**Chapter 10: "Gareth's Oath"**

The forest canopy, thick and unforgiving, choked out most of the daylight. It cast long, skeletal shadows that danced around us in the clearing. It might have been picturesque if I wasn't half-convinced the royal guard would burst through the trees any second. And if my wrist wasn't throbbing like a blacksmith's hammer. Soul Weaving - or any kind of magic really - was starting to really hurt.

Lyra and I were circling the small clearing like wary wolves. “We can’t just *trust* him,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. Even that felt too loud out here. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the undergrowth, made me jump.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to massage away the tension headache that had been building since we'd legged it out of the temple. "We don't have much of a choice, Lyra. Or do you have another ex-royal guard who doesn't support the royal family who’s willing to risk his ass for us?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. "At least he had the balls to leave without being bribed." Well, I didn't help much.

She flinched at my tone, her own face etched with exhaustion and worry. Underneath, I could see anger and suspicion. "Don't pretend you're not thinking the same thing, Elias. He was *there*, in the archives. He saw the amulet. He knows what we know."

"So?" I countered, maybe a little too quickly. "That makes him a threat, sure, but it also makes him a potential ally. Besides, they were trying to frame us before they knew what we knew. This is all related to the Soul Weaving. He can point us there." More to the point, Gareth might know how to deal with the demon stuff.

"He could be playing us. Lulling us into a false sense of security, only to hand us over to the palace. The guards have been so precise." She was right: if the Royal family was not on our side, then we were done for. "This could be a worse betrayal than Kael," I muttered.

"We need to think about this," she argued softly, and walked a step further from me, as if to say "I am closer to betray you". I tried to not get emotional.

"We're not exactly swimming in options," I said, trying to rein in my frustration. "Our faces are probably plastered all over the city by now. We got each other only..."

I was cut off by a sharp pain on my wrist. I groaned, as I had not been able to hide the brand from Lyra. I could only imagine what she must be thinking, after the reveal. "Well, now is probably a good time to start trusting each other. This whole quest happened around the same day, so it may all be related!"

"I was talking about my friend and the other royal soldiers!" she spat out and walked away again. I knew this would happen. With no other choices, now it all depends on what that guy has to tell, so that we can get it over quickly. She does not know the symbol.

Lyra was staring into the depths of the forest, her shoulders slumped, making her look smaller than I remembered. The silence stretched between us, thick with mistrust and the unspoken fear of the royal family's wrath. How the hell are we going to get her trust?

She finally broke it, her voice subdued. "There was… someone I used to work with. Before… all this." She gestured vaguely, encompassing the conspiracy, the murder frame-up, and the fact that my soul was about to be repossessed.

I raised an eyebrow. "Someone who might be willing to help us?"

She hesitated. "Maybe. He went into exile years ago. Knew too much about the Royal family's…" she searched for the word, "eccentricities. They tried real hard to not let him talk."

"Eccentricities? Like, 'collects spoons' eccentric, or 'sacrifices orphans under the full moon' eccentric?" I asked, trying to inject a little levity into the situation. No laughs though.

"Closer to the 'rewrites history and silences anyone who disagrees' type," Lyra said grimly. "He knows things they don't want anyone to know."

"And you think he'd be willing to help us, knowing we're running from the same people?" I pressed, skeptical. It felt like a long shot.

"He might hate them more than he fears them," she said, her gaze still fixed on the trees. "He was… embittered by what he learned. Said he couldn't live with himself if he stayed silent. He went away, on his own path." She pauses. "I'm still in contact with him, and if what you say is true, then be may have some answers."

"So, why the reluctance? Seems like a perfect solution."

"He's… secluded. He lives out in the wilderness, cuts himself off from everyone." Lyra shivered, despite the relatively mild air. "He sees shadows around him everywhere. He is on the brink."

"Paranoid, you mean?"

"More than paranoid. Obsessed. He's convinced the Royal family are still watching him, even out there. I am sure that he's going to see the sign or mark or whatever and start panicking." She hesitated. "I haven't contacted him in years. I don't know if he’ll trust me anymore. I'm sure that my identity has been sold around by now."

"So, we're going to rely on someone who's potentially insane, lives in the middle of nowhere, and may or may not remember you fondly?" I summarized.

