Beyond the Stars

Chapter 12: Shadows Between Kingdoms

The hermit brought us to a place somewhat far from the forest. I assumed he took us into his home since we saw a place I barely even call a house. It was small, leaning slightly to the left, patched together with mismatched wood and stones as if it had been rebuilt many times. Smoke no longer came from the chimney, and vines crawled over the walls like they wanted to strangle the structure. There was only room for one person in the hermit's house, which was why we stayed outside. A circle of logs formed makeshift seats around an empty fire pit.

"This must be where he receives visitors," I thought, glancing at the blackened stones and leftover ashes. A campfire—open to the wild, open to travelers, but with a line drawn: his house remained his alone.

"Oh, I just realized I'm out of wood to make a fire. The last ones are there that serve as the base of the campfire." The hermit scratched his beard and shook his head sadly.

"I'll gather wood for the fire," Baron said immediately, puffing out his chest as though he had been waiting for this moment all day.

"Don't act like you're a hero. I'll make the fire," Alon snapped, crossing his arms.

"The fire might die if you're the one who'll produce it," Baron shot back with a grin.

"What did you just say?!" Alon barked, already half-standing, his fists clenched.

I groaned before the situation escalated. "Enough! I'll be the one to make the fire, okay? You're all so annoying."

I pressed my palm forward and concentrated. A small flame danced to life, curling upward until it caught on the dried branches at the pit's center. The fire grew steadily, warm light spreading over everyone's faces.

Cedric, Baron, and Carmen stared at me with wide eyes.

"You can't do that, can you?" Alon teased, trying to hide his amazement behind mockery.

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, Alon."

The hermit chuckled softly as he shuffled outside, holding a dented tin cup that smelled faintly of herbs. He lowered himself onto the largest log, positioned so that all of us faced him. The firelight flickered over his features, casting shadows that deepened the lines on his weathered face. His gray hair and beard glowed faintly orange.

"I haven't seen you children around here before," he said in a voice both steady and old. "Where are you from?"

"From Caspian."

"From Therondia."

They answered simultaneously, and the word "from" had barely left their mouths before the familiar tension snapped into the air like lightning. Baron folded his arms. Blessica narrowed her eyes. Carmen crossed her legs with a sharp flip of her hair. Alon clenched his jaw.

The hermit chuckled again, but it wasn't out of amusement—it was more like he had seen this before. "King Caspian and King Therondia," he murmured. "Two of the greatest kings in Cassiopeia."

"They weren't that great," Cedric said quickly, leaning forward. "King Therondia poisoned King Caspian for Cassiopeia's ring of immortality. Doesn't sound very great to me."

My heart tightened. That wasn't the story Queen Marikit told me. Two versions of history, two opposing truths. Which one was real?

The hermit shook his head. "No. You've been told lies. King Caspian and King Therondia were two of the greatest leaders Cassiopeia has ever known. They wouldn't lift a hand against one another without the word of the goddess herself. They were loyal to Cassiopeia, loyal beyond reason."

He paused, gazing into the flames as though the fire reflected pieces of memory only he could see.

"I know because I was alive when they were," he continued. "I was but an infant, too small to remember, but my parents told me stories. And as I grew older, I researched, pieced together fragments, sought evidence in ruins and old scrolls. Over the years, I learned one thing: both kings were painted as villains by those who benefitted from their fall. But I tell you now—King Caspian and King Therondia were not murderers. They were protectors."