After a couple of hours of steady riding, and with the familiar winding trails of the mountains ahead, I gave Angus the freedom to choose the best path. He knew these mountains better than I ever could. The chill in the air clung stubbornly to the land, lingering longer than I was accustomed to. It was as if the cold had woven itself into the very fabric of the earth, refusing to let go. Here and there, a few stubborn trees still clung to their leaves, though they were a strange shade of yellowish-brown, coated in a layer of frost. For the most part, however, the branches were bare, stripped of any sign of life, save for the occasional bud waiting to bloom once the last traces of winter had faded.

It was the ninth night of our journey through the rugged lands of Pontheugh. As the sun began to dip behind the mountains, the faint glow of Lancaster's lanterns finally pierced the gloom, beckoning us toward safety. I let out a long, exhausted sigh, the weight of days spent in the saddle sinking into my bones. A soft smile crossed my face at the thought of a warm bed—no more lying on the damp ground, with the smell of mildew in the air and the wet soil seeping into my clothes.

Angus's hooves pounded the earth beneath us, the sound echoing through the night as we hurried towards the town's stables. I was too tired and sore to notice the curious stares of the townsfolk as they watched us pass. It didn't matter—nothing mattered but reaching that stable and resting.

After paying the exorbitant fee for Angus's stall, a price that seemed almost criminal for a single night's stay, I led him to his temporary home. The stall smelled of hay and the earthy scent of fresh straw, and I went to work removing his leather harness, wiping down his coat, and cleaning his hooves, feeling the familiar rhythm of grooming soothe the tension from my own muscles.

"Ma'am?" A voice called softly from behind me. I turned to see a young stable boy standing at the open gate, watching me with wide, curious eyes. "You don't have to do that," he said nervously. "I'll take care of him for you."

I shook my head, smiling softly at his offer. "It's no trouble, lad," I replied. "If you want to, you can grab some bedding for him. He'll appreciate it."

The boy nodded eagerly and set to work, forking piles of soft straw into Angus's stall. I watched him for a moment, admiring his energy despite the late hour, then reached into my pocket and handed him a copper coin. "Thank you kindly, lad."

As the boy busied himself, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. A hot meal and a warm bed would be my rewards for the long journey, but I couldn't ignore the exhaustion that had settled into my bones. My body ached with every movement, every stretch, yet my mind couldn't shut down. I glanced at the boy, who was busy arranging the bedding, and a thought crossed my mind.

"Oh, before you go," I called out. "Where can I find a good meal around here, and a bed for the night?"

The boy paused in his work, turning towards me. "The Golden Monkey Inn, ma'am," he said with a smile. "Best beef barley stew in these parts, and they've got bedding along with meals."

I nodded, the name of the inn ringing a faint memory. "Thank you," I said, offering him another smile as I handed him an apple for Angus. He took the fruit from my hand, his grateful eyes brightening.

I left the stable, feeling the cool evening air settle around me. My footsteps took me toward the inn, the scent of wood smoke and cooking meat reaching me before I even entered. When I stepped inside, the warm, earthy atmosphere of the tavern wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. It was bustling, filled with the chatter of locals enjoying their evening, the clinking of tankards, and the occasional burst of laughter.

I scanned the room, searching for a spot to sit, but my gaze was drawn to a nearby group of men. Their thick, unruly beards and broad frames were typical of the Lancaster inhabitants, their laughter punctuated by the occasional rough shove between them. I was about to turn away when I caught a fragment of their conversation.

"What does the man need this time?" one of them muttered, his face scrunching in distaste. "Not like he's short on supplies."

The second man barked out a laugh, slapping his companion on the back with a loud thud. "We bring the supplies before he runs out, that's why."

The third man, who had been nursing a mug of ale, tipped it back before slamming it down on the table. "Don't mistake us for fools, Barron," he growled, his eyes narrowed. "Supplies have been running low more often since the troops were sent back into battle. This war's been getting worse, I can feel it."

The words struck a chord deep inside me. I knew the war between us and the Kellso had been brewing for years, but no one wanted to speak openly about it. The whispers and rumors of dark magic and grotesque creatures lurked on the edge of every conversation, but few dared to acknowledge it.