Lyra didn’t meet my eye. "We don't have any other options, Elias. This is the only lead we've got. You said it yourself."

I sighed. She was right, damn it. We didn't have the luxury of being picky. "Alright. Lead the way. But if he starts raving about lizard people or the moon being made of cheese, we're leaving, deal?"

"Deal." The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease slightly. "His name is Gareth." I didn't get why she insisted on using his name now. It was suspicious.

The deeper we ventured into the forest, the more oppressive it became. The trees grew taller and thicker, their branches intertwined like gnarled fingers, blocking out more and more of the already fading light. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the silence was broken only by the occasional screech of a bird or the rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth. A perfect location for a person that is completely insane.

"How much further?" I asked, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. My cloak felt like it weighed a ton. And all that talk about the forest - from us and Lyra to me - did not make me feel better.

Lyra consulted a small, worn map she'd pulled from her pack. "Not much. According to this," she tapped the map with a dirt-stained finger, "we should be close to his… perimeter."

"Perimeter?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "He has a perimeter?"

"I told you, he's paranoid," she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "He's got wards and traps set up all around his place."

"Wonderful," I muttered. "Just what I needed. More things trying to kill me."

A few minutes later, we reached a small clearing. In the center stood a roughly built cabin, made from logs and covered with moss. It looked like it had been there for decades, slowly being reclaimed by the forest. A sign hung crookedly above the door, barely legible in the dim light.

"Gareth's Respite," I read aloud, tilting my head. "Charming."

"Don't touch anything," Lyra warned, her eyes scanning the clearing. "He'll have wards set up. Magical and… less magical."

"Less magical?"

"Traps. Snares. Tripwires. The kind of thing a disillusioned royal guard might use to protect himself from assassins," she explained.

I carefully examined the ground around us, looking for any sign of danger. I spotted a nearly invisible tripwire stretched between two trees, camouflaged with leaves and twigs. "Impressive," I admitted. "He's not messing around."

"He might be a more cautious version of me," I muttered back, wondering where that was going. And why now?

Lyra led us carefully through the clearing, following a winding path that seemed to avoid certain spots. She pointed out pressure plates hidden beneath piles of leaves, and faint magical sigils etched into the bark of the trees. If you did not notice them, then you were done for.

"He's good," I said, reluctantly impressed. "Damn good."

We finally reached the cabin door, which was made from thick planks of wood and reinforced with iron bands. There was no knocker or bell. Just a small, peephole.

"Now what?" I asked.

Lyra took a deep breath and stepped forward, raising her voice. "Gareth? It's me, Lyra! Remember the sign that this place had fallen? I need your help!" She almost sounded desperate.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of the wind whistling through the trees. I held my breath, waiting. After 3 minutes, I asked what was going on. What did that password even mean?

The peephole in the door slid open with a soft click, and a single eye peered out at us. It was a sharp, piercing eye, the color of steel, and it regarded us with a wary intensity. I stepped behind Lyra.

"Lyra," a gruff voice said from inside the cabin. "It's been a while, stranger."

"It has, Gareth," Lyra replied, her voice calm and steady. "I brought you here something you may be interested on and a friend. He's a mage who almost got killed on the library in town."

"A mage?" The eye narrowed further. "I don't trust mages." It almost sounds like the words of the head of the royal family.

"He's with me," Lyra said firmly. "And he's here to ask the same thing as me."

"What’s going on, is everything alright?" The voice from inside the cabin suddenly became very, very concerned. Probably due to all the magic.

The eye remained fixed on us, unblinking. "Why should I trust either of you? The last time I trusted someone, I ended up with a knife in my back." And lost all of his closest and dearest friends. Too sad.

"Because we're being framed for things that we do not know and your help will be much appreciated on these troubling times," Lyra said, her voice pleading. "And because... well, I do not know, I feel I should trust the sign and go towards it and trust. It just had to be."

"Did you know that even in this world that is chaotic in itself, people can recognize each and see each other?" I added now

The silence stretched on again, thicker this time. I could feel the tension radiating off Lyra in waves. I wondered what the hell the sign that she was talking about but also knew that now was not the time.

