The city was far behind them now, its lights no more than a memory swallowed by the mist.
Shino walked in silence, boots sinking into the mud as the rain turned into a thin drizzle. Kim Soo-min followed a few steps behind, her travel cloak pulled tight. The night stretched endlessly, but neither of them spoke. Words felt heavy after the whispers they had left behind.
By dawn, the road ended.
What lay ahead was no road at all — only a jagged stretch of broken hills, a harsh, wind-swept land few dared to cross. The map Shino carried showed no safe path forward.
"We can go back to the main road," Soo-min suggested, scanning the horizon.
Shino shook his head. "They'd expect us to take the road. Too many eyes."
He stepped forward into the unmarked land. Soo-min followed without hesitation.
---
The terrain was merciless.
Loose stones shifted underfoot, and thorn bushes clawed at their clothes. The wind cut like a blade, carrying dust that stung the eyes. By noon, their cloaks were coated with grit, and their water flasks were running low.
At a small plateau, they stopped to rest.
Shino stood silently, scanning the landscape. The sun was a harsh white disc above them, unforgiving.
"This place feels dead," Soo-min murmured, sitting on a flat rock.
Shino crouched nearby. "Dead places have their own kind of silence. Sometimes it's easier to think in them."
"Are you thinking about the city?" she asked.
Shino didn't answer right away. His hand closed around a small stone.
"They feared me," he said at last. "Even after I saved them. I keep wondering if that fear will follow me everywhere."
Soo-min looked at him for a moment, then spoke with quiet certainty.
"It will. But so will the ones who remember the truth. The boy last night — he will remember. He will tell the story differently."
Shino glanced at her. Her calm gaze didn't waver.
"You don't walk these paths for praise, Shino. You walk them so someone, somewhere, can have a dawn worth waking to."
For a long moment, the only sound was the wind. Then Shino stood, his resolve settling like a weight he chose to carry.
"Let's move."
---
The days blurred together.
They crossed dry riverbeds, climbed narrow ledges where a single wrong step meant a fatal fall, and slept under a sky so clear it felt like they were walking inside the stars.
Each night, Soo-min recorded notes in a small journal — plants they saw, ruins they passed, strange tracks left by creatures neither of them recognized.
On the fourth night, they stumbled upon something unexpected: a stone marker half-buried in the sand. Its surface was carved with faded symbols, almost erased by time.
Soo-min knelt, brushing off the dust with her sleeve.
"This is old," she murmured. "Older than the city we just left. It's a warning sign… or maybe a guidepost."
Shino crouched beside her, tracing the worn lines with a gloved hand. "Which way does it point?"
Soo-min turned toward the east, where the hills dipped into a dark valley.
"That way," she said.
Shino studied the valley for a long moment. Something in the air felt different — heavier, charged with something unseen.
"This is the way, then," he said.
---
They descended into the valley at twilight. The wind fell silent, leaving only the sound of their footsteps.
Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled — long and mournful.
Soo-min pulled her cloak closer. "Do you ever wonder if these paths lead us to the right places?"
Shino's voice was steady. "Every path we walk becomes the right one when we choose not to turn back."
She smiled faintly at that and followed him deeper into the valley.
As the first stars appeared, a faint light glimmered ahead — not fire, but something pale and steady, like moonlight trapped in stone.
Shino slowed, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. Whatever lay ahead, it was not ordinary.
Soo-min's voice was a whisper. "Looks like our next story is waiting for us."
Shino nodded.
And together, they kept walking — two wandering flames on paths no map could ever chart, leaving behind the known world one step at a time.