It was not unknown for news to travel about the ongoing battle happening just across the mountains in the territory of Damerel, but many hadn't a clue what it was actually about. There were rumours of people who cloaked themselves in the skins of dangerous beasts and used dark magic to possess the animal's strengths.I've only seen one person who had been directly in contact with them, but I can no longer say that he was still alive. Augustus Peterson, an older man who had been in battle since he was of legal age, left our village with good wishes and happy trails. He had left before I had been born, and it was years later that we met the man ever again. When we did, he had come back bloody and dying. He wished to see his home village once more before he died, and the next day, we awoke to find him cold in his bed.These people, although I don't believe we could call them people any longer, had grotesque lifestyles and needed to be put down like the animals they were.

"Could be business for some," the second man said, grinning. "But I don't like where this is heading."

The first man stood, his broad shoulders moving with ease as he pushed away from the table. "We leave for Wintercrest in ten minutes," he said gruffly, heading toward the door.

"That man's always moving about, ain't he, Drake?" Barron muttered as he shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. He pulled out a few coins and set them on the table with a sharp clink. "We best be going. You know how he is with his time—ten minutes means right now, and right now means you're late."

Drake, the man Barron was speaking to, simply shook his head and followed him out the door, leaving a lingering silence in their wake.

I lingered by the table, my mind racing, piecing together the fragments of their conversation. The tension between them was clear, but it wasn't just their exchange that caught my attention. It was the undercurrent of something darker that seemed to hang over the entire town. We were at war—no one dared to speak of it aloud, but I could feel the weight of it everywhere. The Kellso. Everyone knew about them, but no one spoke their name openly. It was as if acknowledging their existence would make them more real, more terrifying.

But I had seen it firsthand. The fear in the eyes of those who talked about the Kellso in hushed tones, the way conversations would abruptly change when the demons were mentioned. Too many of our men had left to train as soldiers, only to vanish without a trace, swallowed by the chaos. It was hard to believe we were living in anything close to safety when the threat loomed so close, and yet, we lived with it as though it were just another fact of life.

Shaking off the thoughts, I paid for my meal and gathered my things from my room. As I stepped outside into the damp, cool air, I made my way to the stables, where Angus, my loyal horse, nickered in greeting. I smiled softly, my hand brushing through his thick mane as I tied a rope around his neck. Leading him out into the open, I walked toward the outskirts of town. My eyes drifted over the familiar path we had traveled the night before, but today felt different. There was a restlessness in the air that I couldn't quite place.

"You greedy animal." Laughing softly, I took the apple from my pocket. Taking a bite for myself, I offered him the rest, and he happily took it. I patted his cheek affectionately before taking the rope from his neck. "You're on your own now, Bud," I said while staring into his big brown eyes. "I hope you know the way home."

He blinked softly, nudging me with his side before he walked off slowly, swishing his tail, which hit me in a teasing manner.

I watched him walk away for a while until he disappeared.

I was alone now, with only the road ahead and my thoughts to keep me company. My plan was simple: to make my way along the docks and find a ship that could take me to Wintercrest. From there, I would continue my journey to Aeberuthey, the legendary island of dragons. The idea of seeing these dragons was both exhilarating and terrifying, but I pushed on until I was standing on the edge of the docks, exchanging a couple of coins and good banter with the captain of the ship I would be boarding. His critical eye cut into me but never denied my request to sail to Wintercrest.

All was going smoothly on the ship until a tremendous wave, which left behind a feeling of nausea and an uncomfortable heated headache, slammed into me. My will to live fell victim to the sickness the sea has cursed upon my unwilling body.

When I bribed my way onto this ship, I hadn't realized that our voyage would be accompanied by a storm.

"You doing alright there, lassie?" Gawain, the captain of The Ocean's Doom, called from his desk. Though, I do believe that this time, the ocean will be the fateful doom of this ship.

"I'll be fine." I sputtered out. The lanterns on the walls squeaked every time the ship swayed. The yellow hues that the lanterns cast swayed with the ship, illuminating the dark edges of the captain's cabin every so often.

"The seas fighting with the storm, but soon she'll settle." The man had barely looked up once from the map laid out in front of him.

Unsure of anything at this point, I sunk deeper into the chair I was occupying and watched the black waves roll outside of the large window. Occasionally, a streak of lightning would puncture the inky blackness, breaking the bonds between light and dark. My eyes played tricks on me as I thought I had seen shapes moving about as the lighting lit up the sky.

"So... Have you been to other islands besides Pontheugh and Wintercrest?" I asked the man, trying to distract my over-imaginative mind.

"Of course."

"Oh..?" The thought of there being other islands out there uncovered an excitement within me. "And where have you travelled to?"

He looked up from his work; the eerie yellow hue barely erased the shadows across his face.

