It is just minor changes. So sorry for changing the chapter's name. Some people found it difficult to understand the next chapter. 

This chapter is around 4k words. And I have noticed that there are quite a little extra descriptions (only in this chapter). So I would like it if you say where I should cut it down.

  START OF A LONG JOURNEY      

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From his crouched position, the young assassin looked at the sky. The swirls of pink clouds veiling the stars that his eyes could easily spot promised a strong storm and spoke of heavy snowfall.

He cast his malachite eyes upon the corpse lying before him. The murderer had lacerated the man's face far beyond any recognition.

He was not responsible for this man's death. He would have made a cleaner kill. Only one perfectly placed cut or stab was enough to end his target's entire existence.

Whoever did this had not bothered to hide their tracks; the murderer was in a haste to leave, and the footprints indicated that the killer was running. From what?

Footprints were barely visible in the damp soil. The assassin would have missed them if not for his sharp eyes. He touched the ground beside the dead man. The murderer had killed the man long ago; the liquid next to him was cold and thick. He guessed about twelve hours.

He stood up, wiping his right hand on the leaf nearby. The upper air currents had already found their path to the lower grounds and were descending. The soil had already absorbed the dampness in the air.

The cold currents played with his hair, which blended perfectly with the dancing shadows. The darkness of the midnight hour hid his features, but his silhouette, sharp nose, and jaw stood out in the shadows.

He turned to check the two horses he had tied to a pine tree earlier. One was grey, like ash, and the other was a soft chestnut brown. Both of the warhorses were softly neighing, becoming restless.

Taking turns and standing between the horses, he muttered soothing words to calm them. Perhaps the early end of autumn made all creatures agitated.

Then a familiar voice called out to him and made him snap out of his reverie. Though the voice was suppressed by the howling winds, his ears picked it up. Yet, Aeron, the owner of the voice, knew he was a lover of winter and anything with snow and ice and knew that he hated to be disturbed.

He opened his eyes, annoyance burning inside him. How could Aeron do this? How could Aeron pull him from enjoying winter? Especially when he knew how much he loved the season.

"Trystan! I scouted the area, and you won't believe what I saw," said Aeron, excitement evident in his voice.

Rubbing his forehead with his fingers, Trystan glared at Aeron.

"What did you see? A mushroom twice your size or a black and white rainbow? Spare me," he spat, irritation lacing his voice.

"So pissed off. What happened to you? Ever since you heard that we are going to Acracia, you look like you ate something sour. And don't tell me 'that's nothing', cause I have been stuck with you for the past six years, and I know you better than I know myself," Aeron said, still standing in the shadows.

Aeron bent and took the torch out of the dead man's frozen hand and lit it. Aeron's features were much more feminine than any man Trystan had ever seen in his life. Unlike his rough features, Aeron had a soft and subtle jaw, a curved nose and a circular face. His coffee-coloured hair was straight and shoulder length.

His form was contradictory to his face, but somehow it complimented him. Quite the opposite of Trystan's slender and stealthy appearance, Aeron's was massive and stocky, perfect for strength. His eyes fascinated Trystan every time he looked at them. They were pleasant as freshly tilted earth when he was elated, and they were red as destructive fire when wrath ruled.

"Oh! You found fire! What a wonder!" Trystan rolled his eyes.

Aeron snorted, and he flicked his wrist, dismissing what Trystan said. With his free hand, he produced a dagger. Perhaps Aeron had taken it when he had gone to survey the site. The silver blade was quite familiar to him.

"Isn't that Qadim's dagger? Why was he sent to kill this man?" Trystan knitted his brows together.

"Dunno, mate. But Qadim's last mission was in Icathus, right? Then what is he doing here?"

"Look." Trystan pointed his finger to the left palm of the dead man as if that answered Aeron's question.

The palm was open, facing the sky. In it was a symbol of the rising sun burnt into the flesh.

"He was a part of the rebellion, wasn't he?" Aeron inquired, as he crouched beside the dead man and brought the fire closer to the open palm.

"Seems so." Trystan shrugged.

Before Aeron could utter another word, the winds started to blow faster. They blew with a speed that even the fire in Aeron's torch could not survive. As the flames faded, he saw Aeron giving the torch a blank look.

