Hours blurred into days, and days stretched into weeks.
Yet Kael and Naros remained buried in their endless search—
lost among dust-choked scrolls and crumbling tomes.
They scoured every source, every faint mention of concealment artifacts.
But most of the texts were either obsolete, incomprehensible,
or outright maddening.
Some described rituals requiring the blood of true gods,
others spoke of relics long lost to time,
and a few read more like myths—written solely to drive scholars insane.
With each sleepless night, Kael could feel his patience fraying.
His fists clenched white, nerves drawn taut like strings on the verge of snapping.
He barely slept, sinking deeper into pages inked in fading, ancient glyphs.
And still, the answers slipped through his fingers like sand.
Naros, by contrast, somehow managed to hold onto his enthusiasm—
though even he was starting to crack.
He grumbled, muttered curses, whined about his aching back,
but kept flipping scroll after scroll,
as if fate might finally show mercy
and drop the answer straight into their laps.
And then—
on one particular evening,
as the sun dipped low and painted the library walls in soft amber hues,
a sudden shout shattered the silence.
"I FOUND IT!!!"
Kael jolted, snapping his head up from the scroll.
"Kael, I found it!!!"
There stood Naros, wild-haired and wide-eyed,
waving a scroll like a battle banner.
He was glowing with exhilaration, breathless—
as if he'd just run a marathon straight through fate.
Kael shot to his feet, instantly at his side.
"What did you find?!"
Naros slapped the scroll with his palm,
grinning like a man who had just outwitted the gods themselves.
"An artifact that hides a divine core. It's real!"
Kael snatched the scroll from his hands,
heart pounding as his eyes raced across the ink.
The handwriting was elegant, precise—
as though the words themselves had been woven from light.
A chain that veils the divine.
Kael's eyes scanned further down the scroll.
Ingredients required:
– A thread of pure divine essence
– Moon-dust
– Ashes of fallen sunlight
– Tears of a snow wolf
What followed was a detailed description of the artifact's creation process—
intricate, delicate, demanding.
Kael read the list again. Then again.
Until the image of it fully formed in his mind.
He couldn't believe it.
"A thread of pure divine essence…" he murmured.
"Well, lucky me. I am a true god—no problem there.
Moon-dust and the ashes of sunlight… they might be in the Order's laboratory.
But this…"
He frowned, his finger sliding across the line.
"Tears of a snow wolf."
Naros mirrored the expression, arms folded, thoughtful.
"Yeah, that's a problem," he said quietly.
"There's only one snow wolf left in the mortal realm."
He paused, his gaze darkening.
"And it lives in the Mountains of Frostwind."
Kael nodded slowly, still staring at the scroll.
"It will take a long time to reach them."
He kept turning the scroll slowly, his eyes scanning each line—
until something unusual in the corner caught his attention.
Kael brought the parchment closer to the candlelight,
narrowing his gaze at the tiny scribble,
clearly written in a different hand than the elegant script of the main text.
It was a doodle—
a small, smug face sticking its tongue out.
And next to it, in the smallest letters:
"Once found — never let it go."
Just beneath the note, etched in near-perfect precision,
was a single letter, enclosed in a flawless circle:
"L."
Kael froze.
His heart clenched.
Lucius?
Kael swiftly rolled up the scroll, shoved it under his shirt,
and marched toward the library doors.
His steps were fast, decisive—
as if something had ignited inside him,
a fire that demanded answers now.
"Hey, where are you going?" Naros called, springing from his chair.
Kael didn't even glance back.
"I need to find Master Nik. I'll see you at dinner."
"Alright…" Naros muttered, but Kael was already gone.
The cold evening air hit him in the face, sharp and biting—
but he didn't slow down.
His thoughts pounded like war drums.
What was this scroll?
Why the hell had Lucius drawn that ridiculous little face?
How was he even involved with the artifact?
Kael stormed through the empty halls of the Order,
his footsteps echoing off the stone.
He needed the truth. And he needed it now.
Reaching Master Nik's office, Kael knocked once—
then walked in without waiting.
The instructor sat behind his massive desk,
deeply focused on an ancient text.
At the sound of footsteps, he looked up,
his gaze narrowing as it fell on the visitor.
"Kael?"
Kael stood tall before him, spine straight,
and offered a restrained bow.
"First Assistant Nik, I have a question."
Nik set his pen down,
his eyes watching Kael with sharp stillness.
