Outside one of the rooms thick with hardened guards, Previn the old man, one of the servants, stood waiting for leave to enter. He knocked on the door. Soft knocks, so faint they nearly disappeared into the silence of the stone corridors.
Until he was forced to summon his trembling voice:"My lord… may I enter?"
Only moments passed before the answer came from within. He opened the door slowly.
Inside, King Sam stood before a tall mirror, adjusting his crown, upon which sat the golden sigil of a hawk. His reflection alone filled the chamber. His hair was carefully groomed, his sharp features carrying that kind of confidence which brushes against vanity.
Without turning, he said in a low voice, still adjusting his crown:"Stay back, old man. My mirror is not for everyone."
Previn bowed quickly, lowering his head until it nearly touched the floor:"As you command, my lord."
Sam continued adjusting his crown for several more moments, as though the chamber contained no one but himself.
Then he said coldly:"What do you want? Are the horses ready?"
Previn raised his head slightly, though he dared not look directly:"The horses are ready, my lord, but I suggest you offer condolences to King Meriel before you leave. That might keep the peace between you for a time."
Sam stopped. Then he stepped back slowly. He sat upon the bed. Crossed one leg over the other, before saying with a small smile that did not reach his eyes:"I fear age has touched you, old man. Why should I seek peace with him? He is the one whose kingdom is crumbling, not me. He is the one who should beg me to restore peace between the two kingdoms. And the last thing the king of Izzadar will need right now is condolences."
Then he continued with a light laugh:"He is likely still dreaming that his boy is alive somewhere, somehow. And my condolences would be to him like an arrow piercing the heart. I would like to be the one to loose that arrow—but that would make Kormel scream again, and though she is my dear sister, I truly hate her screaming."
Previn took two small steps forward, his voice more submissive than before:"Forgive me, my lord. I did not see it that way."
But Sam stopped suddenly. He stared at the old man's reflection in the mirror. Then said with sudden coldness:"Get out, old man. Now. And when we get to Valkryn, put down your position and enjoy what's left of your life. You have become too old."
Previn was immediately flustered. "Ah… as you command, my lord."
He hurried out. And the moment the door closed, Sam rose. He seized a cup from the table. Then hurled it directly at the mirror, shattering it completely.
He said with strange calm:"Time to go."
As the walls received the sunlight, they were also bidding farewell to the kings. The blind king departed amid a darkness he had long since befriended. Marcus left after finishing his business. And Sam set out with the first threads of dawn, accompanied by the largest retinue among the kings.
As for Meriel and Gerald, they remained. Meriel had stood atop the wall through the entire night.
He had not slept.
He had not sat.
Only watched the forest. The forest that had swallowed his son. His eyes never left it, as though the mere act of watching might return what had been taken. Until a servant approached. A man with a bent back.
A voice even more bent than his body. He said fearfully:"My lord… your other son. He is not in his room."
Meriel turned quickly. He said at once:"Did you search throughout the wall? I think he is hiding somewhere. He has always done that when fear takes hold of him."
The servant lowered his head further. He said in a hesitant voice:"I am afraid you are wrong, my lord. We have searched everywhere, but we did not find him. However, one of the servant children saw him boarding a cart as it was leaving the wall."
Silence fell. A brief silence, but heavy. Then Meriel said with suppressed anger:"How do you call yourselves the guardians of the wall when you have allowed two of the king's own children to slip beyond the gates?"
The hunchbacked old man trembled and said quickly:"I am sorry, my lord. I am only charged with bearing news."
Meriel approached him slowly.
His face was pale.
His eyes weary.
Then he said:"It seems bearing news has affected your back. Have you spread the news among the guards?"
The man trembled more:"I wanted to tell you first."
Meriel closed his eyes for a moment. Frustration alone would have been enough to crush any man. He remained silent. Then he said in a low voice, with feigned courtesy hiding behind his anger:"Go now. Spread the news among the guards. Tell them to prepare the horses by the dozen. The greater the number, the greater the chance of finding him. He cannot have gone far."
Minutes did not pass. Soon the guards assembled. The horses were ready. The saddles were strapped tight. And the two kings rode at the forefront. Then they set out. Across the rugged land of Mazz. Through stone passages, forests, and narrow roads. But without any trace. One day passed. Then another. Then another.
Until weariness began to settle upon faces. And hope slowly faded. And within the walls, the guards began to whisper among themselves:"Perhaps he is dead!""Perhaps a bear devoured him!""Or wolves cornered him!"
