Chapter 20: Fleeing the Tribes

Kael knelt in his tent, sorting through what little he could carry. His hands trembled as he stuffed spare tunics and a water pouch into a satchel. The space around him felt suffocating, memories of his father and the life he had always known pressing down on him with every passing second. His thoughts were a tangled mess—Marek's betrayal, the humiliation of the coronation, and now the looming shadow of exile.

The flap of the tent rustled, and Kael's head shot up. His breath caught in his throat as a hooded figure slipped inside, their movements swift and silent.

Before Kael could react, the figure placed a hand over his mouth, silencing him.

"Quiet," the stranger whispered, their voice low and urgent.

Kael's heart pounded as he stared into the dark hood, his hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at his belt.

"It's me," the figure said, lowering their hood.

Kael froze, recognition dawning. It was Elder Elyra, one of the most respected members of the Sun Tribe council and a close confidant of his father. Her gray hair framed a face etched with lines of wisdom and weariness, and her sharp eyes darted around the tent before fixing on him.

"Elyra?" Kael whispered, his voice filled with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"We don't have much time," she said, her tone urgent. "You must leave immediately."

Kael frowned, his grip tightening on the strap of his satchel. "I know. Marek gave me until sunrise—"

"No," Elyra cut in sharply, her voice low but urgent as she leaned closer. "You don't understand. You can't take that time. You can't stay to say your goodbyes or wait for Marek's guards to escort you. If you do, you won't live to see the next sunrise."

Kael's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"Marek doesn't intend for you to live," Elyra said, her voice a harsh whisper. "As long as you draw breath, you are a threat to his rule. You have Talar's blood, Kael. The tribes will always see you as the rightful heir, and Marek knows that. He couldn't execute you outright without seeming unjust, so he offered exile as a ploy. The moment you leave tribal lands with his guards, they'll kill you."

Kael stumbled back, the weight of her words crashing over him. "No... he wouldn't... would he?"

Elyra placed her hands on his shoulders, her grip firm. "I knew your father, Kael. Marek always envied him, and now he's eliminated every obstacle to his crown—except you."

Kael's voice wavered. "What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?"

Elyra reached into her cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch. She pressed it into Kael's hand, the weight of it heavier than he expected.

"Take this," she said. "It's gold. All that I could gather. Use it to survive, to build a new life in the south—far away from Marek's reach."

Kael stared at the pouch, his throat tightening. "Why are you helping me?"

Elyra's expression softened, though her eyes still held their urgency. "I loved your father. He was a good man, a great leader, and a friend. And you..." She hesitated, her voice catching. "You are his son, Kael. Deep down, I know you're the rightful heir."

Kael shook his head, his hands trembling as he held the pouch. "I can't take this. It's too much."

"You can, and you must," Elyra insisted. "I won't have any use for it soon enough. Marek will come for all of us who stood with Talar. I'm already living on borrowed time."

Kael's chest tightened. "Then come with me. You don't have to stay here. We can leave together."

Elyra smiled faintly, a mixture of sadness and resolve in her eyes. "My place is here, Kael. Dead or alive, I belong to the tribes. But you... you need to live. Live, and honor your father's legacy."

Kael bowed his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Elyra. For everything."

She cupped his face gently, her expression fierce. "Don't thank me. Just survive. That's how you'll honor Talar."

Elyra stepped back, her voice firm. "Gather your friends and go now. Don't linger. Don't say goodbye to anyone else. Just run."

Kael nodded, his heart pounding as he shoved the pouch of gold into his satchel. Elyra pulled her hood back up and slipped out of the tent, leaving Kael alone with the crushing weight of her words.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. He grabbed his satchel and darted out of the tent, his eyes scanning the camp for Tayo, Frenna, and Lirien.

The group stood near the edge of the camp, their voices low but urgent as they debated their next move.

"We should wait until sunrise," Frenna said, her hammer resting against her shoulder. "If we run now, it'll look like we're guilty of something."

"And if Marek's guards catch us in the open?" Tayo countered, his voice tense. "We don't even know where we're going."

"There's no point in rushing blindly into the desert," Lirien added, her silver braids catching the faint moonlight. "We should at least have a plan."

Kael approached quickly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. "We're not waiting," he said, cutting through their discussion like a blade.

The three turned to him, startled.

"What are you talking about?" Frenna asked, frowning. "Marek gave us until sunrise."

Kael's jaw tightened. "It's a lie. If we wait, we're dead. Marek's guards will kill us as soon as we're out of sight."

Lirien narrowed her eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

Kael stepped closer, his voice low but insistent. "Elyra warned me. She said Marek can't risk me alive because I'll always be a threat to his claim. This exile was never meant to let us live—it was meant to cover up his execution."

Tayo swore under his breath, his hand reflexively gripping his bow. "I knew he was a snake, but this..."

"There's no time to argue," Kael interrupted, his tone sharp. "We need to leave now. South. It's our only chance."

"South?" Frenna asked, her brow furrowed. "Do you even know what's waiting for us down there?"

Kael met her gaze evenly. "No. But it's better than staying here and walking into Marek's trap."

Lirien glanced toward the dark expanse of the desert, her lips pressed into a thin line. "If we're going south, we need to move fast. Marek's guards won't wait for sunrise either."

Frenna sighed, gripping her hammer tightly. "Fine. Let's move. But this better not be another one of your reckless plans, Kael."

Kael flinched at the jab but didn't respond. He turned to Tayo. "Are you with me?"

Tayo hesitated, then nodded. "Always."

Kael exhaled, some of the tension easing from his chest. "Good. Let's go."

Without another word, the group slipped into the shadows of the desert. The faint glow of the campfires behind them grew smaller and smaller with each step, until only the vast expanse of the unknown lay ahead. Kael's mind churned with doubts, but he forced them aside.

He couldn't fail again. Not this time.

The south awaited.