Chapter 46 : hidden prince

The morning fog clung stubbornly to the hills, wrapping the Ember Couriers in a chill mist that blurred the horizon. Horses shuffled impatiently, their hooves muffled by the soft earth of the hidden road. This was no ordinary route. Couriers called it the Veiled Way, a winding path carved into the hills to avoid the patrols of neighboring kingdoms. Soldiers rarely dared to tread it, and those who did rarely returned with tales worth telling.
Ryo rode at the front, his beast gliding silently alongside. He had grown accustomed to the quiet tension that always followed him—an invisible pressure that told him trouble was near, even when none was visible. Today, though, the tension came from elsewhere.
Arachne walked beside Kael, robes swaying with a ghostly grace. Her eyes occasionally flicked toward Ryo, as if reading the thoughts he refused to speak aloud. Lara, not far behind, kept her staff ready, her expression taut with alertness. Between them, the silent pressure of unspoken words seemed heavier than the mist.
Thalen of Moonvale rode in the center, bundled in layers, eyes fixed on the hidden road ahead. Beside him, Eryndor remained stoic, the hood of his cloak shadowing his silver eyes. But there was an air around him that hinted at more than mere servitude; he was watchful, patient, to a degree that demanded attention.
Vix, trudging alongside the supply cart, broke the silence. “This road wasn’t meant for ordinary travelers,” he said, voice low. “If the patrols catch even a whiff of the wrong person passing through, they’ll report it. And then…” He let the words hang. Aldah, ever the comic relief, hummed nervously and muttered something about “patrolling ghosts with arrows,” and Ryo stifled a chuckle despite the chill in the air.
“Why are we taking this road?” Lara asked, voice low, though the frost seemed to make it sharper.
“To avoid war patrols from the north,” Vix explained. “East Geneva’s enemies have scouts everywhere. Elandor, the capital, is practically a beacon. If Thalen’s identity is discovered before we reach it, the kingdom loses its only hope”
“Why ?” Asked Aldah surprised “Thalen is just a healer”

He isn’t just a healer—he’s…” He paused, eyes flicking toward Thalen, “…the last heir. The only one who can protect East Geneva.”
Ryo, Aldah and Kael gasped.
Thalen’s hand tightened around his cloak. “I’ve never asked for this journey,” he murmured. “But if the kingdom falls, Moonvale… my village… it will all vanish.”
" How can you be a courier!?” Aldah pointed at him.“ I'm not... I just needed an escort, I needed to appear as a courier to hide myself from the spies chasing me.
Ryo, still silent, allowed his gaze to settle on the young prince.
Kael adjusted his grip on the reins. “We’ll get you there your majesty,” he said flirty. 
The road curved sharply, descending into a narrow ravine lined with jagged stones. Shadows of trees flickered across the ground as the mist shifted. The group slowed, senses heightened. Suddenly, a figure stepped from the shadows—a man tall, lean, his presence oppressive.
Lara froze. The moment her eyes met his, memories of pain and terror flared. Her father.
“You’ve grown,” he said, his voice smooth, cold, like ice sliding over steel. “Stronger than I expected. But still… weak.”
Lara’s hands shook around her staff. The dark magic he had forced upon her, the nights of torment and ritual, all surged back in a torrent she had thought buried. “Father,” she said quietly, though venom laced every syllable.
He smiled, a cruel, satisfied curl. “You survived, yes… barely. But you are still mine, in ways you will never admit.”
The confrontation ended as abruptly as it had begun. Lara’s father disappeared into the mist, leaving behind the lingering scent of dark magic. No one spoke until the echoes of his words faded entirely.
---
That night, the campfire glowed dimly. Thalen and Eryndor sat close together, the young prince leaning slightly on his courier. “I never told anyone,” Thalen whispered, “not even in Moonvale. I wasn’t ready… I couldn’t bear the weight.”
Eryndor’s hand rested lightly on the prince’s shoulder. “You are ready now,” he said quietly. “And I will not let you face this alone.”
Ryo, sitting across the fire, watched them. Loyalty, trust, courage—everything he had been trying to balance in himself now crystallized in the prince and his servant. And yet… he felt the pull of something darker, something unresolved, as his gaze shifted to Arachne.
After a moment, she moved, gliding silently to where Ryo sat apart. Her voice was low, almost a purr. “You are quiet tonight.”
Ryo didn’t answer immediately. He felt the weight of her eyes, reading him. The beast at his side stirred, bristling slightly.
Arachne leaned closer, closer than was comfortable, her gaze piercing him. 
He froze. The words struck deeper than any blade, but there was no malice—only recognition, truth, and the faintest hint of amusement.
“I survived,” he said finally, voice low. “Does that count?”
Her lips curled in a ghost of a smile. “Perhaps… but surviving is not living. Not really.”
Ryo didn’t reply. He only looked into the fire, into the flickering light, and felt the weight of every failure, every regret, every chance wasted. And yet, beside him, the beast rumbled softly, a reminder that survival was only the first step.
Aldah, sensing the tension, cleared her throat from across the campfire. “Okay, lovebirds, can we maybe… eat something?”
The prince chuckled.---The night stretched long, filled with uneasy quiet, shadows from the fire flickering across the faces of the couriers. Outside the small circle of warmth, the hidden road wound into the dark, each curve leading them closer to Elandor—and closer to dangers they had yet to meet.