Chapter 66: Elder Of The High Plains
The morning was quiet when Aveloria and Galen rode out of the capital. The roads beyond the city were mostly empty, the air cold and still. Aveloria sat upright on her horse, her cloak pulled close. She hadn’t slept much, her mind replaying everything from the day before, the ruins of the past, her siblings, the thought of Eirene, and her mysterious connection with the Wanderers.
They rode without talking for a long while. Galen occasionally glanced her way, trying to read her face, but she kept her focus straight ahead.
"You’re thinking again," he said after a while.
"I always am," she replied quietly. "We need answers, Galen. I can’t keep guessing who might also have a connection with the wanderers aside from Eirene."
He nodded. "Elder Thalos will help. He’s family. You trust him, don’t you?"
She hesitated. "I can’t say I trust him. I barely know him. He was close to my mother. He helped raise her after her parents died. But I haven’t seen him since I was a child. People change."
"Not everyone," Galen said. "Some just get older."
Aveloria gave a faint smile but said nothing more.
By midday, they stopped by a stream to rest the horses. Galen handed her a water-skin and tore a piece of bread in half.
"Eat," he said.
She shook her head. "I’m not hungry."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "You need to keep your strength. You’re running yourself down."
Aveloria sighed, but took the bread. "You sound like my father."
"Your father is a smart man," he said, sitting down beside her. "I just worry about you, Aveloria."
She softened. "I know. I’ll be fine, Galen."
After riding for long hours, they finally reached their destination at dawn. The plains stretched wide before them. The old courthouse stood far in the east, a massive stone structure half-sunken into the ground and surrounded by patches of wild grass. It looked untouched in years, yet it carried the weight of history.
When they arrived, two guards at the gate bowed immediately. "Heiress, Elder Thalos has been informed of your visit."
"Thank you," Aveloria replied. "Where is he?"
"In the study hall, Your Highness."
They dismounted, and Galen walked beside her through the courtyard. The air inside smelled of parchment, dust, and ink. Scrolls and ancient records lined the stone walls. At the far end sat Elder Thalos, hunched over a table with several open books. His white hair was tied loosely, and his eyes, though aged, were sharp.
When he saw her, he rose from his seat slowly. "By the goddess," he said, smiling faintly. "Aveloria of Lycanthria. The last time I saw you, you could barely walk."
Aveloria smiled back, genuinely. "Uncle Thalos. It’s been a long time."
"Too long," he said, coming closer. His hand trembled a little as he placed it on her cheek. "You look like your mother. Same eyes. Same fire in them."
"I’ve missed her every day," Aveloria said softly.
Thalos’s expression dimmed. "We all have." Then he looked at Galen. "And you must be one of her bonded ones."
"Galen Ravencourt of Fenricson clan," he said with a polite bow. "It’s an honor, Elder."
Thalos nodded. "Your father is a good man. I know him well."
They all sat down around the old wooden table. For a few moments, there was silence, just the sound of pages turning and the wind whistling through the cracks in the window.
"So," Thalos began, folding his hands. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Aveloria reached into her satchel and pulled out Lucien’s note. "This," she said, sliding it across the table. "One of my mates, named Lucien, a rogue, left it for me. He said the wanderers’ mission is tied to the blood of the first moon and a prophecy. And someone in the palace is controlling the Wanderers. I think he meant Eirene."
Thalos looked at the note, his brow furrowed. "You think she’s behind the attacks?"
"I don’t just think," Aveloria said. "I know she’s not who she claims to be. She gave me a bracelet once. I took it to the temple, and the priestess said it carried a dark charm. That’s when everything began to make sense."
Thalos leaned back, sighing heavily. "I feared this day would come."
"You knew something?" Galen asked quickly.
"I suspected," Thalos said. "But proof has always been hard to find. The Queen’s court is tangled with power and deceit. Exposing someone like that without evidence can destroy so much."
Aveloria leaned forward. "Then tell me what you know, Uncle. I’m tired of living in half-truths. I need the full story."
Thalos looked between them for a long moment. Then he said quietly, "Before I speak of the Wanderers, Aveloria, you must understand your own bloodline."
She frowned slightly. "My bloodline?"
"Yes," he said. "The blood of the first moon. The goddess herself chooses the female child born of the first blood of Lycanthria to rule. That is why Queens have always led the kingdom. Your father sits on the throne not by birthright but by virtue of being your mother’s mate. When she died, he held on because the council feared chaos."
Aveloria nodded in agreement. "I know that."
"By divine right and by birthright, that throne belongs to you alone," Thalos said. "But your power? Your true birthright? It is not only the throne. It’s what runs in your veins."
She stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He looked at her solemnly. "Your mother carried a gift, one every heiress of the first blood inherits. Magic. Not witchcraft, but the power of the goddess herself. I felt it the day you were born. I was the first to hold you. You had a strange warmth, unlike any child I’ve ever touched."
Aveloria went quiet, unsure how to respond. Galen looked from her to Thalos, equally stunned.
Thalos stood up slowly and went to a cabinet. He opened a small box and returned with an old amulet. It was silver with a blue stone in the middle. He placed it in Aveloria’s hand.
"This is our family’s heirloom worn by your ancestors," he said. "Your mother also used it when she began to sense her gift. It will help guide you. The spirit of your ancestors resides in it. Keep it close."
Aveloria traced the edge of the amulet with her thumb. "Why didn’t you give this to me sooner?"
"Because you weren’t ready," Thalos said. "Now you are. Things are changing. Darkness is moving again."
Galen looked at the amulet, then at Thalos. "You mentioned darkness. Do you mean Eirene?"
Thalos nodded slowly. "Eirene is not just a woman with ambition. She’s a witch who draws her strength from forbidden magic."
"A witch? I knew it!" Aveloria gritted. Her grip tightened around the amulet.
"Your father allowed her into the palace without knowing what she truly was. She’s protected because some people in the council shield her, possibly for their own benefit."
"She isn’t afraid of exposure," Thalos continued. "She has help and not just from the court. The Wanderers serve her cause, though indirectly."
"How?" Galen asked.
"I will tell you about the legend of the wanderers and how they are connected to the prophecy," Thalos said, lowering his voice.
He walked to one of the shelves and took out a big book. He placed it on the table and flipped through a few pages.
