The day they arrived at the forest bordering Veres, the sky loomed dark and heavy. Though it was early morning, thick clouds blotted out any hint of sunlight, casting an ominous gloom over everything. The group’s mood matched the bleak atmosphere, each person tense and uneasy.

  “It feels like this place is trying to convince us it’s dangerous,” Verena muttered.

  Hadassah couldn’t agree more; Verena had hit the mark. The air felt stale, lifeless, as if breathing in emptiness.

  “That, or it actually is dangerous,” Zarek said grimly.

  Drucilla wasted no time, gathering the group and organising a scouting team to comb through the forest. After their return, the main party would split up to begin the search.

  As instructions were being given, Hadassah’s gaze drifted absently into the shadowy forest. Her eyes fixed on a dark figure that seemed to blend into the trees. No one else seemed to notice it—a figure with enormous horns protruding from its head, reminiscent of Erebus yet undeniably different.

  The horns were massive, reaching the height of a grown man, and the figure itself seemed to be a giant. Its face was uncanny: empty black sockets where eyes should have been, no mouth, and a nose flattened against its face. It crouched with its hands on the ground, utterly still, watching her.

  Hadassah felt rooted in place, unsure whether to move or call attention to it. The creature was simply staring at her, unmoving.

  “Hey, let’s go—they’re sending out a scout team,” Zarek’s hand settled on her shoulder, his warmth pulling her back to reality. She looked away from the figure, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. It hadn’t attacked, hadn’t even moved.

  “They won’t come back,” she murmured, her voice almost inaudible.

  “What?” Zarek asked, frowning.

  Hadassah managed to peel her gaze away from the forest, the creature now fading into the darkness as if it had never been there.

  “They won’t come back.”

  Zarek looked at her like she was speaking gibberish, so she turned to see if Rahn could see it, and he could. His eyes were rooted too in the same spot. He did not look scared, and she could not feel any fear from him. Rather, she was the one radiating fear.

  This was Veres.

  There were no living beings beyond this border.

  All that existed here were artefacts.

  Hadassah felt Rahn’s hand take hers, and she let him; at least he understood her fear.

  The group waited three days, but the scouting team never returned. Not a single scream, no sound of battle reached them. It was as if they had vanished without a trace. They were either killed too swiftly to put up a fight or had encountered something so formidable that their voices were silenced by an unknown power. Under the heavens, there are countless principalities and forces, and not everything can be fully understood. In that vein, anything is possible.

  Hadassah sat in her tent, her gaze distant, fixed on the blank scroll on the low table in front of her. Rahn sat across from her, silent as always.

  “Do you blame me for taking away your ability to speak?” She didn’t know why she asked; what was done was done, and Rahn hadn’t shown any resentment towards her.

  ‘No.’

  Rahn would never blame her. She wanted to ask him why, but it felt irrelevant. What mattered was their loyalty to one another.

  “Should we leave the group and go to Veres on our own?”

  Rahn’s eyes sparked. If they left, it would be just the two of them, free of obligations. ‘Yes.’

  Hadassah pondered, her fingers tapping lightly on the scroll. “But if we do that, I’d be ungrateful, biting the hand that feeds. Kaladin’s protected me this whole time. The least I can do is help them reach Veres safely.”

  A shadow flickered in Rahn’s eyes, dark and angry, but he buried it as quickly as it surfaced, careful to shield his emotions from her.

  ‘As you wish.’

  Hadassah took a pen to the scroll, beginning to write. She filled every line with memories of Veres, anything her father had ever told her: stories, warnings, every detail she could recall. Then she started another scroll, recording everything she knew about artefacts. Finally, she devoted the last scroll to the history of Arcadia.

  The Queen of Emeris had six mates, and with four of those mates, she bore children. The famed late Queen of Debauchery was her first child, and the second was Arcadia. Despite Arcadia being born to a general, she became known as the Great Healer and was gifted the Kingdom of Veres. Hadassah’s father had often explained that it was due to the Queen’s respect for healers.

  Her first mate, who died early, had been a healer, and the Queen upheld his beliefs, allowing healers the freedom to wander across the continent.

  Under Arcadia’s rule, Veres flourished.

  Yet Veres’ fate was sealed when the Queen of Emeris vanished from the face of the continent. In one night, everyone in that city perished, leaving behind an empty husk and the formidable artefacts meant to protect it.

  After Veres fell, so did Emeris, and the five great tribes seized the opportunity to wipe out most humans from the continent. The massacre ended twenty years ago, and after that the beast continent entered an era of peace.

  Some artefacts survived, like the Stone Giant; others were passed down to remaining family, like the Vortigern tree; and others still guarded the fallen cities of the late Queens—like the creature lurking in the woods.

  It was a Siren.

