The horse-drawn wagon guided by the tall, coarse-looking coachman took the old paths around the Tahoa region. Between split paths, he had no hesitation tugging the reins, manipulating the system of straps to guide the horses down one of them. He demonstrated a clear familiarity with the lay of the land.

When a pack of wolves were sighted, the clippety-clop of the horse hooves against the old pavements gave way to thunderous galloping. The loping wolves chased the wagon but as it was under the expert navigation of the coachman, the hunting pack ultimately failed to keep pace, vanishing in the cold mist of the woods.

The hooded character with a half-mask sat inside, while another with a black mask over her laid, unmoving.

"We're almost here," said the coachman, pointing at a small bridge ahead. Like all ancient things along these paths built for an earlier age, it was a weather-beaten span of stone across a precarious cleft, beneath which torrential water ran.

As the wagon rattled across, the coachman looked up, tracking the fading light from the setting evening sun and the dreary overcast. "Ain't good to be out on these roads when the light dies."

"Brigands?"

"Nay, it ain't that simple. With enough gold, hirelings will drive them away. An evil creature prowls this land and steals the souls of any unlucky enough to cross paths with it."

The hooded figure stayed silent for a while till the first drops of rain began to pelt them. "Let it try."

The coachman whipped the two horses. They neighed then quickened as their hooves gouged into the muddy earth. As the mist before them broke, they could see the faint outline of a hamlet, the largest of its kind in the entire Tahoa region and under the protection of the City of Tahoa.

When they were about twenty metres away from the Village of Taxia, the wagon slowed to halt. "This is as far as I will send you," the coachman said, pocketing the small pouch the hooded figure gave him. "I will continue my way to Tahoa."

Carrying the hooded lady on his back, the hooded figure walked to a guardpost, set up in the most rudimentary fashion. A rustic table was placed to the left along with a chaotic range of barricades made from sharpened wooden logs. A few pitchforks were placed nearby in a messy pile. He prepared another pouch of gold coins, knowing how these lands work. And Tahoa did not have the best of reputations.

Two guards stood up and walked over, both brandishing a sword. The first was a lanky man dressed in an oversized leather vest while the other had a weirdly shaped head and receding hair that reminded the hooded figure of Frath the Bard.

"What brings you here to Aver," said the first guard, with a strong Tahoa accent.

"This young lady here is looking pretty dainty. Why do you need a mask to cover that beauty," the second guard said while his rough, scar-filled hand reached out to stroke the hooded figure's bare face. The latter shifted quickly, as his words came out in a haste, "I was born with a hideous birthmark on that side of the face. I do not want to scare you, sir."

The man withdrew his hand a little, doubting his words. He redoubled on his indecorous words. "You can scarcely fool me with that lie. I know pretty ladies like you mask themselves to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

"I can pay with gold for entry," he said, slightly testy. Patience was slipping away from him.

"Well," said the first guard, "Do you have the seal of approval from the Governing Office of Tahoa? The village has been converted recently under the request of a special guest. We will not allow anyone in. You may make your way to the city itself, a few miles southward to seek shelter."

"Special guest?"

"A prince from the west," the second guard said with a disquieting smile. The first guard shot him a warning look as if the former had just unwittingly revealed a piece of information that deserved discretion.

A pause developed as the hooded figure seemed to contemplate his next move. Focusing his attention, he sought the hoped-for vibrations.

Moments later, he nodded in relief, having felt the right signal. "Grant me an audience with the prince. He's a friend."

The guards burst into chortles at the response, eyeing each other with knowing glances. "You were the..." the first guard put up his fingers in mock count, "fourth person in the past week to tell us they are friends with the prince, hoping to bluff their way in. Find a good excuse, would ya?"

"A good excuse, or perhaps a good service session in our quarters just up ahead, eh? Give us a good one, and might be the gate would open for you," the second guard winked, to the added guffaw from his partner.