The soft flecks of snow, making their way from heaven to the mortal realm followed its messengers, the winds. The tiny snowflakes clung to their furs and hair. The only light was from the occasional eavesdropping stars, which had been hiding moments earlier. The leaves rustled and the branches groaned. The half-moon painted the forest with shades of grey.

The snow started to claim the forest for its own and the howling of the winds was getting more livid with every moment that passed. The grass blades swayed and bowed to the earth, their heads kissing the dirt. Occasionally, an owl hooted or a frog croaked before retiring for the season.

"Come on, we've to move," Trystan said and mounted his grey horse.

He gently removed the ropes which tied his horse to the tree and rubbed its neck. Aeron followed suit.

"We need to go, but should we leave him here?" Aeron asked, looking at the place where the corpse lay.

"Yes. We're not the rebels nor are we acquainted with the murderer. If the killer happened to be Qadim as we have concluded, he could be a part of Dyiq-lye. Nothing of that sect concerns us. Remember what happened two years ago?" At this question, Aeron hung his head and raised his hands. Trystan continued, "And most importantly, we are not related to him. Let's forget about this man and focus on the woman we were sent to kill."

"What happened with Dyiq-lye two years ago is not my fault," Aeron protested. "We got caught because of that rascal!"

"And who trusted that boy, Aeron?" Trystan asked. "Me? I told you they were chasing us because we interfered in their kill. We killed them. They were hunting us down. Who stopped to eat and sleep?"

Aeron gave him a look of displeasure. "Admit it. You did want to eat. And it was not like Nyx Zehin was hunting us."

"Nyx was a better option, Aeron," he muttered. "Nyx was at least one amongst us. The one who was hunting us down was Hyder."

"Stop," Aeron said, standing next to his horse and soothing his mane. "Stop blaming Hyder Chance. He is the second in command. You cannot accuse him of being associated with Dyiq-lye. Our master hates that sect. You yourself had said that to me, Trystan. You cannot accuse anyone in the high council to be such!"

He sighed. True, it had been him who had said not to suspect, but his master's actions said otherwise. After all, actions spoke louder than words.

"You will see soon, Aeron," Trystan whispered. "You will see how wrong we were and how they are playing us."

"Playing?" Aeron got on his horse. "What are you getting at?"

"I don't know myself," he said, clenching his free fist. "But I hope to find out soon. Until then, we have to be careful."

"As long as I have you," Aeron smiled, "nothing can near me, my friend. for now, let's go and not dally our time anymore. I have no wish to sleep in the open, especially when it is snowing. I am not a snow lover like you, Rys."

He let it go. He would enjoy his time with nature when he could. Just because his job involved blood and murder did not mean he didn't spare the nature a second glance. If he had his life in his hands, he would rather spend it in a quiet, tranquil valley.

Aeron came up next to him, pulling his furs closer to him and holding the reins of his horse tightly. Trystan shook his head, seeing his companion. Trystan was content.

He sighed. He tried to build up the icy walls around his heart. The air he breathed and the land on which he walked brought him memories his master would kill him for if he even thought about them. His mind would not shut up. His jumpy heart flipped. Why was he feeling when he swore he would not? He thanked the Spirits that only Aeron was next to him.

Unconsciously, Trystan, or rather his heart, started to lead the way. He did not stop to check with his mortal eyes to know where he was going, he just knew. In the same way, he knew that Aeron was following him.

"How do you even know where you are going? Everything seems the same to me," said Aeron. Trystan could hear the complaint in his voice.

"Every forest has a secret, Aeron. I just found this one's." A fond smile formed on his lips.

Aeron yawned and shook out his body. "Good, at least one of us knows the way around this forest. If it were only me here, I would have probably gone in circles."

"Yes, you would have," Trystan agreed.

Not a single area looked promising enough to spend their night. The pregnant clouds in the sky were merciless as the speed of the descending snow increased. The snowflakes robbed the forest of its greenery. No living being apart from them was present. The water in a distant creek laughed and chattered.

The horses' legs were half-buried in the snow, and the wind seemed to carry some message. Though Trystan could understand it if he tried, he did not stop to listen, for fear of what it may carry.

"Is this not supposed to be autumn?" Aeron hugged himself. "Or does it snow here during this time? Why couldn't I have learned this earlier? Why am I so stupid at times? It's so cold. It is still autumn, right?" Aeron frowned to see through the fog which was starting to cover the woods like a thick blanket of slumber.

