"Take this letter and deliver it to one with the Hero's Mark. The fate of the world depends on it. On your life, do not let it fall. Swear to me."

The wheels of fate began to turn when the young pilot took the letter entrusted to him by Immortal Queen. He did not know what the letter was for, or even to whom it was addressed, but he knew of its grave importance. With a solemn nod and salute, the pilot replied:

"I swear it."

He sealed it in a secure box in his Warp Fighter and flew for Midhaven Tower, where he knew it would be safe. But he did not make it, for the hordes of Voidspawn swept in and shot him down. The pilot crashed in the northern desert, where the hordes devoured him and tore apart his vessel.

There the letter sat for years and years, untouched by human hands, until one day, a scavenger arrived to pick up the metal scraps. He found the box intact, and curious as to its contents, he opened it and saw the letter bearing a royal seal.

Take this letter and deliver it to one with the Hero's Mark. On your life, do not let it fall.

Unable to decide whether to obey, the scavenger decided to procrastinate and pocketed the letter. Then a group of bandits ambushed him and stole all his belongings, including the letter. Infuriated, the scavenger followed them back to their lair and devised a clever plan to destroy them. He created an army of scarecrows and set them up in the dead of night, then set them aflame. The bandit army thought they were being attacked and dissolved into chaos. The scavenger slipped in, retrieved the letter, and slipped out.

Then he read the letter. Its purpose, it seemed, was to prevent another Void invasion in the future. What was the Void, and why was it so important to stop it? Intrigued, he tracked down every book he could find on the subject and read it. He realized that the Void possessed limitless power. The young scavenger then made a mistake that would ruin generations to come: He summoned a Voidspawn and merged with it. Drunk on his newfound power, he swept through the land conquering everything in sight. It soon occurred to him that he could use the letter to gain supporters if he pretended that it supported his rise. No one had to actually read it. Using the royal seal stamped on the letter as "proof" of his legitimacy, he created a nigh-unstoppable army to march on the fledgling post-apocalyptic civilizations.

One day, two parents gave birth to a baby boy with a strange mark on his right hand. The boy grew up to become unusually strong and courageous, and his talents at fighting were matched only by his uncommon kindness. He gave to the poor and needy, rescued those in peril, and put away criminals wherever he could. The mark on his right hand became his symbol, the Mark of the Hero. Word of the "Hero" reached the ears of the scavenger. He set his sights on this "Hero" and marched to confront him. Despite all of his otherworldly power, the Hero defeated him and retrieved the letter. He read the instructions on the envelope:

Take this letter and deliver it to one with the Hero's Mark. On your life, do not let it fall.

He had the "Hero's Mark." He certainly qualified. The Hero opened the letter and read the message directed to him. Then he looked up at the sky.

"I cannot fulfill this mission yet."
He pocketed the letter.
"But I can prepare future generations to fulfill it."

On his deathbed, he passed the letter on to his son, and gave him the same speech the letter's author had once given so long ago.
"Take this letter and deliver it to one with the Hero's Mark. The fate of the world depends on it. On your life, do not let it fall. Swear to me."

The boy agreed. "I swear, father."

Years later, war broke out between the nations, and the Hero's son was drafted. The boy became best friends with another soldier, and the two survived many battles. But it was not to last. A skilled spearfighter struck down the Hero's son, and in his final moments, he entrusted the letter to his friend with the words:

"Take this letter and deliver it to one with the Hero's Mark. The fate of the world depends on it. On your life, do not let it fall. Swear to me!"

With tears in his eyes, the boy's friend clutched the letter to his heart.

"I swear it."

The friend survived the war and returned home to his family. He remembered the letter for as long as he lived. When age caught up with him and threatened to take his mobility, he embarked on a quest to find the Hero addressed in the letter. He searched far and wide, through desert and snow, seas and forests, mountains and valleys, until at last he came upon someone bearing the unmistakable mark.

With a weary smile, he deposited the letter at your doorstep and walked away.

It's your turn now, Hero.
What will you do?

@Samdragonx
It was the smoke that woke our sleeping hero.

Ravadon's eyes peered open to witness the amber light of flame dancing across the walls. Beside him, a small fire flickered over a handful of sticks and ashes. A boy, no older than twenty years of age (closer to 17-18), crouched nearby with one arm dangled over his knee, the other fingering an envelope on the floor. A black patch covered his right eye, a stark contrast to his youthful, almost effeminate features. A small sheath on his hip held a dagger. The lazuli-infused robes and light armament indicated a Draganite Battlemage, a fearsome warrior, if their reputation held over the years.

