The next morning, before the castle fully woke, Elric stood by Elira's bedside one last time.
She hadn't moved.
Not even a twitch.
"I'll bring you back," he whispered, gently touching her hand. "Even if it kills me."
Auren entered quietly, dressed in black travel leathers, sword strapped across his back. His golden-brown hair was slightly tousled, and his blue eyes held a flicker of worry.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
Elric nodded. "There's no time left. The Queen's mages are clueless, and if Malveric did this, then we need answers from someone who knows his kind of magic."
Auren exhaled. "Then we go to the monks of Ashfall Peak."
Elric glanced over. "You sound nervous."
"Because I am," Auren said, stepping closer. "Those monks haven't spoken to outsiders in twenty years. The last person who sought their wisdom went mad before he made it down the mountain."
"I'm not asking," Elric said, voice harder now. "If they hold anything—anything—about the mirror magic or the link between minds and realms, we have to try."
"And if they refuse?"
Elric strapped on his sword. "Then we make them talk."
Auren gave a lopsided smile. "There's the reckless prince I remember."
The two set off before dawn, riding hard past the castle walls, through forests cloaked in mist and quiet. As they approached the jagged mountain trails leading toward Ashfall Peak, the sky grew colder, and the world quieter.
Birds stopped singing.
Even the wind hesitated.
By nightfall, they reached the ancient stone steps carved into the cliffside. Lanterns hung in twisted patterns, glowing with blue fire. Strange chants echoed through the darkness, carried on a wind that smelled like ash and old incense.
"Still think this is a good idea?" Auren muttered.
"No," Elric said. "But it's the only one I've got."
The two began the climb.