Surrounded by land of snow, the clear, black water of lake Umbra lacked any sign of frost, but the chill it gave off still almost froze Arban’s blood. Submerged up to his neck, the cold had already turned his body numb, but now he could feel a dull pain rising from the ends of his nerves.

He clenched his chattering teeth and took one long, deep breath, but the icy air only served to chill his innards.

“I’m getting out!” he declared, wading his way towards the shore where his thick, dry clothes lay in a neatly folded bunch.

His naked body started coming out of the water, revealing skin that had taken on a distinct blue tint from the cold, but before he was more than halfway out, the water around him turned viscous. It clung to his body, dragging it back deeper the more he tried to get away from it, just like quicksand, and after a few moments of intense struggle, he was back neck deep again.

“Damn you, woman! Let me go!” he roared towards the sky, only for the surrounding air to harden and give a resounding slap on his left cheek. It stung. Completely ignoring the numbness of his flesh, the strike stung his very soul, almost crumpling his spirit. And then came a voice.

First lesson, always respect your teacher.

The voice that had sounded so pleasant when it rescued him from the horde of Nightmares that day, now whipped his mind like a clap of thunder.

Arban clenched his hair hard enough to pull them out. “I don’t remember choosing any teacher, you just dragged here with you!” he groaned.

Child, choice is for those less talented. The gentle voice said. But from the day the sacred mountains drew you in its cradle, you have no more right to choose. It is your destiny to learn the holy druidic art of the Sadhus.

“And like Erhan, end up weak to the knees every time I used it?” Arban shook his head with all the vigour his frozen body could muster. “No, thank you! I will rather learn the sword.”

Like Erhan? A faint but heavy sigh whispered in his mind. Child, do be careless with what you speak. You know nothing about that man. The voice paused, and just when Arban was about to open his mouth, it spoke again. Erhan… he was a star brighter than any who came before or after. But he steered away from the proper path. Unwilling to give up his worldly shackles, he studied the heretic arts of the Kapalics. In the end, unable to accept any of the two, he forged his own path. He is a pioneer, and an example of human folly we must avoid. Now enough talking. Go back to your exercise.

Arban’s teeth chattered as he grumbled under his breath, “Freezing to death, what exercise is that?”

As long as I am here, death won’t dare receive you. Now stop complaining and concentrate on the mantra I taught you. It would alleviate your state.

“The mantra..” Arban frowned. After travelling with Erhan for a while, he had some misgiving towards these druidic arts he had once fantasized about. But he had no choice now. It was either suffering from this gruesome cold or the mantra.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the mind-numbing cold as he recalled the mantra Aritra had taught him. He had thought he forgot it, but no. It stayed cemented in his mind as a thin line of golden letters. Their forms simple at the first glance, but the more he stared at them the deeper his mind fell into their complex, labyrinthine depths.

His lips opened, involuntarily uttering those strange syllables that seemed to blend with the environment around him. It seeped within his body, driving away the persistent cold; it caressed his mind, making it clearer, brighter; it invaded his soul…

Eating away at his feelings, his anger, greed, sorrow, love, and for the first time, he slightly understood Erhan and his reason for turning away from this path.

And he didn’t like it.

With his back straight and shoulders relaxed, Arakan followed the woman clad in a polished armour of silver and gold as they passed the rows of gigantic crystal pillars standing tall on both sides of the spacious hallway. Even though it was well after sunset, those pillars caught the light from the huge chandeliers hanging at even distance from the vaulted ceilings, refracting and reflecting them, sporting an interplay of colourful specks of light that kept the passage pleasantly bright.

“Lord Arakan.” The woman turned her head to look at him. “Now that you have taken on your position as the head of house Sergel, why not become a council member, just like your second uncle, lord Fenos?”

“If Her Majesty allows me to, then, of course, I will,” Arakan said, smiling.

“Her Majesty should have no objection. She seems to value you a lot.”

Arkan put a hand over his chest. “It gladdens my heart to know that, Dame Irene,” he said. As the queen’s personal aid, Dame Irene was privy to a lot of things. So he didn’t doubt her words. Especially since he also knew the reason for it.

Among the five people whom he had revealed his gift of premonition to, only two people trusted his words. Laureen, who he had rescued through this gift, and Her Majesty the queen, who seemed to believe his words without him needing to prove it. And the reason for her trust, it could have something to do with the blessing she received as a child.

Their journey came to a halt in front of a set of giant ebony wood doors inlaid with the golden image of the mighty Voros standing proud on a tall cliff. Its presence seemed dazzling against the black grain of the wood, as if a sun in midnight.

