Page 32 of Quest

He shifted, seeming trapped by the same embarrassment that had ensnared me earlier. “I’d be remiss as a leader if I allowed such a trivial matter to stand in the way of my comrades’ well-being. You were quite exhausted earlier and I’m still concerned about heat stroke. Are you getting sufficient rest?”

I gave a tentative nod and stood, but the hasty movement made me wobble, causing me to nearly lose my balance. Prince Darcel stepped closer, falling for the ploy that my body had subconsciously made to beckon him nearer.

He sighed. “Why do you repeatedly insist on pushing yourself beyond your limits? You have nothing you need to prove.” He put his hands on my shoulders and firmly pushed me back down. I flinched from his touch, effectively ruining all the progress our recent conversation had made.

“I’ll be fine after making some recovery potions.” I opened my satchel, busying myself with my plants to hide the blush he would once more mistake for heat stroke. Though I was grateful for the excuse to gather myself, I didn’t find the solace I usually did with my herbs and brews.

Prince Darcel lingered a few minutes longer, as if to assure himself I was truly alright. My gaze kept repeatedly darting towards him, causing my hands to fumble and me to repeatedly accidentally almost add the wrong ingredients.

We rested another hour before resuming our ascent. Though our reconciliation made the journey much more bearable, I still found the prince’s presence cumbersome, though for a far different reason than before. I didn’t miss the impenetrable, exhausting walls I’d erected over my heart as they began to slowly lower, but their diminishing left me vulnerable to the unwanted truths concerning my deepening feelings I could no longer protect myself from, affecting each subtle interaction.

This agony continued over the next several days of travel. Rather than my internal battle and the journey’s exertion growing easier, each day became more unbearable than the last. It took three days for us to reach the top of the mountain, a journey undoubtedly made even lengthier thanks to my continued struggle. While Sir Jiang made little effort to hide his impatience, Prince Darcel seemed unusually understanding, which only endeared him further to me.

I’d thought the trek to the forgotten temple had been steep, but that was nothing to the challenging terrain leading up toginsei-zanpeak. The path was treacherous and unstable, and even with the aid of my potions my muscles began to strain and burn, becoming a relentless test of my endurance and will.

The first challenge came in the form of a heavy rainstorm that swept through the mountain pass on the second day of our ascent, causing visibility to drop to mere feet in front of us. The relentless downpour turned the narrow paths into treacherous streams of mud and stone, slowing our progress to a painstaking, slippery crawl. Hunched against the cold, I busied myself with preparing herbal tonics from the supplies I had meticulously packed—concoctions brewed to ward off the chill and damp that threatened to seep into our bones that became as vital to our survival as the food in our packs.

The terrain grew increasingly formidable the higher we climbed. Narrow ledges skirted yawning chasms that plunged into fog-shrouded depths, and steep inclines were slick with ice, demanding precise footwork and unyielding concentration. I found myself relying heavily on the prince’s steady hand and keen eye to find safe passages through the most perilous stretches.

The altitude also began to take its toll as we ascended beyond the tree line into a world of wind-scoured rock, further testing and tempering our resolve. Headaches pounded at my temples with each step, a relentless drumbeat in sync with my thudding heart, similar strain I saw etched on the faces of my companions. Nausea soon became a constant companion, while dizziness made our precarious footing even more dangerous. We were forced to moderate our pace, taking frequent breaks to allow our bodies to acclimate to the thinning air.

The days stretched on, marked by the sun’s slow crawl across the sky and the gradual decrease of our supplies…though I was never left in a state of true want, considering how often Prince Darcel shared his own meager resources with me. As grateful as I was for his consideration, I knew he was only looking after me as he might a younger brother. Even so, I cherished every moment I received his help—each ledge we crossed and cliff we scaled drew my heart closer to him, each shared hardship and moment of vulnerability chipping away at the walls I’d built around myself until the last of my resistance to my budding feelings towards him finally crumbled.

On the third day as we nearedginsei-zansummit, the terrain shifted dramatically, the landscape opening up to reveal a sprawling vista of snow-capped peaks under a clear blue sky. Standing atop the world, I felt a subtle thawing of the frost that had encased the last of my tentative trust. Despite the doubts that lingered like shadows at the edge of my thoughts, I knew that this journey had changed me, binding me and the prince together in ways that would not easily be undone.

