Chapter 4: The five stones of the Black Orlov

  The coach moved slowly over the narrow bridge that stretched like a ribbon between heaven and the abyss. The wind blew strongly, driving clouds across the sky and causing the old wood of the coach cover to creak softly. Below – only emptiness.

  Sana sat tensely on the coach box, the reins loosely in her hand, her gaze sweeping over the wide valley. “Was it really smart to take the coach? One mistake and we'd plunge into the depths.”

  The coachman, Taro, never took his eyes off the road. Instead, a quiet, almost playful smile crossed his lips, which soon turned into a loud, hearty laugh. “Please never doubt me.”

  Sana sighed. Annoyed, she leaned back, raised her head and looked up – where the highest of the three mountains, Alexandrit, Stonehead, rose into the sky. “We're almost there. So finally tell me what our mission is, Taro.”

  But his answer came as a slap in the face: “We have no mission. I act in my own interest.”

  Sana's head turned to him. “What?!”

  “I was just looking for someone to accompany me. I hate being alone.”

  He laughed again, loudly and exaggeratedly. And promptly received a fist to the head.

  “Ouch... calm down, Sana. Just enjoy our trip.”

  He laughed again – but suddenly fell silent. He looked ahead, serious.

  “Sana...”

  She followed his gaze. A few meters ahead of them, a man was standing at the edge of the bridge. His body slightly bent, his head bowed, his eyes fixed into the depths.

  “I have to do it...” he whispered, barely audible in the wind. “Otherwise he'll kill me...”

  Sana jumped up. “He's not going to...?”

  Taro jerked the reins, and the horses picked up speed.

  “Hey!” Sana shouted, her voice carrying against the wind. “Wait! Please! What are you doing?”

  The man turned slightly, but his face remained in the shadows. “Leave me alone, you strangers. Stay away from me.”

  Taro brought the carriage to a halt, just a few meters from the man.

  Sana stepped down, slowly, carefully. “There is no reason to take your own life. Perhaps we can help you.”

  The man wept. Tears ran down his cheeks. His voice was broken. “I am cursed... no one shall share this suffering with me... as they told me to do…”

  Taro stepped down, his step firm.

  “The Black Orlov?”

  The man nodded.

  Taro stepped closer. “Then jump. And spend your last seconds thinking that you ran away – and that Death will never forgive you for that.”

  “Taro!” Sana cried in horror.

  But Taro remained calm. “Go on... jump. If you think Death is easier than fighting an evil organization, then you haven't understood anything.”

  The man looked at him, his eyes wide, desperate. “You don't understand anything... you haven't seen them. They are... terrifying...”

  Taro fell silent for a moment. Then he threw off his cloak, revealing an empty right sleeve. His right arm was missing. Only the left was left.

  “I have seen enough. And yet I still stand.”

  Sana turned to the side and took a deep breath. The man slowly stepped back from the edge of the bridge. Tears still ran down his face.

  Taro put his coat back on and turned around. But suddenly the man coughed violently and his body convulsed.

  “What…?”

  Sana ran to him just as he spat a single glowing cherry blossom out of his mouth. Then – a burst of heat. His whole body began to glow.

  He screamed. Loudly. He scratched at his clothes as if trying to rip them off.

  Sana tried to hold him, tore open his shirt with a knife – and froze.

  Bright cherry blossoms spread over his upper body as if they were being burned into his skin.

  “What... is this?” she whispered.

  Taro stepped closer. His voice was calm but serious: “Don't touch him anymore. It could be a divine blessing... or something worse.”

  Sana let go of him – her hands were burning. Her skin was hot as fire.

  The man screamed louder and louder, his eyes red, his pupils flickering. “Help me... please... I don't want to die!”

  Sana looked at Taro, pleaded with her eyes – but he held her back.

  The man staggered back. His skin glowed, his voice broke. Then – one last step.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He jumped.

  “No!”

  Sana threw her arm forward, trying to grab him – but Taro held her fast.

  “Damn it...” she whispered. “I'm a healer... and I let him die.”

  Taro looked down. “You saw his body. Whatever that was – they wanted him to die.”

  At that moment, something stirred.

  Dark mist rose from the curtain of the carriage and slid silently over the wood.

  “Taro...,” Sana said softly. “The carriage...”

  Taro looked back. His eyes widened slightly, not with fright, but with growing curiosity.

  “I think... someone is regaining consciousness.”

  The fog settled over the bridge, moving as if alive towards the abyss – then it plunged down at breakneck speed, followed by the man.

  In free fall, just before impact, the fog completely enveloped the man's body –

  – and disappeared.

  Sana stood frozen. Her eyes widened as she looked at what was hard to believe. The dark mist that had just plunged over the bridge reappeared – silent, shadowy, pulsating. It gathered in the air, swirled as if alive, formed itself briefly... and then disappeared as if it had dissolved into the stone of the bridge.

  But it left something behind.

  Right where nothing should have been, the man was suddenly there again – the man who had just fallen to his death.

  Motionless. Breathing.

  The curtain of the carriage moved.

  A ray of light fell on the wooden edge when Shin pulled it aside. Slowly he stepped out, blinded by the daylight, his eyes searching the surroundings. His upper body was completely wrapped in bandages, every step seemed heavy, as if he were bracing himself against the memory of pain.

  “Where... are we?” His voice was rough, broken, but clear.

  Taro leaned back, a curious grin spreading across his face. “Who's asking?”

