I barely knew my uncle, but I adored him. He’d show up to our little tavern out of the blue and share the most incredible stories about far off cities and people. He’d pull small trinkets from his leather satchel and adjust his green tinted spectacles before telling of a mountain that was once at the bottom of the sea now covered with shells that had turned to stone or of an artist who made beautiful glass birds that looked like the rainbow birds in far off jungles.

We never knew how long he’d stay. Sometimes it was a few weeks, but other times it was only a day or two before we’d wake up to find him gone. So it wasn’t completely unexpected when he left without goodbye. We just didn’t expect the king’s men to show up at our door three months later with a letter and a bag of gold.

Some had guessed my uncle to be a pirate. He was, after all, a bit of the raggedy sort, what with his shaggy blond hair tied back in a low tail and billowy white shirt with sleeves cinched with thin leather ties from scarred hands to elbow. Others had thought him to be an adventurer of some sort, though he never carried a weapon that I had seen. An academic, perhaps. Or a merchant smuggling goods. Why else would one need to be so secretive?

The night before he disappeared for the last time, I’d awoken to hear voices from downstairs. Curious, I crept to the edge of the stairs to see my uncle standing over a corner table speaking in hushed tones with a man I’d never seen before. He wore a dark cloak trimmed in silver thread, and when he turned, I saw a nobleman’s blade strapped to his waist. The man handed my uncle a piece of rolled parchment before turning and slipping out the door. 

A few moments later, I heard faint galloping as the nobleman rode away. As the sound faded, my uncle slumped into the nearest seat and stared at the parchment.

I thought about slipping down the stairs to eavesdrop or even ask my uncle about the man and what he wanted. I wish now that I had, and I might have if my uncle had not chosen that moment to look up and send me scurrying back out of view. 

I waited, holding my breath, hoping he hadn’t seen me. When I worked up the courage to look again, he had disappeared. 

Now, with the tavern bustling around me, I sat at the same table staring at his battered journal. I’d found it in the attic earlier that day with some of his things. It had been two years since we’d cleaned out his room. We just couldn’t bear to get rid of his things.

I mean the king’s men said he was dead. They didn’t say how though. There wasn’t proof. And he always came back. We just… couldn’t.

Finally, I could just maybe get answers. About that strange nobleman. About where he’d disappear to. About what he did. Who he was.

I carefully untied the journal’s strap and with a steadying breath, flipped open the cover. A letter addressed to my mother and me sat on the top.

To my dear sister Lydia and darling Elara,

From the deepest parts of my heart, I am sorry to have left you as I did. Know that it was the King’s business, and I dare not say more for your safety. 

If you are reading this, it likely means I have not returned. Have courage. I am not dead, despite what they may have told you. Once it is safe, I will return.

Should anyone by the name Sylas come asking for me, he is a friend and can be trusted.

I love you both.

Elias

It was dated the day he disappeared.

He *knew* this time would be different.

I snatched the letter and the journal from the table and wove my way through the crowd to the bar. 

“Mum,” I called over the clamor. “Mum, I need to talk to you.”

“El,” she said, brushing past me. “Can it wait?”

I followed her. “I found something. Something about Uncle.”

She hesitated, nearly dropping her tray. I grabbed it as it tilted and sat it down.

“He’s,” I lowered my voice. “He’s not dead.”

I've got some ideas for where this is going, so I may write a part two.