Between the man's questions and the young ones' explanations, time passed quickly—so much so that by the time they left the room, dusk had already fallen.
Though it was obvious he didn't fully trust either Derek or Shadow, Lein promised to turn a blind eye for now—at least until the woman woke up.
He granted the young ones an empty room on the second floor to sleep in for the two days they would be there, and Zara accepted eagerly, having missed what it felt like to sleep in a bed.
Now, with night fully fallen, Zara sat at the edge of the window, reading "Chronicles of Fargus." She hadn't read it since the moment Shadow had taken her from the palace.
She didn't know if it was because of the meaning the book held for her, but suddenly it seemed much more interesting than when she'd read it in her room. It was written in diary format, making it seem as if Fargus himself was narrating his adventures. Additionally, every one or two pages, there was a drawing—sometimes just unimportant things: flowers, some animal, a river.
But what interested Zara were the things that seemed to have importance:
"I arrived at Fisherman's Rest two days ago. The place is incredible for seeming so modest, though I'm not a fan of the strong fish smell. I must say, the people who live here have treated me with wonderful hospitality, and that earns them points. They also tried to teach me to fish. I'm terrible at it."
Following the text was a small drawing: wooden houses with wavy roofs. A massive fort towered over the village, and beyond it, the ocean, with tiny black dots representing fishing boats.
Fisherman's Rest. I think I heard Shadow say that's where we're heading, the girl thought, offering a small smile without realizing it.
Hearing movement outside, she paused her reading and looked out the window, full of curiosity. The villagers were gathered around a statue—the statue of the Moon Goddess.
A tall woman with short hair, wearing a floor-length dress and raising one hand toward the sky, in which she held a transparent sphere that glowed to represent the current phase of the Moon.
They didn't noticed the statue when they'd arrived. Though she'd seen it out of the corner of her eye, she'd forgotten about it after everything.
"It's pretty, though I don't share the religion," Derek said, approaching her side and also looking out the window.
The people knelt, raising both hands toward the sky in a cupped shape. They seemed to be praying, though it was impossible to hear them from where they stood.
"They're probably asking for safety for themselves and their loved ones," the mage said after a few seconds.
"Perhaps they're asking for an end to the war or thanking her for the abundant harvest," Zara said then.
"If only they knew they have to deliver most of it to the army..."
Zara gripped the book's pages a little tighter.
"I know you're frustrated, but you can't do anything," Derek said, noticing.
"I'm their princess. Surely I can do something."
"Like what?" Derek said, raising an eyebrow. "Will you send your father a letter complaining?" he added sarcastically.
"I don't like you."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Derek then retired to his bed, lying down. Zara frowned when she noticed he seemed to want to go to sleep with all his garments on.
"You're going to sleep like that?" She couldn't contain herself and asked.
"Like what?"
"Like that!" she said with an urgent tone. "Since we met, you've never taken off all those layers of clothing. Isn't it more comfortable to sleep with less?"
"You get used to it."
"I don't think I could." Zara, for her part, had changed from her dress to the clothes she'd used to pass as a slave. Though now they were much cleaner.
"Why the insistence, Princess?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want to see me without clothes that badly? At least buy me a coffee first," he said jokingly.
"Do you want to fight!?" she shouted at him, standing up completely flushed, provoking laughter from the mage.
"I suppose, after all, perhaps you deserve to at least see my face," he said between laughs, sitting up to face Zara.
With a quick movement, he removed his hood and lowered the scarf covering the lower half of his face. The resemblance to Shadow was undeniable—same hair color, though Derek's was messier. But to Zara's surprise and horror, he also had a large scar over his left eye.
"Your eye... Shadow had the same one." Her anger had faded, replaced by concern.
"Our 'owner' didn't think the slave marks were enough. She makes personal marks on her slaves so she can recognize them easily." He lay back down, though he didn't cover his face again. "Since we were siblings, she marked us the same way."
"By the goddess, how horrible. You have no idea how sorry I am to hear that."
"I imagine..." Derek sighed, his face saddening. "I don't like talking about the past. I'll sleep first. I hope you don't mind."
With that said, he fell asleep almost instantly, leaving Zara surprised.
It seems he's still fighting off spiritual strain, she thought. I'd better let him rest.
When she looked at the statue again, no one was there. It seemed everyone had retired to their homes a while ago.
The princess couldn't help but stare at the statue with a saddened expression as well. Am I doing the right thing, Goddess? she thought. Is fighting with my brothers an acceptable sacrifice to fulfill my selfish desire?
The girl, like the villagers, raised both hands toward the sky.
"Please, let your light guide them along whatever path they choose to walk."
Upon saying this, she lowered her hands, closed the book, set it aside, and headed to bed. As she lay down, she couldn't get those thoughts out of her head, but after a while, she managed to push them aside and fell asleep.
The next day, when Derek woke up, Zara was already up. She was sitting in the exact same spot as the night before, reading the book in the sunlight streaming through the window.
Not wanting to disturb her, Derek put his hood on and went downstairs, where he found Lein seeing off a couple of elderly people.
"Ah, you're finally awake. Come, let's go out," Lein said, reaching for his staff.
"Out?" Derek asked, confused.
"Yes, I want to talk to you about something."
The mage huffed but didn't refuse. They both walked to the village outskirts, greeting some people who crossed their path. Though they were defensive with Derek nearby, Lein's presence gave them confidence.
"Where are we going?" the mage asked.
"Do you know why the spirit is so important, boy?" Lein asked, completely ignoring Derek's question.
Derek frowned, sighed, and then responded.
