woman with an orange robe. A look of what she’d seen haunted her eyes and she clutched a staff with a glass ball of lightning at the top of it. She had to be about hundred judging from her trench deep wrinkles and toothless gums. “What gives old lady? You scared the mead out of me,” Cyrus snapped.

“You would be wise not to venture into the Cave of No Return, not after the Great Mining Disaster of 1232.”

“Less ominous titles, more details please, good lady,” Henry said, ever the blunt one.

The old woman leaned on her staff and gazed intently at Henry, which caused the young knight to take a step back. “Ah yes, but it’s a long story. Will you kids have time to hear an old lass out?”

Archibald crossed his arms. “I think I’ve heard of this before, but since it’s our only option, we don’t have much of a choice but to listen.”

The old woman closed her eyes. “A hundred years ago, a mysterious traveler entered the local tavern in our castle town. A young man with much on his mind listened to the hooded traveler’s story. It was a tale of a great treasure that lied in the Scarlet Mountain. Not only was it worth innumerable amounts of money but it had the miraculous ability to grant eternal life.”

Cyrus’ eyes shined intently. He enjoyed ancient legends when Archibald told them to him and this old woman’s story was no different.

“The young man, desperate for money, banded together with a group of self-centered treasure hunters. With pick axes in hand and helmets on their heads, they made their way through the abandoned mines. After weeks of mining and not finding anything, the young man was on the verge of giving up until he stumbled across the path of the ancients. He followed it and found an ancient apparatus. He cranked it and revealed a ruined world not touched for centuries. When the antiquated door slowly opened, it led to a room constructed by an ancient civilization. He called his fellow treasure hunters and together they entered a ruined sanctuary. At the top of it was a pedestal where a small stone shaped like a blood red eye sat with malignancy. The young man called the stunning but ominous gem, the Bloodstone.”

Sir Celine seemed a bit shaken. He turned pale when he heard the term ‘Bloodstone,’ but then tried to play it off by putting on his trademark brave face.

“Realizing there was only one treasure, the group began to quarrel over who rightfully owned it. The young man, consumed with greed and madness, grasped the stone and transformed into a terrifying one eyed golem. With no remorse he murdered every last one of the treasure hunters and became the new protector of the accursed relic. To this day, he never sleeps and kills everyone who enters the sanctuary.”

The old woman looked onto the faces of those who heard her tale. Cyrus held his hands together clamoring for another story. Archibald zoned out midway, giving off the impression he knew how the story would end. The only one phased by her words at all was Henry who had turned as white as a bedsheet ghost.

“Cool story, old man,” Cyrus responded. “But I have a question.”

“What is it, young man?”

“What’s that cool staff for?”

The old woman looked at the staff she clutched. “Dramatic effect. Normally travelers listen to a creepy, thunder wielding witch when she warns them not to go into a spooky cavern. The fact that you and your older friend don’t seem scared at all must mean you’re pretty determined.”

Archibald let out his birdlike laugh and put his hands on his shorter companions. “I don’t know about these two, but me? I’m just crazy.”

The old woman creaked out a sigh. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Only this young, fair faced knight seems to have the right idea. This is truly a fool’s errand.”

“Great,” Archibald said “And I’m a professional fool! Thank you old miss. It’s good these children are well informed.”

Cyrus and his allies made their way back to the mountain. As they walked, the old woman made one final attempt to spook them by shouting “Beware the Bloodstone!” but they had already left her to continue on the journey.

An hour and a half passed before Archibald located a slope that was easy to climb. He led them up the Scarlet Mountain, guiding them to footholds and ledges where the walls were covered in a chalky red dust. Cyrus was still awestruck by the words of the old woman and for once, the urge to see a real life legend overcame his need to complain. As they climbed over piles of jagged red rocks, Archibald spoke to Henry in order to ease the worry on the young man’s face. “So Sir Celine, you seem very motivated by this kidnapping.”

Henry swallowed hard and tried to remain strong despite the old woman’s tale unnerving him. “I’m the princess’ personal guard. Her getting kidnapped is a personal affront to me. I feel my honor as a knight is at stake here.”

“Oh,” the Majester said raising his eyebrow. “They chose you to be the princess’ personal guard? Someone as young as you? I wonder why?”

“They say I understand the princess better than any of the other guards and she feels that way too. It’s the kind of bond that transcends blood but unites through a shared understanding of the world.”

“Is that so?” Archibald smirked as they reached the bottom of a short ledge.

Cyrus realized Archibald seemed to understand something about Henry’s words that he didn’t. He lightly jostled Archibald so Henry couldn’t hear them. “Why are you smiling, Archibald?”

“I don’t know if you’ve reached that stage where you sense certain pheromones.”

“What are Pharaoh Moans?” Cyrus responded back.

“My point exactly.”

Henry and Archibald quickly hoisted themselves up the top of the ledge, and when Cyrus bemoaned the fact he couldn’t lift himself up, they worked together and pulled the chubby prince to the top with their hands. “Whoa!” Cyrus exclaimed as Archibald and Henry hoisted him up with a groan.

The two turned around and found themselves at the entrance of a large cave. There was a rectangular shaped monument at the front of it. “In honor of all of those who entered and never returned,” Archibald read aloud.

Henry trembled but Cyrus held his hands together. “That’s so awesome!” he remarked. “I wonder if they’ll make a grave like that for us if we don’t make it through. Though I want one that personally says, ‘here lies the great prince who laid down his life in honor of Princess Trinity.’ Then everyone in castle town will talk about my greatness and forget the whole Prince Piggy incident.”

“Hey! Don’t say stuff like,” Henry said, his voice getting more vulnerable by the second.

Archibald put his hand on Henry’s chain mail. “Don’t worry about that. The prince is just looking for a way to redeem himself after embarrassing himself in the castle town.”

“Let’s get a move on,” said Cyrus quickly.

For the first time, he was interested in this journey. He walked in without a second thought. Archibald followed, and at last, after more hesitation, Henry followed too.

Inside the cavern, torches burned brightly on both sides of the trio. There were odd occult symbols painted on the wall in florescent paint. Archibald noted how suspicious it was that the torches were lit and cared for. He came to the realization they weren’t alone, and if they weren’t careful, they could end up a dire situation. His observational skills had only sharpened with his age.

As they walked on, singular eyeballs with red pupils appeared in the rock walls observing them quietly. Feeling a looseness in the wooden boards underneath them, Archibald quickly shoved his younger companions forward as his foot triggered the false floor. The entire floor caved in. The Majester, realizing he was falling quickly chucked his briefcase at Cyrus who caught it. “Take it, and take good care of it, Prince Cyrus,” he yelled.

“Archibald!” Both of the teens screamed as he quickly disappeared into a black abyss. But it was too late, they could no longer save their friend.