Continued....

"What do you mean he's not staying?" An astounded General Viscount questions, almost taking a step forward as he stares at me with an emotion close to anger.

I look down, barely registering it when Ron takes a step forward, lips peeled back in a silent snarl. General Viscount eyes Ron cautiously, straightening as his hand tightens over his hilt.

"I'm afraid that's my fault, General." Grim quickly intervenes, moving to stand close to the middle.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm responsible for leaving Callon on earth after Gurthon invaded Orelon castle. I should've brought him back and raised him in secret here on Orelon. But I deemed it best for him to remain on earth where his human aunt sheltered him at the time. You can't blame him for wanting to leave Orelon and return back to Earth: his home he grew up on. Callon knows practically nothing about Orelon. How can you expect him to simply just stay for a cause he knows nothing about?"

General Viscount's face tightens in irritation before he focuses his eyes on the wall behind us, only to relax a few seconds later.

"I suppose I can see where you're coming from." One of the voices above replies, making Viscount's mouth flap open a few times. "You're seriously going to just let him go?" He waves dramatically, looking up at the council. "Without having him help with anything?"

Something tightens in my chest, a feeling of guilt I can't place, and I look down at the floor.

I get the feeling one of the Ladies or Lords of the council are preparing to talk, but Grim hastily beats them to it, taking yet another step closer.

"Let him help with the mission we are to carry out in three weeks time."

My head snaps up, my mouth undoubtedly opening in shock as a flash of betrayal hits me.

He's using me.

Dare gives me a very snobby pointed look I ignore, while Roxie just seems unsettled with the prospect of staying longer.

"He has the stone. We could leave as soon as tomorrow instead of waiting the three weeks for the portal to open?" Grim continues, and I can tell he's being cautious. There's silence as they mull it over, General Viscount folding his arms over his chest in anger.

"And what would you have him do, Torion?" The soothing voice questions, sounding mildly interested. I almost lean forward as I wait for the answer, a sense of dread weighing down on me.

Grim straightens, planting the end of his staff down by his feet. "I'd have him help me with that rescue mission I've told you all about, multiple times."

Rescue mission?

I almost get the urge to laugh the notion is so ridiculous, but General Viscount beats me to to it.

He stares over at Grim before looking back at me. "That's ludicrously! We don't even know for sure if he's alive and you want to sneak into the castle and rescue him?" He huffs, shifting his stance, and I catch the unmistakable look of anger cross Grim's old face as he continues. "Besides," he redirects his attention up on the council. "he's a traitor anyway, there's not doubt about it. The enemy knows where we're going to strike before we even get there."

"And it's all because of that dirty, no good, conniving hybrid!" He yells with so much fury I take a step back, and Ron's hair bristles up along his back.

"Do not accuse someone of what you do not fully know, General." Grim calmly states, and I can hear the underlying tone of venom in his voice. "He's yet to stand trial for his actions, and until then, we will remain neutral about him."

Grim looks back up. "This is the perfect opportunity, My Lords and Ladies. You can send your attack on their main fleet while I send a small party to penetrate the castle with Callon's help. That will serve as a distraction also." He quickly continues before the General can step in. "Just think; Once we have the Seer, they won't be able to gain information from him about us."

It goes silent again, and I get the feeling to shrink away and hide.

Grim just volunteered me to help with a rescue mission.

I glance over to my left, surprised when I see Dare has a look of confusion on her face, like she just heard something she didn't know.

"You make a valid point, Torion." A voice from above mutters. "Without Callon the stone is useless. Only one of royal blood can use it. With the Seer, we'll be able to attack our enemy knowing he doesn't already know of our tactics."

My throat closes up as I realize what's about to be said.

"Very well, Torion. We accept your mission. And in exchange, once we have the Seer, we will allow the portal to be used to return Callon and his friend to earth."

And there it is.

General Viscount makes a incredulous face, his right eye twitching. Grim's shoulders noticeably loosen like a weight he's been carrying has finally lifted.

"We will commence the attack at noon tomorrow. Callon will open the portal to allow our troops through, then he and whatever group you gather will begin the rescue mission. Everyone will meet back here in ten days time."

Grim bows his head in agreement. "Do you, General Viscount, agree on these conditions?" The voice questions.