As for Gerald, he did not leave his brother. He sat beside him.
Accompanied him the whole time. And in those heavy days, he did not abandon him for a single moment. On the morning of the ninth day, inside the dining hall, all were gathered. Yet the place seemed empty despite their number. Meriel looked pale. Weak. Eating without interest. His eyes wandering over the table.
As for Gerald, he too was lost in thought. Until the food servant approached. Gerald looked at him with irritation and said:"You have already brought everything. What do you want?"
But before the servant could speak, a soft, courteous voice came from behind:"Not everything, my lord."
Then came the sound of a cane striking the floor. A step. Then another.
Gerald recognized the man from the very first step behind the door.
He said at once:"Enter, William."
William of the Iron Cane entered. Young of feature despite his dignity. His eyes carried the calm of a man who thinks more than he speaks. Meriel looked at him. William bowed slightly and said:"Forgive me for spoiling your meal, my lords."
Gerald looked at him in surprise:"Why are you here?"
William raised his eyes toward Meriel. He studied his condition for a moment. Then he said quietly:"You have been absent too long, my lord. That has set some tongues moving with vigor within the castle of Ironfield. I came to ensure your well-being. The Wall is the most dangerous place in the kingdoms, my lord."
Gerald smiled a small smile:"You are always worried. But nothing has happened. Look, I am whole, beside my brother."
William said: "Praise the gods."
Then Gerald gestured toward him and said to Meriel:"Let me introduce you to my Iron Cane, my right hand—William Narsow."
Meriel looked at him briefly, then said:"He seems very young. Welcome, Ser William. You must suffer while keeping company with my brother."
William answered without hesitation:"Not at all, my king. On the contrary, I find it quite amusing."
And Gerald laughed loudly. A short, heavy laugh that seemed strange amidst that gloomy atmosphere. But it soon vanished. His features turned to complete seriousness, and he wiped his mouth with a white cloth and said:"To be frank, you have come to the right place. We need you for something, William."
William stood straight, gripping his iron cane firmly. Then he said quietly, as if he already knew what would be asked of him:"Excuse me, my lord. But you are not in the right place, my lord. Both of you."
Silence fell. Gerald raised an eyebrow slightly. As for Meriel, he lifted his gaze toward him for the first time since the meal began.
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William continued in a quiet voice, but his words were harsh enough to leave their mark:"The castle has their demons, just as they have their walls. And when authority is absent, the demons begin to emerge."
He paused for a moment. Then continued with clear respect:"With all my respect, I know that King Meriel has lost his sons, and I can scarcely imagine how he must feel toward that. But your presence here will serve nothing. We must return to the kingdom and let the gods do their work."
He raised his eyes directly toward Meriel. And said with a quietness that was not without frankness:"You may have lost two sons, my lord… but you have thousands of sons who look to you for protection. You as well, Lord Gerald."
The words were heavy. Harsh. But they were logical. And for the first time in days, Meriel seemed to lack the strength to oppose anything. He remained silent. His eyes fixed on the table. Then he finally surrendered to the voice of reason. And decided to return to the kingdom.
As for Gerald, he decided to accompany him. William refused at first. But he could not stop him. So he contented himself with riding beside them.
They crossed the River Mazz. Then the plateaus of the Dead Marsh. A gray, choking land, where even the wind seemed to walk with caution.
Then they passed near the ruins of the kingdom of Everleav. The only kingdom in human history said to have defeated the Normens in the famous Battle of Eternity.
And the people say that its folk were the ones who built the Wall.
The Wall that no Normens has ever crossed. Not because they could not—but because they fear that Everleav might come back to life once more. The road was long. Heavy. And it took half a full day. Until at last, the kingdom of Izzadar appeared. The Land of Gods. The Light of the Rocks' Lands. The gatekeepers lowered the drawbridge. And the two kings entered.
Accompanied by banners bearing the image of the hammer under the mercy of thunder. But the kingdom was not well. It was in its worst state. Political tension gnawed at it slowly.
Between Salter and Valkryn. Valkryn, possessor of the largest farmlands. And Salter, monopolizer of the sea's riches and treasures. Even fish had refused to enter the gates of Izzadar.
And Ironfield had become nearly the sole source of trade. Though it too was a kingdom of import. As for Thornholl, only an ancient document kept it bound to the kingdom, forcing both sides to trade despite their enmity. The common folk looked angry. This was a city of craftsmen, but one cannot eat one's craft.