I had begun this quest as a girl with little idea of her own identity and ability, one with a grudge against the prince and his apparent arrogance. Now I was being stretched physically by the arduous climb, mentally by my role in decoding riddles and embracing my ancestry, and most of all emotionally by my evolving feelings that I was forced to keep concealed. Yet even if the prince never knew my true identity, I would be grateful for this time together…even if at the moment each breath came painfully as we toiled upward.

When we crested the final rise, the summit unfolded before us in an expanse of jagged rock and sparse vegetation, the air thin and biting against our skin. The curse’s lingering hold was apparent in the surrounding landscape, jagged scars to the tranquil beauty we’d experienced during our ascent.

As we made our way up the final narrow path towardsginsei-zanwhere the elusive moonsilver herb was said to grow, a strange mist similar to the one that had guarded the temple rose from nowhere, enveloping us in a ghostly shroud with tendrils of wispy darkness. Whispers floated on the wind—a haunting melody that seemed to emerge directly from the shadows, urging us to turn back. I felt a phantom tugging sensation at my satchel, as though the curse intended to sabotage our mission by stealing my supplies. Expression tense, Prince Darcel glanced back at me, seeking an explanation.

Fear shrouded me as the curse’s taunts worked upon my heart. With effort I closed my eyes, trying to instead listen to the sounds that extended beyond the mist’s reach, my ear attuned to the change in the plants.

“This mountain still bears the scars of the curse,” I murmured. “Even though its reign has been broken, the darkness doesn’t yield so easily. Its influence seems stronger at an elevation closer to the night sky, giving it power to frighten us and encourage us to give up.” I pulled my cloak tighter around me, a subconscious attempt to shield myself.

As we pressed onward the whispers grew louder, morphing into chilling wails that seemed to echo the despair once cast over the land by the eternal night. While Kael observed the mystical force with an air of nervous fascination, Sir Jiang clenched his fists, his eyes darting around as if expecting spectral foes to emerge from the shadows.

The peak grew steadily nearer as we continued despite the curse’s resistance, and I marveled to see features slowly come into view; I’d seen pictures all my life but had never envisioned myself climbing this magical slope. Amid my excitement at finally discovering a place from one of the fairytales that had been a source of comfort and joy throughout my childhood, my heart prickled. Thinking of this story always reminded me of the nights my mother spent reading this tale and others to me, one of the few precious moments I remembered from my dear mother that the passage of time caused to fade more from my memory.

Sir Jiang, ever the skeptic, grunted as I excitedly shared details from her stories. “And you believe such tales?”

“I do,” I replied with quiet confidence. “It’s said that these fields and gardens were once favored by lunar deities, spirits of the moon who would descend to wander the silver fields. They bestowed blessings of clarity and light, particularly on nights when the moon is fullest.”

“The same moon whose light we need to cultivate the moonsilver herb,” Prince Darcel mused, his voice thoughtful as he considered the intertwining of legend with our present quest.

I nodded. “It’s also said that the spirits guard these places against the remnants of darkness, ensuring that the curse can never fully reclaim the mountain. Perhaps in seeking the herb, we’ll be able to receive a portion of this protection in the spell we craft to release the darkness’s lingering hold upon the kingdom.”

My voice acted as a steady thread in the unsettling chorus of the cursed mountain’s resistance.

Encouraged by the tale I’d shared, we continued forward with new resolve, not merely scaling a mountain but stepping into a legend, ready to reclaim a piece of the light that had once defeated the darkness. As we explored I considered the story from every angle, wondering how much was merely a legend or if there was another clue hidden beneath its meaning that would lead us to the ingredient we sought.

Though the moonsilver herb was rumored to be here, its presence was not immediately apparent. The landscape was dominated by sheer cliff faces and deep crevices where the wind howled mournfully through narrow passes. While the others investigated an area some distance away, Prince Darcel’s search drew him close, causing my heart to flare in its now habitual response to his proximity.

I scanned the precarious edges for any sign of the elusive herb. “The legend certainly didn’t exaggerate the difficulty.”

His gaze was equally intent on the craggy terrain. “Unfortunately it did not. What else do you know about this herb?”

As I stared out across the jagged terrain, I felt a stir of intuition that perhaps there was more to this landscape than met the eye. Drawing on my herbalist’s sense, I realized that the story of the mystical garden I’d grown up with might be more than a legend—hidden not out in the open but veiled by enchantment to protect the sacred plants the peak faithfully guarded.

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