The boy's eye turned to Ravadon. He studied the man, particularly his right hand, upon which a freshly branded cross burned with ethereal power. "Welcome back to the world of the living," the boy said at last, a smirk tugging at his lips. "It's a mercy the elf found you when she did. You looked poisoned or something, but I've fixed you right up. Oh! I boiled some coffee for us. Have some." He poured a little from the kettle, and the life-giving liquid gurgled into a mug.

The boy offered it to Ravadon.

@Thinslayer

Ravadon remembered the smells of ash far to well. The ember lights made him rub his eyes. "Hey, what's all this ungloriousness doing near me?" he thought to himself.

"Oh.." His mind felt a little light, though his eyesight needed some firm calibration before he could determine what exactly was going on.

The boys voice felt familiar. Like an older brother Ravadon once had. The cold, wet feeling on most of his body was welcomed by the heated air. Moving made snapping noises for all but his right forearm. A numbness in his lips and tongue. "Hmm.. must have been a while since i ate.." he thought. The taste of a sour banana with pepper scorched upon his tongue.
He yawned, rubbing his eyes.

He sat up, noticing an eye-patch, a cup and the etheral glow on his hand as he stretched forward to a better taste.

The aroma gave him the impression he was offered coffee. His first sip was swift and washed out most of the filthy aftertaste he'd been having for a few days now.

"Elf? Haha, no! No, friend! She obviously fell for my glorious charm. I had her with but one glance, but a thousand she'll return to me in thanks for being found!
So tell me your little name, Patch-eyes, so she might kiss me on your behalf. Which is a glory in itself, mind you."
He coughed up some slime. It was a thick clog in his mouth.
"Ah, it seems this humble small bit of coffee will not do to strengthen my resolve. "
He spit the mouthly mixture on the floor, tried to brush off the lightheadedness and get on his feet.
"The lowly tavern my glory stayed in was donating large sums of wealth to recieve my even more courageous performance. Not worthy of my time, of course, but i'm a gloriously, praiseworthy, humble man of the people... "

He halted, realised he was not wearing anything and to most, would seemingly awaited the response of 'Patch-eyes'.
Though his thoughts might indicate his embarrassment.

@StormHeart The Healer's Apprentice

"Work faster, you stupid elf!"

How did Kiera Akello get herself into this? One minute, she was meditating on spirit binding theory, minding her own business, and the next minute, she was press-ganged into slavery on a luxury yacht with a misfit gang of orcs, dwarves, and elves. The rich tycoon they served was a particularly obnoxious halfling, whose great girth was sustained by a constant influx of beef, cake, and pain.

Kiera had the unenviable job of being the heal-monkey. Some people could get high off being healed, and for a glutton like His Royalness Lord Gurk, eating as much as he wanted and being healed of nausea and stomach pain was his greatest delight. People like him made a mockery of the noble profession.

In a nearby corner, a group of Gurk's minions entertained themselves by teasing a young human woman. Though they yanked her silver hair, dumped out her bucket of cleaning water, and grabbed at her butt, she put on a brave face and refused to give them the reaction they wanted.

A spray of spittle and chewed chicken bits regained Kiera's attention. "What are you gawking at? Want to trade places with her?"

@Thinslayer

Ravadon remembered the smells of ash far to well. The ember lights made him rub his eyes. "Hey, what's all this ungloriousness doing near me?" he thought to himself.

"Oh.." His mind felt a little light, though his eyesight needed some firm calibration before he could determine what exactly was going on.

The boys voice felt familiar. Like an older brother Ravadon once had. The cold, wet feeling on most of his body was welcomed by the heated air. Moving made snapping noises for all but his right forearm. A numbness in his lips and tongue. "Hmm.. must have been a while since i ate.." he thought. The taste of a sour banana with pepper scorched upon his tongue.
He yawned, rubbing his eyes.

He sat up, noticing an eye-patch, a cup and the etheral glow on his hand as he stretched forward to a better taste.

The aroma gave him the impression he was offered coffee. His first sip was swift and washed out most of the filthy aftertaste he'd been having for a few days now.