Faces were pale. And the glances directed at Meriel were not comfortable. They were full of a hatred boiling beneath the surface. The rumors had arrived before the king. The people knew of the two children. And fear began to grow among them. Fear that the king would be consumed by his sons and forget his people.
When they reached the royal palace half a day's journey, the gate was open, as though opening its arms to receive its master.
And there stood Meriel's sister. Beneath the light of night. Gerald dismounted first from his horse. Then he approached her and embraced her tightly and said:"It has been a long time since I last saw you, little sister."
She smiled, despite the clear worry upon her features. Then Meriel stepped forward. He embraced her. And the moment he did, she began to weep. She embraced him in turn tightly and said:"You must find them at any cost, or I will not forgive you."
But Meriel did not answer. He only went inside.
As for her, she continued weeping. From a distance, William watched the scene from atop his horse, which was itself agitated. With a strange look, difficult to read. Until she noticed his gaze. Then she left silently. William dismounted from his horse. He patted its neck.
Then kissed it lightly and said:"I know. Sometimes I find you cleverer than humans themselves. Unfortunately, you cannot speak."
Then he entered the palace. The servants received King Meriel with tears that seemed more feigned than they should be. And they accompanied them to their chambers to rest from the hardship of the road.
As for William, he went directly to the castle library. And disappeared amid the silence of the shelves and the noise of books.
The next morning, the palace was loud. Servants moving in every direction.
As though they had woken from a long slumber. Breakfast was lavish. A table full of fish, salads, and drinks. Meriel was the first to sit. His sister sat beside him. Then Gerald.
As for William, he stood behind Gerald in silence. Until he suddenly stepped forward. He took the knife. Cut a small piece of fish. Ate it. Then he took a little of Gerald's drink and drank it. Beneath Meriel's gaze, who seemed to be fighting a small urge to smile.
But the time was not right. William said quietly:"Safe to eat."
Meriel looked at him in astonishment and said:"Do you suspect the food I serve, brother?"
Gerald gestured with his hand toward William and said: "He claims to be the one who holds the reins."
Meriel looked at William. The latter said, moving his hands politely:"It is not about you, my lord. You are not the one who made the food, are you?"
Gerald said with a smile:"Do not trouble yourself, brother. He does the same in Ironfield."
Meriel said with light sarcasm:"Will you not taste our food as well?"
William hesitated a little. Then he said:"Don't worry, my lord. I have already done so. Safe to eat."
Meriel froze for a second. Then he turned toward Gerald and said:"Does he read you bedtime stories as well?"
Gerald quickly cleared his throat and said:"No. I will not allow you to insult me before my sister. I know how to read."
And they continued with breakfast. While Layla remained silent throughout the meal. After breakfast ended, Meriel rose silently. He said nothing. He only left the hall with heavy steps, as though each step drained something from him. He went directly to the children's chamber. He opened the door slowly.
The silence inside was painful. The beds were made. The covers as they had been left. And the toys still in their places, as if the chamber refused to acknowledge their absence. Meriel approached one of the beds. He sat down slowly. Then he reached out his hand toward one of the small toys. He stared at it for a long time.
As if it might give him an answer. Or turn back time. But the door opened behind him.
William entered. He paused at the threshold for a moment, before saying in a courteous voice:"Forgive me, my lord. My words will seem somehow harsh, but I suggest you hold a funeral for both your sons in front of your people."
Meriel's head rose suddenly. Anger appeared in his eyes at once. And he said sharply:"They are alive. Why in the hells of the Rocks would I hold a funeral for them?"
William remained calm. As if he had expected the outburst. Then he said in his measured voice:"It is not the eyes of the gods alone that watch you, my lord. There are eyes all across the kingdom. And those eyes burn with fire the moment we are speaking now."
He took a small step forward. And continued:"On our way to the castle, they made it clear. Under these wretched conditions, your focus on the children will be a convincing reason for them to rise against you."
He paused for a moment. Then said in a lighter tone:"This is merely a suggestion, made because you are Gerald's brother. In truth, this was not my concern. You are free to do as you will."
He turned to leave. But before he stepped out, he stopped. Then he turned halfway and said:"Ah. One more thing. How many guards are stationed at the Wall? And how many gates, exactly?"
Meriel looked at him in astonishment. Then he said:"Fifteen thousand men. Twenty gates, why."
