Chapter 8: Down The Road

Yasmin stood at the center of the room, her hands moving with practiced precision as she prepared the ritual that would bind Sylvius and Toba directly to the Sahir. Prince Mehrajan and Princess Amani watched closely, their eyes fixed on the sorceress as she arranged a small bowl filled with a mixture of rare herbs, their potent aromas filling the room. The tension was palpable, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in the stillness.

“Hold out your arms,” Yasmin instructed, her voice low and steady. Sylvius and Toba complied without hesitation, their sleeves rolled back to expose their wrists. Yasmin produced a ceremonial dagger, its blade glinting coldly in the flickering candlelight. With a quick, practiced motion, she made a small incision on each of their arms, allowing their blood to drip into the bowl. The crimson drops sizzled as they met the herbs, releasing a sharp, almost metallic scent.

The prince and princess exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of awe and dread. Yasmin began to chant softly, her words an ancient incantation lost to time. The blood in the bowl began to swirl, moving as if alive, and a faint glow emanated from within. Slowly, the mixture darkened, its surface rippling with unseen power.

The glow intensified, casting eerie shadows on the walls, until finally, with a burst of energy, the contents of the bowl erupted into a thin, icy-blue mist. The vapor twisted and coiled, like a serpent seeking its prey, before solidifying into a ghostly trail—a wisp of wind that danced across the floor, hovering just above the ground.

Sylvius and Toba stared at the ethereal path, their eyes wide with the sight they could only see. It snaked out of the chamber, toward the castle gates, and beyond into the unknown.

“It’s done,” Yasmin said, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “The trail will lead you to him. But remember, the closer you get, the more you will forget. You’re our eyes on this quest.”

With the spell complete, they gathered their belongings, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on their shoulders like a heavy cloak. The trail beckoned, cold and unyielding, promising nothing but peril in its wake. In the grand hall, the king and queen awaited them, their faces stern but their eyes betraying a depth of emotion rarely shown. As the group approached, the king stepped forward, his usual regal composure faltering for just a moment. His gaze lingered on Mehrajan and Amani, the weight of a father’s love and fear evident in his eyes.

“This is not just another mission,” the king began, his voice thick with emotion. “This is a battle for our future, our survival. Do whatever it takes to find the Sahir and end this. You carry the fate of our kingdom with you.”

The Prince and Princess nodded solemnly, their faces set with determination. “We will keep in touch,” Princess Amani assured her father, her voice steady. “Meanwhile, prepare our defenses and keep the castle doors sealed tight. Let us know the moment you receive another letter from Polaris.”