"Elf? Haha, no! No, friend! She obviously fell for my glorious charm. I had her with but one glance, but a thousand she'll return to me in thanks for being found!
So tell me your little name, Patch-eyes, so she might kiss me on your behalf. Which is a glory in itself, mind you."
He coughed up some slime. It was a thick clog in his mouth.
"Ah, it seems this humble small bit of coffee will not do to strengthen my resolve. "
He spit the mouthly mixture on the floor, tried to brush off the lightheadedness and get on his feet.
"The lowly tavern my glory stayed in was donating large sums of wealth to recieve my even more courageous performance. Not worthy of my time, of course, but i'm a gloriously, praiseworthy, humble man of the people... "

He halted, realised he was not wearing anything and to most, would seemingly awaited the response of 'Patch-eyes'.
Though his thoughts might indicate his embarrassment.

Ravadon took one sip of the coffee and broke into loud boasting. "Elf? Ha ha, no! No, friend, she obviously fell for my glorious charm. I had her with but one glance, but a thousand she'll return to me in thanks for being found! So tell me your little name, Patch-Eyes, so she might kiss me on your behalf (which is a glory in itself, mind you)."

The boy smirked at the thought of the elflike woman kissing Ravadon. It seemed beneath her. "I would say there is no harm in asking, but..." He coughed so as not to finish that sentence. "My name is Druth Vanarys. You may call me Van, or Patch if you like. I will abide by your decision. Just do not call me 'little,' or I will pry the flesh from your skin with holy fire."

Then he extended a hand.
"Nice to meet you."

He subtly shifted the envelope out of sight.

@Thinslayer "Work faster, you stupid elf!" She couldn't believe that she, a talented healer had to waste her talents on a bunch of buffoons who ate until they got sick. She just wanted to get off of this yacht and pretend that Gurk and his henchmen never existed. Then, she suddenly spotted a girl with silver hair getting harassed by Gurk's minions. "What are you gawking at? Want to switch places with her?" She recognized that voice anywhere. It was Gurk.

"No thanks, unless if you want me to stop healing you every time you got sick to your stomach." She said. She had to do something to make Gurk and his minions stop harassing her without having to switch places with her, but how?

"How about this? I'll heal you whenever you want to, in favor of leaving this girl alone." She smiled. Hopefully, that would be enough to make him stop his henchmen. She personally didn't like helping people for no reason, but she remembered what her mother always told her. "Always help strangers in need, because you never know who they actually are!"

She doubted that the girl was anyone special, but who knew? There's always a first time for everything.

"I would say there is no harm in asking, but..." *cough* "My name is Druth Vanarys. You may call me Van, or Patch if you like. I will abide by your decision. Just do not call me 'little,' or I will pry the flesh from your skin with holy fire."

"No harm in asking? What was it this small, little, slightly magical young boy was rabbling on about? Did he not notice the magnificence of the great one that stood before him... In all nudity. It must be his guilt gnawing at his conscience that make him speak in such suggestive terms. Alas, I am forgiving of this transgression." Or so Ravadon thought in the few moments of silence his persona owned. Noticably, Ravadon's selective hearing would, with this as prime example, get him into trouble once more.

A hand stared Ravadon in the face by which he snapped out of his glorious thoughtprocess.

"Nice to meet you."

"Ha, I shake no hands like this." He pointed at his body.
"Nothing personal to the little man. I just wouldn't want the glory of my persona to rubb off in such concentration and burn your inferior body before you get the chance to experience the feast of its greatness for your... one eye... first." His voice nearly turned into singing as he picked up some of his slightly wet rags.

Subtlety was never Ravadon's strength. An envelope disappearing was neither his concern nor something that would bestow him the honor he 'deserved'. But curiosity made itself the better of him. He decided it was better to talk about his greatness than ask about trivial matters for now.

As Ravadon was getting dressed, he started to plan out his search for his clothes. For it might lead him to find a way to get his hands on the content of the letter. So that ultimately by the time he got dressed, he would find the boy waiting on him.
He might be able to spot the letter nearby. The proper handshake would allow Ravadon to try to obtain it(s information) and then flee the area.
As was the way he dealt with most strangers he did not bond with.

@ineffable
Two Marks Against You

Take this letter and deliver it to one with the Hero's Mark. The fate of the world depends on it. On your life, do not let it fall.

The royal carriage rattled and jolted on the cobblestone road. The velvet cushions held her like irons in a cage ever since armed guards demanded Isabella's presence at the capital at the behest of the king. It was a mercy he hadn't seen the Letter she tucked away, or else the velvet might have been real iron. The King didn't say why he wanted her at the palace, but considering all the posters around town demanding the presence of the Reaper, it wasn't hard to imagine the possibilities.