A tendril of irritation erupted within the hooded figure. As he shifted his arms, a sultry voice called out from behind the two guards. "A good one eh? How about a good beating then? Is your ball sack itching for one?"

The hooded figure glimpsed the emergence of a pink-haired lady who walked close to the two guards, placing her hands invitingly on their shoulders. "How about it lads? Haven't got your answer, you know." The two men paled at once. As the first guard wiped beads of perspiration from his face, he uttered shakily, "Ahh...my lady, you are mistaken. These...women, they are utter liars you know. Trying to deceive their way in as usual."

"I'm not a liar," the hooded figure said, as he carefully let down the unconscious hooded female on his back. Physical strength wasn't his strong suit.

Dressed in an imposing coat, the pink-haired lady eyed the hooded strangers warily.

"Pebble," she said, directing a single word at the lean stranger.

The hooded figure paused for a moment, as if taken aback. Then, with eyes of dawning comprehension, he fished out a small stone slowly from his pocket and threw it in a straight line towards the well-toned female.

Catching it with finesse, the lady then took from her own coat pocket an identical pebble of her own. As she placed both stones squarely on her palm, the two vibrated in an instant; the reverberation occuring a single time in perfect sync.

She looked up. "Let them in," the imposing lady said, her words directed commandingly at the guards.

The two men hurried to comply, sidestepping to let the hooded figure through. Gently picking up the female from the ground, he heard the lady who had the pebble said, "You must be Jerius Lyvia, the sorcerer Prince Nighvicto was waiting for."

"That's correct," Jerius said. "And you are?"

"He told me to find you when the pebble started vibrating," the lady replied. "Misaki, the Contract Bearer from Ceil. I am charged by the Council of Ceil to work closely with the princeling now."

Hearing that, Jerius pieced together all the information he needed to know why and how Zenvix secured the support of Tahoa in a short span of time. The alliance between Ceil and Tahoa, forged in blood, marriage and a common past, was one known across most of Elaria. Whatever he did at Ceil, he did right, gaining the trust of the Council.

Passing through the perimeter and walking along the cobblestone streets into the heart of the village of Taxia, Jerius could see it was a hornet's nest of activity. Soldiers with the armorial bearings of Tahoa traversed to and fro, transporting supplies and weapons. They were interspersed with villagers, who were dwarfed in numbers by the clusters of soldiers that had gathered in the village.

In the yonder, he could see the clearing, where dozens of tents were erected. To the left of the tent area where a campfire was lit, a small mob of soldiers had gathered around, cheering a duel that was quickly approaching the climax. The two half-naked and bloodied duellists pirouetted while wielding daggers in a face-off.

Their battle stances were low, with their legs wide apart, as they circled each other with the fluidity of snakes while lunging or slashing with the daggers from unexpected angles. Jerius recognised that to be the traditional dagger-fighting style of Tahoa. One of the duelists fell with a cry, signalling the end of the duel. The crowd around them roared and cheered, stamping their feet in elation.

"This way," Misaki said in a raised voice, pointing to the largest tent that had two stout soldiers standing guard outside.

The lady pushed aside the flap of the tent and entered, revealing a warmly lit interior and a man standing in front of a sizable tack board, deep in thought as he scrutinized a map of Tahoa laid across the board surface. The rustle of the tent flap roused him from his engrossment.

"You made it," Zenvix said, turning his head expectantly.

Jerius gingerly let down the masked lady on his back, positioning her carefully in a comfortable empty spot within the tent. Straightening up, he glanced at his old friend, his eyes glossing over the obvious details. Raven-black hair, the eagle-like eyes of his father, and the usual strapping physique. Little had changed in the prince's demeanour, but he knew his friend well. The lines of Zenvix's face spoke of tension, grief and...something else. As the prince smiled, Jerius sensed a resigned acceptance of sorts, one that had slowly sunk in.

A sudden realisation clunk into place. "Where is the fiery valkyrie? She wouldn't have missed a single chance to snub me whenever she could."