"Yes, it's still autumn. Winter has just set in early," Trystan groaned, stretching his arms.

It was quite a long journey, considering that they had been riding from afternoon until night without taking a break. Each joint in his body was stiff, and his whole system begged to take a rest. His eyes searched for higher grounds to spend the night. If Trystan wanted, he could push himself further, but he would rather not lose his horse. Nasik was a faithful beast. Though he was a warhorse, there was only so much he could take. Not to mention Aeron.

After a condescending look from Aeron, he surrendered, "Fine. It's very early."

Trystan blinked to make sure what he was seeing was real. The foot of Varalene stood proudly before them. These mountains which had a soft blue tinge marked the borders of Acracia and Tantalia. At about three feet from the ground, a cave opened. Nasik neighed softly underneath him. He could not believe he had led them here. He knew the place, but he had never thought that he would remember the way to this cave.

Before he could step in, Aeron went inside and inspected the cave as if he would buy it if the Fates permitted.

"Good place to pass the night. I always knew you had it in you, kid. That's why I let you stick around. Well done!" Aeron beamed while unpacking his belongings off his horse.

"And thank you for nothing," Trystan retorted. "No, I let you stick by me, not the other way around." He got off his horse and arched his spine backwards, placing his hands on his waist to support him.

The cave was in the foothills of Morjuah, the last mountain range of the vast Varalene. The cave's wall was sandstone, which glittered in the pale starlight. The cave still retained its blue hue after all these years. The floor of the cave was a mess: hardened cones, dried leaves, some rotting feathers, and flesh. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of rotten egg and decaying meat erupted from deep within the cave.

The walls had silver veins running in intricate patterns; the cave was not natural. Aeron and Trystan's eyes met. Aeron shook his head and Trystan nodded in return. They would not explore any deeper. Who knew what beast might reside in the depths of this cave?

"Rys, is this cave on top of a hot spring? It is warmer inside," asked Aeron, unpacking his things from his horse, Ragnak.

"Might be," was all Trystan could answer.

As he spun towards his horse to take his belongings, he noticed a symbol he instantly recognized with hatred drawn on the wall with red ink. Who knew what the ink really was? It could be blood for all he cared; he simply wanted the insignia off the wall. But he was thankful for the low light, for Aeron would not be able to see it. Only in the morning would his friend see it, and perhaps then Trystan would speak about it. Until that moment, however, he would retain his silence.

It was as if the Moon Spirit, Earёndil, wanted Aeron to see that mark, the one of a serpent coiling around a trident: the moonlight hit the mark brightly when the clouds scudded across the moon. It was visible only for a fraction of a second before it disappeared along with the vanishing of Earёndil's rays. But the damage was already done. As an assassin, Aeron damn well saw it.

"What is that mark doing here? King Taimore's symbol?" Aeron asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"I don't know. Could be the noble lady herself." Trystan pressed his hands against his head.

Aeron froze. "What do you mean, Rys?"

"You did not hear it, Aeron? Her Royal Highness Princess Leilah Taimore has not been sighted for the past year. She could be anywhere on this continent." Trystan cleaned a small spot on the ground for himself and sat.

"'Not been sighted in the past year'? When she was fourteen, she disappeared for three months and Fravell was completely destroyed. Now she is gone for a year, who knows what she is up to," Aeron whispered.

His features were still frozen, and he refused to meet Trystan's eyes. For a person who rarely shut his mouth, Aeron surprised him by keeping his lips pursed. Fravell was a well-developed town in another kingdom. A province named Yerinah. How that princess managed to reduce that town to crumbles, he would never know.

As if the weather was favouring Trystan, it became colder, and Aeron shivered. Trystan pushed back his previous thoughts of a blonde princess and a corpse to the back of his mind.

"Don't you feel cold?" Aeron asked after a long pause.

"The cave is pretty warm, Aeron," he replied instantly, hoping a lunatic's smile was not visible on his face.

"Yes, the cave is pretty warm, but still, light the fire, Rys. I am not a freak like you."

Was he a freak?

"Someone might spot us, Aeron," Trystan warned, but his hands subconsciously searched for flints.

