Prince Dayne sat in the empty inn's common room and stared at Celibrik while he ate. Hate for the other man filled him like it always did when he looked at Celibrik. His father really sent this man to watch over him? This man? The one that let the Foundling boy escape and who always second-guessed his commands. One day, I will enjoy watching him die.

"I still can't believe you marched us out here to find that Foundling scum. With a cage being dragged behind us too, what an obvious way to alert everyone we're coming," Celibrik scoffed. Then he took another bite of sliced elk and meat juice ran down his scarred cheek.

Prince Dayne's eyes narrowed. "I know what I'm doing Celibrik. How many times must I tell you? I am in command here. Not you. Keep your mouth shut unless I ask you to speak." He picked at a piece of wood flaking off from the table they sat at. Celibrik did as he always did and listened, but not without having an amused glint in his eye that showed just what he thought of listening to him.

Prince Dayne had thought about having Celibrik killed on multiple occasions, the most recent time after learning the man had let the Foundling boy escape to go stop the attack on the prison camp. Celibrik said he had to leave him, and that everyone would have been killed in the camp without the actions he took. The prince wasn't convinced nor did he care about the other men. All I care about is reviving my mother and quieting this thing inside my head once and for all. Then my sights can be set on taming this wild New Lands to become my kingdom, Prince Dayne thought. He continued to pick at the wood absentmindedly.

No matter how much he fancied the notion, the prince knew he couldn't really do it. Celibrik was a Councilor on the Viberium Council - the only institution left that was strong in power and influence as his father was. Killing Celibrik - the representative they had sent with him to the New Lands - would erupt Reven in a civil war. A war that his father and himself would lose.

The truth was, the key to his family's hold on power was their alliance with the Viberium Council. He learned that from his father at a young age. The Viberium Council were a powerful group of Viberium users who each had their own unique power. He disliked them and their ever-growing thirst for influence, but he knew his father needed them. They were a tool, nothing more. Councilor Veiter had "requested" King Vlidian to send Celibrik along to accompany him to the New Lands so they could help him expand the empire. Prince Dayne knew it was really because they just wanted to keep tabs on his movements and to have first-hand knowledge of any Viberium users that Snapped while on their journey. Their hunger for new members knew no bounds.

"Do you have any more information on the whereabouts of the Foundling scum?" Prince Dayne asked as he leaned back in his chair, studying the man. Did he purposefully let the Foundling escape or was it really an accident?

"I received a report a couple of hours ago that a group of Crimson Guards found their trail and are following the group as we speak." Celibrik took another bite of elk meat, took his time chewing it, then swallowed. "As soon as I finish, I will be setting out to find him right away. We share the goal of finding him, my Lord. I feel ashamed I allowed him the opportunity to slip away." He almost looked like he meant it.

Why does he want the Foundling? Does he know about the message I received? If he does, I will have to kill him before he reports it to anyone. Father won't want mother coming back, Prince Dayne thought.

You will do no such thing, Little Dawford, a deep voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Prince Dayne's eyes bulged at hearing the voice.

That man is a useful tool. You will not harm him or we will harm you, another voice - feminine and different from the first one - whispered from the other side of his head.

Prince Dayne swallowed down the panic that threatened to rear its head; he struggled to control his facial features. The voices had been quiet for most of the day. Oh, why had they returned?

Celibrik studied him with his eyes narrowed. "Are you okay my Lord?"

You are worthless, you always have been, the feminine voice whispered again. Then the voice laughed hysterically.

Get. Out. Of. My. Head. He thought back at the voices ferociously. They both laughed.

"I'm fine," Prince Dayne barked. Sweat collected on his forehead. Why must they always come back? a small part of him cried out. He needed to be strong, he didn't have time to succumb to the voices. He had somewhere to be tonight.

The prince cleared his throat, stood up, and wiped off the sweat from his forehead. Tonight, he wore brown trousers and a black jerkin with a cloak fastened around his shoulders. He couldn't wear his usual crimson armor trimmed with gold, he needed to be inconspicuous. It was time to meet the person that had sent him the message.

"I'm leaving. I hope next time I see you, you have more information about where the Foundling is. One more mishap surrounding the boy, and I will personally find you responsible," Prince Dayne said. In the dim light of the inn's common room, Celibrik's scar along his right eye to his cheek stood out prominently.