Misaki turned her gaze to Zenvix, her eyes brimming with concern. The prince's smile faded a notch. He looked away from Jerius, as his eyes stared down at the tent floor. Slowly, he shook his head.

The deafening silence in the tent was telling. Jerius struggled to express his shock, even as he understood his friend's tacit response. The sorcerer never had the gift of the gab; with any sort of words, really. He relied on the prince for that. Knowing himself, Jerius would sooner rile a man than to console him.

"How...did she die?" the prime sorcerer had to ask.

"In a battle against a formidable assassin. But she died dictating her own terms. It was not a helpless death borne of despair, fear or cowardice; it was a warrior's exit," Zenvix said.

A brief silence ensued from Jerius. "It suits her," the sorcerer finally said with solemnity. While she often bickered with him over differing beliefs, her heart was in the right place. He counted her among those whom he would trust.

Nodding his head once, Zenvix's gaze fell on the hooded lady still fast asleep on the tent floor. "Who's that lady?" he asked.

"Someone to whom I owe this life. Someone who fought for us and lost herself in the midst of it. She's Mirayoung, an archmagus from the Guild and an old friend of Mistress Lyvia," Jerius sighed. All others in the tent could hear the bitterness in his voice.

"Mirayoung?" Zenvix asked, a thoughtful expression on his countenance. "Wait...that lady from the Guild? The one whom I have spoken to who revealed the location of our final meeting?"

"The very same," the sorcerer answered with a doleful look on his face. "She was ultimately betrayed, and only by a stroke of luck and an act of mercy that we both escaped the Guild alive. Now I'm waiting for her to rouse from her coma."

One look in the mage's eyes, and Zenvix could see how much he cared for her. Jerius was as much known for his bullishness as he was for his devotion to the people who showed him kindness and warmth. Stiffening a little, Zenvix asked, "Betrayed by whom? Other mages from the Guild who had sworn fealty to Aderis?"

"By a powerful entity that makes mockery of us all. I discovered its identity, but am now bound by the contract to not reveal it. It's a terrifyingly oppressive magic that binds anyone who learns the truth," Jerius said. "Yes, Aderis was responsible for the destruction of Nox but it was by the machinations of this entity that we lost our home."

If even Jerius could not say their identities, those must be extremely powerful sorcerers. And there are only so many out there who can instil fear in the Prime Sorcerer of Nox. Zenvix thought. "Then I shall press no more. Our objective has not changed. We will finally put a stop to Aderis's madness at the Fifth Key."

"I see you have failed at Ceil as well," Jerius's statement came sharper than he intended, for he understood the might of the masterminds behind Aderis.

Misaki bristled a little at his remark which sounded slightly insensitive. Smiling understandingly at the pink-haired lady, Zenvix responded. "Unfortunately, I did. We were swept up in a twisted conspiracy set by Aderis's kinsman long before our feet crossed the city's gate. He was a powerful sorcerer in his own right, and fooled our minds into thinking that a great invasion was imminent. A clever guise, for Nox was destroyed the same way. But it turned out not to be. His true goal was to shatter the artifact of souls in Ceil. Apparently, to fulfill the Ritual, creation of mass death is not the only way to set forth an exodus of souls."

A resigned tut came from Jerius. "Kinsman? If I am guessing right, he should be the mysterious Master of Poison I saw in a scrying spell back when I was in the Guild."

Nodding his head, Zenvix responded. "His name is Alvaro. Yes he did say he was a former Master of Poison at the Guild. It's almost amusing that despite having lived in Nox all my life, I did not know that Aderis had a kinsman."

"Sometimes, the sort of magic one favoured seemed to reflect a portion of that person's personality. Poison is a reflection of the sly, cunning and scheming. If he's indeed the Master of Poison as he said, then I'm just glad you made it out of Ceil alive," Misaki remarked.

