Book One: Throne of Cinder and Shadow

C H A P T E R E I G H T: Dare

Dare worked long into the evening, the rhythmic sounds of the horses breathing and shifting in their stalls filling the stable with a comforting hum. The last light of the day filtered through the small, high windows, casting long shadows across the dirt floor. The scent of fresh hay and leather lingered in the air, but tonight it felt heavier, almost suffocating. He could almost taste the impending storm, a metallic tang that hinted at rain.

He couldn't shake Garnet's words from days earlier: "You're meant for something more." The idea gnawed at him, an unwelcome reminder of dreams he had buried long ago. Yet, despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him, Dare wanted no part of that promise. He liked his quiet life, away from the affairs of nobles and their schemes. He was content in the stables, surrounded by horses who didn't demand anything more from him than care and attention. The thought of being anything else felt foreign and unsettling.

But as the hours ticked by, that unease settled deeper into his bones like the chill creeping through the cracks of the stable walls. He found himself glancing often toward the high windows, noting how the last rays of sunlight surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

A low rumble of thunder rolled across the horizon, distant but growing. Dare leaned against the wooden beam of the stable, his arms crossed as he watched dark clouds gather, their edges lit by the final sliver of daylight. He felt a shift in the air—cooler, charged with energy—as if the world was holding its breath. It mirrored the tension that had been simmering within him all day.

Without thinking, Dare grabbed a lantern and walked out of the stable into the open courtyard. The air was thick with the scent of rain, though it hadn't yet begun to fall. He stood still for a moment, letting the breeze whip at his face, his mind racing in a dozen different directions, the voices of the horses fading into the background.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The castle loomed around him, its stone walls stoic and silent. Then, the sound of hooves echoed across the courtyard. Dare turned to see a figure approaching, cloaked in dark riding gear, their horse moving at a swift but steady pace. It wasn't unusual for a late arrival at the castle, but something about this rider set Dare on edge.

As the figure drew closer, he recognized the horse—one of the royal family's mounts, a beautiful chestnut with a white blaze. But it wasn't the prince or any noble he knew. The rider wore no insignia, no crest that indicated their station, and that made Dare uneasy.

The rider dismounted with practiced ease, leaving the horse to stand unguarded. The animal snorted and pawed at the ground, clearly agitated. Dare moved instinctively, stepping forward to calm the horse, his hand brushing against its sleek, wet coat.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Dare muttered to the horse, knowing full well it wouldn't respond. But the horse seemed to relax under his touch, its breathing steadying.

The rider pulled down their hood, revealing a man with sharp features and a hard gaze, his eyes scanning the courtyard as if searching for something—or someone. When his gaze landed on Dare, the two locked eyes. There was something cold and calculating in the man's expression that made Dare's skin crawl.

"You there," the man called out, his voice clipped, authoritative. "Stablehand."

Dare tensed but nodded, keeping his face neutral. "Aye, sir. What can I do for you?"

The man approached slowly, his boots barely making a sound against the cobblestones. "I need you to prepare the horse for another ride. Quickly."

Dare's brow furrowed, a knot tightening in his stomach. "The storm's coming. It's not safe to ride out tonight."

The man's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "That's not your concern. Do as you're told."

Dare held his tongue, but something about the situation felt wrong. The man's urgency, his avoidance of the main gates, the lack of any royal marking—it didn't sit right with him. Still, Dare wasn't in a position to question orders. He turned toward the stables, leading the horse along.

As they reached the stable door, the man's voice stopped him.

"You're the one they call Dare, aren't you?"

Dare froze, his hand tightening on the reins. How did this stranger know his name? He turned slowly to face the man, forcing himself to remain calm. "I am."

The man smirked, the expression unsettling in its coldness. "Good. You're the one I've been looking for."

Before Dare could respond, the stranger's hand shot out, grabbing his arm with surprising strength. Dare's instincts kicked in, and he jerked back, but the grip held fast.

"What are you—" Dare began, but the man cut him off.

"There's no time for questions, Haelic. Things are moving quickly now. You're not just a stablehand. You're more important than you realize."

Dare's heart pounded in his chest. Garnet's words echoed in his mind. You're meant for something more.

"What are you talking about?" Dare demanded, trying to pull free from the man's grasp, but the rider's grip was ironclad.

"You're involved whether you want to be or not," the man hissed, his eyes dark with intensity. "The kingdom's fate doesn't rest in the hands of the nobles. It rests in the hands of those like you. You're part of a greater plan."

Dare shook his head, anger flaring. "I'm no part of any plan. I take care of horses. That's all."

The man leaned closer, his voice a low growl that sent chills racing down Dare's spine. "You think you can hide in the stables while the world falls apart around you? You've felt it—the unrest, the tension. It's all connected. And you, Dare Haelic, are at the center of it."

Dare's blood ran cold. He had felt it, that sense of something looming on the horizon. But to be told he was part of it—that he had some role to play—it was too much. He wasn't a knight, or a noble, or anyone of importance. He was just a stablehand.

"I don't want any part of this," Dare said, his voice hard and resolute. "Whatever you're talking about, it's not my problem."

The man finally released him, but his expression remained unreadable. "You don't have a choice. None of us do."

With that, the man mounted his horse in one swift motion, casting one last look at Dare, who stood frozen in place, confusion and dread twisting in his gut.

"The storm's coming, Haelic. Prepare yourself."

And with that, he spurred his horse into motion, disappearing into the darkening night as the first drops of rain began to fall.

Dare stood there, the storm breaking overhead, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and dread. He had wanted nothing more than a quiet life in the stables, far away from the schemes of the court. But now it seemed that life was slipping away, pulled into something far larger than himself.

The wind howled, the first heavy raindrops splattering against the cobblestones, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the evening air. Lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the castle's silhouette for a brief moment. Dare stepped back into the stable, seeking refuge from the gathering tempest.

Inside, the comforting hum of the horses greeted him, but it felt different now—threatening, almost conspiratorial. The animals shifted restlessly in their stalls, aware of the storm brewing outside and perhaps sensing the turmoil within their stablehand. Dare moved to Vex's stall, running a calming hand along the horse's neck.

"I know," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the growing storm. "I feel it too."

He took a moment to gather himself, breathing in the familiar scents that had always calmed him—the earthy straw, the warm leather, the subtle musk of the horses. Yet tonight, those smells seemed to swirl around him, intertwining with the fear and uncertainty that now clouded his thoughts.

As the wind whipped through the cracks in the stable, Dare felt the weight of his choices pressing down on him. He had always known his place in the world. He was a stablehand, a caretaker. But now, with the world outside in chaos and shadows creeping ever closer, that certainty felt like a distant memory.

The storm had arrived. And Dare had no idea how to weather it.