Why was Aeron keen to break the basic rules? Other rules, even he broke them from time to time, but the primary ones? It was a definite no.

"Then why do I get the feeling that if they spot us, you'll make sure that they won't live the next day?" Aeron cocked an eyebrow.

Trystan scoffed. "Still, what's there to burn? I have got nothing." Trystan gestured around with his free hand, while the other hand found two stones that might have been used for starting a fire by someone before them.

Aeron closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He steadied his breath before he spoke. "Go and take rest, Rys," he whispered. "I shall see to it."

Trystan was midway through his yawn, stopped it short. Aeron seized every chance to shift his burden to Trystan. He never volunteered for any extra work. Though Aeron had more years than him, he was the younger brother Trystan never had. He could tell that something was bothering him.

This was the first time maturity made itself clear on Aeron's face. Without complaining, Trystan cleaned the floor, making enough space for him, and threw the flints towards his friend who caught it with an ease. Then he laid down, keeping his head over his palms. The chillness from the frost penetrated the layers of his furs and he welcomed it. His body temperature rose to acclimatise to the cold. He curled into a ball and closed his eyes.

Without his knowledge, sleep pulled Trystan into its domain. Dreams came with swirls of silver and gold. As bright as summer's sun, warm as an autumn breeze, peaceful as winter's frost and happy as spring's blossom. In his dreams, he was in a paradise where his lips knew only to smile and his heart was light, light enough for him to fly.

Slowly the vibrant colours blended. The brightness became dark. The heat became unbearable, serenity turned to wrath and elation moulded to agony. The paradise was no more. Hell's winds tore his skin. Ice crystals formed on his skin when the wind touched him. Yet his throat was parched; his lips chapped. No life existed here.

Only the bleeding corpses and shrieking wraiths ruled here. Creatures with no name, no heart, no soul, the ones with the void mind. They neither had form nor structure. They were just there. They existed only to torture him, to make his nightmares come to life. He knew this well.

At each step through the cursed lands, he saw his life replayed before him. From his first kill when he was seventeen to the most recent, all the three hundred and seventy-three souls whose chances to live he had unjustly taken. Who was he to kill them? What right did he have to murder them?

Even the Spirits were deprived of that right sans Sephtis, the Spirit of Death. He deserved this. He closed his eyes to accept his fate. If only his life was that easy. That a place would exist where he could clean his soul of all the sins he committed. They neared him. If they were going to kill him in his sleep, he would give them that to repent of what he had done.

Why should his life be complicated? He knelt on the scorching ground as the souls raised their swords to slay him.

Then the landscape disappeared. They vanished. He was all alone, drowning in darkness when a pair of pink eyes blinked at him.

"Rys. Rys! Wake up now!" Aeron yelled. His friend surely had great timing.

All his senses tried to recover from sleep. His nose woke first. The smell of bland burned steaks was heavy in the air. Next were his eyes. On top of a small bonfire, two steaks were being roasted. One was turning black while the other was already black. Trystan saw the steaks first and then Aeron. The latter shook his head fast, understanding why Trystan was giving him that look.

"I asked you to make us dinner, not a stone, you know," He said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"I know! What will I do? I mean, when the fire caught on the twigs, I turned to take the steaks out and... And when I put it on the fire, it was roasting right, but the fire suddenly started to die. So I blew on the twigs so that the flames would not go away. Then this happened." Aeron babbled on.

"Remind me never to sleep again when you're awake. I just closed my eyes for a minute or two, and this happens?" Trystan yawned and relaxed his cervical cords. He then chose the lesser of the two charcoaled steaks. He could smell the bitterness.

"A minute or two? You were passed out for an entire hour. I never knew that a minute or two was an hour." Aeron's gaze narrowed at him and tried to glare at him.

Did Aeron try to tell him, he had been trying to make the steaks for an hour?

Not wanting to give up his meal, he bit his words back and started eating it. His nose had not lied to him. The bitterness entered his mouth and at times, he had to nibble like a rodent to get a few scrapes in his mouth. The steak was so hard that he could hear a crunching sound, similar to the shattering crystals.

He could not ask for a cooked buffet in the middle of nowhere, could he? He managed to eat with a straight face. Aeron, on the other hand, had a hard time. Grimacing and twisting his face at odd angles, he ate his.

