The brothers walked in silence through the twisting streets of the town, their steps falling into an easy rhythm despite the weight of their conversation. The sun hung high in the sky now, washing the cobblestones in light and making the shadows around them sharper. Desmond kept his eyes forward, his hand resting protectively on Nathaniel's shoulder as they navigated the crowd.
Finally, Nathaniel broke the silence, his voice small but filled with curiosity. "Desmond, what's so dangerous about mages? Why doesn't everyone just go to them for help if they're so powerful?"
Desmond slowed his pace, letting the question settle before answering. "It's not that simple," he said, glancing at Alaric, who had fallen into step beside them. "Magic… it changes things. People, places, even the world itself. It's not like using a sword or building a house. It's unpredictable. It doesn't just take skill to wield; it takes control, and not everyone has it."
Nathaniel tilted his head, his wide eyes fixed on his eldest brother. "But Calla's supposed to be able to open the box, right? That means she has control."
"Maybe," Desmond admitted. "But control doesn't always mean trustworthy."
Alaric scoffed lightly, adjusting the satchel slung across his shoulder. "What he's not saying, Nathaniel, is that mages tend to have their own agendas. They don't work for free, and their prices are… different."
"Different how?"
Desmond sighed. "Gold doesn't mean much to them. They want things—secrets, favors, sometimes even pieces of you."
Nathaniel's brow furrowed. "Pieces of you?"
"Not literally," Desmond said quickly, though he glanced at Alaric, whose smirk suggested he'd been about to tease the boy further. "Mages deal in power, and everything has a cost. They'll ask for something valuable to you—something you might not even realize you're giving up until it's too late."
Nathaniel fell quiet, chewing on this information. Desmond ruffled his hair lightly. "That's why we're careful. We don't make promises we can't keep, and we don't offer anything we're not willing to lose."
"So why are we going to her?" Nathaniel asked, his voice hesitant.
"Because we don't have a choice," Desmond said, his tone firm. "This box could bring us trouble whether we open it or not. If we're going to deal with what's inside, we need to understand it first."
Alaric chimed in, his voice more casual. "Think of it this way: if we don't open the box, House Valen will hunt us down to take it back. If we do open it, maybe we can figure out how to use it—or at least how to get rid of it without getting killed in the process."
Nathaniel didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Okay."
They reached the edge of town, where the narrow streets gave way to dirt paths leading into the countryside. Desmond paused, scanning the area before guiding them off the main road and toward a quiet grove of trees.
"We'll make camp here for the night," he said, setting down the small pack he carried. "It's too far to reach Calla's cabin before dark, and we're not wandering into her territory in the middle of the night."
Alaric dropped his satchel onto the grass and stretched, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked around. "Good call. Besides, we need time to figure out how we're going to approach her."
Nathaniel sat cross-legged on the ground, watching as Desmond began to unpack their supplies. "What's the plan?"
Desmond straightened, his brow furrowed in thought. "We keep it simple. We explain what we need, and we don't let her take control of the conversation. Mages like Calla are sharp. If we're not careful, she'll turn the situation to her advantage before we even realize it."
Alaric leaned against a tree, his expression skeptical. "And what if she doesn't want to help? What if she takes one look at the box and tells us to leave?"
"Then we leave," Desmond said firmly. "This isn't worth picking a fight over."
Alaric arched an eyebrow. "You think she'll just let us walk away with a box that's probably laced with enough magic to make her curious?"
Desmond didn't respond immediately. He didn't want to admit that Alaric was right—mages weren't known for letting valuable things slip through their fingers.
Nathaniel's voice broke the silence. "What if we don't show her the box right away? What if we just ask if she knows about magic like this?"
Desmond exchanged a glance with Alaric, surprised by the boy's suggestion. "Not a bad idea," he said slowly. "We can gauge her reaction first. If she seems trustworthy, we show her the box. If not, we leave."
Alaric shrugged. "Better than just handing it over the moment we walk in."
They spent the rest of the afternoon refining their plan, the dynamic between the brothers shifting naturally as they worked together. Desmond took the lead, his calm authority grounding them, while Alaric played devil's advocate, questioning every angle until the strategy felt airtight. Nathaniel listened quietly, his occasional insights reminding Desmond that the boy was growing sharper with every passing day.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the grove filled with the soft sounds of nighttime: the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, and the crackle of their small fire.
Nathaniel sat close to the flames, his face illuminated by their warm glow. He poked a stick into the embers, his expression thoughtful. "Do you think the mage will be scary?"
"Maybe a little," Alaric said, grinning. "But don't worry. If she tries anything, Desmond will protect us."
Desmond rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He settled back against a tree, his poleaxe resting beside him, its cold steel catching the firelight. "Get some sleep, Nathaniel. We'll need to be sharp tomorrow."
Nathaniel hesitated, then nodded. He curled up in his blanket, his small form looking even smaller against the vast darkness of the grove.
Alaric shifted closer to Desmond, his grin fading as he lowered his voice. "You really think this is going to work?"
"I don't know," Desmond admitted. "But we don't have a better option."
Alaric sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I hate relying on people like her. It feels… exposed."
"It is," Desmond said. "That's why we stick together. No matter what happens, we protect each other first. Always."
Alaric nodded, his expression softening. "Always."
The fire burned low, and the brothers fell into an uneasy silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Tomorrow, they would step into the unknown, into the territory of a mage whose help they needed but couldn't trust.
But for now, they were together. And for Desmond, that was enough.