The wind had changed.
No longer fierce, but cold. Damp. Heavy.
Each breath now carried the taste of old rain, and each footstep felt like it echoed through time itself.
Teren stood at the edge of a narrow stone path that dipped down into a cleft of fog-drenched hills.
"The Deadwind Road," he said grimly. "I never thought we'd walk it."
Frido stepped forward. "Why not?"
Teren didn't answer.
But Mirea did.
"Because no one sings here. Not even the birds."
---
The Silent March
They descended in silence.
The fog grew thicker the deeper they went, muffling every sound.
Even their boots on gravel seemed to disappear the moment they landed.
Mirea clutched her flute, but did not play.
Frido clutched the stone, but did not speak.
And Teren, for once, did not joke or mutter.
The Deadwind Road had a way of making people forget who they were.
It twisted time and memory.
It told no stories.
And it let no songs live.
---
Fragments in the Mist
Half a mile in, they began to see them.
Figures.
Not ghosts, but not alive either.
Old warriors standing like statues in the fog—so still they could have been part of the land.
Each wore armor from different wars.
Some bore faces of agony. Others peace. Some were only bones draped in forgotten banners.
"They're echoes," Teren whispered.
"Of what?" Frido asked.
"Of those who died with something unsaid."
Frido looked at one—an old woman holding a rusted sword, her mouth open like she'd tried to speak at the end.
He turned away.
---
Mirea's Reflection
They stopped to rest by a broken pillar.
Mirea sat, staring into the mist.
She saw her reflection there—not in water, but in memory.
A girl kneeling beside her father's bed.
Hearing his final words: "Silence can be noble. But it can also be cowardice."
She had nodded back then.
But now, she wasn't so sure.
She looked at Frido across from her, polishing the stone.
He looked… dimmer somehow. As if the road was stealing his color.
She opened her mouth to speak.
But the fog swallowed her words.
---
The Voice that Wasn't There
They resumed their walk.
Midway through a twisted arch of ivy-covered stone, Frido paused.
He heard a voice.
Not loud.
Not even real, perhaps.
But it sounded like his mother.
"Frido… don't forget who you are."
He turned, suddenly dizzy.
The path had shifted behind them.
Teren was gone.
So was Mirea.
The fog thickened into walls.
And the voice came again: "You cannot carry silence without losing sound."
Frido stumbled, gasping.
And then… he saw a face.
His own.
Older. Cracked.
And smiling.
"You'll become me," it said.
---
Teren's Memory
Elsewhere in the mist, Teren stood face-to-face with his sister.
Alive. Angry.
She yelled at him—not with sound, but with eyes.
> "You let me go. You let me die."
He fell to his knees.
"I thought I was being strong."
The fog wrapped around her.
She faded.
"No. You were being afraid."
---
Mirea's Trial
Mirea stood alone in a clearing.
Music drifted to her ears—her own lullaby.
But no flute.
Just notes in the air.
And then she saw herself.
Sitting beside Frido.
Telling him everything.
"I love you. I always have. And I'm afraid I always will."
The vision faded.
And left her crying.
Because it was only ever a possibility.
And she still hadn't made it real.
---
Reunion in the Fog
One by one, they stumbled out of their trials.
Frido first.
Then Teren.
Then Mirea, shaking, eyes red.
They didn't speak.
There was no need.
They all knew what the Deadwind Road had shown them.
Frido looked at Mirea and whispered, "You were crying."
She blinked, startled. "You saw me?"
He nodded.
And for the first time, their silence meant something shared—not hidden.
---
The Fire that Spoke
That night, at camp, Frido built a fire with trembling hands.
The flame sputtered but caught.
Teren stared into it, muttering, "Never again."
Mirea sat beside Frido.
Quiet.
Close.
Then, for the first time in days, she played her flute.
It wasn't a song of beauty.
It was a song of survival.
Ragged. Raw. Real.
Frido closed his eyes.
And didn't feel alone.
---
Mirea's Note
Later, when both men were asleep, Mirea took out the parchment again.
This time… she wrote something.
Just three lines:
"When you walk toward death, I will walk behind you."
"When you speak silence, I will answer in music."
"And when they remember your name… I will tell them who you really were."
She folded the paper.
Sealed it.
But didn't hide it.
She placed it beside Frido's pack.
Where he might find it.
One day.
When it was time.
---
End of Chapter 32