The plan Audren had made was a simple one. Ridiculously simple, even. It all hinged on the goodwill of the gods. That, and his and Terry's ability to make it to their destination in one piece.

But that was a detail.

As children, Audren and his sister had learned about diplomacy, the various counties, duchies and autonomous cities and regions in Avondor. In doing so, they'd also learned about the land's myriad of noble houses; they'd needed to grow familiar with them and use the knowledge to observe proper etiqutte and maintain good relations with other members of the aristocracy. There were certain families that had piqued Audren's interest. One of those was the Acestor family.

House Acestor, if the history Audren had been taught back in the day hadn't yet been rendered obsolete, was one of the oldest noble families in Avondor, having ruled over what was now known as Santonshire for centuries. Their reign had been long and moderately prosperous. Not that Audren cared much about the details of that reign; it was the family's origin that fascinated him.

According to widely-circulating tales of yore, House Acestor had been formed when a noblewoman from the Far South had arrived in Avondor, not unlike Audren's own mother. The woman had been charming, warm and radiant, and had quickly found herself the object of the affections of Solmar, God of the Sun, revered in a great many Avondorian regions. House Acestor was the House of the Sun. Santon was a corrupted name; the city, or so the scholars said, had been founded as Suntown.

Countess Limnaia of House Acestor was a descendant of the Sun God. It seemed only fitting, then, to ask that same god about her whereabouts. If the countess was alive and in trouble, she could probably use Audren and Terry's help. Surely Solmar would want to protect his descendant, his legacy, and would aid the pair in their search.

Audren had told Terry and her father all of this with hands folded around a cup of goat milk. He'd watched Terry intently, trying to decipher the thoughts in her head. When he'd finished mapping out his ideas for the Kalisters, he'd waited for the mage's verdict, praying to the Mountain Goddess she'd approve of his plan.

"Your plan stands or falls by whether or not certain rumours are true," Terry had concluded. "About the curse's origin, the runaway countess... And this plan you've made is simple, incredibly so. On the other hand, that might benefit us. Elaborate plans come with a higher probability of failure."

"I understand we'd be taking risks," Audren had replied. "Our success or failure hinges on many different factors. Whether Solmar will help, whether the countess is alive and whether or not her advisor is the one who cursed the land. But we have to try something more than just fortifying the city and lasting as long as we can. Breaking the curse is the only way to save ourselves and these leads are the best we have."

Terry had been silent for a long time, pondering. Audren had held his breath.

"Fine," was Terry's final judgment. "The plan isn't going to get any better than that. If it works, it works, and if it doesn't, at least the trip will be a short one. If we collaborate, we should probably be able to survive and make it back here in one piece. I'll join you."

Audren had rejoiced after that and hoped to the gods she was right.

By the time their deal had been settled, the afternoon had progressed into evening; neither Audren nor Terry thought it a good idea to leave under the cover of darkness, with the enemy they didn't know well ruling the lands beneath the stars. Nothing in Ambassador Valskis' reports had mentioned anything about the Cursed's sight and for all they knew, the monsters possessed a cat-like night vision. They wouldn't take their chances; undead and disgusting or not, Audren preferred being able to see what he was up against.

And so it came that they set out early in the morning, when the fog felt cool on their skin and the first rays of sunlight illuminated the mountain path ahead. The only sound came from the songs of the first birds and Audren and Terry's footsteps as they made their way to the river. Though Audren knew there would not yet be any Cursed in the mountains, especially not on this narrow road, he didn't feel safe. With every twist and turn, a horrid sensation came over him, as if he'd round a corner and see the undead glaring at him, salivating and hungry for his flesh.

In the Free City, it would only get worse.

No shrine for Solmar existed in Anahill. Audren's father, like his ancestors, had had eyes for the Mountain Goddess alone. What reason is there to worship the Sun God, he'd said, when the sun's light hardly pierces the mountain fog? Audren had always thought the man had a point. He didn't care much for sun gods. His mother had worshipped the sun god from the Far South, the one god she'd never forsaken after relocating to the Avondorian mountains, but her now-neglected shrine wouldn't be of any use. Audren needed a shrine for Solmar specifically, preferably a grand one, nothing small and home-made. For the first time, he despised his family's decision to pay little attention to any deity besides Ana.