His jaw works, and I almost get the notion he's going to refuse - not that I care. "Yes."

The voice up ahead focuses on Grim now. "You do realize we will hold a trial for the Seer, Crimsonghast, once he's returned? Then we will decide which side he truly holds his elegance with and what punishment is deemed necessary for his past actions."

Geez, what all has this guy done?

Grim dips his head down. "I understand." The General works his jaw, taking a step forward. "That disgusting brat deserves no such favor! He should be condemned, or better yet, killed for all the slaughter he's caused-"

"I understand how you feel, General." A harsh voice intervenes from above, slicing through the room like a knife. "But until we know the truth, our judgment still stands and no harm shall come to him while he's in our keep. No ones had solid contact with him for twelve years. We must believe he's still on our side until we're sure."

General Viscount reluctantly bows his head, along with his other armor clad buddy, placing his right arm over his chest.

"Meeting adjourned." A deep voice booms. "Torion, General Viscount will escort your group to your quarters and rally his men to leave daybreak tomorrow. I trust you can get Callon here up to date by then."

Grim straightens. "I shall."

*Time Skip*

After leaving the stale and musky halls of what felt like prison, I find myself walking in line behind General Viscount with Roxie and Dare directly behind him and Grim right in front of me as what's-his-name seems to have disappeared after getting a command from the General.

I can feel my temper flaring somewhere deep in my chest as I glare at Grim's back, and it takes a immense amount of control to keep the pressure from building in the back of my skull.

Ignoring all the baffled stares Ron and I are receiving as we're lead through the refugee camp, and the way I once again feel naked with nothing covering my head, I sidle up next to Grim.

"You used me," I deadpan, flicking my eyes up fast enough to spot a group of children staring at me before quickly looking away once they've gained my attention.

I'm regretting keeping my hood down. Though Grim assured me its best if we just rip the bandaid off now.

"I'm sorry, Callon. But it was necessary. I've been trying to find a way into the castle for twelve years now." A sad expression falls across his face. "And finally, I've been presented with a way in."

I frown, crossing my arms. "Yeah. By using me. Congratulations." Grim looks away, seeming to be deeply troubled by something. "You don't understand, Callon." He looks back up, his eyes desperate now. "This rescue mission is a life or death situation."

I give him one more ticked off glare before falling back in step behind him, a weight growing heavier on my chest.

As we pass by occupied tents, I can't help but keep my head down, my hands twitching by my sides as they get the urge to pull my hood up.

Eyes upon eyes land on me, a heavy silence taking over the encampment.

This is worse than giving a speech for English class.

The General comes to a stop at a tent a bit farther out from the rest, snapping to attention as he turns around. "I'll be seeing you in the morning, your majesty." He addresses me, a spark of contempt and anger still in his eyes, telling me he's only being this courteous so he looks good.

He frowns over at Grim before storming off the way we came.

I scowl at the 'majesty' part, rolling my eyes at Dare's snicker.

"Why does it seem like you're not very liked here?" Roxie abruptly questions, folding her arms over her chest as she looks around.

He stares at our assigned tent, running a hand through his beard. "It has to do with that mission. You could say I still believe in something they think is ludicrously."

"You mean because you want to rescue this...Seer?"

Grim opens his mouth to answer Roxie, but shuts it and nods his head instead. Dare abruptly steps closer to Grim, eyes bright as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Um, excuse me, but I, and a whole lot of people, thought the Seer was dead? That's what we were told twelve years ago. That he was killed in the invasion," she huffs.

Now Grim grimly shakes his head, leaning heavily on his staff. "Word was spread of his death to make things easier for the people of Orelon. When in truth, I believe he's been held captive all these years by Gurthon, and forcefully used to gleam information about our army."

I scowl. "You believe? As in you're the only one who believes this?"

Grim hesitates. "Yes. I have no doubt about whose side he's on, or if he's alive. He is."

I throw my hands up. "Great, just great." I give the tent a distasteful look before turning my attention up on the lush green forage up on some hills in the distance. "Delusional old man, a could-be traitorous Seer, and a crowd of people that want me to be someone I'm not," I mutter as I storm past Grim, Ron following a few mere inches behind.

"Callon, where are you-"

I ignore the voice, dead set on getting away from all the noise, the peering eyes. I cross through the last row of tents set up on the perimeter of the camp, surprising an old woman cooking something over a fire and a young child playing with an odd creature.