After a moment's pause, he nodded.
Kael silently pulled the scroll from beneath his robe,
unfolded it across the desk,
and stepped back—watching.
Nik glanced at the text—
but then his eyes darkened.
A subtle tension crept into his shoulders.
Yet he didn't react outwardly.
Instead, he leaned slowly back in his chair.
"What's the question, Kael?"
Kael stood straight,
his voice calm and measured—
though inside, tension coiled like a tightened spring.
"Master Nik, is this a genuine recipe for the artifact?"
Nik glanced over the scroll again,
and Kael could've sworn—
his breathing slowed.
"Yes, Kael," he said at last,
his tone even, composed.
But a faint flicker—almost too quick to catch—crossed his eyes.
"This recipe could create a powerful artifact. One that hides divine essence."
Kael nodded,
but instead of relief, a heavier unease settled in his chest.
His gaze shifted toward the scribbled note in the corner.
He pointed to it with care.
"And this?"
Nik didn't even look.
He scoffed—waved a hand dismissively.
"Some student's doodle. What of it?"
Kael swallowed hard,
feeling the tension coil tighter within him.
"It was Lucius, wasn't it?"
Silence fell—thick, suffocating.
Nik froze.
Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze—
and for the first time, truly looked at Kael.
"You know about Lucius?"
Kael gave a small nod.
Nik's body went rigid.
"And do you know where he is?"
Kael took a breath, heavy and honest—
then shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Master Nik… I don't."
Nik's voice lowered, rough at the edges.
"Then how… how did you learn about him?"
Kael bit his lip,
but before he could answer,
Nik looked away—
his eyes turning to the window,
as if the weight of the conversation had become too much to carry.
"Kael," he said softly,
"Lucius was incredibly gifted.
He used to mark all his creations with that symbol."
Nik's lips twitched into a faint, bitter smile—
more grief than warmth.
"This artifact… is one of them?" Kael asked quietly.
Nik nodded. Silently.
Kael stepped closer,
his voice steady,
though a quiet, genuine longing to understand echoed in it.
"What happened to him?"
Nik turned sharply,
his dark brows furrowed in a storm.
"Kael…"
His voice was sharp. Almost cold.
"Lucius is a wound that never healed.
For the Grandmaster—
and for all of Vekto."
Kael held his breath.
"You'd do well to forget him."
The words landed like a command.
And even though Kael knew there was no point pushing further—
something deep inside him refused to let go.
But Nik had already turned away.
"Now leave me. I have work to do."
Kael watched him for a moment—
studying the tension in his shoulders,
the flicker of something unreadable in his expression.
Then he gave a quiet nod,
folded the scroll,
and walked out of the office without another word.
He moved through the corridors,
gripping the scroll so tightly
his knuckles turned white.
Thoughts spun in his head like a storm—
chaotic, endless, relentless.
Nik's reaction told him more than words ever could.
Kael had known Lucius mattered.
But now he understood—
this was deeper. Much deeper.
The Grandmaster and Nik had searched for him.
Maybe… they still were.
But what had really happened?
Why hadn't Lucius returned?
Why had he left the Order at all?
And why—why was he hiding from his own father?
Kael's thoughts drifted back to that night—
to the abandoned laboratory,
to the way Kirion knelt before a portrait shrouded in incense and sorrow.
"Are you still angry…?"
"I was so unfair to you…"
Something clenched in Kael's chest.
A strange, heavy feeling twisted deep inside.
Kirion…
Unyielding. Stern.
The greatest Master the Order had ever known—
a man even gods bowed to.
He felt guilt.
But why?
What in the gods' name had he done to his own son?
Kael was so deep in thought,
he didn't even notice when he reached his door.
He opened it on instinct—
stepped inside—
and froze.
There, sprawled comfortably across his bed,
was Naros.
Kael blinked.
"Naros?"
Naros looked up, grinning.
Naros stood up from the bed,
arms crossed, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
"So? When are we leaving?"
Kael frowned, closing the door behind him.
"We?"
"Are we leaving?"
Naros snorted, shaking his head as if Kael had just asked the dumbest question in the world.
"I knew you'd try to sneak out without me.
Not happening, Heaven's heir."
"I grew up with you. We literally ate from the same damn bowl."
"And you seriously thought you'd just leave me behind? Ha! Get over yourself."
Kael let out a long, tired sigh and slowly folded the scroll.
