-Ban, several islands – October 7335-
In the following days, Zirinos threw himself into the routine of the islands with an energy that surprised even the palace servants.
He woke early, before the sun, and left for the wharf accompanied by Luna and the guards Sanderá and Erlan. He visited one island at a time, starting with the nearest, Wuqes, where the Troydís had their fortress.
Magnus received them with educated distrust. The duke, with ringed fingers and eagle eyes, offered wine and dates, and listened to Zirinos explain the situation in Lunos with a patience that did not hide his boredom.
"The marquisate of Lunos is in danger," Zirinos said for the third time that week. "Baron Refibus is conspiring against Linda. Her daughter, Luna, is threatened."
"And you want Ban to send knights to fight a war that is not ours?" Magnus tilted his head. "What do we gain from this?"
"Friendship. And trade. Lunos's white iron is valuable. If Refibus takes power, the mines will close to foreigners."
"And if you take power?"
Zirinos did not hesitate.
"I don't want power. I want revenge."
Magnus looked at him. The duke's eyes ran over the gold-and-blood hair, the scar on his neck, the calloused hands of one who had killed.
"Revenge," he repeated. "Revengeful men are useful. And dangerous."
"I am both."
"Then prove it. Kill the monsters that plague our roads. Show that you are useful."
"I will."
---
The monster hunt began that same afternoon.
Zirinos, Luna, Sanderá and Erlan set out for the interior of Wuqes, where a Torrus‑Endra had opened on the slope of a dormant volcano. The heat was suffocating, the ground covered with ash and pumice. The air smelled of sulphur.
"This is it," said Sanderá, pointing to the dark crack in the rock. "The peasants say iron-cru spiders have come out of it. They killed three men last week."
"The spiders pierce," added Erlan, pale. "They drain vitality. Only the lake of Banal can heal the wounded."
"Then don't let yourselves be pierced."
Zirinos entered first. The darkness swallowed him. Luna followed, her hand on her sword.
The cave was cooler than the outside, but the smell of sulphur persisted. The walls glistened with moisture that reflected the light of the mana Zirinos conjured in his palm – a blue flame, faint, just enough to see.
"There," Luna whispered.
Red eyes gleamed in the darkness. Many eyes.
The iron-cru spider was the size of a dog, its body covered with metallic plates that shone like mirrors. Its legs, long and thin, ended in sharp points. It moved slowly, hesitantly.
"It's looking at us," said Erlan.
"It's choosing." Zirinos advanced. "Don't give it time."
The first blow struck the creature's head. The sword ricocheted off the metal plates, making the steel ring. The spider contracted, retreated, and projected one of its legs toward Zirinos's chest.
He dodged by inches. The leg scraped his tunic, tearing the cloth.
"You can't pierce it!" shouted Luna.
"Then I won't pierce. I'll break it."
He used the heat technique. The sword warmed, not enough to glow, but enough to soften the metal. The second blow sank into the carapace with a wet sound. The spider shuddered, its legs contracted, and it fell.
The others fled.
"It's dead," said Zirinos, wiping his sword. "Tell the peasants. The rest will come to us."
---
On the return to Banal, Zirinos began to drink.
Not much, at first. One glass of wine at dinner. Then two. Then a whole bottle, which he drank alone in his room while Luna slept.
The guilt over killing Dacius Rebwas did not leave him. Not for the act itself – Dacius deserved to die – but for what he had felt. Jealousy. Possessiveness. The fear that Luna might drift away.
*I am worse than Seru*, he thought. *He wants to own her. I want her to choose me.*
*It's the same thing.*
On the third night, he went out. The brothels of Banal were near the port, in narrow, poorly lit streets, where women in light clothing called to sailors with sweet voices.
Zirinos paid for a night. Then for another. Then he lost count.
Sex was a valve. A way to forget the monster inside himself. To avoid killing unnecessarily. To avoid looking at Luna with the eyes that had killed Dacius.
The women did not ask his name. They did not want to know. Only the money.
"You're handsome," said one of them, on a hot, windy night. "Your eyes… they've seen much death."
