The road stretched ahead of them, winding like a serpent through the dense undergrowth and the remnants of ancient forgotten trails. Despite Lysandra’s apparent indifference, Hans noticed that she, too, was thinking about the riddle. Her steps were measured, and her eyes occasionally flicked toward the tree shadows as if expecting to find a hidden clue in the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves.

  —I'd say someone wants to make sure this enigma isn’t solved easily, —Hans remarked, breaking the silence.

  —That’s obvious, —Lysandra replied without taking her eyes off the path.— What we don’t know is whether the reward is worth it.

  Hans smiled thoughtfully.

  —But it is a reward, after all. And according to the inscription, whoever deciphers it will gain something.

  Lysandra said nothing, but her gaze sharpened.

  As they advanced, the riddle tangled itself in Hans’s mind. Two mouths. A shadow marking a path. Two stone guardians.

  There was one certainty in all of this: the place existed. It wasn’t just a cryptic warning or a forgotten fable. There was a treasure or something valuable enough to be hidden so carefully. Moreover, clues had been left behind so that only the worthy or the clever could find it.

  Hans glanced at Lysandra.

  —What do you think it is?

  Lysandra sighed impatiently.

  —It could be anything. Gold, weapons, lost knowledge… or a trap.

  —A trap with a reward.

  —Or a reward with a trap, —she countered.

  Hans let out a soft chuckle.

  —Always the optimist.

  —Always a naive lucky fool, —she corrected coldly.

  Hans shrugged. He couldn’t deny that Lysandra’s caution made sense. If he had learned anything in life, it was that hidden treasures never came without consequences.

  However, what intrigued him the most was Lysandra’s attitude. Despite her distant and calculating demeanor, it was clear that the riddle had captured her interest more than she wanted to admit. Hans could see it in the gleam in her eyes when she thought about it, in the way her mind seemed to process every word quickly, searching for a pattern, a clue.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Her ambition made her dangerous—not just because it drove her to uncover whatever lay behind the riddle, but because it revealed that she desired it.

  But all ambition froze when the persistent reminder of her situation crept back into her mind. Lysandra didn’t have time. It wasn’t on her side but against her. Every second spent away from her true objective was a threat, a reminder that she couldn’t afford distractions.

  Hans saw it in the way she tensed her shoulders, in how her steps sometimes quickened as if trying to outrun an invisible danger.

  And though she didn’t say it out loud, it was clear: the riddle was important. But not as much as the time she was losing.

  Hans sighed.

  The real question was: was it worth the risk?

  For now, they didn’t know. But they would find out.

  And with that thought lingering in their minds, they continued on their path, each certain that sooner or later, they would return to solve the enigma.

  The trail grew increasingly treacherous. Between steep slopes and cliffs shrouded in mist, the path narrowed, forcing them to proceed with caution. The undergrowth had vanished, replaced by hard rock and uneven terrain that crunched beneath their steps. The wind howled through the mountain crevices, carrying a sudden chill that contrasted with the heat of the trek.

  Hans moved carefully, securing each step. He could feel the void to his right, the looming threat of a fatal slip with every step forward. Lysandra, on the other hand, moved with the confidence of someone who had walked worse paths before. Her fingers occasionally brushed against the rock when the incline steepened, and her gaze never wavered from the road ahead.

  It was then that, perhaps to distract herself from the perilous terrain or simply out of curiosity, she changed the subject.

  —Tell me, Hans, —she asked without looking back—, where are you from?

  Hans blinked, slightly surprised by the question.

  —From a small village. One of those places no one remembers unless they get lost along the way.

  Lysandra smirked.

  —That explains a lot.

  Hans raised an eyebrow.

  —What’s that supposed to mean?

  —That you have the attitude of someone who never had much to lose, —she answered casually—. And yet, you keep moving forward as if the whole world depends on you not tripping.

  Hans shrugged.

  —Well, if I trip here, the world won’t care… but I will.

  Lysandra let out a short, dry laugh.

  —I wasn’t just talking about now.

  Hans fell silent for a moment. He knew Lysandra rarely spoke without a reason, so he waited.

  And then she asked what truly interested her:

  —That adventurous spirit of yours… that courage to face invisible enemies, where does it come from?

  Hans frowned slightly.

  —Invisible enemies?

  Lysandra nodded.

  —You don’t know what you’re up against. You have no certainty about what lurks ahead, and yet you summon a kind of innate courage that very few men possess.

  Hans chuckled softly, as if the idea seemed strange to him.

  —I wouldn’t call it courage.

  —Oh, really?

  Hans shook his head.

  —To me, fear is like hunger. It’s always there. The difference is that some people hide it better than others.

  Lysandra watched him closely.

  —Then what keeps you going?

  Hans smirked.

  —I suppose I’ve always believed that if something bad is going to happen to me, it will happen anyway. So instead of standing still and waiting, I’d rather walk toward it and see what happens.

  Lysandra turned her gaze back to the path ahead. For some reason, Hans’s words felt more accurate than she would have liked to admit.

  The road remained uncertain. But one thing was clear: no matter how many cliffs or riddles appeared in their path, Hans would keep moving forward.

  And, somehow, so would she.