Finishing his food, Aeron got up to feed the two horses some apples they always had in stock. They had outdone themselves for the past few days. What beasts would carry them from one end of the continent to another without rest?

"Why do you think our Master wants us to kill the woman?" asked Aeron as he stroked the brown mane of Ragnak.

"Well, I never question him," Trystan said. "So I don't know. Vritra just says whom we should kill. He never says why."

"But what if he has sent us to kill the princess?" Aeron turned to face him. His anxious brown eyes bore into his own.

"Th-the princess?" he spluttered. Did Aeron lose his sanity to the winter? "That is a horrible thought. I have never met anyone without a soul like her."

"Who are we going to kill?" Aeron sat opposite to him. "How would you know?"

"Unlike you, I saw the sketch. The only thing Vritra said was that she is not blonde." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Apparently she was blonde, but is not so now."

"That's so specific," Aeron commented. "Great information."

"Hey! It's the only information I have about her," Trystan defended. "At least that rules out the blondes."

"Still, for Vritra to send two after one woman, it appears suspicious to me," Aeron said. "Not to mention, someone in a quiet village as Rixihy."

Rixihy was the village that was situated in the cradle of Fangforn. Though that village was on the edges of Acracia, where it could have been an economically an important settlement, it was surrounded by Fangforn on three of its sides. A normal human could enter that village only from Acracia itself. That was another thing they had to think about. How would they explain to the villagers why entered Rixihy through Fangforn? What valid reason did he have?

"Agreed." He nodded his head.

Aeron slumped on the boulder opposite to him. He begrudgingly eyed the growing frost. "I'll admit. If winter was not so cold, I would have loved it. But it is not warm, hence, I don't have warm feelings towards it."

"Winter is unique, my friend. Unlike the spring that you love." Earning a glare from Aeron, he continued, "Yes, spring is good, calling out the arrival of new beginnings and everything, but she is amazing, admit it."

"She?"

"Yeah, winter is a she--well, at least in these parts of the continent."

"It is weird. Referring to the seasons as if they are living beings."

"But they do here," Trystan pointed out. "Or at least they did, years ago."

"But seriously! How can they call a season as a person?"

"That's called personification."

"I know that. I may appear stupid, but I'm not that dumb!" Aeron raised his voice.

Trystan sighed, knowing it was going to be a long night with Aeron there. "The people here consider winter to be the time their ancient Queen, who once ruled them, came. Well, at least, her spirit. She was so intelligent, brave, and generous that all the other kingdoms feared her and looked up at her. She was lionhearted and as cunning as a wolf. It was because of her that Acracia was the kingdom that ruled all the others. And not to mention, she was the first female Empress Ruthen had ever seen!"

"Is it true that the royals of Acracia were killed?" Aeron asked.

It was his turn to freeze. "Yes, every one of them was killed. The king was not strong enough to win them in the battle. He poisoned them all. Even the little boy."

"Is that why Acracia's royals were considered with such great regard? Were they related to the great queen or something?"

Trystan gave him a half-hearted smile. "It was in their blood to defy the darkness. Just as Lucero was to Ir'ris'iak, Azaziah was to Ruthen. She was the last chance for the humanity to survive. Now you know why Ralaeras were looked upon."

"Azaziah? As in the Spirit?" Aeron inquired.

"No, she is not that Spirit. She just bears her name." His eyes softened. "Do you want to hear her story? No one is supposed to know it, but if you want, I shall share it."

"You know it?" Aeron exclaimed. "Of course, you would know it. Tell me a book that you have not read. But leave that! I want to hear this story!"

Trystan chuckled. "Of course."

Well, here goes nothing.

 Note: (the meaning of the names that occur)

Trystan: battle cry

Aeron: goddess of war and death (it is a unisex name)

Edited by 

So what you all think of Trystan? Cold-hearted assassin or an annoyed friend?

Aeron? Isn't he the ideal friend?

Most importantly, who was murdered? And why did he (assuming Qadim) do it?

Aren't you all excited about an old legend? 'Cause I am!

Thank you guys for reading my story. It means a lot to me. I would really like to know what you think about my work. I don't demand votes, but it will be nice if you do it. Bear with me for I don't have a specific updating schedule. And lastly, do not forget to

COMMENT, VOTE, AND SHARE.

- QUILL