Chapter Nine: Winds of Change

The pale light of dawn had barely begun to break over Rithaleon when the scout arrived. Her mount galloped hard along the narrow path leading to the capital, its hooves pounding against the cobblestone streets. Her eyes were wild with urgency as she pulled the reins, dismounting in front of the palace gates.

Captain Serin of the border guard, mud-spattered and weary, barely paused to catch her breath.

Within the royal chambers, King Thalen stood on the balcony of his chambers, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He felt a tension in the air—a restless energy he couldn't quite name. The kingdom had been in a state of uneasy peace since the last war, but something was stirring in the dark corners of the land, something that made him uneasy.

The sound of the scout's arrival broke his thoughts. He turned and descended the stairs quickly, meeting the scout in the royal hall. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her uniform tattered and dirty from the ride.

"Captain Serin," Thalen said as he approached. "You rode hard."

She bowed slightly, her eyes wide with alarm. "Your Majesty…It's worse than we feared."

Thalen's heart tightened at the words. "Speak."

"The Order…" she hesitated, swallowing hard. "They've breached the northern border. Somehow, they've entered Northwood Vale—and they've been seen near the ancient site of the Wildlights."

The mention of the Wildlights sent a chill through Thalen. The eerie, green glow that filled the skies of the Northwood Vale was not a mere legend—it was a warning. Those who sought it did so for darker purposes.

His voice was a low murmur. "What else?"

"They left a message, Your Majesty," she continued, trembling now. "Written in the old tongue. A warning, perhaps. But it's clear—they intend to awaken something."

"We must prepare," he said firmly, his voice like iron. "Summon the Council. I will address them immediately. And send word to the Academy—ensure my son, Zyren, is safe. If the Order is in the Vale, he may be closer to danger than we realize."

The scout bowed, understanding the gravity of his command, before rushing off to relay the message.

Serin didn't look back as she ran down the corridor—already reaching for another dispatch, already preparing to ride again.

---

Back at the Academy, Zyren paced restlessly in his dorm room. His mind kept returning to the strange dream he'd had—the girl, the symbol, the cryptic message about the stars turning green. It was all tied to the Northwood Vale, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

He paced his dorm room, fingers brushing the moonstone pendant at his chest. Across the room, Alaric lounged on the windowsill, sharpening a dagger.

"Still brooding?" he asked. "You pace like a man with secrets."

Zyren didn't answer at first. "Something's pulling me," he said finally. "Something real. It's not just dreams. And I think it's time I followed it."

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "And what? Sneak out under moonlight with nothing but your pretty pendant and a dream date in green starlight?"

Zyren gave a half-smile. "I wasn't going to ask you to come."

"Which is exactly why I'm coming," Alaric replied. "Because you're an idiot."

Corwin, hunched over a book at his desk, snorted. "He's got a point."

Zyren chuckled but the humor didn't last. "We don't go yet. Not until we know what we're walking into."

Corwin glanced up, his tone quieter. "You're not the only one who's felt it—the pull toward the Vale. Whispers are spreading. But it's not just the Order we need to worry about."

Zyren glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

Before Corwin could answer, Alaric laid a map across the desk. "Maybe something closer. I've been digging into the Academy's East Wing. The one no one dares approach. I think it's tied to all this."

Zyren froze, his mind jumping to the scrap of parchment tucked in his cloak. He pulled it out and handed it to his friends, his voice low as he spoke.

"It arrived just before the term began. No name. No seal. Just this."

Corwin unfolded the parchment, reading aloud the cryptic message:

"Ask no questions. Trust no answers. Watch the East Wing."

"We should've followed up sooner," he muttered. "But after the feast… and Tolren…"

"And now the dream," Zyren added. "They're all pieces of the same truth."

Alaric nodded. "The East Wing's been closed since the sundering storm last year. They said it was structural damage, but you've seen how this place repairs itself. It should've been reopened months ago."

Zyren stood, the moonstone tucked back into his shirt. He thought of the dream again—of the girl's eyes, of the way the stars had turned and shimmered above her head. He didn't understand it. But he knew it wasn't just memory or magic. It was a warning.

"Then we go there. Before we try to leave, before we follow some glowing sky—we look beneath our own roof. If someone warned me to look, I owe it to them."

"I agree," Alaric said. "But if we're going to get into the East Wing, we'll need to be cautious. The barriers around it are still strong. We won't be able to get in easily."

Corwin folded his arms. "Tomorrow night then?"

Zyren nodded. "One last look into the shadows before we step into something deeper."

—

Back in the royal palace, Thalen's thoughts were consumed by the scout's report. The Order wasn't a distant threat anymore—they were here. They had crossed the border. He had no time to weigh diplomatic nuance.

As the Council argued over troop movements and political overtures, Thalen rose from his chair with sudden force.

"There's no time to waste," he said, voice like steel. "The Order has already breached our borders. We mobilize now. Delay is death."

A hush fell across the chamber.

Councilor Vaelen, his silver hair gleaming under the lantern light, frowned. "Majesty, surely we can first send envoys—"

"No." Thalen's gaze cut through the man. "We've played at peace long enough. This will not be like the last war. The Order seeks power beyond reckoning. We either move now or regret it forever."

Another Councilor spoke, softer but no less urgent. "There are rumors, sire. From the Academy. Concerning your son."

Thalen's jaw tensed.

"Whispers link him to… the Vale. And to strange happenings in the East Wing."

"I will see to Zyren myself," Thalen said coldly. "You worry about the frontlines. Prepare the armies."

As the Council murmured, Thalen turned away, jaw clenched. For all his son's strength, Zyren had his mother's heart—curious, defiant, too easily drawn to danger masked as wonder. And the Vale was nothing if not wonder and danger intertwined.

---

That afternoon, the Academy seemed unchanged—sunlight warming stone halls, laughter echoing from courtyards—but beneath the surface, tension pulsed like a heartbeat.

Zyren was crossing the dining atrium when Kael stepped into his path.

"Quiet lately, Highblood," Kael said, smile razor-sharp. "That usually means trouble."

Zyren met his gaze calmly. "Or preparation."

"The East Wing eats the curious," Kael said—and for a moment, his smile vanished. "Ask Tolren."

He walked away without another word, cloak whispering behind him like smoke.

Corwin exhaled sharply. "He knows something."

Alaric was already watching Kael's retreating back. "And he doesn't want us to find it first."

---

That night, Zyren sat alone, the moonlight painting silver patterns across the floor. The pendant glowed faintly beneath his shirt, warm against his skin. The Wildlights called to him—but not yet. Not until the East Wing gave up its secrets.

And maybe—just maybe—he'd find what Tolren and the dream girl had both been trying to show him all along.

---

**End of Chapter Nine**