"Zara said it yesterday. It's connected to a person's life."
"That's the importance it has for all of us as human beings." Lein lightly tapped Derek's chest. "But for you, I suspect it has another one."
Derek looked at him, confused.
"Can you use magic?"
Derek nodded.
"Good. That's the modern name—'magic,'" he said with a sigh. "Years ago, they called it 'spiritualism.'"
Derek tilted his head but didn't speak, preferring to let Lein talk.
"The art of shaping your spirit to create physical manifestations of it," the man said, changing the direction they were walking.
The two kept walking through the meadow, caressed by the breeze, and soon a salty smell reached them, carried by the wind.
After walking a little longer, Derek couldn't hide his expression of wonder. Though they were at the top of a cliff, beyond it lay the enormous, vast ocean.
Though distant, the sound of waves could be heard—seagulls flying in the distance, and on the beach, silhouettes of people seemed to be present.
"But as I said, the spirit is extremely fragile. Misuse could lead to permanent damage, and burning it too much will weaken you or even make you ill."
The man then began walking toward a small descent that led to the coast itself.
"Why are you telling me all this, old man?" Derek finally spoke.
"I felt it was information you were missing, and it might help you." Lein stopped for a second to look at him with a firm expression. "And don't call me old."
They both kept walking for about two more minutes until they reached the beach. The silhouettes Derek had seen were nearby.
"It's important for you to know that although it's quite fragile, there are ways to rebuild a broken spirit."
Derek frowned.
Standing on the sand, the figures Derek had seen from the cliff were watching the sea. There were three—two men and one woman. They looked distant, eyes blank, not even reacting to the others approaching.
"Shadows—that's what they're called." Lein tried to hit one with his staff, but it passed completely through without causing harm.
"What!?" Derek raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Why did that happen? They're people, aren't they?"
"They were—long ago, at least. Now they're just bodiless spirits, anchored to this world by personal desires," Lein explained, lowering his head and frowning.
Derek had never heard of these shadows, as Lein called them. But if the healer had brought him here, it was for a reason. The whole talk about the spirit was something he'd never been taught in his training as a mage—he would have remembered.
"You want me to destroy them," Derek said, glancing sideways at Lein. "Right?"
The man nodded.
"I'll make it quick." A flame appeared in Derek's hand. Aiming at the three, he unleashed a blaze.
The blaze passed through all three, as if blurring the silhouettes, which slowly began to disintegrate from where they'd been struck.
They didn't speak, didn't complain, didn't make the slightest effort to defend themselves. In a few seconds, the silhouettes disappeared entirely.
"Now they'll find peace," Lein said, beginning to walk back along the same path they'd taken.
Derek remained standing there for a few extra moments, watching the place where those people—or spirits—had been. He couldn't help but wonder: if he died, would he become like them?
"Hey, boy, are you going to stay there all day?" Lein shouted from the path.
"No, I'm coming." Derek caught up quickly. "You don't seem too pained by those people."
"They weren't friends or acquaintances," he said, sighing with regret. "But I've seen friends and acquaintances in that situation."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Derek said. Though it was the first time he'd seen something like that, deep down he knew he couldn't stand to see his sister or Zara that way.
"They simply made me sad. After all, they were once people. Leaving them like that seemed wrong to me, but I didn't know anyone who could help me."
"Couldn't you have asked that noble who came yesterday for help?"
"I did. I asked for one of his spiritualists," he said with a hoarse laugh. "That bastard refused. He said that he needed all his soldiers nearby to do 'more important things.'"
"You didn't seem to believe him."
"Of course I didn't. I was a soldier when my body still allowed it. I know he'd just be on guard duty at most."
They both talked the entire way back, lifting the mood of the conversation. They joked, laughed, and shared stories, like two old friends.
"Why did you tell me all this today?" Derek asked with genuine curiosity.
"I don't know. I still don't fully trust whatever you and your sister are planning. But the princess seems comfortable with you. I suppose that's what counts."
Derek smiled. She feels comfortable with us? Yes, sure, he thought. She doesn't treat us badly, but it would be stupid to think she feels comfortable with us. After all, we took her from her home by force.
And yet, Derek felt happy—happy that someone thought perhaps Zara saw them as companions. Though it worried him that he might be growing too fond of the princess; after all, they had to deliver her to the Lady.
His thoughts stopped just a few meters from the village entrance. A cold wind hit Lein and him. It was a sunny day—rather warm—but the wind was cold?
He quickened his pace, even running, leaving Lein behind, who seemed to have reached the same conclusion. There was trouble.
It wasn't hard to see that he was indeed right, because upon reaching the village, a man stood in front of Lein's house. He was lifting Shadow by the neck, and near her was Zara, immobilized in a formation of ice from which only her head protruded.
"No! Let her go! You'll kill her! You already have what you came for!" the princess screamed desperately, while Shadow, barely having any strength, tried to free herself from the man's grip.
Rage burned within Derek—a feeling that amplified his flames, making them extremely hot. He didn't know when, perhaps it was instinct, but he launched a fireball at the man.
The man blocked it with a wall of ice, which partially melted. Then the man turned in his direction, releasing Shadow to the ground.
"It seems the reports were correct—you will be a nuisance," the stranger said, generating small ice formations around himself.
"This nuisance will make sure to send you nice and warm to the afterlife. You'd better prepare yourself," Derek replied, creating two flames, one in each palm, and intensifying them.
They both stood still for a few moments, analyzing each other. In an instant, they both moved, launching their attacks. The clash between ice and fire marked the beginning of the battle.