The wooden wheels of the pushcart groaned under the weight of a secret that could set the world on fire. Aoun wiped the thick sweat from his brow, his muscles screaming in protest. He had been dragging this cart for fifty miles, his boots worn thin by the jagged rocks of the road.
"Hey, Latop... please. Come and help me," Aoun wheezed, his voice cracking. "I've literally dragged this cart from the edge of the world. My legs are like lead."
Latop, who had been scanning the horizon with anxious eyes, hurried over. "Quiet, Aoun! Just two more miles and we reach the gates of Aethelburg. Keep your head down."
Aoun looked toward the horizon where the jagged spires of the city pierced the grey sky. "I heard the city is a graveyard of what it used to be. Eight hundred years... and the Dark Group has turned the Royal Seat into a nest of vipers."
"We have to be careful," Latop hissed, checking the heavy bedsheets covering the cargo in the cart. "No one can know we are transporting the Great Master Godfather to the Lady Lysandra. If the Dark General, Louis MO, catches a scent of us, we are dead. That man has the eyes of a starving eagle."
"I don't understand why we are the ones doing this," Aoun muttered, his grip tightening on the cart's handle. "The Dark Group is too powerful. They've already extracted the spirits of the other Hyper Groups. We are just normal humans, Latop. If they catch us, who is going to save us?"
Suddenly, the cart jolted. Beneath the heavy, dirt-stained bedsheets, something moved.
Aoun and Latop froze. Simultaneously, they dropped to their knees, their foreheads hitting the dusty ground in a deep bow.
"Great Master Godfather... King!" they whispered in unison. "Did we disturb you? Please... forgive our loud voices!"
A faint, rhythmic sparking sound came from beneath the cloth—like the crackle of a dying campfire. A strange, orange light flickered through the gaps in the fabric.
"He's waking up! Quick, the medicine from Master Rozva!" Latop urged.
Aoun fumbled with a small leather pouch, handing a vial to Latop. They moved with extreme caution. They could not touch the person inside directly; the "King" was currently in a state of Fire Ash. His skin was not flesh, but a glowing, volcanic residue. One touch would turn a human hand to charcoal.
Latop carefully peeled back a corner of the sheet. Inside lay a figure that looked like a nightmare. His body was shrunken, his skin blackened and cracked like parched earth, with veins of white-hot lightning pulsing beneath the surface. He looked less like a man and more like a cursed charcoal statue.
With a shaking hand, Latop dropped the medicine onto the person's neck. The moment the liquid touched the "ash," a silver necklace materialized out of thin air. It flashed with a blinding, celestial light.
Aoun and Latop shielded their eyes. When they looked again, the fire had dimmed. The body beneath the sheets looked like a normal, albeit very weak, human again.
"Move! Before the transformation fails!" Latop commanded.
They entered the gates of Aethelburg. The market was a sea of gray faces—people living in fear under the shadow of the Dark Group. Aoun parked the cart near a stall, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Wait here," Latop said, wiping her face. She approached an old worker nearby. "Excuse me, uncle. We are from the Grand Arborium. We are looking for the Master of the Aura Regals... the Legend, Lysandra. We heard she was here."
The old man's face went pale. His eyes darted around in terror. "Hyper Groups? Aura Regals?" he hissed, his voice trembling. "Are you trying to get us all killed? We don't speak of such things here! Get out! Get out before the guards hear you!"
"But we—"
"GET OUT!" the man roared, attracting the attention of the surrounding crowd.
Aoun rushed over, pulling Latop back. "Are you mad? You told him we are from the Arborium? You mentioned the Hyper Groups in the middle of a Dark Group stronghold?"
"I... I thought—"
"Listen!" Aoun whispered fiercely. "These people are terrified of Louis MO and the Dark King, Morrigan. One wrong word and we are extracted!"
"Hey! Who left this trash-cart in front of my shop?" a loud, angry woman yelled. Before they could stop her, she delivered a heavy kick to the pushcart.
The cart, parked on a slight slope, began to roll.
"NO!" Aoun and Latop screamed.
The cart picked up speed, sliding down the cobblestone road toward the city pond. The crowd gasped as the cart hit the edge and tumbled into the water with a massive splash.
"The King!" Latop wailed. "He can't swim in that state!"
Aoun stripped off his coat, ready to dive into the murky water. But before he could leap, the pond began to churn. A violent whirlpool formed in the center, spinning faster and faster. The crowd gathered at the edge, murmuring in shock.
Suddenly, the pushcart rose out of the water, held aloft by a pillar of swirling blue energy. It floated through the air, defying gravity, and was placed gently back on the stone road.
"Sorcery!" someone yelled. "The Hyper Groups are here!"
Black-clad guards began to push through the crowd. "What is this? Who is responsible for this magic?"
Latop and Aoun stood frozen, paralyzed by fear. But before the guards could reach them, a hand grabbed Aoun's shoulder.
"Follow me. Now. If you want to live," a cold, firm voice commanded.
A young man with sharp eyes and a soldier's posture dragged them through the alleys, his strength pulling the heavy cart as if it weighed nothing. They ran until the city walls were far behind them and they reached the safety of a hidden grove.
The mysterious man stopped, his breathing steady while Aoun and Latop collapsed, gasping for air.
"Thank you..." Latop panted. "Who... who are you? Why did you risk your life for us?"
The man didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the pushcart with a look of profound reverence. He stepped forward and sank to both knees, bowing his head to the dirt.
"I did not help you," the man said, his voice echoing with ancient loyalty. "I helped my King."
Aoun and Latop gasped.
"Great Master Godfather... King Lazian Sara," the man whispered. "Breathing the same air as you is the greatest honor of my life. I am Chap War, son of Lysandra. I will protect you until my blood runs dry."