The trail eastward was unlike any they had walked.
Not a path worn by men or carts, but a ribbon of cracked slate laid stone by stone across uneven ground. Moss grew between the gaps. Some stones were etched with unfamiliar symbols—circles, spirals, and sharp lines that looked more like wounds than writing.
Frido walked slower than usual.
Not out of fear.
But reverence.
"These weren't just roads," he murmured. "They were vows."
Teren grunted. "Vows don't feed us or keep us warm."
Frido smiled faintly. "But sometimes they keep us human."
---
The Cairn of Oaths
Midway through the day, they came upon a structure—simple but tall. A cairn of stacked stones, reaching higher than a man, blackened at the top as if kissed by flame. Around its base lay strips of cloth, each marked with ink or blood.
Names.
Hundreds of them.
Some barely legible, others written with shaking hands.
Frido dropped to a knee and read them in silence.
Teren stayed behind.
"What is this?" he asked.
Frido ran a hand over a name: Iela Thorne.
"A shrine. To those who swore peace."
Teren scoffed. "Looks like they swore too late."
"No," Frido said, voice gentle. "They swore knowing it wouldn't come."
---
The Mountain Man
As the sun dipped low, they heard a voice ahead—clear and confident, like a song wrapped in gravel.
"Halt, travelers. The road does not welcome the faithless."
A tall figure emerged from the trees.
Not a soldier.
Not a ghost.
A man clothed in layered robes of stone-gray wool, with leather armor beneath. His face was weathered, beard braided with bone beads. At his side, a staff—not a weapon, but carved with runes.
He looked between Frido and Teren.
"I am Yoren of the Oathguard," he said. "Who walks the Stone Way must carry memory, not just feet."
Frido stepped forward.
"I carry names," he said. "And silence."
Yoren studied him.
Then nodded.
"You may pass. But first—you must leave something behind."
---
The Toll of Memory
Yoren led them to a stone table carved into the hill's curve. Upon it were dozens of offerings: trinkets, teeth, torn pieces of cloth, empty scrolls, broken swords.
"What is this?" Teren asked.
Yoren replied, "The Price of Passage."
Frido didn't hesitate. He reached into his satchel and removed the black stone the Keeper had given him.
Yoren's eyes narrowed. "You understand what that is?"
"I don't yet," Frido said. "But it belongs to the road now."
He placed the stone at the center of the table.
Teren, reluctantly, removed the ashwood ring from his finger and set it down.
Yoren nodded once.
"Then you may cross."
---
Beneath the Rock's Shadow
They walked through a narrow pass—cliffs on both sides. Strange symbols danced across the stone as the sun set, casting shifting shadows like moving spirits.
Frido slowed again.
"This place listens," he whispered.
Teren shivered. "Or watches."
A sudden sound—metal against rock.
They turned.
A figure stood behind them, where the road curved out of view.
It didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just watched.
Its armor was mismatched. Its face was hidden beneath a cracked helm.
Frido took a step forward.
"Who are you?"
The figure raised a hand—and pointed forward.
Not at them.
At the road ahead.
Then vanished into the mist.
---
The Quiet Ruins
At dusk, they came upon ruins tucked between cliffs. Stone homes shattered by time, wells grown with moss, fire pits long cold.
And in the center, a broken statue.
A woman, tall and regal, her arms stretched outward in welcome.
But her face had been struck away.
Frido touched the pedestal. The name beneath had been scratched out—but the word Miran remained.
"Miran," he repeated.
Teren asked, "Another village?"
"No," Frido said. "A promise."
---
Night Fires
They built a fire inside one of the roofless homes.
Above them, the stars blinked like old gods, unsure if they should watch or look away.
Frido read another page from Commander Eris Faln's journal.
> "There is something worse than death. It is being remembered wrongly."
> "We tried to stop them. But silence had already arrived."
Frido looked up at Teren.
"You ever wonder why no one talks about the war anymore?"
Teren shrugged. "Because they want to forget."
"No," Frido said. "Because they're afraid remembering it might bring it back."
---
Before Sleep
As Frido drifted to sleep, he whispered the names he'd seen at the cairn.
Not because he knew them.
But because someone should say them again.
> "Iela Thorne… Brann of Nurell… Meko and Sae…"
Teren listened.
He didn't join in.
But he didn't walk away either.
That night, even the silence felt like it was listening.
---
[End of Chapter 9]