  Sana didn't pay attention to the two of them. She had immediately rushed to the unconscious man. Her fingers carefully traced over his skin – the blooming pattern of glowing cherry blossoms was gone.

  “It's gone...” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

  She quickly reached for her belt, undid a small bag and pulled out a glass vial. She opened the cork, a fine smoke rose, then she gently tilted the man's head back, let the liquid slowly drip into his mouth, then closed it and pushed his chin up slightly to make him swallow.

  Meanwhile, Shin carefully moved away from the carriage. His steps were slow and unsteady, but firm.

  “My name is Shin,” he said in a weak voice. “And I come from the village of Sadek.”

  Taro didn't react immediately, his forehead wrinkled slightly. “Sadek...?” he murmured, almost to himself.

  Then he stepped closer, his voice louder and clearer: “I am Taro. This is my companion Sana. We are just outside Stonehead – a town in the mountains of the kingdom of Flores.”

  But Shin barely noticed him. Without a word, he walked past him, directly to the old man on the ground.

  He stopped next to Sana, looked briefly at the man, then at her.

  “You said you were a healer. Then you are the one who treated my injuries?”

  Sana looked up, surprised, and nodded.

  Shin bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

  She was about to say something in return, but her voice faltered when she saw how Shin was swaying. “How can you even move with these injuries?” she asked in wonder.

  But before Shin could answer, his body slumped.

  The pain had caught up with him.

  His knees buckled, his body fell – but Sana didn't manage to catch him.

  At that same moment, the dark mist gathered around Shin once more.

  It enveloped his body like a protective veil – and disappeared with him.

  All that remained was a soft breeze.

  In the great hall of Citrine Palace, deep inside the mountain of the same name, an unusual calm prevailed. A soft, warm glow from crystal lights lay over the room, which had been hewn out of the rock itself. The table was large, round and made of black stone. The food steamed on it, smelling of roasted meat, steamed vegetables and aromatic herbs.

  Three people were sitting at the table: Jaseol, the keeper of Citrine, Sana, and Taro.

  Jaseol, his voice calm but firm, leaned back slightly as he put his cutlery aside. “So that's how it is. Then I can count on your help?”

  Taro put aside the last bite of his food, wiped his mouth, and leaned back, relaxed. “As soon as I know what I'm getting into... so, what can you tell me about the Black Orlov?”

  Jaseol was silent for a moment, as if he had to weigh something in his mind. Then he nodded slowly. “We don't know much. The first attacks on Citrine and Paraiba were about four years ago. Since then, no one has been able to hold one of their followers for more than an hour.”

  “An hour?” Sana looked at him in surprise.

  Taro sat up a little straighter, his eyes brightening.

  Jaseol continued, “Yes. We have managed to capture members several times. But then it begins – their skin changes. As if something inside them is awakening. A divine blessing, we suspect. One that we do not understand. It torments them... until they die.”

  Taro nodded slowly. “So... just like with the man from earlier.”

  “Exactly.” Jaseol's voice was now lower, more serious. “But in all the chaos, we did manage to glean one important piece of information: they have a leader – and under him, five special followers. They're called the Five Stones.”

  Sana looked down. “The Five Stones...” she murmured.

  “Yes.” Jaseol leaned his elbows on the table and folded his hands. “They say they are his most loyal servants. Each of them commands a different group. Their job is to recruit strangers like you – tourists, travelers. They lure them with jobs and good pay... and turn them against the city.”

  Taro closed his eyes briefly. His forehead furrowed.

  “Their goal is Alexandrit. But in all these years, they have never been able to get past the guardians.”

  A brief moment of silence.

  Then Taro leaned back, letting his head fall back. “So they want to get to the top...”

  His gaze changed. He straightened up, pushed the chair back with a short jerk, walked around the table and headed resolutely for the exit.

  “Sana. Come.”

  Jaseol raised his head in surprise. “Taro? What are you going to do now?”

  Taro stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “I'm going to find someone.”

  Then he left the room.

  Sana stood up slowly, casting an apologetic glance at Jaseol. “Thank you for the meal, Overseer Jaseol. Don't hold it against him... but he's the best I know.”

  Jaseol only smiled mildly, reached for the teapot and poured himself a cup calmly. “Then I wish you luck.”

  Sana bowed slightly – and followed Taro.

  Somewhere in Stonehead. Deep beneath the city's roots.

  A dark room. The air was still, as if holding its breath. In the middle of the room rose a throne, carved from pure rock, noble and ancient – its shape tapering to a point, like a crown of cold stone.

  On either side stood statues: one made of gleaming white, crystal-clear rock. The other of deep black obsidian, rough and ominous.

  A silhouette stepped before the empty throne.

  Silently. Quietly.

  The figure's gaze lowered – symbols were set into the ground in front of the throne, carved into stone: circles, intertwined lines, ancient runes.

  Then one of the stones glowed – violet.

  A crack opened in the air, and a first figure emerged from it.

  Further signs awakened: red, blue, green, pink.

  Portals opened, one after the other. Five shadows emerged. Their outlines distorted, their faces hidden.

  But two of the stones before the throne remained dark.

  Silent.

  Untouched.

  Then the figure before the throne spoke, its voice deep and authoritative:

  “The time has come. The Feast of Hope approaches – the day when they believe they will bring light back. But we... we bring darkness. We will bend all three kingdoms. We will bring true hope back to our world.”