"I'm just trying to fill the silence." Thunder rumbled outside.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, casting a glance towards the window. A look that I could not fully see nor identify disrupted the calm man's look.

"I have travelled. Far out to sea, there are people much like you and me, but they speak a different tongue, and they worship different Gods. Some have never been in contact with mythical beings, and others have been in contact with some we have yet to discover."

He glances towards me. "Some worship their women."

He doesn't make a distasteful sound or look. He just stared on, remembering his voyages.

"I have been to the island where the very devil himself has populated the grounds with demons, soulless eyes, and their pointed teeth filled with venom that burns painlessly yet kills instantly."

"Dracwyn," I breathed.

"Aye, Dracwyn is where they be."

His gaze was brought back to his papers, nary uttering another word until we docked The Ocean's Doom on the ports of Wintercrest.

I resisted the urge to cower away from the cold pellets of rain stinging my eyes and skin, watching as the men around me seemed to barely notice the icy shards as they hauled in their shipment to horses and buggies.

Taking a closer look, I realized that the animals hauling the carts had bulkier bodies, larger than a horse. One of the animals snorted, and a bright orange flame shot through the smudged darkness. Widening my eyes in realization, I came to the conclusion that these animals were dragons, not horses.

Someone shouted from behind me, not hearing correctly I gave a look of confusion. "What?" I called over the overbearing noise of rain.

"I asked if you've ever seen dragons before?" Gawain stepped close. Rain repeatedly dripped from his shoulder-length curly hair.

The beasts meshed with grey colours stood proud and tall, putting the finest horse in the lands to shame with their build and beauty.

"Growing up around dragons was no treat, believe me." He laughed, slinging a bag over his shoulder and trudging across the wooden docks. "Come on, no use standing in the rain waitin' to get yourself sick."

Quickly scurrying after him, I tried to hide behind his large build as protection from the rain. Briefly stopping to further expect the magnificent creatures, I watched as their golden eyes swirled with light, penetrating the darkness of night.

One of the dragons soon realized it had an audience and without a moment's hesitation began to blow fire from its open mouth.

"Show off!" A voice said from beside me. The man's blond hair was plastered to his face, but he didn't seem to notice

"Hank," he said while shaking my hand, "and this shite over here is Viomurn, and his sister, Mirnath." The two both had similar structures that made them closely resemble a horse, but the wings on their back and the fact that they had tiny grey scales made it clear that these were no horses.

"Navi," I said, shaking his hand with an equally firm grip.

"This guy loves an audience. I tell you, all he ever wants is attention." He grumbled while patting Viomurn's flank.

The dragon gave a snort and stomped his foot. I laughed. Clearly, the dragon had been offended.

"Alright, we best get a move on," Hank said as he sat up front and held the reins in his hands.

I climbed into the safety of the carriage, with some help from the captain, and sat opposite him. We shared the seats with two other men, most likely the captain's crew, and the whole journey I only sat back and listened to the men talk about whatever men would normally talk about when a woman was present.

I wouldn't exactly call it a pleasant ride. Having to sit in a rather small place with more bodies than I would deem as comfortable, sulking away in wet clothing while listening to men continue to make small talk while having certain things reserved due to the presence of myself, I would consider this particular situation rather unpleasant. It's funny how fast a person's mood can change when their clothing gets wet.

Thunder cracked outside, shuddering the carriage, though not making a huge difference with the road being so bumpy and all.

My conscious mind was lulled to an uncomfortable sleep, being disturbed by the sudden jarring of the wheels hitting against a disturbance in the road and by the rumbles of thunder.

Being shaken from my half-asleep phase, I realized that we had arrived at an inn. Through the dark of night, I could barely make out the name of the inn, which was Brass Arms Tavern.

"This is where our journey together ends, Miss Withers." Glancing from Gawain to the tavern, I smiled.

"At last, here is a bed I can lay in without feeling seasick." Gawain laughs, shaking his head.

"The sea is beautiful without the storm's torment on her." I smile, not understanding his connection to the vast stretch of water.

From his pocket, he takes out a small pouch and drops it into my hand he had previously grabbed ahold of. Coins jingle inside.

"For the room." He exclaims as I begin to protest.

Shooting a haphazard glare, I thank him and exit the carriage into the downpour of icy water. Hank gave a wave of farewell as he slapped the rein, urging the two dragons forward. I waited until the carriages in pursuit had passed before crossing over to the wooden steps of the tavern.

The tavern was small but well-serviced. In full disclosure, the rooms were cheap, the food was filling, and the beds were soft.