The carriage came to a halt in front of Midhaven Palace, a vast, sprawling complex built around the ancient tower where the human kings reigned for centuries. The Captain of the Guard opened the door and stretched out his hand. He was a handsome fellow, with an attractive beard and shoulder-length golden locks decorating his gentle face. He was the very model of a useless figurehead.

"Milady, the King awaits over yonder," he said, hand still outstretched.

@Thinslayer
Isabella raised an eyebrow at The Captain of the Guard, ignoring his hand and stepping down by herself, keeping a hand on the hilt of her sword. She walked up the steps to the Midhaven Palace, making sure to take in her surroundings as she followed the guard inside.
"So...What is your name?" She turned to the guard and smiled, taking in his looks before flicking a strand of dark hair behind her shoulder. She didn't like flirting, really, but getting to know someone inside Midhaven was a good idea. Enough gossip to last her centuries, not like the Captain of the Guard would give her gossip exactly, but he was useful for whatever else she desired.

@StormHeart
"What are you gawking at? Want to switch places with her?" Gurk spat.
"No thanks, unless if you want me to stop healing you every time you got sick to your stomach. How about this: I'll heal you whenever you want to, in return for leaving this girl alone?"

Her smile only served to infuriate Gurk. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her close to his face. "I own you, girl," he growled. "You're in no position to bargain with me. You'll heal me whenever I want, wherever I want, however I want, and if you don't wanna, I got a nasty whip waitin' on deck. You feel me?"

Until now, the silver-haired woman had been ignoring Gurk and Kiera. When she saw Gurk getting angry, however, she brushed past the minions assaulting her and knelt before the halfling. "My lord," she began, her voice clear and powerful, "please allow the swap and forgive this young healer. I know a lingering heal spell that can satisfy all your needs without depending on an unreliable healer. In the meantime, allow me to show her the ropes and train her to become more loyal to you."

Gurk shoved Kiera away and leaned forward. "A lingering spell, you say? Very well. I'll allow it. If I catch the elf disobeying me again, though, it'll be your hide I'll tan. Understand?"
The woman nodded. "I understand."

She stood up to full height. The woman towered over Kiera, easily 6'4", and carried herself with regal poise. She brought her hands together and started to sing in an unknown, ancient language. Normally, modern spells were cast by chanting poetry, but singing was almost unheard of. A bright light formed between her hands, and a moment later, it flew to Gurk and enveloped him in a faint, calming glow.

"Well I'll be..." Gurk swore.
The woman smiled. "If my lord will permit, I shall take my leave with the elf."
"...sure thing..." Gurk muttered, still entranced.

The woman took Kiera by the wrist and escorted her outside, shooting a death-glare at the minions as she passed. She took Kiera to a remote corner of the ship and seated them both on a pile of crates. "That was very dicey, young lady," the woman warned softly. "Gurk is a very powerful creature, and it would not do to antagonize him before my plans are set in motion. You may call me Dessa. What is your name, and where is your home?"

@Samdragonx
"Ha, I shake no hands like this." Ravadon pointed at his body. "Nothing personal to the little man. I just wouldn't want the glory of my persona to rubb off in such concentration and burn your inferior body before you get the chance to experience the feast of its greatness for your... one eye... first."

Druth scrunched up his nose at the thought of Ravadon rubbing himself all over him. "Ew, no thank you. There are some spare clothes in a bag over there in the corner." He pointed to a corner close to the opening. Thankfully, it put Ravadon in an excellent position to snag the letter from under the boy's butt and make a run for it.

The opening led into a tunnel, which forked into a left and right path. Sunlight shone into the left path. There was a yellow crystal over the left path, a green crystal over the one leading to Druth and Ravadon's area, and a blue crystal over the right path.

@ineffable
The Captain watched Isabella step off the carriage, hand on her sword. Her elegant poise, serene expression, and magical power put her as one of the most unique noble figures he'd ever laid eyes on. If instinct hadn't told him to bow, he'd have done so anyway for the regal might standing before him.
"So, what is your name?" came a lovely voice. He looked up to behold a smile upon her lips. Even though it failed to reach her eyes, it still melted his tension somewhat. The way she flicked a strand of hair behind her shoulder sent his heart soaring with awe. "I... I am Sir Byron, milady. Erm, Bruce Byron. I am here to escort you to the king."

