Oliver walked along the winding dirt road, his boots crunching against the loose gravel. It had been two days since the group last gathered to discuss his strange dream, but their discussions had gone nowhere. His right hand and foot, thanks to Nisha's herbal remedies, were almost fully healed; just a lingering ache when he moved them too quickly.
But healing his body wasn't the same as solving the mystery of his vision. Despite hours of debate, they had come up with no solid answers, only vague theories that trailed off into confusion. The dream gnawed at him, clearer than the injury on his hand. Every detail of it burned in his memory, countless stars, overlapping and merging, radiating heat and light greater than the sun, only to be devoured by encroaching darkness.
No matter how hard they tried, no one could fully grasp what it meant. The scene had lasted mere minutes in his dream, but its weight lingered, impossible to shake.
He glanced up at the sky. The weather remained stubbornly sunny, just as the others had predicted. According to their estimates, the clear skies would last for another week. As for the elves they expected to encounter again; there'd been no sign of them. Had someone held them back? If so, he needed to find out why.
"I'll check in later," he muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The summer heat was unrelenting, and climbing a mountain in this weather would only drain him faster if he didn't conserve his energy. Shaking off idle thoughts, he set his focus ahead. Better to save daydreams for later.
The trail climbed steadily toward the distant peak, promising nothing but more sweat and aching muscles.
---
"You want to take them for a walk?" the guard asked, eyeing the small group trailing behind Enola with suspicion.
Enola gave a casual smile, as if the question was absurd. "What's there to do inside all day? Staring at white walls makes you feel caged. We just need some air."
The guard hesitated, frowning as he glanced back toward the entrance. "I guess... fine." He sighed, relenting. "Don't go far."
"Much appreciated." Enola offered him a polite nod before leading the three others through the gate.
Back inside their quarters, a man lay sprawled on a mat, fast asleep.
What the guards didn't know, and what Tom hadn't told them; was that the four weren't under constant surveillance. Only three guards rotated at the door, each working eight-hour shifts. It was easy for the group to move undetected.
They also hadn't noticed the small flowers growing near the entrance: pale, delicate blossoms with a subtle, intoxicating scent. Anyone who inhaled their fragrance for too long would slip into an irresistible sleep. The guards had no idea they'd already fallen under the flowers' influence.
Once they had moved far enough away from the entrance, Enola turned to the others. "You ready?" he asked quietly.
The three nodded, each wearing an expression of grim determination. They knew what was at stake.
Enola had shared everything with them: the plan, the risks, the stakes. Only Chris already knew the full picture, but the others agreed without hesitation, whether out of loyalty to their cause or blind trust in their classmates.
Whatever it was, they were committed now.
---
"What's on your mind, dear sister?" An's voice was sudden and teasing, pulling Nisha out of her thoughts with a jolt. His playful tone startled her so much that she nearly dropped the glass bottle she was holding, fumbling awkwardly with it.
Ziggy, standing nearby, snatched it from her hands just in time, her movements swift and precise.
"Careful," Nisha muttered, carefully setting the bottle back in place. She gave An an irritated glance. "Why would you ask something like that?"
An grinned mischievously. "Do you have someone you like?"
Nisha shot him a flat look, her expression unreadable. "Sister, are you serious?" Her tone was so calm and emotionless that anyone overhearing might think she was entirely unaffected; emotionally and physically.
An chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Just curious."
Nisha rolled her eyes and turned back to her task, carefully measuring the next set of ingredients. But even with her careful precision, An noticed her slight slip, a habit of hers. She'd accidentally added the wrong ingredient to the mixture, something she'd done before without realizing it.
"You still haven't broken that habit, have you?" he said, though there was no judgment in his voice.
She didn't respond, merely setting her tools down with meticulous care. Some habits were harder to change than others.
---
Meanwhile, Oliver trudged up the trail, irritation bubbling beneath the surface of his thoughts. It wasn't the heat or the climb that bothered him, it was something deeper, harder to define. He frowned, the discomfort gnawing at the edges of his mind like an itch he couldn't scratch.
There was no logical reason for the frustration, no clear excuse for the unease that gripped him. And yet, it simmered inside him like a fire struggling to catch.
'Why does it feel like I'm the only one doing all the hard work?'
He knew it wasn't far from the truth. His companions, while reliable in their own ways; weren't the ones taking the lead, pushing forward, and carrying the weight of unanswered questions.
He adjusted the strap of his pack, muttering under his breath. "It's not just a feeling... it's the reality."
The others were either too distracted, too secretive, or too caught up in their own strange habits to focus on the bigger picture. Whether it was the enigmatic Ziggy, the ever-aloof Nisha, or An with his teasing nature, they all seemed to float through their own concerns, leaving Oliver to shoulder the responsibility of moving things forward.
He blew out a breath, trying to shake off the thought. No use complaining now. The mountain lay ahead, and he'd need every ounce of focus to reach the top. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pressed on, each step heavier than the last but steady.
There were still too many questions unanswered, his dream, the strange prophecy, the missing elves, and the eerie convergence of archery and fate.
The stars had illuminated his path the night before, but as he climbed the mountain under the harsh sun, Oliver knew that some things, no matter how brightly lit, remained impossible to see clearly.
All he could do was keep walking and hope that, somewhere along the way, the pieces would finally fall into place.
