They finally left the pine forest, and the light hit them all at once.

  Ahead, the vast cliff stretched to the horizon cutting the sky with a hard, unbroken line.

  Below, the lake shimmered between the rocks—vast, calm.

  Kael recognized it instantly.

  “Finally… we’re back,” he breathed.

  Lucanis stopped beside him.

  “We can start the ascent from here.”

  Kael stared at the cliff, slightly out of breath.

  “We really jumped from that height last time?”

  Lucanis smirked.

  “ No—you jumped. You pushed me, if I recall correctly.”

  A rustle made Kael turn his head.

  Althéa, silent, had drawn her bow. She was staring at something higher up in the trees.

  Lucanis frowned.

  “What are you—”

  The arrow flew.

  It struck cleanly.

  A bird fell, stiff and dead, its head pierced straight through.

  Althéa lowered her bow, impassive.

  “For lunch.”

  Lucanis nodded, impressed.

  “A masterful shot.”

  Kael let out a small laugh.

  “Alright… yeah. Respect.”

  She glanced at Lucanis.

  “You should get some sleep. You’re barely standing.”

  Lucanis looked like he wanted to argue—but didn’t.

  They set up a quick fire, sheltered by a rocky outcrop.

  While Lucanis plucked the bird, Althéa and Kael watched him—silent, but focused.

  Lucanis looked up, surprised.

  “What?”

  “You’ve never seen someone clean a bird before?”

  Kael shrugged.

  “Yeah. Just… not that cleanly.”

  Althéa pointed to a small organ he was removing.

  “What’s that?”

  “A gland,” Lucanis replied.

  “Leave it in, and your meat tastes like old soap.”

  The fire crackled softly, and the smell of roasting meat began to overpower the scent of pine and sun-warmed stone.

  Lucanis turned the bird over the embers.

  Kael watched the sizzling juices with almost childlike interest.

  “Honestly… I didn’t think it would smell this good.”

  Althéa shot him a look.

  “What do you usually eat, if this smells good to you?”

  He smiled faintly.

  “Worse things, I guess.”

  Lucanis cut off a piece, set it down on a flat stone, and handed the meat first to Kael, then to Althéa.

  She hesitated. She held it between two fingers, as if someone had just served her a rat.

  “You’re the one who killed it, princess,” Kael said. “Don’t start acting delicate now.”

  “It’s not about eating it,” she replied. “It’s… emptying the animal. It’s… not clean.”

  Lucanis rolled his eyes.

  “And putting an arrow straight through its skull is clean, maybe?”

  “It is clean,” she corrected. “Surgical.”

  Kael burst out laughing.

  “Remind me never to get injured in front of you.”

  They ate in silence for a while. The meat was a little tough, but flavorful, with a faint bitterness Lucanis hadn’t managed to remove completely.

  Once he’d finished his portion, Lucanis let out a long sigh.

  “I’m going to get some sleep.”

  “If we’re going to climb that cliff, I can’t afford to have my muscles turned to mush.”

  Kael nodded, serious now.

  “Yeah. That kind of effort drains you physically—but mentally too.”

  “We need to be clear-headed up there. Not just wrung out.”

  Althéa turned her head toward him, intrigued.

  She wasn’t looking at him like someone who didn’t know what he was talking about anymore.

  He went on, gesturing toward the rock face behind them.

  “While you sleep, I’ll map out a route along the cliff face”

  “Not necessarily the shortest—but the most stable.”

  “Less straight exposure. More solid holds.”

  Lucanis narrowed his eyes.

  “And you’re planning to impress us with your Ombrevu climbing experience?”

  Kael shrugged.

  “It’s not about experience.”

  “It’s about logic. And observation.”

  Althéa frowned slightly. Not in disdain—more in thought.

  Lucanis stood, rolled his shoulders until they cracked.

  “Alright, strategist. Let’s see what your logic’s worth.”

  “I’ll give you an hour. If I sleep longer, I’ll wake up in a bad mood.”

  “Won’t change much,” Kael muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  Lucanis was already asleep, slumped against a twisted tree, arms crossed over his chest. He’d fallen asleep in less than a minute—as if his body knew exactly what it needed.

  Kael, meanwhile, had moved away.

  He walked slowly toward the edge of the lake, where the cliff rose to meet the sky. He stopped a few meters from the water, on the pebble beach, and lifted his gaze to the rock face.

  It was high. Massive. No clear line—only cracks, broken angles, and the promise of false hope.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  He studied it. Calculated. Marked possible paths, blind spots, shadowed sections, areas constantly exposed to the sun.