Two minutes later and I find myself seated at the top of the hill that seems to overlook the entire camp, the sea stretching out at my front and both sides, a forest at my back.

Finally I can breathe.

I take a deep breath of the slightly salty air, feeling my coiled muscles loosen. Ron takes a seat beside me, staring out over the camp, looking much more regal than I could ever pretend to appear with his snow-white fur, aqua markings, and piercing red eyes held up by a strong head and neck.

I lose track of time as the sun sets far behind the horizon, my mind lost in the swirl of confusion that's become my life. Shapes flash behind my eyelids as I close them, causing my chest to squeeze as I realize they're flashes of the fight I had against those light elves.

I'm finally shaken from my stupor when Ron nudges my arm with his nose. I turn my head to look at him, only to find he's staring straight at me with one of those almost human expressions on his face.

"What?"

He snorts, standing up on all four legs as he gives me an expectant look. I raise an eyebrow. He seems to almost roll his eyes before he snorts again and turns away from me, slowly trotting towards a worn path that leads through the forest.

I sigh, deciding I'd rather not be an idiot when a large, obviously intelligent, wolf wants me to follow him.

"This better be good," I mutter as I stand up, pausing briefly to brush off the back of my pants before I set off to follow Ron.

I fall in place a few paces behind Ron, scanning the forest that seems to be growing thicker the farther we walk. I glance back behind me, spotting the entrance, that's now become a speck in the distance.

Looking up, I spot the first star of the night through the foliage hanging above us, finding it five times brighter than any star back....home.

Hanging my head, I focus my attention back on my surroundings, straining my ears to hear any possible noises. But all remains silent.

Goosebumps settle on the back of my neck, and I feel an unnatural shiver race up my spine. Suddenly, in front of us, what was once a dark sheet of darkness that even I was having trouble seeing through, lights begin to blink on and off.

My feet pause, and I stare ahead, unsure as to what I'm seeing. Ron gives a little yip from the five feet in front of me, encouraging me on for unknown reasons. Shaking my head and blinking multiple times, I move ahead.

The path becomes narrower and odd, dark green vines wrap around the trunks of the trees on either side of us. The dozens of small colored lights in the distance continue to blink on and off, never in the same spot twice. A gentle breeze starts up, and a soft, almost angelic, sound begins to surround us, almost like a harp.

We abruptly come to a stop in front of an archway made of a white metal I've never seen before, more of those vines wrapped thickly around it and spreading out around the fence, of the same material, that fans out on each side. Large flowers, each a different color than the next, blossom along the vines, practically glowing in the faint light.

Ron walks through the archway and into the small clearing inside, but I'm too busy staring at two large, raised cement graves that are about four feet above the ground.

I ignore the glowing bugs, that look oddly like large lightning bugs, that seem to be the lights we saw in the distance, and my feet take a step forward towards the two graves while my throat goes completely dry.

No. It can't be.

Walking under the archway, I make out the detailed engravings on the top of each cement block that are about seven feet long and four feet wide, the blinking lights making the moment almost too surreal.

The one on the left is expertly chiseled out to show the figure of a slim woman, her long hair fanned out around her head and shoulders. Staring at her face, I can almost believe I'm looking at a living, breathing soul. Not just a picture carved into a block of cement.

Her colorless eyes stare up at the sky, cold yet warm at the same time. Her delicate hands lay over her stomach with what looks to be a rose firmly clasped between them. I stare a little longer at the familiar facial features before turning my attention to the one on the left, my hands clenching at my sides.

The air evaporates from my lungs as I lock my blue eyes on to the grey cement eyes of the tall, slim man chiseled out to perfection. I slowly look over his proud jawbone and graceful features, landing on the ears that appear to be an inch longer than my own.

Then, I force myself to read the writing above both heads on their tombs.

Thanguron Son of Thalaweston
~
Loving king, husband, and father.

~Cev 're Ijolsri' fo'ei 'vaw~ ~Dixil' ra a'i molfirrid~

*

Zitkalasa Bates of Earth
~
First human queen in Orelon history. Wife of King Thanguron. Mother of prince Callon of Orelon.

~Cev 're Ijolsri' fo'ei 'vaw~ ~Dixil' ra a'i molfirrid~

"You look just like him, you know?"

