#beep?

They moved forward, passing through the faint, nearly invisible barrier that shielded this hidden portion of the woods from the rest of the world. What felt like an entire day of travel finally brought them to their destination: the estate of the Runemists. Nestled deep within the forest, the manor was well hidden and protected by layers of magic. It seemed that only those with a special key could enter its grounds without triggering alarms. “Lord Hawkcres, Sir Dalthane,” a voice called from above, drawing their attention. The towering, red-headed Sin'dorei stood at a balcony above them, his piercing golden eyes observing them with a sharp intensity. “It is good to see you, Lord Runemist. You wished to speak?” Ly’santhir called back, his voice carrying easily up to the man above. “Yes, and please, come in! Tre’varen will see you to the study where we can speak.” With that, the man turned and headed back into the manor, disappearing behind the stone walls.

As the two travelers approached the front door, it swung open to reveal another red-headed Sin'dorei, strikingly like the man they’d just spoken with. The only real difference was the one Fel-green eye that stood out against his otherwise golden gaze, the other covered by a patch adorned with a golden rune. “Good to see you again, Ly and Falen,” Tre’varen greeted, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips. The two men dipped their heads in acknowledgment. “Likewise, Tre, it’s been quite some time,” Ly’santhir responded. “Please, if you will follow me. I’m sure Father is waiting.” Tre led them deeper into the manor, his steps echoing through the grand hall.

“Even after all this time, this place still impresses me. The craftsmanship and the thought that went into every detail,” Ly muttered as he surveyed the interior, still awestruck by the beauty and elegance of the structure. “Ah, well, you know my father is never one to shy away from showing off… especially now that he’s found a new betrothed. They should be wed soon… Though I’m sure he’ll bring that up during your talks.” There was a sourness in Tre’s voice as he spoke about the subject, clearly displeased.

“Something bothering you, Tre?” Falen asked, his tone casual as he pulled the hood that had once covered him back, allowing his long raven hair to fall freely. Tre glanced at him but only offered a small, cryptic smile. “Mm… I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” Tre answered, leading them to the study door. With a gentle push, he swung it open to reveal Andaeren, who stood by a large window, looking out over the grounds.

“Father, Ly’santhir, and Falen,” Tre’varen called out, causing the older Sin'dorei to turn and face them. His golden eyes, sharp and wise, softened upon seeing his old friends. “Ah! It’s good to see you both! It’s been far too long since we last spoke in these halls. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would either of you care for a drink?” Andaeren asked, gesturing to a table where a variety of bottles were neatly arranged.

“It’s good to see you as well, Andaeren. Aye, it has been far too long,” Ly’santhir responded, taking a seat across from the older elf. Falen, meanwhile, found a spot near Tre’varen, catching up with his former protégé. “Ah, I’ll have a whiskey if you have any in stock,” Ly’santhir said, and Andaeren nodded, sending a servant off to fetch the drinks.

“I hope all is well? You seem different, Ly’santhir. I hope nothing has changed with you during your time away.” Ly’s brow quirked at the blunt question, amused by the older elf’s directness. “Ah, I’m sure we both have changed in ways, like your golden eyes and my blue.” Ly chuckled softly, amused by the observation. Andaeren smiled slightly in return, then took a sip from his own glass.

“Though I have a feeling there’s some other motive behind this reunion in a private setting.” Ly’santhir continued, setting the conversation back on track just as the servant set down their drinks and left. “Always right to business, Ly’santhir?” Andaeren teased, lifting his drink from the tray and handing Ly’santhir his requested whiskey. “But you’re correct. I did call you here for assistance… of sorts. It’s about my betrothed—she has gone missing.”

The words hung in the air for a moment as the group took in the weight of the situation. Andaeren’s eyes darkened as he continued. “While that alone would be troubling, it’s not what makes this urgent…” He reached under his jacket, pulling out a small piece of parchment. He handed it to Ly’santhir, who read it carefully. The contents appeared to be a ransom note, even mentioning the demand for coin. Ly’santhir was about to hand it back, but something caught his attention. He turned the parchment toward the window, letting the sunlight cast over it. The hidden seal revealed itself: a crest of a rose with thorns—and a faint hint of death.

“The crest of a rose with thorns… And there’s a faint hint of death,” Ly’santhir muttered, his voice grim as he looked back at Andaeren. “Your other son is helping them?” Ly’santhir flipped the paper around once more, inspecting it closely before handing it back to his friend.

“Yes, and that is what concerns me. He’s aiding them, and they have my bride-to-be,” Andaeren replied, his voice tight with worry. The two men took a swig from their glasses in unison, a silent acknowledgment of the danger. “That reeks of a trap, Lord Runemist. Your son is helping them, and they have your bride-to-be. They want you… or Ly’santhir,” Falen spoke up bluntly from the sidelines. “They knew you would reach out to us because the people in this room are the only ones who have faced them head-on and walked away from it.”

Andaeren leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes reflecting a quiet, calculating thought. “You’re right… though the facts remain—my eldest son is aiding them, and they have my betrothed.” His gaze shifted from Falen to Ly’santhir. “What would you do if your love were in that situation? Would you leave Sy to the whims of fate?” Ly’santhir’s blue eyes met his, piercing and calm. “No. I would risk life and limb to save her… But that was a lifetime ago.” He set the empty glass on the table between them. “Gather up all the information you have and meet us at the old spot… the same one before our hunt last time.”

While the two men continued their conversation, Tre leaned in toward Falen, whispering lowly. “What happened there?” Falen glanced at him, his expression thoughtful. “The war drove a wedge between them. She went to help the ministry… while he was relegated to ‘special’ assignments.” Tre’s brow lifted slightly at that, but the only response he received was a shake of Falen’s head, signaling him to drop the subject for now.

The two men stood, exchanging pleasantries with Andaeren before parting ways. Andaeren made his way to the desk at the opposite side of the room, while Ly’santhir motioned for Falen to follow. It was time to make their exit. Tre followed them to the main entrance, seeing them off. “We need to catch up now that you both are back,” he said with a slight wave. The two departing men gave a wave over their shoulders as they made their way down the steps, heading out toward the path. “Aren’t we making a hasty exit?” a voice called from the shadows as the two men moved away from the estate. “Aww, not even a hello?” The two men ignored the voice as they continued, their pace unchanged.

“So, we need to make preparations like the old days again?” Falen asked, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “Aye… just like before, my old friend,” Ly’santhir replied, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. In an instant, he spun around, drawing his long sword with practiced ease and resting the point under something’s chin.

“Volkin… quit with your games.” A floating, skeletal-looking creature, its large arm-like horns curved on either side of its head, appeared before them. Its tattered but an ornate gold-adorned robe flowed around its skeletal form. The creature raised its hands on either side of its head, as though in mock surrender.

“Ohhhh. But Ly’santhir, you did answer me!” the creature teased, backing away slowly, lowering its hands, and cupping them in front of itself as though scheming. Ly’santhir’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. He lowered his sword to his side and fixed the creature with a hard stare. “What do you want?”