Deep in the forest, where sunlight now made its way through the dense leaf canopy, Kass and I found a secluded spot by the babbling river. The gentle murmur of flowing water provided a soothing backdrop.

  "Let me see your hand," Kass said softly, her voice a gentle reassurance in the tranquil surroundings.

  I extended my trembling arm, the burn on my palm still throbbing with a dull ache. With practiced hands, Kass carefully unwrapped strips of fabric torn from the hem of her shirt, the soft material offering a makeshift bandage for my injured hand.

  Kass knelt down at the water's edge, dipping the fabric into the clear, flowing stream. Gently, she began to wash away the dirt and grime from my burnt hand, the coolness of the water providing a welcome respite from the lingering heat of the burn.

  As Kass began to wrap the cloth around my palm, her movements were slow and deliberate, her touch gentle yet sure. With each pass of the fabric, I felt the tension in my muscles begin to ease, the pain in my hand gradually subsiding under Kass' soothing ministrations.

  Once the makeshift bandage was secure, Kass nodded in satisfaction, her gaze meeting mine with a silent understanding. "There, that should do for now," she said.

  Kass sat beside me by the riverbank, her gaze drifting thoughtfully across the rippling water as she began to speak. "You know, this isn't the first time I've had to treat burns," she said softly.

  I turned to her, my brow furrowing with concern.

  "The blacksmith had a temper like you wouldn't believe. Whenever I made a mistake, he'd fly into a rage and take it out on me."

  A shiver ran down my spine, my heart heavy with empathy for my friend's suffering. "I'm so sorry, Kass. That must have been awful."

  Kass nodded, her expression clouded with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "It was. But I learned to treat my own wounds. I couldn't rely on anyone else to help me."

  I reached out to grasp Kass' hand. "You don't have to do it alone anymore, Kass."

  A faint smile tugged at the corners of Kass' lips as she met my gaze, her eyes shining with unspoken gratitude. "I know," she said softly. "And I'm grateful for that."

  For five long days, Kass and I sought refuge in the depths of the forest, our makeshift shelter offering little protection against the elements. Tangled branches and leaves formed a makeshift shelter, providing a delicate barrier between us and the relentless wilds beyond.

  At night, the forest echoed with the sounds of my despair. Memories of my father, his twinkling eyes and gentle smile, haunted every waking moment.

  But through it all, Kass remained by my side, a silent pillar of strength, her touch a grounding force in the maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume me.

  Slowly, with each passing day, the raw edges of my grief began to soften. The sobs subsided, replaced by a dull ache that throbbed deep within me.

  Kass was there, a constant presence. She held me through every sob, every choked scream that ripped from my throat. She didn't try to talk, to offer empty platitudes. She understood. In the quiet comfort of her embrace, I allowed myself to unravel, the dam of my grief finally bursting.

  The meager food we'd managed to snag from the overflowing satchel was long gone, devoured in the desperate scramble for survival. The coin purse, with our only hope of buying provisions, lay abandoned in the ransacked carriage.

  Kass and I emerged from our hiding spot, stretching our stiff limbs after a restless night's sleep. The forest around us was alive with the sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves. Hunger gnawed at our bellies, a constant companion these past few days.

  We were a sorry sight. The grime of the escape had caked onto our clothes, a stark contrast to the cool river water that had served as our only bath the previous afternoon. Though the chill still lingered in our bones, it was a small price to pay for a moment of fleeting cleanliness.

  "Our stomachs are growling louder than a pack of wolves," Kass grumbled, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through the damp air. She gestured towards the sad, brown apple in my hand with a raised eyebrow. "That won't keep us going for long."

  I scanned the forest floor, my mind racing through the jumble of plants I'd crammed into my head from dusty old books.

  "Right," I agreed, shoving aside some ferns with my foot. "Maybe we can find some berries or nuts around the edge of the clearing to hold us over. Just remember," I added, "not all plants are your friends. Some can be real nasty, so let me check things out before we start munching."

  Kass rolled her eyes but gave a short nod. We ventured into the dense foliage, Kass pushing aside branches with her usual ease while I kept my eyes peeled for anything familiar. The search started slow, the undergrowth thick and uncooperative. But just as frustration threatened to boil over, a flash of red caught my eye. Plump, juicy berries hung heavy from a nearby bush.

  "Hold up," I said, stopping Kass before she could reach for them. Crouching low, I examined the leaves closely, comparing them to the mental pictures I'd stored away. "Aha! Wild raspberries," I announced, a genuine grin breaking through the grime on my face. "Perfectly safe to eat, and pretty tasty too."

