The morning air carried a biting chill, the kind that crept beneath cloaks and whispered along bare skin. Lyra stood at the edge of the ancient forest, her boots rooted in soil that had once teemed with life and danger, her eyes fixed westward toward an unfamiliar expanse. Behind her, the dense canopy of thorns and secrets faded into shadow. Before her stretched a pale, open trail—untamed, unwritten.
The wind tugged gently at her cloak, and she pulled it tighter around her shoulders.
Beside her, Veyrith stood tall and quiet, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. His expression was unreadable, but she sensed the tension in him, as if even he was reluctant to leave the forest behind.
"I need you to hide in my shadow now,"
Lyra said, breaking the silence. Her voice was steady but soft, tinged with an edge of hesitation.
"I'll be fine on my own for a while."
Veyrith turned to face her fully.
"If I enter now, I will fall into a dormant state. You'll have to call me awake manually. I won't be able to sense anything or act without your command."
Lyra looked down at her own shadow, then back up to him.
"That's fine. I can handle it. You need to rest anyway."
His gaze lingered, searching hers.
"You've grown more confident,"
He murmured, almost to himself. Then, louder,
"Be cautious. Your power is still not whole. And you're more vulnerable out here than you were in the forest."
"I know,"
She said quietly, almost to herself.
"But... if I wait for everything to be perfect, I'll never move."
He gave a nod, the faintest curve of trust flickering in his expression.
"Then call when you need me."
With that, Veyrith's form shimmered into shadow, streaming downward like black smoke until it pooled at her feet. The moment he vanished completely, a sudden stillness settled over her—quiet and cold.
She took a breath, steadying herself. Her fingers twitched, empty of the warmth his presence had offered.
"Alright,"
She whispered, more to the wind than to anyone else.
"Let's see what the world looks like beyond the trees."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The world outside the forest was silent in a different way.
Gone were the soft echoes that had once danced at the edges of her awareness. No whispering voices. No guiding murmurs. Lyra walked slowly at first, testing her senses. She stopped more than once, turning her head to catch something—anything—just beyond the wind. But there was nothing.
She frowned and muttered under her breath,
"It's really gone. Those echoes... so they were part of the forest."
The words sounded hollow in the open air. No response followed, not even a whisper. It was like walking after a song had ended, waiting for a note that would never come.
She missed them, those murmurs. They had frightened her at first, yes, but they had also grounded her. Given her something to hold onto when everything else was uncertain.
The air itself felt different. Thinner. She inhaled deeply and could tell immediately—the mana in the atmosphere had lessened. It didn't hum under her skin like it had in the forest. Her fingers tingled as she tried weaving a simple spell, and it responded sluggishly.
"So that's what they meant by mana-rich zones,"
She murmured, flexing her hands.
"This place feels... dry."
Still, she pressed forward. The sun barely broke through the clouded sky, casting gray light over the vast hills and craggy paths she crossed. The silence became her only companion.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By midday, a sudden rustling in the shrubs to her right drew her blade. Two tusked beasts—boar-like creatures with matted fur and blood-red eyes—charged her. Their speed was fierce, but their power lacked the raw menace of the forest's predators.
Lyra braced herself. "Alright then," she whispered, "Let's dance."
She sidestepped the first, slashing across its flank. The second lunged with a shriek, but she ducked, rolled, and drove her dagger deep into its throat. Within moments, both lay still.
She stood over their bodies, chest rising and falling.
"Weaker,"
She said, almost disappointed. She crouched, wiping her blade clean on the grass.
"Too easy. And I thought maybe I'd need you, Veyrith. Not today, it seems."
No whispers guided her. No shadows rose to aid her. Just her and the blade.
The terrain began to soften as she traveled further—grassy plains interrupted by small streams and scattered stones. Soon, signs of human life began to appear. Faint smoke trails in the distance. Fences. Fields. Each sign stirred something uncertain in her chest.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the third day, she reached the first village. It was small—barely a cluster of thatched homes and a crooked inn—but it welcomed her with curious eyes and guarded smiles.
At the general store, an older woman eyed her warily.
"You from the capital?"
"No,"
Lyra said simply, keeping her hood low.
"Just passing through."
"Hmm. You wan to trade?"
Lyra nodded and reached into her pack.
"Boar tusks, thick pelt, and meat. Dried."
The woman took her time examining the goods.
"I can give you twenty silvers. And a bit of salted meat."
Lyra considered for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"Fair. Also... do you have any maps?"
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Maps? Aye, we've got a few. Not many updated ones, mind you. This one's the cleanest copy of the eastern routes."
She pulled out a rolled parchment and unwrapped it on the counter. It was hand-drawn but detailed enough to show roads, nearby towns, and trade paths.
"How much?" Lyra asked.
"Five silvers. No less."
Lyra hesitated briefly before nodding again.
"I'll take it."
She passed the coins across, taking the map and tucking it safely into her satchel. Now, at least, she had a guide—however rough—to chart her way forward.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She moved from one settlement to the next. Each village was a variation of the last—simple, wary, quiet. In one, she bartered extra hides and clean bones for a waterskin, flint stones, and three bronze coins. In another, she exchanged a fine pelt and sharp beast claws for a weathered map inked with rough roads and worn borders, along with five more silver pieces.
In the last village, a young boy approached her while she sat near a well.
"Are you a real adventurer?"
Lyra looked up.
"Something like that."
"You don't look like the ones from the guild."
She tilted her head, curious.
"Guild?"
The boy blinked at her.
"Yeah! The Adventurer Guild. Everyone knows them. They take quests and fight monsters and stuff."
"I see,"
She murmured, filing the information away. She hadn't heard of such a thing before. Noxy had never mentioned it, and Veyrith had been silent on the matter.
She smiled faintly beneath her mask.
"Then maybe being different isn't so bad."
He grinned, then ran off. She watched him go, the silence pressing heavier in his absence.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the end of her fourth village, she had gathered around thirty silver and ten bronze coins—enough to buy basic supplies and keep moving. It wasn't wealth, but it was something. She tucked the coin pouch deep within her cloak, close to her skin.
They saw her as a wandering adventurer. Nothing more.
But every step she took deepened the hollow inside her.
At night, she sat beneath trees or beside flickering fires, and the silence became unbearable.
"You're too quiet,"
She said aloud one evening, staring into the flames.
"Both of you."
No reply came from the shadows. Veyrith slept. Noxy was... gone? Absent? She didn't know. Even her dreams were empty.
"I don't like this,"
She whispered.
"Even the nightmares were better than this."
She pulled her knees close to her chest, resting her chin on them. The weight of the stars above pressed down like judgment.
"You left me with nothing but questions,"
She whispered, the flames casting lonely shadows across her face.
"No path. No truth. Just this emptiness."
The fire crackled. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called.
She closed her eyes, swallowing the ache.
"But I'm not stopping. I can't."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the sixth day, the dusty path gave way to cobblestones. The scent of smoke and roasted spices drifted on the breeze. Lyra crested a grassy hill—and there it was.
A city.
It sprawled along the horizon, ringed by thick stone walls and glittering rooftops. Market banners fluttered above the gate towers, and the hum of distant life echoed faintly in the wind.
Her breath caught.
"So this is it... Veldenreach."
The name matched what she'd found on the map back in the last village—finally, a point she could place. A destination. Her eyes lingered on the distant rooftops.
"I finally found it,"
She murmured.
"Veldenreach. The city marked on the map... I'm here.""
She tightened her cloak, brushed off her sleeves, and stepped forward, her footsteps steady.
The veil of the forest was behind her. The veil of society now lay ahead.