Sir Byron armed his spear and walked with her through the halls. "The king has been inconsolable as of late. He's been pacing to and fro, muttering to himself about esoteric things, subjects that even the kingdom's greatest sages dare not let pass their lips. Your sister, too, has lost her usual bubbly charm, keeping mostly to her room while she weeps upon the bed. It's been chaos, milady. I'm relieved you're here, though I'm aware you were summoned. Can you help?"

@Thinslayer
She already knew she had him ensnared in her trap.
"Thank you, Bruce." She smiled graciously at him, toying slightly with the hilt of her sword while she tried to think of a good reason for her to be summoned here.

She strode beside the guard purposely, never behind or in front. She listened to his slightly sympathetic tone and smiled. She'd not been summoned a lot of times but she did know that she could deal with anything. Well, anything except handsome guards of course.
"Of course I can help. You can call me Isabella or Bella for short. I'm not that high up in the ranks. Plus milady gives me the shivers." She smiled and winked, letting her face relieve of tension.

Ravadon knew there would be no better oppertunity to escape this cavernsystem than to walk right into the sunlight and read the letter. However, as was natural to him, his curiosity got the best of him. With little regard for the one-eyed boy, he ran into the dark tunnel with the blue crystal first. Seeking glory in surviving the dangers of the depths.

Rushing to take or pick up the crystal, he concluded that taking all three would be impossible without "patch eyes" noticing. "Hm..." he whispered to himself. "I might navigate to the escape away from patch eyes using these crystals." Having memorized the blue and the yellow crystals position, he ran into the darkness. He was pretty proud of his achievements, but sadly had little time left to celebrate out loud.

With curls and turns flying by him, Ravadon hurled himself down through the darkness. While wearing spare clothes and a letter he snatched from the one who woke him, he thought to himself: "Where does this inferior tunnel lead me and my glory!?"

@Samdragonx
As Ravadon plodded deeper into the caves, the only light came from the crystals hanging from the ceiling. The walls glittered at times, hinting of valuable minerals left close to the surface. He soon found himself following an abandoned minecart track, one rusted with age and unfortunately lacking in minecarts. The track eventually forked into three separate paths - on the ceiling of the left path was a blue crystal, the right path a green crystal, and the forward path a red crystal. The path with the green crystal came to a metal chest in surprisingly good condition.
___________

@ineffable
"Of course I can help," the princess reassured him. "You can call me Isabella, or 'Bella' for short. I'm not that high up in the ranks. Plus, 'milady' gives me the shivers."
Captain Byron blushed at Isabella's comments. Her smile and wink instantly put him at ease . "Very well. Bella it is," Captain Byron replied, offering her a shy grin. "Your assistance will be much appreciated. The king's summoning of the Grim Reaper is particularly troublesome; I've heard rumors, dark rumors, that the two were once allies. Summoning such powerful beings, I hope you'll agree, would be gravely perilous to the health of the kingdom, let alone to the king. I think we should try to talk him out of it.

As they walked through the halls, they passed lifelike statues of past heroes. One bore the likeness of Tristan the Great, said to have had the very first Mark. Another was a completely nude model of the Immortal Valentine, which would have doubtless mortified the real Lady Valentine had the Void not destroyed her. She was renowned for her modesty and chastity (among other things), though some historians believe she was married to as many as ten mortal men during her lifetime.

The third statue they passed was the most realistic, impeccably sculpted to resemble the late King Edward Dragan. He stood with his sword drawn, his handsome face marred by a slight expression of pain. Small cuts were intricately carved into various places on his body. Curiously, his right hand was tucked behind him, and there were trace letters written on the back of his hand that could not be read from any easy angle.

Captain Byron jutted his chin slightly at the statue of the King. "When I was younger, I took a mirror and tried to read the inscription on his hand. I didn't get far before the palace guards caught me. It looked like an incantation of sorts." He turned to Isabella. "All of these statues are fairly new. There used to be just one statue, Immortal Nero's, but now there's a whole slew of them, sixteen in all, with heroic figures from the last few decades."

@Thinslayer
Isabella strided along with the guard, keeping an easy pace as she surveyed the statues with interest.
When she saw the statue of Immortal Valentine she gasped and started laughing.
"Sorry...sorry" She sputtered "It's just that...well it's Lady Valentine." She shook her head, desperately trying to pull her smile back into a concerned serious expression. She reached out a hand and ran it along the walls, feeling the age of it, the years and years of history embedded in it.