  Footsteps behind him.

  He barely turned. He already knew.

  Althéa had approached, silent. She said nothing.

  She stopped near him and watched him closely. The wind gently lifted her light chestnut hair. His gaze was locked on the cliff, fully focused on his task. She watched his dark eyes, ringed with fatigue, carrying that constant impression of weariness.

  Eventually, he turned his head.

  She looked away immediately.

  “What?” he asked, a half-smile on his lips. “I’ve got something on my face?”

  No answer.

  She stepped a little closer, nudged a pebble with the toe of her boot, and looked at the cliff herself.

  “So,” she asked without looking at him,

  “have you figured out which route we’ll take?”

  Kael shrugged slightly.

  “Two or three options.”

  “There’s one with plenty of holds, even crevices wide enough to rest completely—but you have to zigzag. It’ll be long, and exhausting over time.”

  “Another one’s more direct, but you’ve got open air under your feet almost the whole way. No real place to rest your hands or arms.”

  He paused.

  “What do you think?”

  She pretended to think. More to buy time than anything else.

  “I think…” she said slowly,

  “that climbing a cliff is stupid.”

  Kael smiled faintly.

  “You didn’t say I was stupid.”

  “Just the cliff.”

  “I’ll take that as a win.”

  She pretended not to hear him.

  Kael pointed to a more winding section of the rock face.

  “That one. The one I mentioned earlier—the longest route, but also the safest. If someone gets exhausted up there, they’ll actually be able to rest.”

  “We’ll lose time, sure. But we won’t spend it falling into empty space.”

  Althéa shook her head, clearly irritated.

  “I’d rather take the fast route. We climb, we’re done, and it’s behind us.”

  Kael looked at her, doubtful.

  “Have you ever climbed something like this?”

  She crossed her arms.

  “No.”

  “But I’m not made of sugar.”

  He inhaled slowly, then stepped closer—just enough to lower his voice.

  “It’s not about being fragile.”

  “It’s about reality.”

  He tilted his chin toward the cliff.

  “Up there, you’ll be carrying a fur, a bow, a quiver, and a whole lot of badly digested anger.”

  “And if you slip—even with the lake below—”

  “have you thought about what it’s like to sink with all that weight?”

  Althéa clenched her jaw. Just a little.

  Kael went on, calmer now.

  “You wanted Lucanis to sleep. You were right.”

  “But if you want him to wake up just to die, then climbing recklessly isn’t the solution.”

  Silence.

  At last, she looked back at the cliff.

  “You have a rope?”

  “No. Just solid logic, apparently.”

  She snorted softly.

  “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

  Kael smiled.

  “I take that kind of luck every day.”

  Kael cast one last glance at the cliff, then turned around.

  Lucanis was still asleep at the foot of the tree, arms crossed, head tilted forward. He could’ve passed for a statue—

  if he hadn’t opened one eye at the exact moment Kael approached.

  “Wake up, you lazy bastard,” Kael said, giving Lucanis a kick to the heel.

  Lucanis snapped upright in a sharp motion, hands already moving as if to grab an invisible weapon.

  Then he recognized Kael, and his shoulders loosened.

  “You’d better have a damn good reason for waking me up,” he growled.

  “Relax. It’s about the climb.”

  Lucanis rubbed his face, then rose in one smooth motion, as if his body had kept all its tension even through sleep.

  They walked together toward the lake’s edge. Kael stopped at the base of the cliff and extended an arm.

  “There. You see that line?”

  “It snakes around a bit, but the holds are more reliable. There’s even room to rest—and fewer risks.”

  Lucanis frowned, followed the line with his eyes. He stayed silent for a few seconds.

  “That’s not stupid,” he said at last.

  “Guess I did right trusting you for once.”

  “Yeah,” Kael replied. “Figured falling off a cliff right after gutting a bird would be a pretty dumb way to die.”

  Lucanis smirked.

  “Alright. We take that route.”

  Kael nodded. Behind them, Althéa watched without saying a word.

  Lucanis studied the rock face for a few more seconds, arms crossed.

  “It’s high.”

  “And it won’t forgive mistakes—even with the lake below,” Kael answered.

  “This path is the most stable. But even then… it’s steep.”

  He turned to Lucanis, more serious now.

  “I think someone should go up first.”

  “Leave markers on the safest holds. It’ll make it easier for Althéa.”

  Lucanis raised an eyebrow.

  “You suggesting I take the lead?”

  “No. I’ll do it,” Kael said.