But before he could say a word,
Naros jerked his chin toward the bed.
"Oh, and don't bother packing."
Kael followed his gaze—
—and froze.
By the wall stood two travel bags—
already packed with supplies, rolled cloaks, and all the necessary tools.
"I've packed everything," Naros announced smugly.
"Food, gear, the works.
I even found moon dust and sunlight residue in the lab."
Kael blinked slowly.
"You… what?"
"Yeah, yeah, I did all the work while you were off wandering around,"
Naros waved a hand dramatically.
"So come on, princess. Suit up. We're leaving."
Kael rolled his eyes.
There was no point arguing.
What was he even hoping for?
He grabbed clean clothes and headed silently toward the student baths.
When he returned, Naros had fully taken over his bed—
stretched out, one leg swinging lazily,
tossing nuts in the air and catching them with smug satisfaction.
"Gods, Kael, you took forever."
Naros yawned and stretched.
"What are you, the god of water?"
Kael didn't respond.
He walked to the table, grabbed his bag, and slung it over his shoulder—
without a word.
Naros suddenly frowned, tossing the remaining nuts aside.
"Wait."
He sat up, crossing his arms.
"If we just vanish like this, the whole Order will flip.
And your father will track us down before we can even say 'Tauren is a prick.'"
Kael, without changing his expression, calmly placed a sealed scroll on the table.
"I wrote a letter to Master Kirion.
It says my father sent us on an urgent mission to the mortal world.
As soon as it's done, we'll return."
Silence settled between them.
Then—
a sharp clap echoed through the room.
Naros burst into applause, grinning wide.
"Gods, Kael, you're seriously on your way to becoming the god of lies and deception."
He slung his bag over his shoulder and, walking past, clapped Kael on the back.
"When the hell did you learn to lie like that, you sneaky bastard?"
Moving like shadows through the night, Kael and Naros slipped through the darkened streets of the Order, avoiding patrols and lit corridors. Their footsteps were silent, their breathing steady, their hearts beating in sync with the cool night wind.
At last, they reached the boundary of the Order—the final threshold separating them from the mortal world.
Kael paused, casting one last glance at the grand buildings behind them.
Naros looked at him but said nothing.
Within those walls, they had been trained.
In Kael's past life.
And now, they were leaving it all behind.
Perhaps forever.
Without hesitation, they stepped forward.
The barrier wrapped around them in a shimmer of golden light.
In the next breath, the Order vanished behind them.
Naros drew a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.
"Well. There's no turning back now."
Kael gave a silent nod and raised his hand.
A golden sword flared to life in his palm, casting a gentle glow.
"The nearest city is Fenlun. We'll fly to it—buy horses there."
Without wasting another moment, he leapt onto the blade, and it lifted him effortlessly into the sky.
Naros let out a quiet snort, summoned his own silver sword, and followed, soaring after Kael into the endless night.
All through the night, they soared through the sky, slicing the wind as rivers, forests, and hills slipped beneath them, cloaked in the darkness. The breeze tousled their hair, and the stars shimmered overhead, as if quietly watching their journey unfold.
Kael flew ahead—focused and silent.
But, of course, Naros couldn't bear the quiet.
"…and then, get this—he actually tried to brew an invisibility potion in a regular teapot!"
Kael shot him a sidelong glance but said nothing.
"Yep, in a teapot! He figured all you had to do was throw the ingredients together and—who cares about activation spells or proper heat regulation? When I walked into the room, the idiot was already gone."
Kael raised a brow.
"So… it worked?"
"Oh, it worked alright," Naros snorted. "Just not the way he intended."
Naros smirked, drifting closer through the air.
"Basically, his skin disappeared. Everything else stayed exactly where it was."
Kael nearly lost control of his sword.
"What?!"
"Exactly! Just picture it—some poor skeleton with a twitching eyeball whining that 'something feels off with his hands'…"
Kael snorted, quickly refocusing on the flight path.
"And then?"
"What do you think? We dragged him to Lian. He took one look at the guy, then at the potion, then back at the guy and said, completely deadpan, 'Congratulations. You've just violated the laws of reality. I hope you enjoy being skinless.'"
Kael couldn't help but laugh softly.
"Lian's always had a way with words."
"Tell me about it!" Naros threw up his hands theatrically. "But it ended fine in the end. Lian pumped him with so many regeneration potions, the poor bastard was puking rainbows for three days straight."
