The week passed faster than Edward expected.

The first few days were quiet—almost deceptively so. The palace guards stopped questioning his presence, and the elves who once stared at him with suspicion now merely regarded him with distant curiosity. He had grown used to their looks by now. What he couldn't get used to was waiting.

Elarien was gone most of the time, buried in preparations. Caravans were arranged, routes charted, and permissions sealed by the royal council. He caught sight of her once or twice in the distance—barking orders at scouts, checking weapons, or speaking to the king's aides with the sharp authority of someone who belonged in command. Every time he tried to speak to her, she was already off to handle another task.

He didn't mind. He had his own concerns to deal with.

Seraphine's condition hadn't worsened, but it hadn't improved either. What happened that night hasn't happened again, at least not yet, but each night Edward had trouble sleeping, remembering her scared expression and trembling arms. He tried to act like everything was fine, but every flicker of black reminded him of Thyrion's words—If she resists too long, both will die.

Aeris, for the most part, kept to herself. She stayed near Seraphine most of the time. Each time she saw Edward, she gazed at him moments too long but never spoke up unless necessary, being quieter than usual.

On the third day, Thyrion appeared again—this time without warning. He didn't stay long, only dropped off a few old scrolls and whispered, "Study these before you leave." They were filled with runic diagrams, some old enough that the ink had nearly faded. They were old scrolls describing the Nightveil Mountains in as much detail as elven knowledge of it allowed. Mana Beasts that can be found there, and numerous ways one could die from.

Days blurred into one another, and even the city seemed to change with them.

By the fifth day, the usually serene capital of Valendell grew restless. Rumours of their journey to the Nightveil Mountains had spread beyond the palace walls. Edward overheard whispers in the markets—talk of cursed lands, the Crimson Oath's movements, and of the human who dared to walk with elves. He ignored the stares, but they never truly faded.

The weather turned colder as well. The morning air carried a sharp chill, the kind that hinted at snow in the higher peaks. He could see the mountains in the far distance from his window, veiled in mist even under daylight. Just looking at them filled him with a strange mix of excitement and unease.

When the sixth day came, Elarien finally visited.

He had just finished securing his gear when a soft knock echoed through his door. She stepped in, her usual composed look replaced with quiet exhaustion.

"You've been busy," Edward said, noticing the faint dark circles under her eyes.

"Preparations take time," she replied. "But it's done. We leave tomorrow at dawn."

He nodded slowly. "How many are coming with us?"

"Ten in total," she said. "Four scouts, three knights, two healers, and us."

"That few?"

"More would draw too much attention," she replied. "Besides… not many volunteered once they heard where we're headed."

He gave a small, dry laugh. "Can't imagine why."

She smirked faintly at that, but the moment didn't last. Her eyes flicked toward the table, where one of Thyrion's scrolls lay open. "You've been studying those?"

"I've tried," Edward said. "Written Elvish differs slightly from the way humans write, so it's not that simple."

Elarien's gaze sharpened. "No amount of preparations or studying can prepare one for Nightveil Mountains"

"Perhaps, but there is no harm in improving our chances, is there?"

Elarien folded her arms, studying him. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then she sighed. "If Thyrion gave you those, there must be a reason. Keep studying them—but be careful. Don't put all your faith into old scrolls."

Edward smiled faintly and nodded.

She turned toward the door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow won't be easy."

And then she was gone again, her steps quiet, her presence fading like a passing breeze.

The night that followed was restless.

Edward found himself pacing the small chamber long after midnight, thoughts swirling like a storm. Aeris and Seraphine had gone to their chambers hours ago. For a fleeting moment, everything felt still—too still. He stared out the window at the silver glow of the moon and whispered to himself, "Tomorrow, it begins."

The morning of the seventh day arrived with pale light and frost clinging to the rooftops.

Edward awoke before dawn, washed, and strapped on his armour. As he left his room he was caught off guard by the figure standing in the living room.

"Big day, huh?" Arthur asked with his usual smile.

It's been over a week since Edward had seen him. He did try to find him a handful of time,s but there was no answer to his location.

"Where the hell have u been?" Edward finally asked.

"Oh, well, I have been offered a much more suitable chamber. I do apologise for not informing you sooner"

"More suitable chamber?" Edward's brows raised.

"Yes, alongside my wife to be," Prince replied.

"Oh," Realisation struck Edward.

"Yeah. But don't mind that. I heard of your expedition to Nightveil Mountains, and I came to wish you good luck"

"No need, it's just some mountain that's all", Edward replied with a smile.

Then, after a simple nod, he turned and stepped outside.

The streets were empty except for faint lanterns flickering near the corners. The air bit at his skin, carrying the scent of rain and pine.

By the time he reached the outer courtyard, the expedition group was already gathering. Horses stood saddled, supplies loaded into small carriages, and the faint chatter of soldiers filled the air.

Elarien was there, dressed in dark leather armour with silver trim, her hair braided back. Her expression appeared as calm as ever, but there was a hint of unease in her eyes.

She turned when she heard his steps.

"Right on time," she said.

"I try to be," Edward replied.

Her lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. "Then let's hope the rest of the group learns from you."

He followed her gaze to the others—some elves still tightening straps or adjusting cloaks. A few gave him wary glances, but none spoke. Whatever doubts they had, Elarien's presence kept them silent.

Moments later, a messenger arrived from the palace. He carried a sealed letter marked with the royal crest. Elarien broke the wax seal and read quickly.

"The king's final decree," she said, handing it to Edward. He skimmed the note—formal words of approval, blessings of the crown, and one final line written in elegant script.

"Return with justice, or not at all."

He exhaled slowly. "Comforting."

Elarien's expression didn't change. "It's an old saying, don't mind it too much."

The group mounted their horses. The sun crept above the horizon, washing the city in gold. From the palace balcony, faint silhouettes watched them—too far to recognise, but Edward could guess who they were.

As the gates opened and the wind carried the scent of pine and frost, Elarien spoke quietly beside him.

"Ready?"

Edward tightened his grip on the reins and nodded. "Always"

And with that, the company of ten rode out of Valendell, leaving behind the gleaming city and stepping toward the shadowed peaks of the Nightveil Mountains.

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