The rain had thinned to a mist, clinging to the leaves like silver dust. Two horses trotted side by side down the narrow trail, their riders damp, hungry, and running on more stubbornness than strength.
Vincent rode ahead, his posture relaxed, reins loose in one hand. He whistled softly — a tune with no rhythm, something only he could enjoy.Behind him, William rode upright, ever the soldier, one hand resting neatly on the pommel of his sword, the other guiding the reins with quiet precision.
"Relax, Your Grace," Vincent called over his shoulder. "You ride like you're expecting a royal inspection."
William frowned. "And you ride like a man trying to fall asleep on a moving beast."
Vincent chuckled. "You worry too much. The horse knows the way better than you do."
"I'd prefer to lead my own path," William said.
Vincent grinned without looking back. "Of course you would. You're a prince — even the mud has to follow orders."
That earned him a half-smile from William. "And you? You're so comfortable in it, one might think you were born from it."
Vincent smirked. "Close enough. Cabin-born, mud-raised. Don't knock it — we learn to tell rain from poison by smell."
William raised an eyebrow. "Useful skill."
"More useful than sitting in castles chasing beetles," Vincent teased.
William sighed. "You still remember that."
"Oh, how could I forget? You and your collection of crawling nobility. Tell me, did the insects bow before you too?"
"They had more discipline than most courtiers," William said dryly.
Vincent barked a laugh. "Gods, I like you more when you're miserable."
They rode on through the wet hush of the forest, hooves clopping rhythmically in the mud. The air smelled of moss and horse sweat. Vincent's horse snorted every few steps, shaking droplets from its mane.
For a while, the two fell quiet, until Vincent spoke again — his tone lighter. "So tell me, what's it like? Growing up behind walls, eating off gold plates, being told you'll inherit everything?"
William glanced at him. "Overrated. Everything's decided for you — what you'll eat, whom you'll marry, when you'll speak."
Vincent gave a knowing nod. "Sounds dreadful. I, on the other hand, had the luxury of choosing between hunger and frostbite."
"You make it sound romantic."
"It was. Right up until my stomach started trying to eat itself."
William chuckled softly. "You hide your hardship well."
Vincent smirked. "That's because hardship doesn't like being noticed. You look at it too long, and it starts acting proud."
They shared a quiet laugh, the kind that lightens heavy air. The road ahead curved gently, leading down toward the sound of rushing water.
Vincent slowed his horse, motioning for William to do the same. " There's a Bridge up ahead," he said. "We are halfway to Solaria."
William squinted through the fog. "I remember. Narrow thing, half-cracked. I saw a map of it before"
"That's the one. Crossed it without dying once. Let's try to keep that record clean."
The mist ahead began to swirl strangely. The horses shifted uneasily, ears twitching. A faint hiss broke the quiet — long and low.
William's hand went to his sword. "Vincent."
"I hear it." His voice dropped. "And I don't like it."
From the fog ahead came movement — slow, sinuous. The mist thickened, rolling against the wind, until it began to form a shape. Scales glistened like wet iron. The creature lifted its head, long jaws opening to taste the air.
Vincent muttered under his breath. "Of all the bloody things…"
William's voice was calm but tense. "Virvo Creature."
William's horse stopped.
It froze, ears pricked, nostrils flaring. William frowned and leaned forward, trying to see what had startled it. "Easy, boy. Easy—"
Then he heard it.
A sound like bones cracking.
Vincent heard it too. He pulled his horse up beside William's and stared ahead into the mist. "Tell me that's the forest shifting in the wind."
The cracking came again — louder, closer. Then came the wet tearing sound. Chewing. Something big feeding.
The mist thinned just enough for them to see it.
At first, it looked like a boulder. But it moved. A massive, hunched shape of pale flesh crouched over something dark and motionless — a deer, or what was left of it. Its back rose and fell as it gnawed, the sound of grinding bone echoing across the trees.
Vincent's voice dropped. "That… is not a deer."
The creature's head lifted slowly. Its eyes glowed faintly yellow, wide and empty. Its face was twisted and human-like but wrong — too long, too thin, skin white and stretched tight over its skull. Its jaw unhinged as it breathed, strings of blood hanging from its mouth.