The hair on my arms stand on end, and I snap my head over to the left, nerves firing. I quickly take in the robed figure, Ron sitting like an obedient mutt next to him as the figure gently strokes his head, heart thumping in my ears.

I'm immediately conflicted. I don't know if Ron growing a sudden connection to this stranger, or thinking this person has some strange animal power freaks me out more.

I swallow, eyes repeatedly moving from the slim, feminine hand on Ron's head, to Ron's eyes, that are currently staring very intently at me, like he thought this whole plan up himself.

"Like who?" I question back despite already knowing exactly what this person is talking about. I shift my stance so I'm facing Ron and the figure, muscles tensing like I'm expecting a fight.

I feel the figure smile from underneath the dark cowl, hand pausing over Ron's head. "Like your father. I knew it was you as soon as you removed your hood earlier."

And that's when I realize that the voice belongs to the lady of the council who was the first to figure out who I am.

I remain silent. She stands up from her bench that's tucked in the corner, gracefully lifting her small hand from Ron's head, the only part of her that's uncovered. She walks towards me, and I feel myself involuntary tense up even more.

She walks right past me, seemingly to glide over the ground rather than walk. I blow a slow breath out, preparing myself before turning to face her. Ron gives a snort, bowing his head in what looks like a bow, to me or her I'm not sure, before he gives me a final look and trots off, disappearing into the dark forest.

Though, strangely enough, I don't feel my panic rise. All other anxiety over the current situation washes off of me until I'm almost back to feeling like myself.

I stare over at the Lady, trying to figure out if it's her that's doing this.

She stops to stand next to Thanguron's grave, lifting her hand up to trace the sword I'd noticed earlier. It looks to be a double edged blade, three feet long with two horse heads at the end of the hilt the cement hands grasp.

I frown, looking a little harder at the design. Of course. That's the same sword they have on their flag. Only there's one instead of two. And this sword currently looks like it's been hidden in a cave for over three hundred years with the amounted rust coating it. Not a speck of color on it.

I feel her eyes land on me as her hand pauses on the hilt of the sword that rests on the carved figures stomach.

"Do you know what this is?"

My eyes move from her, back down to the figure that's supposed to be my father. "A grave," I state matter-of-factly. I, again, get the feeling she's smiling. "That is true. This is the final resting place of your parents. But I mean the sword."

I shake my head. "Then no. I don't. A rusty sword?"

She's silent for a few seconds. "Yes. But much, much more." She mutters something under her breath, hovering her hand over the sword. I step back as a soft, white light begins to emit from her palm, and I get a sudden buzzing sensation in the back of my head.

Suddenly, the sword flashes and it's transformed from the crummy piece of metal to a majestic piece of art. The blade glistens a bright silver with blue lines running around the top, the hilt a shimmering red while the two horse heads almost seem to come alive.

Then, she draws in a shuddering breath and the light dims before fading out completely. The sword immediately goes dark, the rust growing up from the hilt down to the tip of the blade.

The buzzing stops.

I take a step back. "What was that? W-Who are you? I feel a flash of fear before it suddenly disappears. She takes a step back also, almost stumbling, like she's exhausted.

"That, was just to show you what this sword really looks like. Because, as you know, looks can be deceiving." I feel her gaze back on me, burning. "As for who I am; I go by many names, yet names are not important, neither is the question."

I lick my suddenly parched lips, flexing my fingers a few times as I glance back over to where Ron disappeared. "Ooookay, Lady. But I still don't understand what you're trying to tell me - if anything."

She gestures back down at the sword. "This is The Sacred Sword of Bronweben. It lays here rusted and unusable because only a direct descendant of the royal line can wield it." She pauses.

"And that, Callon, is you."

She walks around the grave, tracing her fingers along the edge as she goes. "They say Aglarel herself forged it in the coals of Ladrengil itself. She then gave it to her champion, a dark elf by the name of Bronweben in the beginning of time, claiming him as king. That elf is your descendant. And by right, this sword belongs to you, and you alone."

I give her a perplexed look. "So you want me to take it?" I slowly question, taking a step forward. She gives a barely perceptible shake of her head. "Only take it when you are ready to accept who you are."