"Wouldn't have if not for your aid," Zenvix said, smiling at the pink-haired lady standing to his right. After the shattering of Ceil's artifact of souls which signalled the end of the Third Key, as a contract bearer Misaki did not see a reason to continue living in the city. Luckily, her decision to follow Zenvix and assist him was backed by the remaining members of the Council, who finally recognised the danger the Noxarian had attempted to convey to them. She did take a small memento from the city, however. From an inconspicuous pouch tied to her belt, a beautiful white lily peeked out, kept alive by the water within.

Misaki smiled in return, then said in a bemused voice, "Hmmm, it was strange though. A Master of Poison, he said. A Master of Poison who never once used poison against us."

Jerius stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Beats me. But this Master of Poison was the brother of Aderis's late wife. We've reasons to believe he shared the same goal as Aderis that the Ritual of Keys was to revive his late wife and daughter."

Zenvix nodded his head, finally understanding the motivation that drove Aderis to such cruel rituals. "Even that is no excuse to destroy cities. The lives of thousands cannot be used to exchange for those of two."

"Beyond that, Aderis may very well be a pawn in the entire machination," Jerius said. "The overseeing entity is the one who concerns me now."

"Troubling. What of the Fourth Key, sorcerer?" the swordswoman asked.

"The Fourth Key was lost through the entity's cultivation of wraiths who hunted specific mages. These creatures became spiritually dense enough to imitate the exodus of souls. Sometimes, this makes me wonder why Aderis was so willing to destroy Nox's Key through wanton destruction rather than employing a tactic with more finesse. We once thought the destruction was necessary, but now I wonder if it were simply the easier road to take? Or perhaps a testament to his lack of love for the country that birthed him? Or both?"

"We will never know for now," Zenvix replied darkly, "What matters is putting an end to the Ritual of Keys, no matter who the ultimate mastermind was. Let us figure out the next step of our plan."

Jerius said, "Aderis must be deep within the Heart of Elaria by now, searching for the Strange Village‒the Fifth Key. We need to hurry. The Strange Door is the only safe way to enter the deadly forest."

"It's good to have you back, Lord Lyvia. The prince was worried about losing you." Jerius heard a coarse but familiar and soothing voice. The old knight had slipped into the tent, a light smile on his wrinkled, kindness-taut features. Surrounded by the familiar faces, Jerius felt like he was home again.

As he turned from the sorcerer towards Zenvix, Dylas quickly reported. "As per your instruction, Your Highness, I've investigated the clues that Lady Novita had generously shared with us. Most of the sightings of this strange being called the Warden were proven false, except for one. He was last seen at the Tahoa River."

With a puzzled look, Jerius shot a glance at the prince.

"Novita Tenebrae shared that a supernatural guide called the Warden is our best bet to finding the Strange Door," Zenvix explained.

Jerius was intrigued. He was so caught up with the storm to hunt the wraith and lost in the complacency that he could rely on Mirayoung that he failed to make a trip to the library to read more about the Strange Door. That chance was gone forever unless he was willing to pit sorcery against the highest echelon of the Guild, which he knew would only result in an outcome that disfavoured him.

"She also asked me to remind you that you owe her an Empyrean's Vial. She expects to claim it in the next Gathering," Misaki chipped in, addressing Jerius. He understood the request but merely shrugged his shoulders.

"But the payments for the Warden? The strange entity has three dues or trials. Even Lady Novita does not know what these trials truly entail apart from their names," Dylas said, slightly worried.

Focusing his thoughts on Novita's vague warning, Zenvix recollected, "The Trial of Terror; The Trial of Apathy; and the last..."

"If it's three trials we have to face, then it's three trials we will overcome. We may have lost the Third and the Fourth key, but I believe that the loss of a few battles is not the be-all-end-all, the loss of hope is. We should keep our hopes burning," Misaki said.

"We will sorely need that. The last of the Trials is the Trial of Hope," Zenvix finished.