  Kass' skepticism melted into a grin as I explained the difference between the safe, deep red raspberries and their lookalikes, the dull-colored baneberries, which could mess with your insides in a very bad way. We spent the next hour carefully picking, my book smarts proving surprisingly useful. We gathered a small bounty of raspberries, hazelnuts, and even a few dandelion greens, their bitterness a welcome contrast to the sweetness of the berries.

  For a stolen moment, the weight of our situation seemed to melt away, replaced by the simple pleasure of the sweet fruit and the satisfaction of a successful forage. But the tranquility was shattered by a rustle in the undergrowth sending a shiver of fear down our spines.

  "What was that?" I whispered, my eyes darting nervously around the clearing.

  Kass frowned, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife strapped to her belt. "I'm not sure. But we should be ready for anything."

  With our senses on high alert, we slowly backed away from the bush, our hearts pounding in our chests as we waited for whatever lurked in the shadows to reveal itself. But as the moments ticked by in tense silence, the forest remained eerily still, leaving us to wonder if it was just our imagination playing tricks on us.

  "Let's get out of here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I took Kass' hand in mine.

  Kass nodded in agreement, her grip tight on the knife at her side as we hurried back to the safety of our makeshift camp. As we disappeared into the depths of the forest, the rustling in the underbrush faded away, leaving nothing behind but the haunting echo of our own footsteps.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Sitting around the flickering embers of our campfire, Kass and I huddled close together, our faces illuminated by the warm glow of the flames. The forest around us was cloaked in shadow, the rustling of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal creatures serving as a backdrop to our conversation.

  Reaching deep into my pocket, I retrieved the tattered scrap of paper, the sole survivor of the inferno that had devoured my childhood home. Unfolding it carefully, I brought it closer to the firelight.

  The fire cast dancing shadows across the ravaged parchment. Across from me, Kass, her brow furrowed in concentration, sat mirroring my posture. Her vibrant eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were narrowed in thought. Tonight, however, silence reigned, punctuated only by the rhythmic pop of burning logs.

  "Still nothing?" Her voice finally broke the quiet, barely a whisper that seemed to struggle against the crackling symphony.

  I shook my head, frustration burning in my throat. "It's like staring into a void," I muttered, tracing the grid of numbers with a trembling finger. "Random, meaningless..." My voice trailed off, lost in the symphony of the flames.

  This cryptic message, my father's last act before the world went up in smoke, felt like an insurmountable wall. Was it a desperate plea for help, a location of some hidden refuge, or something more? The possibilities were endless, each one as frustrating as the last.

  "There has to be a pattern, right?" Kass prodded. "Maybe it's a substitution cipher? Like each number corresponds to a letter?"

  I considered it for a moment. "Too obvious," I countered, "also, there are more than 26 numbers. That's more than the alphabet."

  Maybe it was connected to the ancient language of the Aethel people, with its elegant script boasting a mere 29 characters. Or perhaps it was a code used by the resistance fighters in Xiphos, their language a harsh whisper of consonants and clicks. But none of the languages I knew, from the singsong dialect of the Zolan traders to the harsh sounds of the Rylan mountain folk, had more than 40 characters.

  Silence descended again, heavy and suffocating. A pang of helplessness washed over me. My heart ached with the weight of my father's absence, and the weight of the responsibility he'd entrusted upon me.

  Suddenly, a flicker of excitement lit up Kass' eyes. "Hey," she said, her voice tinged with hope. "What if it's not about letters at all? Maybe the numbers represent something else entirely. Coordinates perhaps?"

  My heart jumped at the possibility. "Coordinates? Like a map to..." My voice trailed off, the answer hanging in the air.

  "Like a location your father wanted you to find," Kass finished, a grim realization replacing the excitement in her eyes. "But where would the map be? We can't exactly search his study for clues anymore."

  The house, once a repository of memories and knowledge, was now nothing but a smoldering ruin. The map, if it existed, was likely reduced to ashes alongside my father's life's work. Disappointment settled in my stomach.

  Kass stared into the fire, her face a mask of grim determination. The firelight danced in her eyes, casting an unsettling orange glow on the set of her jaw.

  The fire crackled between us, the glow casting shifting shadows on our faces. The night air was cold, but I barely noticed, too consumed by the weight of our situation. Kass sat across from me, her eyes burning with a fierce intensity, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was seething, and I could feel the rage radiating off her.

  "I'm going to kill him," she muttered through gritted teeth, her voice low and full of venom. "That bastard. The king. He deserves to die."

  I sighed, leaning back against a nearby log, staring into the flames. The heat from the fire kissed my face, but it couldn't thaw the cold knot of worry tightening in my chest.

  "I know how you feel," I said softly, my voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "But it’s not that simple, Kass."

