It took us a few hours to gather everything I needed, but the end came sooner than I expected.

  We were deep in the highlands mansion, halfway through the latest heist, when the prince suddenly stiffened. His golden eyes narrowed, scanning the dimly lit study with a wariness that made my skin prickle.

  “Pretender, this is… not good,” he said, his voice low, edged with something that wasn’t quite fear, but close enough to make my fingers pause over the worn spines of a dozen dusty tomes.

  I barely glanced at him, too focused on the bookshelf in front of me. It had seen better days—its once-polished wood was now cracked and faded, the faint scent of mildew clinging to the old pages. Some of the books looked like they’d crumble to dust if I so much as breathed too hard. But one of them was supposed to hold the key to a crisis—something about the moon’s energy failing. Or was it something about eclipses? My memory was spotty at best.

  What I knew was I had been here before—twelve times, to be exact. I knew where to find exploits; that had been my job, and a damn good one at that.

  “What is it?” I muttered, flipping through the spines, running my fingers along the faded titles. The more I searched, the more my frustration climbed. “This is one of the last ones I need.”

  The prince exhaled sharply. “I’m afraid our time is near the end.”

  My stomach dropped.

  I gripped the edge of the shelf, my fingers pressing into the grain as the weight of those words settled on my chest. I knew this was temporary. I knew I was on borrowed time, but hearing it put so plainly made something sour curl in my gut.

  “Okay,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. “How long?”

  I couldn’t deny it—I had really liked this. The thievery lifestyle. There was something undeniably thrilling about slipping through places I wasn’t supposed to be, taking things that weren’t mine to take, and getting away with it.

  The answer wouldn’t change anything, but I needed to hear it. To brace myself. The prince didn’t answer right away, and I could feel his gaze on me. “I think we have about an hour at best,” the prince said, his tone heavier than usual.

  I finally yanked the book from its dusty perch, grinning like I had just struck gold. “What? That’s plenty of time!” I let out a laugh, but it rang hollow in the quiet of the study.

  Plenty of time. Yeah, right.

  “Okay, okay, we need to get into the imperial capital before I get pulled back home.” I nodded to myself, flipping the book over in my hands before trying to shove it into my inventory.

  Failed.

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  Tried again. Inventory was full.

  Of course.

  Fine. I dug through one of my six also full spatial bags, but every single one was stuffed to the brim. With a groan, I finally jammed the book into my spatial backpack—the last safe haven for loot. Even that was getting dangerously full.

  The prince watched this whole process with the amused patience of someone observing an idiot dig themselves deeper into a hole. “What for?” he asked, one brow raised. His body—well, mana-construct body—shifted slightly as he crossed his arms. He was still getting used to existing outside of the ring, and it showed in the way he kept flexing his fingers, as if marveling at the simple act of movement.

  I adjusted the strap of the spatial backpack. “Deposit things,” I said simply. “I can die in the fight, so I need to place it somewhere safe.”

  The prince let out a dark chuckle. “The imperial treasury wasn’t safe from you. And you’ve got one of their bags,” he pointed out, nodding toward my hip.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Not everyone has access to a ring that completely ignores anti-teleportation wards.“

  “Ah, so you admit you cheated.” His grin stretched, annoyingly smug.

  I scoffed. “I admit that I was better at cheating than they were at stopping me. There’s a difference.” The prince simply smirked, and I hated how much satisfaction he was getting from this conversation. “Okay, there is one place safer than the capital. The Heartlands.“

  The moment I said it, the prince visibly flinched. It was quick, just a flicker of something unreadable across his usually smug face, but I caught it.

  Oh? Interesting.

  “Huh? Bad memories?” I grinned, savoring the rare moment of watching him squirm.

  I pressed my palm against the ring, already pushing mana into it. The familiar tug of teleportation built up around us like a silent storm gathering in my bones.

  The prince let out a low, irritated sigh. “Those Twir are… insane.“

  His voice had a weight to it, like he wasn’t just throwing around an insult, but remembering something real.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  I smirked. “Dedicated, you meant to say, right?”

  The prince didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickered toward the horizon, as if the mere mention of The Heartlands had conjured ghosts from his past.

  I offered him my hand. With a slight shake of his head—whether at me or at himself—I wasn’t sure, he reached out and accepted my hand.

  As soon as our fingers met, the teleportation snapped into place, and the world around us vanished in a rush of magic and light.

  ***

  The scenery shifted in an instant, and suddenly, I was standing in a valley cradled by towering mountains. Their craggy peaks scraped the sky, some still capped with remnants of snow, even in the warmth of the afternoon. The sun hung low, casting golden light across the slopes, turning the lush greenery into a breathtaking mix of deep emeralds and shimmering golds.

  At the valley’s heart, a colossal river carved its way through the landscape, hundreds of meters wide, its surface a mirror reflecting the sky.

  The water churned with a steady, powerful current, a deep blue-green with hints of white foam curling over hidden rocks beneath. I could hear its constant murmur, a low, ever-present voice that hummed through the valley, mingling with the gentle rustling of wind through alpine meadows.

  Wildflowers, tiny splashes of color, peeked through the rolling grasslands, nodding in the breeze.

  The air carried the crisp, fresh scent of pine and earth, undercut with a faint trace of something smoky—probably hearth fires from the massive town sprawled out ahead of us.