Kael shook his head.
"And the moral of the story?"
"Teapots are for tea."
Kael chuckled but didn't reply.
By the time the first rays of sunlight began to streak across the horizon, they were already gliding over the outskirts of Fenlun. Landing softly at the main gates, they dissolved their swords in silence and started walking down the dusty road toward the city.
Of course, Naros wasn't about to stay quiet.
"I'm just saying—there are a lot of lunatics in the Order, but that guy? That guy set a new standard."
Kael smirked.
"Sometimes I feel like you're the lunatic."
"Maybe. But at least I don't brew potions in a teapot!"
With that, they crossed the bridge into the city, approaching its bustling gates.
Suddenly, the morning calm shattered under the heavy thundering of hooves behind them.
Naros spun around, his hand already darting to his sword—then his eyes widened in alarm.
"Kael, watch out!"
He shoved him hard, knocking him off the road just in time. Naros himself barely managed to dodge as two riders thundered past, nearly trampling them.
Dust burst into the air, coating their clothes in seconds, but Naros, still crouching, shot to his feet with fire in his eyes.
"Hey, you bastards!" he roared, swatting the dust from his tunic. "Watch where the hell you're going!"
The riders yanked on their reins, their horses rearing up and snorting with agitation. Then, in a single, fluid motion, they turned to face them.
The first rider—a young man of about twenty—sat in the saddle with the kind of haughty grace that made it clear he wasn't born to ride, but to reign above the ground itself.
His clothes were crafted from regal silk, the kind worn only by emperors and the highest of nobles.
Long black hair cascaded down his back to his waist, held in place by golden pins that glittered in the morning sun.
He gave Kael a glance full of disdain, as if looking at the dirt beneath his horse's hooves.
"Watch where you walk, beggar."
His voice was cold, detached—like they weren't even worth the effort of acknowledgment.
Without another word, he turned his horse and continued down the road.
The second rider—a boy of about sixteen—burst into laughter, his voice sharp and mocking. The sound made Kael's stomach twist in discomfort.
His fiery red hair shimmered in the sunlight, and his golden eyes narrowed mischievously as he gave them a bold, smug nod.
"Pathetic commoners," he scoffed, like a hound brushing away flies. "The road isn't a place for loitering."
Without giving them a chance to respond, he snapped his reins and galloped after his companion, leaving Kael and Naros in a second cloud of dust.
Naros looked like he was about to explode, furiously brushing the dirt off his clothes.
"Beggar?!" he spat, eyes sparking with fury. "Did you hear that, Kael? Commoners?!"
Kael sighed heavily, dusting off his sleeves without replying.
But Naros, shouldering his bag again, wasn't done.
"No, come on! Beggars, commoners! If those bastards only knew who they were talking to!"
He threw his hands up in theatrical outrage.
"Unbelievable!"
Kael didn't answer. He simply kept walking toward the gates.
"If I see those noble brats again, I'll kill them!" Naros growled, catching up with him. "Commoners! Seriously? They could've at least apologized!"
Kael stopped abruptly, turning to him with a hard stare.
"Enough."
Naros fell silent, though his face still smoldered with restrained rage.
Kael exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to the gates of Fenlun, which stood wide open at this hour to merchants, farmers, and weary travelers.
The city was alive.
The air was filled with the scents of fresh bread and roasted meat, mingling with the morning mist and the dust kicked up by cart wheels.
Hundreds of people bustled through the streets—vendors shouting out their deals, bakers carrying trays of steaming buns, and sleepy-eyed children tugging their parents along, begging for sweets.
Kael walked through the massive gates, paying no attention to the bustle around him.
The grand central square stretched out before them, adorned with fountains and marble columns.
In one corner, a woman shouted over the crowd as she sold her fruits, praising their ripeness with every breath. On the other, a young man in vibrant clothes juggled daggers, drawing an eager crowd with his flair.
Naros tilted his head back and inhaled deeply, grinning.
"Now this feels like freedom."
Kael didn't react. His voice was calm and to the point.
"We need horses."
Naros snorted, but didn't argue.
"Then to the stables, I guess."
"Yes."
Without slowing, Kael began weaving through the crowd, cutting a path forward with quiet determination.
They didn't have time to waste.
They crossed the bustling marketplace and made their way toward the eastern stables, where the air was thick with the scent of hay, horse sweat, and manure.
