The morning sun had barely crested the horizon as the group gathered in the courtyard of Moren's family estate. The air was sharp and clear, laced with the familiar scent of approaching winter in Ethos. Though the sunlight painted the rooftops in soft gold, it did little to chase away the creeping chill that clung to the edges of the morning.
The trees that bordered the estate stood bare, their limbs skeletal against the pale sky. Fallen leaves—faded gold and deep crimson—were scattered across the cobblestone path, partially blanketed by a thin layer of fresh snow. Each step crunched softly beneath their boots, a quiet accompaniment to the subdued farewells yet to come.
Moren adjusted the straps on her pack, glancing over at Veska, who was securing her weapons with a calm precision. Jaycen stood off to the side, speaking quietly with Lucius. The morning's somberness hung between them even though no one had spoken it aloud.
Jace was the first to step forward, pulling Moren into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself, Momo," he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And remember, you're always welcome home."
Moren smiled back, nodding. "I will. And don't worry, I'll keep Veska out of trouble."
Jace let out a small laugh as Veska shot them both a mock glare. "I'd like to see you try." She said with a faux hurt expression on her face.
Heiko approached next, her arms crossed, but a smile tugging at her lips. "I expect you to come back with some good stories," she said, pulling Moren into a quick hug. "But make sure you actually come back. I'll have Tiele here hunt you down if you don't."
Tiele, standing nearby, grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "I'll track you all across Vey'Lathis if I have to, Aunt Moren!"
Moren laughed, ruffling the boy's hair. "I believe you, Tiele. I wouldn't dare make you do that."
Standing beside her brother, Jewel held out a small charm she had made from woven threads and beads. "It's for luck," she said shyly, her eyes downcast. "In case you need it."
Moren took the charm, her heart warming at the gesture. "Thank you, Jewel. I'll keep it close."
Mika was next, holding her hands together, looking like she was holding back tears. She stepped forward, her hug lingering longer than the others. "Stay safe, Moren. And take care of them," she whispered, glancing at Veska and Jaycen with a playful smile. "You know how reckless they can be."
Moren chuckled. "I'll do my best, Mika." She felt the tears running down her face.
Finally, Rose, standing by Mika's side, smiled softly as she approached. She had little Momo wrapped up tightly in a bundle of blankets. "Take care of yourself," she said gently. "You have a lot of people who love you waiting for your safe return."
Moren's heart clenched as she looked at Rose, a surge of emotion rising in her chest. "I'll be back before you know it," she promised, her hand lightly brushing Rose's arm. "How else will I be able to spoil my goddaughter as much as I can?" She placed a kiss atop Momo's sleepy head.
Rose nodded, her eyes filled with warmth. "We'll hold you to that."
Lucius, silent until now, clapped Jaycen on the back and stepped forward. "Ready?" he asked, his eyes scanning the group, taking in the emotion of the farewells.
Moren nodded, glancing over at Veska and Jaycen, who were both ready, though their expressions mirrored the weight of the moment. The group had traveled together many times before, but each departure had a bittersweet tone, especially when the family was involved.
As they gathered their belongings and made their final checks, the morning sun broke through the mist, casting long shadows behind them. Moren took one final look at her family, their faces filled with love, concern, and hope. She took a deep breath, her heart swelling with the weight of their affection, and with a final wave, she turned toward the road ahead.
Moren looked ahead, afraid that she wouldn't be able to leave if she looked back and saw her family's sad faces. She felt Luna land on her shoulder to comfort her, and a moment later, Veska linked her arms to support her.
The journey awaited, and though the path was uncertain, the warmth of her family's love would follow her wherever she went.
As Moren, Veska, Jaycen, and Lucius made their way through the early morning streets of Ethos, the city was just beginning to stir with activity. The sun had now fully risen, casting a golden glow over the towering buildings and bustling market squares. They walked in silence, their footsteps falling in rhythm with the faint sounds of merchants setting up their stalls and city guards beginning their patrols.
It wasn't long before they reached the city's outskirts, where the caravan awaited. A long procession of wagons, horses, and bundled supplies stretched along the dirt road like a great serpent poised to slither across the land. Travelers bustled with last-minute preparations, voices rising in a chorus of anticipation and farewells.
Their destination: Thornhold, a well-known crossroad town nestled between the trade arteries of Ethos, Dwarvenhaven, and White Stone. It was a place where paths converged, fortunes were made—or lost—and neutrality offered opportunity and caution.
The caravan itself was a patchwork of seasoned merchants, wandering tinkers, cloaked scholars, and families seeking new beginnings in distant cities. Some had already spent weeks on the road, their faces weathered by wind and sun, while others, like Moren and her companions, were only now joining the long journey ahead.
