It was late in the evening when Oskar realized he hadn't been writing notes. But after reading the Nivian Blithe tome, and finding a passage following a conversation between the author and the Chief Steward Godric Rhore.

"This man banned Queen Delia's edict because he thought it left no room for accidental hunting," Oskar yawned and leaned his chin on his hand with his elbow on the table. "He was the one making all the decisions until this Prince Aldrich became of age to rule. But the prince chose to keep all the changes made by his co-regent... Hunters were never required to report their kills. Which means—"

"If anyone accidentally killed a Unicorn, no one would know about it," Erasmus finished as he, too, yawned.

Oskar sighed and sat back in his seat. "And it has been happening for over a hundred years."

"Prince Aldrich... why does that name sound familiar?"

He rolled his eyes, but answered his twin's question.

"Because Prince Aldrich later became King Aldrich, the Benevolent," he explained, thinking back to the study of Unaran royals they had both done the year before. "He was Father's grandfather."

"Ah, right," Erasmus nodded as a loud grumbling sound filled the air. "Eh... Little brother, I think we may be late for supper."

Oskar glanced at the grand clock on the closest wall.

"Yes, I think we should go," he said, rising to his feet. "And I need to keep these books with me... Erasmus, thank you for staying and helping for so long. I know this isn't your idea of a good time."

Erasmus' smile was genuine, a rare sight, as he replied, "You would do the same for me."

They shook hands before stuffing the books into Oskar's satchel and hurried on their way.

* * *

Mother was not very pleased with their tardiness, but the moment the servants were gone, Oskar shared everything he had discovered with both of his parents. Erasmus interjected a few times, ever eager to make sure he was reminded of the reason they were in the forest in the first place. Father listened with intent, frowning and shaking his head when Oskar brought up Godric Rhore.

"Unsettling," Mother said when Oskar was finished, placing her fork down. She raised her napkin and dabbed her lips clean.

"This requires a change of law," Father said with a heavy sigh as he removed the drop cloth from his lap and slapped it on the table. "I am shocked my grandfather let his co-regent make such decisions without discussing them."

"I haven't found anything that suggests a discussion did not happen," Oskar went on, clasping his hands around the warm cup. "But such discussions are less likely to be found in the books I've been reading."

"You are right. They would be with the chronicles of the kingdom and royal diary. But I think you have found sufficient information, Oskar. Thank you. All that remains is to find this hunter—this Unicorn killer."

The prince exhaled, nodding as he stared at his plate. He hadn't touched his food, but in all fairness, he had been the one doing a lot of the talking. It was a cold meal, so there wasn't any worry to ask Cook to reheat his food. However, he didn't have much of an appetite. Who would, after explaining everything he learned?

"I need to return the horns I found to the forest," Oskar said after a long silence. "The first one has already crystalized."

"Please, wait until morning," Mother said in a gentle tone. "Given your discovery, I do not feel comfortable about you going there in the night hours. Unchaperoned."

Father smiled fondly, "The forest is perfectly safe, but I agree. Oskar, please wait until morning."

Oskar promised, and the royal family fell silent as they finished their meal. But like the topic of the conversation, he remained unsettled. He worried waiting until morning would be too late to bring the horns back. The black horn would likely become crystalized before dawn struck. And crystal one would likely turn to dust.

* * *

As the night fell into silence and the moon slipped behind the clouds, sleep eluded Oskar. He lay in bed, staring out the doors that led to his private balcony, a place he often retreated to when he wished to lose himself in the view of the kingdom that sprawled beneath him.

The minutes ticked by, and still, Oskar could not sleep.

Then, a shift in the air. A strange vibration in his ear, faint but unmistakable. At first, it felt like a whisper, a breath of wind that wasn't there, brushing against his skin. He sat up, glancing toward the darkened balcony. His breath caught, and for a long moment, all he could hear was the steady beat of his own pulse.

The vibration deepened, its hum pressing against his chest now, urgent and restless. His heart fluttered. Oskar blinked and looked out into the night, squinting as if the darkness would reveal something, anything, to explain the sensation.

The longer he stared, the clearer it became. A shimmer, barely visible in the distance, caught his attention—a flicker of something... alive? The light felt wrong, ethereal, like a ghost brushing the edges of the world. His pulse quickened.

Then the hum intensified, as if coming from deep within the earth itself. A pressure that seemed to spread from his chest to his limbs, weighing him down. His hands trembled, but his body knew—the pull was not something he could ignore.

A chill crept through the open doors, biting into his skin, and the air felt thick with something ancient, something powerful. The moon, once obscured by clouds, peeked out for just a moment, casting a faint glow across the balcony floor—and for an instant, Oskar could have sworn he saw something flicker in the shadows just beyond the trees.

His instincts screamed at him to go.

For a moment, he hesitated. But the sensation surged again—an ache deep in his bones, pulling him forward, insistent and undeniable.

He stood, his breath shallow, and stepped toward the satchel in the corner of the room. The soft thud of his footsteps against the floor felt like an echo in the stillness of the night. As he reached down to untie the strap, his fingers brushed against the fabric, cold and damp from the evening air.

His hand trembled slightly as he pulled the satchel open, the contents now weighing heavily on his mind. The horns were nestled inside, their surfaces smooth and delicate. But it was the crystallized one that caught his attention first—its icy ivory sheen glimmering even in the dim light of the room. It pulsed faintly, as though it were alive, and Oskar felt the hum from earlier stir in his chest again.

He hesitated, his fingers lingering over the crystal, almost as if it was calling him in a language he couldn't quite comprehend. The moment the satchel opened fully, the air around him thickened, and the vibration from the night before surged once more—stronger now, like the pulse of a heartbeat. His breath caught, and without thinking, his fingers closed around the crystalized horn, pulling it free from the others.

The moment it left the satchel, the room seemed to shift. The hum became a low, persistent thrum, vibrating through his bones. The air felt charged, and Oskar's skin prickled with an inexplicable sense of recognition—as if he had opened a door to something ancient and forgotten.

The crystalized horn glowed faintly in his hand, brighter now, its edges sharp and angular, like ice frozen in time. He could feel its weight pulling him toward the door, tugging at him like a magnet. The sense of urgency, of the pull he'd felt earlier, intensified.

His eyes flicked to the other horn, untouched and still. And for a fleeting moment, Oskar saw something—a flicker of otherworldly light shooting out of the crystal and away into the night. And it seemed to beckon the prince to follow.