  Sirens were artefacts created from corpses, her father had once said, made through dark rune work—taboo augmentation, which had been unregulated and wildly praised by the Queen of Emeris.

  Harbingers, however, were made from the living. As for the details, Hadassah remained uncertain.

  When she finished, she rolled up the scrolls and prepared to leave the tent. But just as she stepped out, she found Kaladin waiting for her outside.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Hadassah asked, squinting at Kaladin.

  “I just arrived,” he replied with a hint of amusement. It felt like a strange interrogation

  She raised an eyebrow. “And why, pray tell, are you just arriving?”

  “I actually came to see if you’d help us plan our next move.”

  A sly smile tugged at her lips as she held up the rolled scrolls in her hand. “Little old me, help a big powerful general? Really?”

  Her words made him roll his eyes: “looks like you’re already three steps ahead.”

  She feigned surprise. “Three? Well, you flatter me.”

  From behind her, Rahn silently watched their exchange.

  A pang of jealousy shot through his heart as he watched her smile, too bright for his liking, directed at someone else.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  The strategy tent felt large; the empty space was filled with tension as Drucilla, Zeus, Verena, Kaladin, and a rabbit beastman Hadassah vaguely recognised, stood in silent attention. As she entered, the stranger gave a short nod, introducing himself with a single, clipped word. “Ash.” He had dark hair the colour of soot and a scar running across the left side of his face. His eyes were dark grey and he stood tall and toned with the others, his ears flopping to the sides.

  “Hadassah,” she replied in kind.

  Drucilla, taking immediate control of the room, gestured for her to approach. “It’s a relief to have a Kesmes here,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “At least you’ll be able to help us navigate this forest without losing half our men.”

  Without further delay, Hadassah spread her scrolls across the map table. “This is everything I know about Veres and Arcadia, from my studies.”

  Drucilla took one of the scrolls and skimmed it, her expression hidden as she absorbed the contents. Silence blanketed the room, everyone waiting before they carried on. After a few moments, Drucilla set the scroll down with a disdainful scoff. “So, we’re meant to believe there’s an invisible Siren in the forest, a giant at that?” She cast a skeptical glance at Hadassah. “Do you take us for fools?”

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  Zeus intervened smoothly, his fan concealing his mouth as he spoke. “If there’s a new type of Siren, it’s prudent to consider it a serious threat until we understand its weakness. No one benefits from underestimating an unknown.”

  Hadassah gave a nod of agreement. “I’ll need a closer look to be sure.”

  Drucilla’s gaze narrowed. “Our elite scouts vanished without a sound, and you think getting close is a good idea?”

  Hadassah met her stare and laid out their situation for them. “With the current state of things, if you send an entire army into that forest, they will all become fertiliser. Fighting a Siren with unknown weaknesses is not easy to do. The more people you take, the more casualties you’ll face. I suggest a small task force to face the Siren while the rest follow after us to collect the plunder once we are done.”

  The room tensed. She spoke crudely without decorum, but she was right. This wasn’t ideal, but survival demanded hard choices. They had to either accept the risk of entering in full force, likely becoming prey, or attempt to infiltrate with a specialised group.

  Drucilla broke the silence. “If we die following your advice, who can I hold responsible?”

  Hadassah’s answer was blunt, near insolent. “If you die, it’s simply because you’re weak. That is the law of beasts.”

  Drucilla’s face twisted into a maddened smile, the same bloodthirsty grin she’d worn after Lord Vortigern’s death. As if Hadassah’s words had injected her with a taste for the battle ahead, she practically glowed with excitement. A small group at the frontline meant a true, brutal fight, just the way she liked it.

  Kaladin spoke, his voice a calm reminder. “Princess, you may wish to consider all options. Ultimately, the decision rests with you alone.”

  “No.” Drucilla waved him off. “I like her plan. A small group then?”

  Hadassah nodded. “Two small groups. We’ll need a decoy.”

  “A decoy group would be made simply to distract, to be slaughtered,” Ash said, his voice filled with disdain. “You say you don’t want unnecessary bloodshed, but then you suggest we sacrifice perfectly good men?” As a commander, his stance was firm—there was no way he would allow his soldiers to be led to slaughter.

  Hadassah met his disdain with the cold truth. “They die now, or we all die later when we enter the forest blindly. Either way, it’s your choice.”

  Ash grit his teeth but did not say anything more.

  Drucilla surveyed the silent faces around the tent, “so, who will lead the decoy group?” Her words hung like a sword above all of them; it was easy enough to send out a decoy, but who would lead them?

  But to their surprise, Hadassah raised her hand.

  Ash’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why volunteer?”

  “Though they may die, I can at least try to keep some of them alive. Better than sending them in blind with no hope at all.”

  “How will you choose those for the scouting team?” Drucilla pressed once more.