As soon as they stepped into the yard, Naros widened his eyes and let out a low whistle.
"Kael, just look at them! That gray mare—she's like a beam of moonlight!"
Kael didn't even turn his head.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?!"
"We need horses for a long journey, not to stand around admiring them."
"What is wrong with you?!" Naros rolled his eyes, but Kael was already striding toward the stable master—a broad-shouldered man with a face like he'd been fed nails for breakfast as a child.
"We need two of your toughest horses," Kael said curtly, wasting no time on pleasantries.
The stable master eyed them slowly, clearly weighing whether they were here to buy or to steal his stock.
"Long-distance riding?"
"Yes."
The man nodded and motioned toward a paddock where three massive stallions stood.
"These will do. Wild, but strong. Tame them, and they'll take you anywhere."
Kael was already heading in that direction when Naros grabbed his shoulder.
"Kael, what if—just hear me out—we choose not only strong ones, but also… beautiful?"
Kael gave him a side glance.
"You want to ride into battle on a cute, fluffy stallion that looks like a cloud?"
Naros squinted.
"Yes! That's exactly what I want! So that everyone stares and says, 'Gods, what a magnificent warrior on a glorious steed!'"
"I see. You're an idiot."
Kael ignored the rest of his whining and got to work: checking the horses' teeth, inspecting muscle tone, examining hooves.
But the moment he turned away, Naros was already standing next to a silver-coated stallion, gently stroking its neck and whispering,
"You don't want to go with that mean man, do you? You want to come with me, don't you? Of course you do, you sweet boy."
Kael turned, took one look, and groaned.
"Oh no."
The stable master smirked.
"You can't take that one."
Naros raised an eyebrow.
"Why not?"
"Because he's killed three people."
Kael spun around, staring at the silver horse in shock.
"You picked a serial killer?!"
Naros froze, then slowly pulled his hand away from the stallion.
"Okay… maybe he's a bit much for me."
Kael inhaled deeply, trying not to strangle him on the spot, and finally pointed to two sturdy bay stallions.
"These ones."
The stable master named the price, and Kael tossed him a pouch of coins without a word.
Naros sighed dramatically.
"We could have chosen the kind people turn their heads to admire!"
Kael swung into the saddle, gripping the reins firmly.
"We're not going to a parade."
Naros mounted his horse with a grin.
"Right, I keep forgetting you hate fun."
Kael leaned low over the horse's neck, urging it forward.
"Keep up, unless you want to spend another night in the city."
Naros rolled his eyes skyward but obediently nudged his horse to follow.
"One day, I swear, I'll teach you how to enjoy life, Kael."
Kael just shook his head, quickening the pace. The road ahead would be long.
***********************
"THE HORSE PODCAST"
Episode title:
"WE CAME FOR HAY AND GOT A GOD"
⸻
[Intro lute music. Someone's off-key.]
Host (Chestnut #1, raspy voice):
— Hey everyone, welcome back to "Three Hooves and One Traumatic Experience."
I'm Fast Bagel, and today we're talking about THESE TWO.
Chestnut #2 (quietly, bitterly):
— They called me "budget horse." BUDGET.
I am, for the record, a pureblood descendant of the Demon-Slaying Centaur!
Bagel:
— And they tried to mount me from the left side. The LEFT.
WHO EVEN DOES THAT?!
Chestnut #2:
— That blonde bastard. Naros.
He tried to bribe me with nuts.
Bagel:
— HE OFFERED ME PIE. POTATO PIE.
I'm a horse, not a damn Cargonian rock-eater.
⸻
[Chestnut #3 connects via magical signal]
Chestnut #3 (dark, sounds like an ancient shaman):
— I have seen eternity. I carried Kael.
He does not speak. He… watches.
When I tripped, he said nothing. Just… exhaled. Slowly. Through his nose.
I haven't slept since.
Bagel:
— Bro, was he looking at you or through you?
Chestnut #3:
— At my great-great-grandfather.
⸻
[Apple crunch. Chewing.]
Chestnut #2:
— And now they're like: "Let's go find a snow wolf."
Yeah. Let's go.
F***ing marvelous.
I didn't even get winter shoes yet.
⸻
[Final jingle plays. Still off-key.]
Bagel:
— That's it from us, horses of this story.
Like, subscribe, raise your hooves, and remember:
If a god invites you on a journey — check if he has a saddle.