The caravan master, a burly human with a thick beard and a weathered face, waved them over as they approached. His eyes scanned the group with a practiced ease, nodding in approval at their well-armed and capable appearance.
"You're the lot heading all the way to White Stone, aren't you?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.
Moren stepped forward, offering a firm handshake. "That's right. We'll be traveling with the caravan until Thornhold, then make our way north."
The caravan master nodded. "Good. We've got plenty of wagons, but we could always use extra eyes and swords on the road. Thornhold's a long haul, and the roads aren't what they used to be." His eyes flicked to Lucius, who stood quietly at the back, his expression as stoic as ever. "That one's got the look of someone who knows trouble when it comes knocking."
Lucius gave a small smirk but said nothing, his eyes already scanning the other travelers and the distant tree line, always alert.
Veska, ever the restless one, was already eyeing the wagons filled with supplies and goods. "What's the plan, then? We ride at the front or keep an eye on the rear?"
"You'll rotate as we go," the caravan master replied. "But for now, get yourselves settled in. We leave within the hour. It's a long road to Thornhold, and we'll need to make good time before the weather turns."
Jaycen nodded, always practical and focused. "We'll be ready."
The group moved through the caravan, finding a spot to settle their packs and prepare for the journey ahead. They were given a small space to share between two wagons, where they could stow their gear and rest when needed. It wasn't luxurious, but they were used to rough travel, and the arrangement suited them just fine.
As they prepared, Moren took a moment to look around at the other travelers. There was a wide variety of people—families with children, merchants guarding their wares, and a handful of mercenaries hired to protect the caravan. Some faces were weary, likely having already traveled for days, while others were fresh and filled with a sense of adventure. It reminded her of her long journeys, the excitement and uncertainty that came with every new destination.
Veska leaned against one of the wagons, her sharp eyes taking in everything. "This lot seems capable enough, but I'll bet we'll see trouble before we reach Thornhold."
Moren gave her a sideways glance. "We always do."
Lucius, standing a few paces away, nodded in agreement. "Bandits, maybe. Or worse, depending on how deep into the wilderness we go."
Jaycen tightened the straps on his armor, his expression serious. "We've faced worse. We'll handle it."
"True," Veska said, pulling her cloak closer to her body and shivering. "Why aren't we taking a nice warm airship to White Stone?"
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Sky raiders have been harassing airships, and the Queen's locked down all non-essential flights for the time being." He gave Moren a knowing look. "Besides, who doesn't love sleeping under the beautiful winter skies?"
Veska scowled at the old Veilborn Hunter. "I call dibs on using Moren as my personal heating pad," she declared, slinging an arm around her sister. "I mean, you run warm and feel amazing to cuddle with."
Luna hooted softly. 'Agreed,' she said through their link, huddling closer to Moren's neck for emphasis. Warm.
Moren snorted. "I feel so loved," she deadpanned, making both Jaycen and Veska burst out laughing. "Fine—but I expect a girls' night at some point."
"Deal!" Veska chirped. "Also, dibs on sharing Moren's tent," she added quickly, flashing a celebratory grin.
Jaycen's head whipped around. "What? No fair!" He glared at the Lumanari woman.
"Children," Moren said playfully, giving both her cousin and sister a look. "There's room for all of us in the tent." She patted the tent bag slung at her hip. "But no fighting, or I'm kicking you both out."
"We'll behave." They said at the same time.
Lucius groaned and turned to secure his pack, shaking his head at the chaos behind him. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—more ghost than grin, but real all the same.
Soon, the caravan began to stir with activity, horses being harnessed and wagon wheels creaking as they prepared to move. The group waited for the wagons to roll forward. The long trek to Thornhold was about to begin.
As the caravan finished its final preparations to depart from the outskirts of the town, the streets were already bustling with early morning activity. Vendors called out from their stalls, offering food, supplies, and trinkets to the travelers passing through. Moren guided her horse through the narrow streets, her gaze scanning the marketplace when something caught her eye.
A scruffy, foul-looking man stood beside a wooden cage, jabbing something inside with a long stick. As Moren got closer, she realized the creature inside was no ordinary animal. It was a Fey Dog—its jet-black fur matted and dirty, and its brilliant blue eyes filled with fear and pain. Each time the man prodded it, the creature let out a low, pitiful growl, shrinking back into the corner of the cage.
Moren's stomach twisted in anger. Fey Dogs were intelligent and noble creatures known for their loyalty and their ability to phase in and out of existence. Seeing one trapped and tormented like this filled her with a deep sense of injustice.
She slowed her pace, careful not to draw attention, and glanced at Veska, who was riding ahead. Veska hadn't noticed the situation. Her attention focused on the road. Moren's mind raced. She couldn't leave the creature to suffer, but confronting the man directly would only draw unwanted attention from the caravan or escalate the situation into violence.