My jaw tightens. "Well, that'll be awhile. I'm not planning on accepting it anytime soon." I cross my arms, looking away as another bout of shame hits me in the gut.

I jerk my head up when a hand, light as a feather, touches my shoulder. I stare at the dark, faceless hole inside the cowl, feeling chills like they really are for the first time.

"You are young, my prince. Time will tell, time will tell." She removes her hand, walking back over to her original spot in the corner. "Who knows, after tomorrow's adventure you may have a new perspective."

I scoff at that, reminding myself to do the exact opposite. "Fat chance of that," I mumble. The silence grows heavy, and I glance around the enchanted scenery before blurting, "Where's the second one?"

She pauses, her interest peaked. "I mean there's two swords on your flags," I quickly add, staring after her. She looks back over her shoulder at me. "Very observant, Callon." Two seconds go by. "There are indeed two Sacred Swords of Bronweben. The first is here, obviously, the second is trapped back in Orelon castle."

I ponder this for a moment. "Why?"

Her voice grows a little harder. "When the land and the castle were overrun with Light Elves and their army, Gurthon chased anyone loyal to your father out of the city and the castle, or put them into bondage. And though he's evil, he's also an elf, which makes him bound to follow the burial rituals for a slain king. Which is how we were given the....bodies of our late king and queen. We had one final spy in the castle, at the time, who got one of the two blades out before he was caught and they were distracted. No ones been in and lived to tell the tale since then."

I suddenly feel stupid for asking.

Trying to find something else to occupy my mind, my eyes land back on the two graves again.

"What does that say?" I gesture at the small, elegant writing below the words in English. I hear her cloak ruffle as she moves her head to look.

"If I knew myself, I'd tell you."

I give her a perplexed look, blinking a few times. For some reason her answer surprises me. I'd pegged her as the 'all informative' kinda person.

She seems to hint my confusion. "It is written in the fey language. Few can read it. Even fewer can actually speak it."

My eyes widen. "Fey?" Her head moves in a nod, and she suddenly gestures back at the graves.

Two of those glowing bugs, faster than the others, suddenly land on the edge of my mom's grave, only I realize something is very different.

These two aren't bugs, they're.....small people?

I stare at the two, very small, humanoid figures who've just landed on the edge of the coffin that holds my mom. They both stand about two inches tall with sharp features for their faces. Their ears look almost like slits they're so thin, and they each wear a small dress down to their knees.

They both seem to speak to each other, but even with my sensitive ears, I only catch a few words that sound more like bells than voices.

Tinker Bells' exist?

"Um..." My voice trails off as they both reach out to touch the half wilted flower that instantly perks at their touche, turning an even brighter color.

"The Elanor fairies."

I look over at her, blinking a few times. Although, I don't know why I'm surprised to find fairies are real. Everything else seems to be.

"There are many different breeds of fairies in this world, yet few exist nowadays. They, you could say, are a dying race. Much like the dark elves." She gestures over to the graves. "A dying language of a dying race."

"Most breeds are troublesome and shifty to be honest. Too rambunctious and curious for their own good. But this breed, specifically, have inhabited this island for far longer than even I can remember. They, out of the fey races, are the most hospitable and soft-hearted seeing as they're gardening fairies. When Orelon was taken, they allowed us to make this island our sanctuary and they've cared for your parents' cemetery all these years without complaint."

I watch as the two fairies stroke a leaf that appears a bit browner than the rest, smiles instantly lighting up their shimmering faces as the color brightens.

"Thank you," I say, still staring at them. Their heads snap up to look at me, and they just stare before one suddenly unfolds it's sparkly butterfly-like wings from its back and zips to the front of my face. It hovers there for a second, thoroughly looking me over.

I stare into the small sapphire eyes that almost look to big for that small face, holding my breath. She abruptly zigzags back to her friend, chattering something incoherent before they both give me a quick bow. Then they're flying off into the night sky, pausing every now and then to pat a large lightening bug.

I almost don't notice the smile on my lips.

"I think they like you."

The smile leaves my face, and I clinch my jaw before loosening it. "Are they all like that?" I question, feeling a genuine curiosity. I mean, after all, I am sorta related to them in a way, I guess.

Aren't elves part of the fey race?

"Like what?"

I gesture back out to where they disappeared. "Small?" I shrug, looking down at my mother's face again before looking away.