"Most wise of you my Lord," Celibrik said in a dry tone. He refused to make eye contact with him. "I'll go patrol around this shit hole they call a town and see if anybody here has seen anything." With that, he stood up and left out the door into the night.

I will find out what that man is up to, Prince Dayne thought while he watched him leave.

He waited to see if the voices in his head had anything more to say before he left. They were now silent. The voices always came and went as they wanted and the prince tried to do his best to ignore them. He wondered for the thousandth time if they were real; if they could see what he saw. Ignoring them wasn't always an option, sometimes they forced him to listen. They would take him to a place in his mind where they controlled everything and make him see anything they wanted. They had been with him since that day, fifteen years ago. Just thinking about it caused his hair to stand on end but he shoved the thoughts out as hard as he could. Now was not the time. He had to make this meeting.

Walking out on the dark streets of New Dawn, the prince signaled the Crimson Guards at the door to go patrol. He pulled up his hood. The last thing he needed was someone to recognize him. Since arriving at the New Lands, he'd been waiting for this day. The Foundling boy was supposed to be with him but regardless, he still needed to make sure that the person in the note wasn't a sham. If they are playing a trick on me, they will feel the full depth of my wrath this night. He gripped the shortsword he had hidden under his cloak tightly at the thought.

Prince Dayne headed off in a random direction, he needed to find someone to tell him where the Four Clover Inn was located. While he walked along searching for someone to ask, he noticed a beggar on the street. A lone woman on the street corner with a dented cup in her hand, asking for anyone to help her. Prince Dayne walked close by, keeping his head down so his face wasn't showing. From just a few spaces away, he could smell the women's stench and his nose wrinkled. His eyes went to her face and they widened. For a second, he thought he was staring at his mother, the queen. She had the same curly brown hair and her eyes were light blue. She had the same lips, cheekbones, and the same smile. She was mouthing words at him but he couldn't make out what she was saying, he froze with astonishment.

"Hello young sir," she said, walking toward him with the cup outstretched. She was missing her two front teeth and the rest looked brown as dirt. The resemblance to his mother shattered but pity for her remained. "Would you offer some marks to help an old lady sleep off the streets tonight?"

Prince Dayne slowly nodded and reached into his cloak pocket. Taking out a handful of crimson marks, he dropped them into her cup. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Thank ye lad!" she yelled, dancing around. "I will be able to eat for a year from this."

Prince Dayne smiled and nodded his head, then turned to leave. Then he remembered. The Four Clovers Inn. He turned back and asked, "Do you know where the Four Clover Inn is?"

"Just down that way four streets then turn right lad, you can't miss it. Just letting you know kind sir, that inn has been abandoned for years. It's said to be haunted," the old lady said, still smiling at him.

"Thank you. Sleep well tonight ma'am." He walked off in the direction she indicated.

What an interesting exchange, the deep voice whispered in the back of his head. I know to use that against you now. The deep voice laughed maniacally.

The prince gritted his teeth but ignored the voice, and walked in the direction the lady said to. After only a few minutes, he arrived at the abandoned inn with a cracked wooden board outside reading: Four Clover Inn. The wooden building had dozens of holes in the roof and planks of wood were missing. The place reeked of piss and shit and looked to be ready to collapse on itself at any moment. Excitement and nervousness filled the prince for a moment but he stifled the feelings. Nothing to be excited about yet.

He scanned around to make sure no one was paying attention to him, then he walked inside cautiously. The abandoned inn was just as rough on the inside as it was on the outside. The wooden part of the bar was pulled off and smashed against the ground - chips and bigger pieces spread out all over. All of the benches and stools that the patrons had once used looked to have been stolen and the smell of feces filled the area. The place was empty, and not a sound could be heard.

Suddenly, Prince Dayne heard a creak from downstairs. There must be a cellar. He walked deeper into the building. His heart raced while he dodged around broken bottles and plates until he found a door that led downwards. A small light was at the bottom of the stairs; he could see shadows moving.

Cautiously walking down the stairs, he emerged into the cellar to find a peculiar situation.