  Hadassah didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take those who volunteer.”

  Her words seemed to lift some of the tension in the room, and a few exchanged glances, relief evident in their expressions. It was clear to everyone she was no seasoned battle strategist, and Drucilla’s scepticism was immediate. “Do you really think you’ll get enough people? If you rely on volunteers, you’ll end up with just yourself.”

  Hadassah nodded, fully aware.

  She didn’t want to send others blindly to their deaths. If no one volunteered, she’d be the decoy herself—at least she knew she had some chance of survival in an emergency. “That’s not a problem,” she replied, her voice steady.

  “Fine,” Drucilla said, the barest flicker of approval crossing her face. “Prepare your decoy team. We move once the darkness eases.”

  The meeting was dismissed, at least partially. Hadassah was allowed to leave, and Kaladin walked her back to her tent.

  “I do wonder, what kind of scheme you’re planning,” Kaladin remarked as they walked. He didn’t believe she was simply going to stroll to her death.

  “Are you curious?” she asked, glancing at him with a faint smirk. She wondered why he saw her as such a schemer; it wasn’t that she didn’t have a plan, but his assumption made her feel a little bashful.

  “Well, I’ll find out eventually, will I not?”

  Hadassah chuckled, enjoying his company. “You might not see me again after tomorrow; I might really die, you know. Is this what you’re going to say to me before I leave?” She teased him lightly.

  And he was savouring every second of it. “I think I’ll need to take a little of your time.”

  This time, he didn’t ask; instead, he took her hand and led her quietly away from the camp. Hadassah’s heart quickened at his actions. A secret rendezvous was thrilling enough on its own, but with Kaladin, it felt more than exhilarating.

  He didn’t want to do much; he just wanted to sit with her. They rarely spent time together, and to him, even this small moment was precious.

  Hadassah didn’t mind. He lay back with his hands under his head, watching the sky, while she sat with her knees drawn close. The moon wasn’t visible; it was just them in the dimness, and yet she felt comfortable, as if nothing could harm her as long as he was there.

  “After the expedition, what are you planning?” Kaladin’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “Are you going to leave?”

  Hadassah didn’t want to leave, but she had no intention of exceeding her welcome.

  “Should I stay?”

  The question was simple. She wanted to hear it directly from him if he wanted her to stay. But he didn’t respond, and her heart sank a little. She didn’t press him. If he didn’t want her to stay, she’d leave.

  Simple as that.

  Kaladin sat up, and Hadassah didn’t turn to look at him, afraid her embarrassment would be plain on her face.

  “It’s not that I want you to leave, but you’d live a better life if you didn’t stay.”

  His words hurt.

  More than she expected.

  “Then, I’ll leave.”

  There was a long silence, then he laughed bitterly. “But I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Then ask me to stay, Kaladin.”

  She needed him to say it, to tell her he wanted her with him.

  But Kaladin couldn’t give her that.

  “If you stay, I won’t be able to protect you forever,” he said, his voice weighed down. “So I don’t mind if you leave. At least then I’ll know you’re alive and safe.”

  His words only infuriated her.

  “Why? Why would staying with you be so dangerous?”

  It took him longer this time, but finally, he spoke. “If I stay with you long enough, I’m afraid I’ll kill you, Hadassah.”

  Her heart plummeted. “What do you mean?”

  He looked at her as if she knew, as if she should have known.

  She knew.

  Deep down, she knew.

  But she refused to consider it.

  She didn’t want to believe it.

  “I am the Dragon Queen’s Harbinger,” he confessed, “and as long as you remain human, and I remain bound, I’ll never be able to be at your side, Hadassah.”

  For a moment she was silent; she found old questions rising in her chest. How did he know where to find her? Why did he want to help her? Why did he act so indebted to her?

  ‘Could it be…’

  A sickening feeling twisted inside her as a thought crossed her mind.

  “…Was it you?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Yes. It was me.”

  She swallowed, feeling her heart break with every word. “The person my father was waiting for—”

  “It was me.”

  She steadied herself, breathing slowly to hold back her pain. “And the one who killed him—?”

  “It was me; I did not think—”

  She turned to face him, tear-filled eyes stunning him to silence. Did he think her foolish?

  “You knew my birthday, but you couldn’t answer when I asked you how.” She spat, as if the words were too heavy to say.

  Kaladin’s expression softened as he watched her; he admired her deeply, so much so that he knew she would find out eventually; there was no easy way out of this. He’d always answered her questions, never hid anything from her. He couldn’t lie to her, after all.

  Each word she spoke felt like a dagger to her own heart, but Kaladin’s respect for her only deepened.

  “Good girl, you figured it out,” he said quietly.

  “Kaladin,” she spat his name, venom lacing her tone as if it were something foul on her lips, “I hate you.”