It hurts too much to look.

She laughs for the first time, almost making me smile again. "Ladrengil above. Of course not-" She abruptly stops, like she forgot something. "But then again, the only breed that takes on the larger form of, say a human, were the Aifideez tribe. And would be completely extinct if not for one survivor of the dreadful masquerade that killed them all."

"Masquerade?"

She gazes at me. "Has anyone told you about the Druids?" I shrug, not really sure what this has to do with masquerades. "A little."

She takes a breath. "Well, here, on this world, instead of worshipping gods like on earth, for example, we have The Seven Divine Druids of Ladrengil. We're told, from our parents, who've heard it from their parents and so forth, that before all of this, there was nothing but flat land and water. Seven of the druids living up in Ladrengil, the equivalent of heaven for you, one day decided to change that. Together they created this world, each taking a mass of land, far away from each other, for themselves and creating it how they pleased. From there, they created whatever beings and wildlife they wanted, marking themselves not as the rulers, but as the deity's."

She bends over to smell a large flower growing across the fence. "There are five large masses of land on this world, one for each of the Divine Druids, minus two because one stayed in Lithuiben and two others are siblings that stayed together. And you must understand, like most beings with immense power, they didn't get along. Each of the druids stand for something different, often causing conflict between each other."

"Aglarel is our Druid here in Orelon, as you've probably picked up on. She's idolized for glory, brilliance, splendor, and life. Bogon started Lithuiben - where our lovely light elves reside from. His qualities stand for tyrannies, cruel, oppressive, greed, and wealth. Norawarth is where Gyrythil, like many legends on earth, is idolized for her power over death. Her brother is Delon - fear, disgust, loathing, horror, blood, and lusting. He remained with her in establishing a world. The underwater world of Nemir is Bainthaureth's demain - beautiful, foul. Húron resides on Mitphen - readiness for action, Vigour, Fiery Spirit, Skill, and Ignorance. And finally, the seventh Druid, Arahaelil, remained in Ladrengil, acting as a peace keeper."

"Then, once they all created their individual worlds, so to speak, they each chose their champions to rule their land - your descendant, Bronweben. Everyone, for once, were content and even happy for the moment. But Aglarel felt like there was something missing in her little world. And that's when she decided she wanted a Seer."

"Her fellow druids laughed at her, none believed it could be done for no being created was strong enough to hold that type of power. So, Aglarel created the Aifideez fairies. These fairies were different from their small, mischievous brethren already created. They were larger, smarter than almost any being on this world. It's in that small tribe Aglarel chose her Seer."

"The rest of her fellow druids grew jealous once they realized how powerful these fairies were. They wanted some for their own kingdom. But alas, no one could break the one rule they created before they even started; none shall create the same being twice. They couldn't do it. No matter how hard they tried. And that is how the conflict and the envy between the druids started back up."

"Then one day, around fifteen years ago, the Aifideez were attacked with no warning. No one knows what happened. They were a very secluded tribe that tended to stay away from everything and everyone. One day, they all were suddenly dead, a horrible masquerade that left all but one dead; our current Seer...."

She trails off, and I get the feeling she's reliving some event. I stare off in the distance, trying to compute all this history.

"The Seer we're attempting to rescue tomorrow?" I frown at her nod. "But if he's so powerful, why doesn't he escape himself. I'm sorry, but I'm kinda thinking your holly idol has turned on you guys." I hold my hands up defensively, halfway regretting the flippant tone I used.

She's silent for a moment. "That's the problem; we don't know. The Aifideez fairies were created to serve and protect Aglarel and her champion. The Seer specifically. No one knows."

I take a shaky breath, glancing down at my parents' graves. My eyes hesitate on the rusty sword, and I reach up with my right hand to grasp the warm stone through the fabric of my shirt.

"You must succeed tomorrow, Callon. Bring our Seer back."

Both worlds must hate me.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
A/N

  Hey y'all! Finally back with a chapter! I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! I'm trying to get the rest if this book written this month. So keep an eye out! Only about ten chapters left before book two! 👏🏻👏🏻

VOTE!! I want 3 votes before I update again! AND PLEASE! Comment! Tell me what you're thinking!

Who's this Seer? How is their rescue mission going to go? Find out next time! 😉

Maggy