Two women stood in a bare room with a torch on the wall, cascading shadows against the wall. The first appeared to be in her late twenties, with short black hair. She stood staring at him with a smirk on her face. Her eyes were almond-shaped and her skin was tan like most Revenians. She held herself like someone used to giving orders. She wore a black cloak wrapped around her shoulders and in her right hand, she held a chain that connected to the other girl's wrists. The chained girl looked to be around fifteen years old and was bald. A cloth was wrapped around her mouth, keeping her from speaking. Tears streamed down her face as she looked from the lady holding her chain to the prince, making frightful sounds.

Pulling down his hood, Prince Dayne stared back at the woman. His hand rested on the hilt of his shortsword. Her facial expression hadn't changed but something about her put him on edge.

The woman holding the chain sneered. "I've been coming here every night for two weeks now. Happy to see you've finally arrived." Her eyes darted to behind him and then back to him. The smile dropped from her face. "Where is the Foundling boy?"

"My men allowed him to escape with their negligence, but I will have him in my grasp very soon," Prince Dayne replied, holding his temper. He hated being reminded he lost the boy.

"Was it their negligence, or was it yours?" the woman asked brazenly.

White-hot fury filled Prince Dayne. "Who do you think you are? You can't talk to me that way." He unsheathed his shortsword and pointed it at the woman. "Talk to me like that again and you're dead."

She would rip you apart Little Dawford, just like your father did, the feminine voice in the back of his head whispered with a cackle.

"SILENCE YOU SCUM!" Prince Dayne screamed, dropping his short sword. Both his hands went to hold his head. He crouched down. No no no no, NOT RIGHT NOW! he screamed at the voice in his head. He whimpered. Sweat beaded down his forehead in thick bullets.

"You are as mad as they say," said the short-haired girl, not surprised. "You will do exactly as I say because I am the one who can save you from yourself."

Prince Dayne wiped the spit from his lip and stood up. "What do I need to do?" She was right. He needed her and he would have to play along with whatever she wanted. Anything was worth getting his mother back and his mind to be quiet once and for all.

"Once you get the Foundling boy back, we will sacrifice him. This girl's-" She rattled the young girl's chains. "-Viberium power can resurrect the dead if you sacrifice the killer near her. She will be able to transfer the soul from the murderer to the victim, giving them life once more. We need the boy, and a body for your mother's soul to inhabit." the woman explained. "By the way, you may refer to me as Viza."

"I can find a body and I will find the boy." He looked at the chained girl. "You've seen the girl's powers work before?"

Prince Dayne wiped the spit from his lip and stood up.

Viza grinned. "Many times." She looked down at the chained girl. "Isn't that right Isabella?"

The chained girl nodded yes in a very enthusiastic way. She appeared to want to please Viza. Who is this woman?

"Why would you want to help me?" He'd wondered that from the first time he read the note.

She sneered again, her lip curling. "My employer has a vested interest in seeing you achieve your goals, my prince." Amusement coated her voice. "Now, no more questions. Find the Foundling and a body for your mother's soul. Return to me when you have both. Here," Viza said, handing him something wrapped in cloth.

"My employer has friends in high places," She continued, "Send this letter to the Viberium Council and request Councilor Hivera to be sent to help you. She can track anyone anywhere with her Viberium power. As long as you have even a piece of their clothing or hair. I've heard the Foundling stayed in your camp. You must have something to track him with."

Prince Dayne looked down at the cloth and realized it was an already written letter with his name signed at the bottom, a perfect imitation of his seal and signature. Who are these people? I must not let my father know about this plan. He would never want my mother to return to life. I'm still not convinced he didn't order her killed in the first place. But would he really resort to hiring the Foundlings to do it? These questions had plagued him since his mother's death.

He stood up and pulled his hood back over his head. " I'll return here as soon as I have what I need. I will leave a message down here if I come and can't find you."

Always the follower, never the leader, the deep voice whispered in the back of his head. Prince Dayne clenched his jaw but ignored it.

Viza smirked. "You will find me here, don't worry. I know more than you think, Prince Dayne."

Prince Dayne left the abandoned inn and headed back toward the inn he would call home for a long while. They might think I'm a follower but just wait. My time will come.

He laughed hysterically and didn't even notice the other people move out of his way to avoid him.