Tents with magically expanded interiors were already scattered across the shoreline, positioned at a good distance from where both ships were moored.
As the Gorleans set foot on land, they were met with the searing heat rolling in from the Rock Barrens, carried by the dry winds to the coast. With mutual agreement from both parties, they advanced along the shore for a time before preparing to cut inland into the harsh terrain ahead.
Both groups worked efficiently, setting up tents, fire pits, and cooking stations within a few hours.
'Good work, acolytes,' Bhallen said as he strode through the camp, inspecting their progress. 'We must remain vigilant, swift, and above all – efficient in every possible way.'
Riniock was particularly watchful.
As he secured the tent alongside his peers, his gaze remained fixed on a figure in the distance. Irgod was equally vigilant – their eyes locking even across the encampment. A silent exchange of cold, murderous intent passed between them, unspoken but undeniable.
'What's got you so on edge?' Elred asked, crouching beside him as he pinned one side of the tent to the ground.
Riniock didn't respond, his stare unbroken.
Elred shifted behind him, following his line of sight. 'That's him, isn't it?'
'That's the bastard,' Riniock finally muttered.
'So, when are we killing him?' Elred blurted out, his tone far too casual.
That finally broke Riniock's focus. He turned to his companion, only for Elred to chuckle and wave a dismissive hand. 'Relax, I'm joking. Just wanted you to look away for a second.'
'Whatever,' Riniock grumbled, returning his glare to Irgod – only to find that, to his surprise, Irgod had already looked away and moved on to other matters.
Elred spoke again, his attention shifting. 'Hey, what happened to her? Isn't that the girl you fought in the arena?'
'What? Where?' Riniock followed his friend's gaze.
Sure enough, there was Linry, tending to her own tasks. But something was off. His sharp eyes quickly caught the burn marks stretched across her neck – a fresh injury, unmistakable. Someone from the delegation had done this to her. And come to think of it, Irgod was riddled with wounds of his own as well.
His grip tightened around a wooden tent peg until it snapped in his hand. 'I'll kill the bastard. He did this to her.'
Elred blinked. 'What was that?'
'Er – nothing,' Riniock muttered, forcing himself to relax. 'She probably burned herself while practicing.'
Elred pursed his lips and nodded. 'A sound hypothesis.'
On the other side of camp, Irgod worked in silence. Once he finished setting up the tent assigned to him, he gathered his belongings and stepped inside to unpack.
The interior was vast – large enough to house at least fifteen people comfortably.
'Arthian's nowhere to be seen,' Piddruin remarked, stepping in behind him with his own bags in tow.
'Don't dwell on it, Pidd.'
Irgod dropped his pack onto the floor and crouched to retrieve his things.
'What do you mean?' Piddruin pressed. 'It's like he vanished. No one's seen him on the Absconder, and there haven't been any reports of him leaving either. Something's not right.'
'Pidd…I said let it go.'
'But why?'
'Just drop it.'
'Not until you give me a damn reason.'
Irgod exhaled sharply, then turned to him. 'Fine. He's dead – killed by that bastard Riniock.'
Piddruin's grip slackened, his bag slipping from his hands as he straightened in confusion. 'What? How do you know that?'
'I just know. Don't push it.'
'T-Then we should tell Master Fladd –'
Irgod moved in a flash, grabbing Piddruin's sleeve before he could take another step.
'What the – let go, brother!' Piddruin yanked his arm free, barely breaking Irgod's grip.
'Are you that thick? You think telling the master is a good idea?'
Piddruin hesitated, clearly torn. 'Shouldn't I?'
'You stupid fuck. If you go to him with this, he'll flay you – and me – for knowing about Arthian's death and saying nothing until now.'
Piddruin's brow furrowed in confusion. He was trying to piece it together, but the situation was too tangled for him to make sense of.
'Then…what do we do?' he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
'You? Nothing. I'll figure something out – a way to rid us of that slimy twat for good.'
As night fell, lanterns flickered across the camp whilst students took turns standing watch.