  She shot me a sharp look, her brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. "What do you mean? He's the reason everything's gone to hell. We should be out there hunting him down right now."

  "Do you really think it’s that easy?" I asked, my gaze not leaving the fire. "The king has a massive army. Not to mention... he’s survived multiple assassination attempts without a scratch. People have tried to kill him for years, and they’ve all failed. Nobody has ever gotten close to him."

  Kass clenched her jaw, determination hardening in her features. "I don’t care about his army. I can wield a sword just fine. If he wants to fight, I’ll give him a fight. Let him come at me."

  I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. "You think we could just walk into the castle and face him? You think any of us could get close enough to even touch him?"

  Kass’ eyes blazed with defiance, but I could see the doubt flicker in her gaze. "I don’t care. I’ve had enough of this. I’d rather die trying than let him keep destroying everything."

  I could feel the weight of the world pressing on me, the burden of knowing what was truly at stake. I looked into Kass’ eyes, trying to make her understand. "Nobody has ever gotten close to him, Kass. Not once. Hell, nobody’s even seen him outside the castle in the last twenty years. He’s like a ghost, locked away in that fortress. The castle itself is nearly impenetrable, surrounded by defenses no one can breach."

  She frowned, chewing on my words as if weighing them carefully. "Then how do we fight him? How do we stop him?"

  "We don’t," I said quietly, the hopelessness in my voice weighing heavily between us. "At least not directly. We find another way. A better way. One that doesn’t end with us getting killed before we even have a chance to do anything."

  I stared into the flickering flames, their dance reflecting the chaos swirling in my mind. I could feel Kass’s burning gaze on me, but I was too lost in my thoughts to look up. There had to be a way. There had to be a way to stop him.

  "You know," I began, my voice quieter than before, but still heavy with the weight of the truth I was about to reveal, "there probably is a way to beat him."

  Kass shifted, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

  I took a deep breath, careful not to let the frustration in my chest spill over. "Magic. Magic is the only thing that can rival his power. That’s why he’s banned it across all of Cyrennia. Why he’s destroyed every scrap of knowledge about it. He’s terrified of it."

  She blinked, confusion flickering in her expression. "But... magic’s just a myth, isn’t it?"

  I shook my head, my voice tightening with the weight of what I knew. "No. Magic is real. It’s just been hidden. There’s no one left who really knows how to use it—not anymore. He made sure of that. He burned all the books, wiped out anyone who even dared to practice it."

  I paused, swallowing hard. "Anyone caught using magic is executed. There’s only a handful of magic users left now—and most of them are slaves to the king. He uses them for his own purposes."

  Kass’ eyes darkened, the thought of those innocent people enslaved like that hitting her harder than I had expected. But it was the truth, and sometimes the truth was harder to stomach than anything else.

  There was a long silence between us, the crackle of the fire our only company. Then Kass spoke again, her voice quieter now, tinged with curiosity. "I didn’t know all that. I guess I didn’t really care to. I was just trying to survive, like everyone else. Didn’t know the history of Cyrennia, really."

  I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "I guess I’ve spent too much time reading. It’s not hard to learn what they don’t want you to know. All it takes is a few old, forgotten books tucked away in corners. I know the stories, Kass. All about how the king came to power."

  I didn’t know if there was a way to stop him. All I knew was that the king had made sure no one else could. But maybe... maybe if we could find a way around it, we could get to him before it was too late.

  "The scrolls, maybe they're the key to bringing him down. Not with violence, but with something... smarter."

  Kass raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism lingering in her gaze. "Smarter, huh? Like what? A strongly worded letter?"

  "I don't know yet," I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice. "But there has to be a way to use what we have, what my father entrusted us with, to bring about change without resorting to bloodshed."

  Kass sighed, the tension slowly draining from her body. "Fine," she conceded, leaning back against the rough bark of the tree behind her. "But if your fancy book learnin' doesn't pan out, I'm holding you to finding another way."

  As the crackling flames of the campfire began to wane, Kass and I settled down for the night, our bodies weary from the day's trials. The soothing sounds of the forest enveloped us like a comforting blanket, lulling us into a state of drowsy contentment.

  But just as sleep began to claim us, another faint rustling in the bushes nearby caught our attention. For a moment, we exchanged a wary glance, our senses on high alert as we strained to catch any sign of movement in the darkness beyond.

  "It's probably just a rabbit or a squirrel," I whispered, my voice tinged with uncertainty as I tried to reassure myself as much as my companion.

  Kass nodded in agreement, though the tension in her muscles betrayed her unease. With a resigned sigh, we settled back against the soft earth, our eyelids heavy with exhaustion as we drifted off into an uneasy sleep, our dreams haunted by the specter of unseen dangers lurking in the shadows.