  The settlement was impressive. Sturdy and well-crafted buildings clustered along the riverbanks, their rooftops sloped steeply in the traditional Twir style, likely to combat heavy snowfall in the colder months. Stone bridges arched over tributaries that split off from the main river, allowing easy passage between different parts of the town.

  A fortified wall wrapped around part of the town—not the cold, imposing stone of an imperial city, but a high wooden palisade, reinforced with watchtowers that overlooked the valley.

  I exhaled slowly, taking it all in. The Heartlands.

  “Let’s go, your royal highness,” I said, releasing his hand with a dramatic flourish. “We don’t have time to soak up the scenery.”

  Prince let out a soft sigh but nodded, falling into step beside me as we made our way down the ancient dirt path. It was well-worn, packed from centuries—maybe millennia—of foot traffic, its surface smooth from the passage of countless travelers.

  Time had imprinted grooves into the stone markers along the way, their inscriptions faded and half-buried beneath the creeping embrace of moss and wildflowers. This valley had once been the heart of the largest empire in Rimelion, its capital a beacon of power.

  But then?

  The Twir, in their ever-bizarre way, had simply… dissolved it. Walked away from ruling the world like it was a job they’d grown tired of, retreated into their mountains, and left the rest of civilization to figure things out on its own.

  As we neared the town’s weathered wooden walls, I absently checked my inventory, wincing at the overflowing mess inside. A jumbled hoard of treasures and junk, worth enough to make me the richest woman in Rimelion—and yet, I couldn’t even find space for a damn book.

  “Never conquered, never pillaged,” the prince murmured beside me, his voice almost reverent as his gaze swept over the towering wooden gates.

  I arched an eyebrow. “What are you whispering about?”

  “Nothing…” he muttered, shaking his head, but there was something almost wistful in his expression.

  Ahead, a watchtower loomed, its platform manned by a single guard. As we approached, a figure popped into view—a Twir.

  Twir were a peculiar people—shorter than humans but nowhere near as stout as dwarves. Instead, they were lithe, wiry, and quick, their sharp features giving them a permanently alert, calculating look. Their eyes always seemed too keen, their movements too precise.

  And most of all?

  They were so damn thin. Just looking at them made me want to shove a loaf of bread into their hands. The guard assessed us with a practiced sweep, his narrow eyes sharp under the shadow of his helmet. I flashed my best charming, non-suspicious smile as we neared the watchtower, my boots kicking up a light cloud of dust from the well-worn dirt path.

  “Halt!” His voice was sleepy. “Names and purpose of visit?”

  Ah, the classic warm welcome. “Hello!” I said, flashing the guard my most disarming grin. Here I was, a walking disaster, about to leave my own questionable mark on this ancient, untouched paradise.

  “My name is Princess Charlie, and this bloke here is Prince Relando.” I jabbed a finger at my ever-charming, ever-mysterious companion. “I seek to safely store some things, and I’m hard-pressed for time, so I’d really appreciate not having to stand here all day.”

  The guard’s sharp eyes crinkled, and then—he laughed. A genuine, booming laugh, as if I’d just told the best joke in the world.

  “We’re not the human empire with their ridiculous rules!” he snorted, grinning wide enough to put me at ease. “Welcome, welcome! First time visiting?”

  “No,” we both said at the same time.

  Prince turned to me, blinking in surprise, and I just rolled my eyes. “Did you expect me to come here without ever having been here?” I let out an irritated sigh, shaking my head at him before turning back to the Twir. “Sorry, he’s been stuck in a closet for a long time and just got out recently.”

  The Twir erupted into even louder laughter, the kind that made his whole body shake. “Well, you’re in luck then! Which bank do you want to use?”

  Without missing a beat, I started moving forward, stepping onto the smooth, age-worn cobblestone streets. The prince, still a little stiff, hesitated before finally falling into step beside me.

  “Of course, the [Old One],” I said, chuckling. “Is there any other?”

  “No!” the Twir laughed along with me, his voice ringing out as we passed through the massive wooden gates.

  As we entered the heart of the town, it unfolded around us like something out of a lost age. Stone buildings with intricately carved facades lined the streets, their designs weird.

  Shimmering glass lanterns hung from arched wooden beams, glowing with soft, blue light despite the afternoon sun. Twir bustled through the streets, moving… Not quite the chaotic, but more irrationally.

  There was a weight here. A history that hadn’t been rewritten by conquest, hadn’t been razed and rebuilt. The Twir had simply... kept going whatever they pleased. The prince walked beside me, silent. I didn’t have to glance at him to know he was taking it all in, remembering whatever ghosts still haunted this place for him.

  “The guard was pretty nice, no?” I grinned as we marched forward, our boots tapping against the ancient stone pathway leading deeper into the town.

  “I can’t stand them,” the prince muttered, his teeth clenched. “The Twir are such pranksters.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Pranksters? Really?”

  He let out a sharp exhale, his gaze narrowing as if recalling some deep-seated trauma. “We had two Twir guests in our castle once. You never knew what they were going to do, and they kept getting people into trouble. One time…”

  And there it was.

  The talk of old men. The kind of story they told while nursing a glass of whiskey, filled with unnecessary details, wild exaggerations, and a heavy dose of back in my day energy. I tuned him out almost immediately, nodding at appropriate intervals while my focus drifted elsewhere.

  The road we followed—smooth and perfectly maintained despite its age—led directly to an imposing gate embedded into the mountainside.

  The [Old One] was waiting.