As she listened to the Guard's childhood story she smiled slightly at him, all soft edges and curved warmness.
"I used to do the same thing when I was younger and I visited my sister here. Used to go to the library lots too, poked my head into a lot of forbidden books. Sadly, I found nothing." She chuckled, letting her hand graze the guard's shoulder ever so slightly.

Was she overdoing it? She needed information about the castle after all...a tiny flirtatious risk with the head of guard shouldn't be too much

"Sounds impressive, all those statues. Though, I suppose I never had a large affinity for them. Unless they carry secrets." With this she let her lips stretch into a sly smile, raising her eyebrows at the guard as she continued walking, the elegant sway of her hips evident.

@Thinslayer
Ravadon now:
“Oh, that’s adorable. The rocks are reflecting my beauty once again. It is almost as though they were as pretty as I am. ALMOST.” The lacking of minecarts made Ravadon imagine himself riding a chariot across the tracks at high speeds, jumping out at the last second and saving the day as all enemies fell down to beg for even more mercy. “A storage container of metallic format?” Raising one hand and throwing his head back and forth. “Pretty brutal” Ravadon got off his high horse for just a few seconds… “But not as glorious as I am…” Or at least, he thought about it.
He celebrated his findings in hope that if the chest or any other would attack his glorious persona, the drama of such an unexpected attack would forever mark the attacker as a villain. Approaching the chest, he sought to take all of its content in the way the fat lady that sings, eats her oatmeal.
Till there’s nothing left(inside) and you can’t take any more(singing).
When the chest was emptied, he realized some of this might not be just a pile of loot. A plié performed perfectly followed, before he decided to rush down the blue marked path. “I hope petty tiny patch-eyes doesn’t chase me…”

@Thinslayer "You may call me Dessa. What is your name, and where is your home?" The woman asked. Kiera was still in shock with how the woman cast the spell. She never saw anyone cast a spell like that before! Who was this mystery woman? With almost a thousand thoughts brimming in her mind, she almost forgot the question at hand.

"Oh! Uh, my name is Kiera and I live in East Haven. Well, lived considering I was ever since I become a slave on this yacht." She smiled. She hoped this woman would help get her off this yacht so she can go back to dazzling all of the villagers in her town with her healing powers while being complimented on how pretty she looked and how talented she was.

"By the way... What do you mean by plans?" She asked Dessa. "What are you planning to do with Gurk? Not that I mind if anything bad happens to him, but I'd like to know what's going on."

@Samdragonx
Opening the chest proved a costly move. No sooner had he sheathed the Legendary Blade Gladius than he heard footsteps approaching through the cavern. It wasn't just Vanarys' steps he heard - there were about two, maybe three other people with him. If he was to survive, he'd have to get a move-on and not get distracted again.

His run down the blue-marked path finally produced the first signs of something interesting - literally. There was a rickety wooden sign attached to the cavern wall that warned of a "DEAD END." The tunnel appeared to continue on. Ravadon had a choice to make.

Believe the sign and turn back, and pray your pursuers get lost.
Don't believe the sign. You don't have time to backtrack.

@ineffable@StormHeart@Darkwatck01(Stories coming soon)

@ineffable
The princess's laugh made him feel like a million dollars. "I used to do the same thing when I was younger and I visited my sister here," she commented. "Used to go to the library lots too, poked my head into a lot of forbidden books. Sadly, I found nothing."

Her hand grazed Byron's shoulder. If he didn't realize she was flirting earlier, he did now, and he had to resist the urge to say something romantic and stupid. No one flirts with the princess except an equal. So he kept his mouth shut while she continued. "Sounds impressive, all those statues. Though, I suppose I never had a large affinity for them. Unless they carry secrets." Her lips stretched into a half-smile. Byron mirrored her expression and dropped his gaze, where he noticed the attractive sway of her hips. He found his own gait to be a tad more uncomfortable.

A nearby guard snorted at him. He glanced back just in time to see Sir Nero and Sir Quint snap back to their positions. Byron pushed down his anger and feigned a laugh as he turned back to the princess. "Seems the statues aren't the only ones with secrets," he joked.

They arrived at the throne room, where Byron pushed open the great doors to find King Dragan standing before a strange purple summoning circle. The King had his hands clasped together as he uttered a spell in a low, ominous chant. He paused to look up.

"Welcome at last, my daughter. Come hither."