"They have."
"And they keep seeing?"
"They keep seeing."
She did not ask further.
---
Luna noticed the absences. The dark circles under Zirinos's eyes. The smell of wine he tried to hide with mint water.
"Where do you go at night?" she asked, one morning when he returned to the room with the sun already high.
"For walks."
"Walks where?"
"To the taverns. To the streets. To the islands."
"Liar."
"Truth." He sat on the bed, his hands on his knees. "I need to think."
"Do you think better drunk?"
"I think better alone."
She did not insist. But her light eyes, where worry mixed with hurt, followed him to the door.
---
The journey between islands continued.
Barr, of the Truids, was a deserted island, almost empty, where only a few fishermen lived in wooden huts. Zirinos spoke with them, promised protection in exchange for support. The fishermen laughed: "We have no weapons. No soldiers. Only nets and hunger."
"Then fish for information," Zirinos replied. "Eyes and ears are also weapons."
Fansaaf, of the Henlus, was a green island, with palm trees and small lagoons of fresh water. Duke Henlus, a fat man with an easy smile, received them with a banquet. Zirinos ate, drank, danced with the duke's daughters, and promised help in exchange for ships.
"Ships?" The duke raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"To transport soldiers. When the war comes."
"What war?"
"The one that is coming. Sooner or later."
Éstli, of the Rebwas, was the most tense. Dacius's family did not yet know of his death – the body had not been found – but the servants looked at Zirinos with suspicion.
"Your duke?" Zirinos asked an old white-bearded man.
"He is ill. He receives no visitors."
"Then I speak with you. We need men. Soldiers. Yours."
"Our men need to eat. Not to die."
"Your men will die anyway. The difference is whether they will die fighting or wasting away."
The old man did not answer. But his eyes gleamed.
---
Serner, of the Dacers, was the last. The island was rocky, arid, with few houses and many stones. Duke Dacer was a quiet man, with deep eyes, who lived alone in a tower of black stone.
"I have no soldiers," he said without preamble. "I have no ships. I have nothing."
"What do you have?" asked Zirinos.
"A promise. My grandfather swore loyalty to the Ban. I keep the oath. If King Zayan commands, I will go."
"King Zayan has not yet commanded."
"Then I wait."
Zirinos stored the name. Useful. Loyal. Rare.
---
On one of the nights in Banal, Zirinos visited the black market.
It was in a cellar near the port, accessible by a poorly lit stone staircase. The air smelled of dried blood, spices, and dust. The vendors, hooded, displayed their wares on wooden stalls: slaves, potions, weapons, stolen artefacts.
"Looking for something special?" asked a yellow-eyed man with a thick voice.
"Rare things. Things you don't find in shops."
"Rare things cost dear."
"I have money."
The man showed a cage. Inside, an egg. Purple and red, glowing, pulsing with an inner light.
"An egg of what?" asked Zirinos.
"Unknown. It came from a Torrus‑Endra in the north. Those who tried to open it died."
"How did they die?"
"Their blood boiled. Their eyes melted. Their skin fell off in strips."
Zirinos looked at the egg. The light pulsed. It reminded him of Alór's egg. Or what they said of Alór's egg.
"How much?"
"A hundred gold coins."
"Fifty."
"Eighty."
"Sixty."
"Seventy‑five. Final offer."
Zirinos paid. He left the black market with the egg in a cloth bag, pulsing against his leg.
He was drunk. He would not remember, the next day, where he had bought it. Only the glow.
---
Luna, the next morning, found the bag.
"What is this?" she asked, opening the cloth.
"An egg."
"An egg of what?"
"I don't know. I bought it."
"Where?"
"Somewhere."
She looked at him. Her light eyes, worried.
"You're drinking too much, Zirinos."
"I know."
"You're going to die."
"We all are."
"That's not what I'm afraid of."
"Of what, then?"
"That you'll lose yourself. That the monster you killed will stay inside you forever."
Zirinos did not answer. He just took the egg and put it back in the bag.
Outside, the sun was rising.
A new day. A new island. A new promise of blood.