  “That’s alright,” he replied softly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t mind.”

  He knew she didn’t truly hate him—she couldn’t. Perhaps that was why he was confessing now, because he knew she would never be able to hate him entirely. Even as he admitted his crime, there was an undeniable desire in his eyes, the same that had been there since the beginning, as if he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her.

  She hated that she wanted that, too.

  She hated that he’d waited this long to tell her, that he’d given her this truth only now, when her heart was already drawn to him. “I wish you’d told me sooner,” she said, her voice breaking. “Then I could have hated you in peace.”

  He offered her a sad smile, one that seemed to accept his fate without question. “I serve the Dragon Queen, Hadassah. It was not my will. I am a Harbinger; I can only serve one master.”

  If it had all been under orders, she might have been able to understand. She might have forgiven him, knowing he had no choice. But he wasn’t making excuses. He wasn’t begging for forgiveness. He had accepted the reality of his actions as if it were an unchangeable truth.

  It was clear he wasn’t willing to fight for her.

  And that realisation hurt her more deeply than she could bear.

  She had nothing more to say to him; she stood up and left, and he did not hold her hand, he did not hold her back, he did not call out to her.

  Hadassah stumbled back towards her tent; her heart felt like it was splintering, every piece of it still somehow clinging to the person she’d just learned she could never truly have. Her breaths came shallow and uneven, and when she reached her tent, she paused, closing her eyes, letting the overwhelming pain ripple through her.

  Rahn noticed her approach long before she opened the tent flap. He caught her just as she staggered forward. She was a mess—hair askew, eyes rimmed with tears that she refused to shed. But the moment she was in his arms, she finally let herself break down.

  He couldn’t speak words of comfort, but he didn’t need them. She knew he was the only one who could understand her; he was the only one who could comfort her.

  “I don’t understand, Rahn,” she whispered finally, her voice hoarse. “Why would he… why did he even…” Her words faltered, the frustration in her tone clear. Rahn couldn’t answer, but he tightened his hold just a little, silently reassuring her that she didn’t have to explain. He didn’t need words to understand her pain, her confusion, the sense of betrayal lingering in her heart. He felt it too.

  But despite the darkness in her heart, he was desperately trying to hide the glee that was quickly sprouting.

  Kaladin would come and go; worlds would begin and end.

  But until the ends of time, he would forever be her Harbinger; he would forever be by her side.

  “It really is just us.” She said between sobs.

  Her words warmed something dark and possessive in his heart.

  Gently, he moved closer, letting her lean against him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her eyes closed, her breaths slowing, as if she could finally let herself relax, if only for a moment. She didn’t have to pretend to be strong with him; she didn’t have to hide. Here, with him, she could be vulnerable, open.

  Her breathing grew even; the rush of emotions that had shaken her had finally calmed down. Rahn held her close, knowing that, in this moment, she was his and his alone.

  ‘It’s both of us now.’

  As she slept, the smile on Rahn’s face stretched wider and wider.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  No one volunteered.

  When the darkness finally eased, Hadassah and Rahn waited, eyes scanning the gathered soldiers, hoping someone might step forward. Yet the soldiers murmured amongst themselves, casting wary glances and whispering that this was madness, that they couldn’t understand why she’d risk her life on a plan seemingly doomed from the start.

  Hadassah said nothing, though a flicker of disappointment passed over her face. She knew this wasn’t a battle anyone wanted to fight. Just as she was about to turn away, a pair of boots stepped forward. Looking up, she found herself meeting Zarek’s gaze.

  Her face lit up in surprise. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

  “Kaladin can’t volunteer for this,” Zarek replied with a grin. “So I’m here.”

  The mention of Kaladin’s name stung, but she kept her expression neutral. She glanced around, her gaze landing on the main group preparing with Verena. Verena’s eyes met hers from across the field, a small smile of understanding on her face. Hadassah knew Verena wouldn’t throw her life away lightly; the choice to stay with the main group was a sane one. She couldn’t blame her for it.

  Then, a voice sounded beside her. “I will join you.”

  Hadassah looked up to see one more figure stepping forward—Ash.

  “Commander—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “I respect what you’re trying to do,” he said firmly. “I can’t say it doesn’t sound foolish, but at least you didn’t sacrifice my men’s lives wantonly.”

  The decoy team would be the four of them.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Zarek asked, breaking the silence.

  Hadassah turned her gaze to the other group, her eyes lingering on Kaladin, then, without looking at him, asked, “Zarek, what race is the Dragon Queen?”

  He looked at her, puzzled. “She’s a dragon. Why?”

  Her eye gleamed with that strange light that came when she was in deep thought. “Then someone is lying.”

  The three looked at her confused, but Hadassah said nothing and instead walked to the main group to speak to Drucilla about the plan.