Then, with a groan of hinges, the door swung inwards, revealing Gareth.

He was taller than I expected, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. His face was weathered and lined, etched with years of hardship and distrust. His hair was cropped short and streaked with gray, and his eyes burned with a fierce intensity that made me want to take a step back. The eyes did not help, though.

I understood now why they called him "the Skeptical Guardian."

He was dressed in simple, practical clothes, but I could see the faint outline of old scars beneath his tunic, a testament to battles fought and survived. A long sword hung at his hip, and I got the feeling he knew how to use it. He was ready for battle. And I got no doubt on it.

He eyed me up and down, his gaze lingering on the brand on my wrist. I could see a flicker of recognition in his eyes, followed by a deep frown.

"I've heard rumors about you, mage," he said, his voice rough and gravelly. "About the pact you made. About the Soul seal." Almost like I was some sort of criminal. And not framed or anything.

"Rumors tend to be exaggerated," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, like I didn't have a demonic death warrant hanging over my head.

"Maybe," Gareth said, unconvinced. "But I don't like rumors. And I don't like demons."

"I'm not exactly a fan myself," I muttered. "But I think you wanted to come, right?"

"So tell us, then. What do you people from the royal family think?"

"You know all too well," Lyra says, but she's cut short by a sharp wave by Gareth.

"Hold there. I want to hear from him: I am not used to talk to demons. They tend to explode my face."

Lyra stepped forward, placing a hand on Gareth's arm. "Gareth, please," she said, her voice soft and pleading. "We're not your enemies. We're being framed by people within the Royal court who are jealous of our power."

Gareth looked at her, his expression unreadable. He hesitated for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice softening slightly. "Tell me what happened. Start with the amulet."

Lyra launched into a detailed account of our discovery in the archives, the stolen amulet, my almost murder in the town, and the noble's oddly convenient suicide. She didn’t hold back anything, even detailing the demon pact and the soul signature.

As she spoke, I watched Gareth's face carefully. He listened intently, his eyes narrowed, occasionally interjecting with questions or requests for clarification. I could see his suspicion slowly beginning to erode, replaced by a growing sense of understanding.

When Lyra finished, Gareth was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it," he muttered. "I knew something like this was going on but that is too much."

"So, you believe us?" I asked, trying to contain my hope. He needed our help, but never expected anything of this magnitude.

"I believe you're in trouble," Gareth said. "And I believe you're telling me most of the truth. But I don't know if I trust you to save it."

"It's your power that interests the enemy, they want to destroy soul weaving," Lyra pleaded.

"And this matters to you because...? Last time I checked you didn't care much about them or their gods." I said, surprised. She does not show feelings usually.

Suddenly, Lyra tears started forming. "Listen guys, you are seeing me strong-hearted, but what happened was not alright. I did not wanted for any of this to happen, but here we are. I will stop and help it, and I will make amends!" I got more scared, honestly.

Gareth stared at her, his expression softening. He reached out and gently touched her shoulder. "I know, Lyra," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I know. You are the one that should go and cry or vent: but I am going to ask a favor"

He turned to me, his gaze hardening again. "Alright, mage. I'll help you. But on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You swear to me, on your honor, that you'll use this power to protect the innocent. That you won't let it corrupt you, the same way it corrupted the bastards in the Royal Court. That you will save the people with that brand, and take them where they may seek pleasure: far from all of this."

I hesitated. It was a big commitment. But I looked at Lyra, at the pain and determination in her eyes, and I knew I couldn't refuse.

"I swear it," I said, my voice firm. "On my honor as a mage, I will use this power to protect the innocent" I said. "But one curiosity"

"What it is?" he replied, curious.

"You knew about it coming? You started preparing to get people like myself for a while, didn't you?" I asked, but then saw the house. Everything here was there for a purpose.

Gareth nodded slowly. "I had a feeling something was coming. The signs..." he trailed off, looking troubled.

"And I did not knew, wow," Lyra murmured, still sad.

"What signs?" I prompted.

"Doesn't matter. What is important is that you did not ran away so you can seek the power!"

"All's fair in love and war?

Gareth sighed. "I have an idea. But for that to happen, we will have to move, now."

The forest seemed to hold its breath, and only wait and see. **