“Inform Her Majesty that sir Arakan Sergel has arrived,” Dame Irene said to the two guards standing on both sides of the door. They nodded, one of them rapping the huge lion head knocker against the door as he repeated her words with a sonorous voice before slowly pushing it open.

“I have asked sir Giraldi to look into your request of mystical medicine,” said Shaela Arnet, the queen of Robera. Reclined against her ebony throne on the dais at the far end of the throne room, her form glowed with an inner radiance, awakening a natural sense of awe in any who laid their eyes upon her. Arakan was no exception either.

“I sincerely thank your Majesty for your effort,” he said with a dip of his head.

Shaela waved her hand. “It is of no effort. Sena Moras is one of my subjects. And it is my responsibility to care for my people’s welfare.” A distant look crossed her flaming golden eyes as she gazed at the mural of the Dreaming mountains painted on the wall of the room. “It is also due to her undertaking my quest that she suffered. So I am duty-bound to help her recover.”

She turned towards him. “Now the matter of the poisoning incident you spoke of. I have assigned a few of my knights to investigate. I want to see who had the audacity to do such a thing under my nose.”

“From the investigation we have done till now, we believe it to be the work of house Scarva, your Majesty.”

“The one that has a grudge against house Moras, correct? I will look into that too.” Shaela said.

A loud chirp like the upper note of a flute drew their attention to the dome-shaped ceiling painted with the colour of a night sky. A small bird with small wings fanning behind it like that of a bee as it flitted around, taking pecks at the jewels embedded to give the impression of the stars and the moon.

“A rainbow finch!” Arakan wondered aloud. Though the red colour of its wings was a bit unusual, it was still easily recognizable with its rainbow-coloured feathers and songful voice. A fairly common bird in the land of Clover, it was often thought of as a pest by orchard owners.

“Should we expel it, your majesty?,” asked Dame Irene, who stood guard beside Shaela.

“No!” shaela said, a hint of pleasant surprise colouring her eyes as she stared at the bird. Smiling, she laid her palm out and whistled. A sound no different from the chirp of the rainbow finch. The bird left the ceiling and circled above her a bit before shyly landing on the tip of her little finger. It hopped forward, travelling up her arm step by step until it landed on her shoulder. There, nesting snugly in the folds of her long, black hair, it twittered in her ears. As Shaela listened to its warbles, her expression changed from curious to strange, and from there, grave. Done delivering whatever message it had, the bird disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. But it left the queen lost deep in her thoughts.

“How intriguing!” whispered she, meeting Arakan’s curious gaze. “About Sena Moras. It would seem I cannot help her.”

“Cannot help her?” Taken aback, Arakan asked, “But why, your majesty?”

“Her condition, she brought it on herself.”

“Brought it on herself?” Arakan frowned. “Why? What could she have done that would warrant wasting away like that?” he asked, slightly agitated. He had left Laureen there in hopes of acquiring the medicine and returning quickly. Besides, if the premonitions he had were right...

He knelt on the soft red rug. “I implore your majesty to reconsider. Whatever she has done, it surely doesn’t warrant ignorantly wasting away as she currently is.” he breathed in deeply. “And I also fear what might happen if she doesn’t wake up soon. I have gone all the way to Brigsar, but the sense of imminent threat has never left me.”

“I know. I have also felt something similar. A shadow not just over the queendom, but the whole land of Clover. But…” Regretful, Shaela shook her head. The Voros had already sent its warnings. And a grudge of the Shadewolf…

“I am oathbound to not meddle in this matter,” she said.

“But… who can bind you in such an oath? You are the queen!”

“Presumptuous!” Irene stepped forward. “How dare you talk to her majesty that way?”

Shaela held up her hand. “It’s alright, Irene. I was not offended.”

“But your majesty—”

Shaela gave a firm shake of her head, forcing Irene to back down.

“Forgive me, your majesty.” Arakan bowed to his waist. “I lost composure for a moment.”

“No matter,” Shaela said. “Being able to sense what you do, it’s not a wonder you lost your calm. But I’m helpless in this matter. Sena has caused harm to someone she shouldn’t have harmed. As such, unless she solves it herself and recovers. I am helpless.” Once again, her gaze returned to the mural of the Dreaming mountains. Arakan may only feel the mere presence of the shadow, but she could see more than that. Even from the mural, she saw it spreading from the Dreaming mountains, saw it devouring everything in its path like a swarm of pitch-black locusts. She exhaled a long breath before smiling towards Arakan. “Do not worry, however. If I am not wrong, she would soon wake up on her own. And when she does, she would be strong enough to face the storm.”