The horses began to back away. William tried to steady his, but the animal trembled beneath him.
The creature turned fully now, rising onto its hind legs. It stood easily twice a man's height, white skin slick and gleaming, its arms long and tipped with claws. It sniffed the air once — then screamed, a sound that made both horses rear.
"Vincent—"
"Yeah, I see it! Turn around!"
Vincent yanked his reins hard, spinning his horse back toward the bridge. "Ride! Now!"
William kicked his horse forward, mud flying from the hooves. The creature dropped to all fours and charged after them, galloping on clawed limbs that tore the ground like plows.
Vincent risked a glance back — the thing was fast, faster than it had any right to be. "We're not outrunning it!" he shouted. "We need distance!"
"Suggestions?" William barked.
Vincent's eyes darted toward the bridge. "Across it! Go!"
William spurred his horse, leading the way onto the narrow wooden span. The bridge groaned under their weight, old wood creaking dangerously. The river below raged black and swollen from the week's rain.
"Keep going!" Vincent shouted, close behind.
The creature burst from the mist and onto the bridge. Its claws dug deep into the wet planks, splinters flying.
"Faster!" Vincent yelled.
Vincent horse neighed in panic, galloping across. The bridge shook violently. Vincent could feel the beast closing in behind them — he could feel its breath, hot and foul.
Vincent turned in the saddle, drew one of his daggers, and hurled it. The blade hit — but the creature didn't slow. It lunged forward, claws outstretched.
The impact came with a crack. The beast's claw hooked Vincent's horse by the hind leg and tore through it cleanly. The animal screamed, collapsing mid-stride. Vincent barely managed to throw himself free, hitting the wood hard and rolling near the edge.
"William!" Vincent shouted — but in that same instant, his own horse slipped on the slick planks, sending him tumbling forward. He rolled twice, then skidded across the edge, his fingers catching the bridge's rim just in time.
Below, the river roared, waiting.
The creature wounded, enraged turned its yellow eyes toward William. It let out a shriek that shook the boards. William forced himself up, sword drawn, trembling but ready.
"Come then," he muttered through gritted teeth.
The beast charged, claws slamming into the wood. William didn't retreat. He waited until the last second, then ran toward it. As it lunged, he dropped low and slid beneath its body. His sword flashed — a clean, brutal arc across its underbelly.
Black blood poured out, sizzling as it hit the wood.
The creature roared, spinning, stumbling. It tried to grab the edge of the bridge, its claws digging deep — but William was already moving. He raised his sword, heart pounding, and with one desperate swing, he severed both its arms.
The beast howled, then fell backward into the river below. The sound of its body crashing against the rocks below echoed like thunder.
William stood there for a moment, chest heaving, sword dripping. Then the adrenaline faded — and his legs nearly gave out.
"...William!"
He looked up. Vincent was still hanging from the edge of the bridge, mud-smeared and grinning. "Mind giving a hand, Your Majesty?"
William stumbled toward him, grabbed his wrist, and hauled him up. They collapsed side by side on the bridge, both panting, soaked, and laughing breathlessly.
Vincent rolled onto his back, staring up at the gray sky. "Tell me something," he said between breaths. "Do the gods favor us?"
William let out a weak chuckle. "If they do, they have a strange way of showing it."
Vincent smirked. "Maybe they like you more than me."
"Doubtful."
They lay there in silence for a while — until the quiet broke again.
Footsteps.
Slow, steady, deliberate — boots against wood.
William lifted his head first. "Do you hear that?"
Vincent sat up beside him, hand instinctively finding his dagger. "If it's another beast, I'm throwing myself off the bridge this time."
Through the mist at the far end, two figures appeared — silhouettes at first. One tall, cloaked, with hair dark as pitch and skin even darker. The other smaller, moving with the grace of someone who'd known command all her life. Her hair caught the dim light — auburn and unmistakable.
Vincent's brows rose. "Is that—?"
"Thalia," William whispered.
The princess stopped at the edge of the bridge, her eyes widening as she recognized him. Beside her, the dark man stood motionless, his presence vast and quiet like a shadow given shape.
For a long heartbeat, no one moved. Just the sound of the river below, whispering through the mist.
Then Vincent, unable to help himself, muttered, "Well… this just got interesting."