Fortunately, there was a pantheon in the Free City with a whole corner dedicated to Solmar.

Unfortunately, the Free City, oppressed by the Cursed roaming the streets, was no longer free.

Audren preferred not to think about that.

Not long after leaving Anahill behind, he and his companion reached one of the various mountain villages, Chippenroth-upon-Hass, where the river Hass passed through on its way out of the mountains. Here, too, the news of the Cursed being on their way had arrived. The few people out and about struck Audren as both confused and stressed, wandering aimlessly to distract themselves from their coming doom. The lord found himself answering questions, providing reassurances: he told the villagers about his mission and promised them his sister would have them evacuated and brought within Anahill's city walls soon.

The river was the reason for his and Terry's presence in the village. It connected the Avondorian Mountains to the Free City of Hasswater and the Western Sea further beyond, running through the land like an artery and keeping a bustling, lucrative trade alive. Usually, the docks in this village teemed with activity, small ships and boats arriving and leaving, sailors and dockworkers preparing goods for transport to Anahill.

Audren could hear a pin drop there now. The river water still flowed, but the flow of time might as well have ceased. Empty boats and empty streets, people hiding behind closed doors, nary a soul to be found; already the village bled dry, life fading from it like it had from the Cursed. If we don't break the curse, Audren thought to himself, this is our future: forgotten shells of civilisation left to rot.

"We're taking a ship, then?" Terry asked, scanning the docks around them. "Good luck finding anyone willing to lend us a boat."

"Won't be too hard," Audren replied. "I know my lands, my people, trade. I know enough ferrymen and my name opens many doors. Surely we'll be able to borrow a ferry."

Indeed, they managed to track down an old ferryman willing to lend them his vessel. It's not like I'll be travelling down to the Free City anytime soon, he stated. All he wished to keep were the draft animals used to pull the ferry upstream and back home, which Audren deemed an acceptable request, especially since Terry assured him elemental magic would propel them to and fro easily. They thanked the ferryman, made their way to the small but sturdy vessel and got on.

Audren watched Terry expectantly. "What now?"

"Patience." The mage sat down cross-legged, closed her eyes. "How about you untie the rope and release us from the dock? Magic won't be useful if we're stuck."

Audren did as he was told, untying the rope as fast as he could with nimble fingers. He heard Terry muttering under her breath, words too soft and unintelligible for him to understand. He knew most mages in Avondor voiced their spells in Ancient Avondorian, but had next to no knowledge of the language himself. Regardless, Terry seemed to know what she was doing... to an extent. Audren soon felt the ferry move unnaturally beneath him. He wobbled as he tried to keep his balance while the vessel sped away.

"Woah, okay, slow down," he heard Terry say to herself, the ferry or both. Her eyes shot open again. "Gods damn it, I'm rusty on this. Should've practiced elemental magic more consistently and kept the techniques up to date..."

"Well, that's very reassuring to hear," Audren muttered, but he relaxed when he felt the ferry slow down, soon settling at a speed he considered comfortable. Still, he took up a pole ferrymen used to move and steer. He wasn't sure what course Terry would be charting, but being able to make adjustments gave him peace of mind. He didn't want to be too close to the river bank once the Cursed came into view.

Could the Cursed swim?

Audren shook the question away quickly. He could only worry about so many things at once.

"So our quest starts, Lord Audren," Terry said, voice a careful neutral. "You might want to look back at what you're leaving behind."

Audren's mind filled in the words left unsaid: Just in case you never see it again. He allowed himself one look back, one look at the fog, the pine trees, the looming mountain peaks. One look at the village and its little harbour, the few tentatively hopeful but mostly concerned villagers outside watching them go.

Terry was right. Their quest had started. And as the village grew smaller while they navigated the river, the reality of the situation dawned on Audren. He'd travel to lands where death reigned, leave his home to save it from certain doom.

And he couldn't afford to fail.