Down by the shore, where the two ships rested against the water's edge, scattered lights glowed on the decks. Whilst most had moved inland with the main expedition, others were left behind to guard the vessels.
Amongst them were Illiar, Grahost, and a handful of other students, serving as the ship's temporary guard crew. Illiar and Grahost stood near the railing, their eyes sweeping over the darkened landscape.
'What do you think?' Illiar broke the silence.
'Think about what?' Grahost replied, his focus unshaken.
'You know,' Illiar nudged him with an elbow. 'The ruins they found. Do you think there's anything worthwhile waiting at the end?'
Grahost squinted into the distance. 'How in Murat should I know…'
Illiar groaned. 'Gods, Grahost, I know you're not a seer. We're just guessing here.'
Grahost let out a dry sigh. 'Most of the time, places like that hold nothing but dust and bones – remnants of civilisations long buried.'
'A fair guess,' Illiar admitted. 'But not the right one.'
Grahost turned to him with an arched brow. 'Oh? And what is the correct guess?'
Illiar grinned. 'That those ruins are the resting place of a powerful sealed entity – one waiting to be set free.'
'You've read too many novels.'
'No, no. Think about it,' Illiar pressed, his tone caught between excitement and jest. 'Ancient ruins with no records. The rock barren – once the seat of an old kingdom. If that's not the perfect place for a sealed entity, I don't know what is.'
'Whatever, Illiar. Just stay focused.'
'You're just jealous of my boundless knowledge.'
'Oh, spare me your nerdish antics –'
Grahost's words were cut short as his body lurched backward. He hit the deck with a heavy thud, the impact echoing across the ship.
Illiar dropped to his knees, panic setting in. 'Grahost!'
His friend didn't move. A ghostly blue arrow was lodged between his eyes, his face frozen in an expression of complete, unknowing death.
Illiar's breath hitched as he scanned the deck. Lanterns lay toppled, their flames licking hungrily at the wooden planks. Bodies were strewn about – lifeless, unreacting.
'Damn it all,' he muttered, staggering to his feet. The enemy was unseen, and standing in the open was an invitation to die.
He bolted for the lower deck just as cries erupted from the cabins. Figures clad in black stalked the corridors, kicking down doors, cutting down anyone inside. The clang of blades against flesh filled the air, followed by the sickening gurgles of lives ending.
Smoke thickened. The ship was burning.
If the assassins didn't kill him, the fire or suffocation surely would.
Illiar raced downward, deeper into the hull. Nowhere was safe. Death loomed in every corridor.
At the lowest level, near the brig, he found his escape – a trapdoor leading straight to the sea. Without hesitation, he wrenched it open and dove into the dark water.
The splash was loud, but no one seemed to notice. He swam frantically towards shore, dragging himself onto the sand. Coughing, gasping, he looked back just in time to see the Absconder collapse in on itself, flames devouring it from within.
The delegation's ship, however, stood untouched. Not a single spark marred its pristine form.
'What in Murat is happening…' he panted, his mind struggling to process the chaos.
Then pain – sharp, searing – exploded through his back.
Illiar stumbled forward, his face hitting the damp, sticky sand. His fingers twitched, reaching back, gripping the arrow lodged between his shoulder blades.
'Shit, shit, shit…' he gasped, wrenching it free. Blood spilled down his back as he forced himself upright, wavering.
His vision swam. The world tilted.
A shadow stepped forward, materialising from the darkness like it had always been there, unseen. It moved with chilling certainty, eyes devoid of mercy.
Illiar raised his hands, readying a spell – but pain struck again, deeper this time.
A spectral blue blade pierced his chest, its glow casting eerie light on the sand.
Illiar's breath faltered. Blood dribbled down his chin. His eyes lifted to meet his assailant's, but before he could say a word, the blade was ripped free from his chest.
A single, sweeping motion followed.
His head hit the sand, half-buried in the cold grains.
The dark figure turned, leaving the lifeless body behind, and walked back towards the burning wreckage of the Absconder.