  Lucanis looked at him for a moment, weighing the conviction in his voice.

  “You sure?”

  Kael nodded.

  “I don’t need to be fast. Just steady.”

  “And if I screw up, at least no one will be tied in behind me.”

  Lucanis allowed himself a faint smile.

  “That’s actually smart.”

  Kael glanced toward Althéa, who was finally approaching.

  “I’ll go up first, test the route, mark the holds you need to follow with stones,” he said.

  “You’ll just have to trace my path.”

  Althéa narrowed her eyes, offended.

  “I’m not a child.”

  “No,” Kael replied. “But you’re certainly not a climber either. Look at your hands. They’re so soft it’s almost unbelievable you even know how to use a sword or a bow.”

  “And this isn’t about pride. It’s about who makes it to the top in one piece.”

  Althéa took a step back, fingers clenched around the strap of her fur, irritated.

  “I categorically refuse to have a path marked out for me like I’m some helpless burden,” she said, her voice cold, carried by unmistakable pride.

  “I’ll climb on my own.”

  Kael clenched his fists.

  “Stop posturing. We don’t have time for this,” he snapped, harsher than he’d intended.

  Lucanis remained silent. He watched them both, unmoving, as if the cliff itself were holding its breath.

  Althéa’s tone shifted. Her fa?ade cracked. Everything she had been holding back surged up—sharp, bitter.

  “You’re nothing but an Ombrevu,” she burst out. “You have no right to give me orders or look down on me. How dare you think you can tell me what to do?”

  Her voice fractured—half fury, half something older, deeper. She couldn’t stand that this boy from the Broken Crown might be surpassing her. Pride and shame tangled together, raw and exposed.

  Kael stared at her. Slowly.

  A moment of silence.

  “You’re going to take that back,” he said. No complaint. Just a flat command.

  “And who do you think you are?” she shot back, flushed with rage.

  “I am Althéa of Soléandre, heir to the throne. Do not speak to me the way you would to the nameless trash rotting in that rat hole you dare call the Broken Crown! You are nothing. A nobody. A parvenu who got lucky enough for the Trial to manifest—and you think that gives you the right to speak to me as an equal?”

  Her words cracked like whips—proud, humiliating.

  Kael didn’t look impressed. A cold smirk flickered across his face, then vanished.

  “Oh really?” he murmured—and the words landed like a spark.

  Silence.

  A heartbeat.

  Kael looked at her.

  No anger.

  No explosion.

  Just something cold in his eyes.

  He stepped forward.

  She stepped back.

  He raised his hand.

  Not fast.

  Not in rage.

  Calmly.

  The slap landed.

  Sharp. Precise.

  Like a verdict.

  The silence froze around them, cutting.

  The sound of the slap echoed—clean, final—and it felt as though all the air had been sucked away.

  Althéa stood motionless. She raised a hand to her cheek, eyes wide.

  It wasn’t the pain.

  It was the shock.

  The look she met wasn’t mocking. Not insolent.

  It was icy. Absolutely serious.

  The gaze of someone who, for the first time, wasn’t seeing her as a princess—

  not even as someone to be revered—

  but simply as a woman.

  Perhaps less than that.

  Kael stepped closer, his hand still suspended, his voice low and steady.

  “Listen carefully, Althéa. I warned you.”

  “You can insult me, mock me openly—but you will never speak like that about people you know nothing about.”

  “Never.”

  His fingers closed on the collar of her jacket, pulling her just enough that she felt his breath.

  She wanted to look away.

  She couldn’t.

  His dark eyes were locked onto hers—no fire, no game. Just pure will.

  “Look around you,” he continued.

  “There’s no throne here. No name. No crown.”

  “There’s me. You. Lucanis. The cliff. And the risk of dying if you keep acting like the world owes you a path.”

  He released her slowly.

  But his words didn’t fall away.

  They sank in.

  “Even him,” Kael said, gesturing toward Lucanis without breaking eye contact,

  “even him—who was born with a name—listens when I speak.”

  “Not because I give orders. Because he understands when something makes sense.”

  Lucanis didn’t move.

  He looked at Kael, then at Althéa—stunned, carrying a quiet respect.

  He said nothing.

  There was nothing to add.

  Althéa stared at Kael, trembling, unable to respond.

  The anger was gone.

  All that remained was a heavy cold in her chest—the understanding that he wasn’t joking.

  That he had never been joking. Not once.

  She lowered her eyes slowly, throat tight.

  Without a word, she took a step back.

  And for the first time…

  she had nothing to say.