To avoid detection by the sentry posts stationed at the front, Oliver had no choice but to scale the almost vertical backside of the mountain. Without any climbing tools to aid him, the ascent was slow and puNishang. He moved up a few inches, rested briefly, and repeated the process over and over. Every movement had to be measured, he couldn't afford to exhaust himself too soon. For all he knew, they might have deployed large-scale detection spells. If they spotted him, they'd rain down a storm of arrows, and no amount of agility could save him from such an onslaught.
"One mistake, and I'm done for." He muttered to himself grimly, pressing his fingers into the jagged rock for the next hold. Sweat dripped steadily from his brow, stinging his eyes. His muscles burned, but he kept going.
By noon, the sun beat mercilessly against the cliffside. Even the small cave where he paused to rest offered little relief from the heat. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and for a moment, his vision blurred. He took a long gulp from his water flask, forcing the liquid down his dry throat, and stood again, wiping sweat from his face.
The climb continued. Hours passed. The once-dry stones beneath his hands and feet glistened now with trails of sweat. With every pull and every step, Oliver pushed through the ache in his limbs, his will stronger than his exhaustion.
At last, as dusk began to settle, he reached the summit. Panting and aching all over, he clung to the edge and hauled himself up. His hands trembled from exertion, but he allowed himself a moment to lie still, feeling the cooling breeze against his face.
When he sat up, he surveyed his surroundings. The area near the cliff's edge was quiet, untouched. As he'd hoped, there were no sentry posts stationed here, just the dense forest stretching down into the valley, and beyond it, a small village nestled between the trees. "Right place, after all," he thought, relief washing over him.
As he dusted himself off, his eyes caught something strange, a solitary stone tablet, standing upright among the scattered rocks. It looked ancient, the surface weathered by time. He paused, narrowing his eyes. A tombstone? Here?
It was strange. Elves, because of their reverence for nature, preferred burial sites that were low to the ground; usually at the base of trees or near rivers, so that their bodies could return to the earth. Tombstones on mountain peaks were unheard of.
Curious but wary, Oliver stepped closer, just enough to catch sight of a flower resting on the stone's surface. It looked freshly picked, its delicate petals fluttering in the evening breeze, as though someone had placed it there moments ago.
The oddity tugged at the back of his mind, but he didn't dwell on it for long. "No time for mysteries." He shook his head, forcing his attention back to the task at hand. He still needed to reach the elves' stronghold and, more importantly, figure out what they were doing there.
---
As Oliver crept closer to the village, he forced himself to control even the smallest sounds. Each step was carefully measured, his breath shallow, his movements precise.
From his vantage point hidden among the trees, he saw them, the elves, gathered in small groups, focused on something on the ground. This time, he was close enough to see what they were doing. They were drawing. Patterns spread across the dirt like webs, crisscrossing and spiraling in seemingly random directions.
"What in the world is that?" He squinted, trying to make sense of the strange markings. But no matter how long he stared, the patterns refused to reveal their meaning. They seemed like meaningless scribbles, chaotic and disjointed.
Oliver huffed quietly in frustration. "I'll keep watching. Maybe it'll make sense soon."
---
Meanwhile, deeper in the forest, Enola led her group farther from the city walls. The canopy above was dense, blotting out most of the fading sunlight. Summer usually brought swarms of insects, but not here. The forest was strangely quiet, disturbed only by faint chirps from unseen creatures.
Sandra flowers bloomed all around them, their delicate scent filling the air. These blossoms were beautiful but dangerous, their fragrance could lull any creature into a deep sleep, making them invaluable for keeping wild animals at bay.
Enola glanced over her shoulder. "You have everything?" she asked the group quietly.
Her companions gave a small nod. They were prepared. They had seen enough, and Enola had shared the plan with them in detail. Only Chris had known the full extent from the beginning, but the others followed without question. Whether it was out of loyalty to their cause or blind trust in Enola's leadership, they were ready.
---
Back in the tree, Oliver sighed quietly to himself. The longer he watched, the less he understood. "Tsk, I still don't get it." He muttered under his breath, frustrated by the incomprehensible patterns the elves were drawing.
After what felt like an eternity with no progress, he exhaled sharply. "How am I supposed to sneak in?" he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Then, suddenly—'a tap on his shoulder.'
Oliver froze, his heart lurching in his chest. His eyes flicked to the side. Nothing.
He scanned his surroundings, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. There was no one there. But someone had touched him. He was sure of it.
His pulse quickened. What the hell? His mind raced. Should I... apologize to that tombstone? Maybe it's cursed or something.
Before he could decide, a voice whispered near his ear. "What are you going to do?"
The voice was calm and low, sending a chill down Oliver's spine. He turned sharply, but once again: nothing. Just empty air.
"Are you the one who was chasing me?" Oliver demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. His mind flashed back to the incident where he fell off the cliff. "Is it you?"
The disembodied voice responded with unsettling ease. "Yes. Now, what are you going to do?"
Oliver gritted his teeth. "I'm here to stop them. You know that."
The voice was quiet for a moment, as if considering. "I see. I'll help you... but on one condition."
"What's the catch?" Oliver asked cautiously, his eyes darting around, still unable to find the speaker.
"You do something for me in return."
Oliver knew better than to make promises lightly, but his options were limited. He needed help if he was going to succeed and right now, an invisible ally was better than no ally at all.
He took a breath, steadying himself. "Fine. What's the favor?"
The voice chuckled softly, as if amused by his willingness. "Listen carefully."
And so, Oliver did.