William shook his head slowly. Then he said:"Do you not find it strange that fifteen thousand men are enough to guard twenty gates…from the danger that threatens humanity, yet they failed to prevent a king's son from slipping out to the Forbidden Wood? I don't mean anything specific, but the question here is necessary."
Then he left. And closed the door quietly behind him.
As for Meriel, he remained sitting in his place. Holding his son's toy. But the shock was clear on his face.
William's words had done enough. They forced him to think. Of possibilities he had not wanted to consider.
Betrayal. Negligence. Or something worse.
Hours passed. And he remained inside the chamber. Barely moving. Until he finally made his decision.
At midnight, he went directly to Gerald's chamber. And entered without knocking. Gerald was lying upon his bed. And beside him, upon a wooden chair, sat William, holding an open book. The scene seemed ridiculously suspicious. Gerald lifted his head quickly.
Then he said with evident embarrassment:"Get out. We shall discuss matters of the kingdom tomorrow."
But Meriel entered with a faint smile for the first time in days. And said:"Tomorrow I shall hold a false funeral for the children. I only wanted you to know. Do not argue with me about it."
Then he turned to leave. But before he stepped out, he stopped at the door. He looked at the book. Then he said:"What was the story?"
Gerald was slightly flustered. He said, mumbling:"What story?"
Meriel said:"Forget it."
Then he paused for a moment. And looked at the cover. And said:"Everleav: The Rise of the Wall."
Then he added with a faint smile:"An interesting story."
And he left.
Beneath the light of the eyes of the gods, on the opposite side of the forest, inside the kingdom of the Normens. Or as they call it:
Merleith.
One of the Normens sat among a group of children. Her silver hair flowing over her shoulders. Her features were calm, beautiful in an uncommon way. And her pointed ears gave her a different bearing from humans.
Her name was Zohra.
She sat surrounded by children of her own kind. Telling them stories. Stories of history. Stories of war. Stories of humans.
One of the children suddenly raised a hand and asked:"Why do humans keep fighting us?"
Zohra smiled. A small smile, carrying something of pity. Then she said:"Humans have always possessed the worst traits—greed, cunning—but fear always stood in their way."
She paused for a moment. Then she continued:"Despite their greed to seize the lake, they knew they lacked purpose."
The children watched her with great attention. So she continued:"Each of them had his own purpose. And their fear made us come out of the forest to fight them. We were forced to remind them of their place."
Then she gestured with her hand toward the outside."They would gather before the Wall to make it easier for them to flee when things went wrong. The Wall that we built for them to keep them within their borders."
She lowered her voice slightly."But they would stand before it, crowded together, and sound a horn calling us to war—with thousands of their strong men."
Then she smiled lightly."We would send only dozens of our loyal soldiers, and the matter would end quickly, with most of them back behind the Wall."
And she continued quietly:"We protect the lake from their greed. We do not take pleasure in harming them. But we are forced to do it."
Suddenly, one of the Normens approached quickly. Her features disturbed. Something rare. Very rare.
She bent slightly and said:"There is a problem."
Zohra stopped. She froze.
The word "problem" alone felt like a thunderclap. Because it was not among the words her people used.
It was a human word. A foreign word.
She rose at once. And left.
In the Forbidden Wood, there were eight guards. Their spears pointed toward a child. But he was not natural. His eyes pure white. Glowing.
And his whole body radiated a strange yellow light. The child stood among them. Confused. Afraid. It was Edd.
Zohra stopped. Shock after shock crossed her face. A new feeling crept into her.
A feeling she had never known before. Fear.
Then she whispered:"He is the Chosen One…"
She paused. She looked at him again."…And he is human."
Edd was looking at his hands. Breathing fast. And saying in fear:"What is happening to me?"
Then repeating it:"What is happening to me?"
One of the guards approached cautiously. He took him by the arm. But in a moment, Edd seized the guard. And suddenly his body turned to fragments upon the ground. Scattered like dust.
Zohra stepped back. Then she placed her hand over her face and said in a low voice:"It cannot be."
As for Edd, he understood nothing. He kept repeating in a frightened voice:"Where is my brother?"
Beneath the weight of terror, the feet of the guards, once steady, began to tremble. Edd looked at their feet. And saw something familiar. Fear. Then he lowered his gaze to his own feet.
But they were not trembling.
They were steady.
Strong.
As though something inside him…
invincible.