Her hand twitched at her side, fingers moving subtly as she quietly whispered the incantation for Arcane Hand under her breath. The spectral hand turned invisible in the air beside the cage, moving with careful precision.
The man jabbed the dog again, grinning as it yelped in pain. "You'll fetch a nice price in Thornhold, you beast," He muttered cruelly.
Moren clenched her jaw, focusing on the lock of the cage. The Arcane Hand floated toward it, manipulating the simple mechanism. The lock clicked softly as it came undone, the sound lost in the din of the marketplace. The cage door slowly creaked open, but the Fey Dog remained motionless. Its ears perked up as if sensing what was happening.
The man stepped back, oblivious to the door now hanging ajar. "Stupid mutt," He muttered, looking away to adjust the goods on his cart.
Moren flicked her fingers gently, urging the Fey Dog forward. For a moment, it hesitated, its eyes locking onto hers as if seeking permission. Moren gave the faintest nod.
With a sudden burst of movement, the Fey Dog phased out of the cage in a blur of black fur and reappeared several feet away, darting between the crowded stalls. The man turned, eyes wide, realizing too late that his prized possession was gone.
"Hey! What the—?!" He yelled, dropping the stick and rushing toward the now-empty cage. "Where did it go?"
Moren kept her expression neutral, her heart racing as she casually guided her horse past the commotion. Veska had noticed the disturbance now, raising an eyebrow but not commenting as she saw Moren moving on.
The man continued to shout, scrambling through the marketplace, but the Fey Dog was long gone, having slipped into the shadows of the nearby alleyways.
Moren allowed herself a small, satisfied smile as she rode ahead, the group beginning their journey out of town. The chill in the air felt a little lighter, and the heavy weight of the coming winter seemed distant for a moment. She didn't know where the Fey Dog would go, but at least now it was free.
Riding up beside her, Lucius glanced at the chaos behind them, then at Moren, his keen eyes narrowing slightly. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" He asked quietly with a knowing look in his eyes.
Moren looked ahead, feigning innocence. "Not a thing." She replied, doing her best to keep a straight face. "Run of bad luck for him."
Lucius smirked, his tone dry. "Good to know."
As they continued down the road, the town disappearing behind them, Moren couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory. One life had been saved today, and for now, that was enough.
The first few hours were uneventful, the road stretching out before them through open plains and rolling hills. The chatter of the caravan was a constant backdrop—families sharing stories, traders bartering, and guards keeping a vigilant eye on the horizon. Moren found comfort in the familiar rhythm of travel, the steady pace of the horses, and the quiet hum of the wheels on the road.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Moren glanced back at the city of Ethos, now a distant silhouette on the horizon. It would be at least 6 days before they reached Thornhold, and then there would still be a day or two journey north to White Stone, depending on the weather.
As the caravan rolled through the slush, Moren couldn't help but feel the weight of the journey ahead—both the physical miles and the challenges that would no doubt come their way. But with Veska's sharp wit, Jaycen's steady hand, and Lucius's unwavering presence, she knew they were ready for whatever lay ahead.
The landscape had changed noticeably since their departure from Ethos. The rolling plains had given way to rocky hills and frost-covered forests. The once-vibrant leaves of autumn were now long fallen and buried beneath a thin crust of snow, while the trees stood bare, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like skeletal hands frozen in prayer. Tiny tracks crisscrossed the snowy path—rabbits, foxes, and other small woodland creatures—evidence of life quietly enduring the cold.
Moren pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she rode at the rear of the caravan, her breath visible in the cold air. The road to Thornhold was longer and harsher than expected, the colder weather slowing their pace as the days shortened and the nights grew bitter. The steady rhythm of wagon wheels over rough terrain was a constant companion, as were the low murmurs of other travelers, though the mood had grown more subdued as winter approached.
"Definitely not a fan of winter," Veska muttered from her position near the front, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. She tugged at her own cloak, clearly displeased with the cold.
Lucius, riding beside her, gave a small grunt of agreement. "It'll get worse before it gets better. We need to make Thornhold soon or risk getting caught in the snow."
Moren had heard the same warnings from the caravan master. The closer they got to the foothills, the harsher the weather would become, and no one wanted to be stuck in the wild when winter hit full force.
Jaycen, always the optimist, rode up to join Moren at the rear, his breath forming small clouds in front of him. "We're making good time. If we keep this pace, we should reach Thornhold before the worst of it."
Moren nodded, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Despite their progress, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting for them on the road ahead. The air felt too still, and the forest too quiet. The path had been relatively safe so far, but the closer they got to Thornhold, the more isolated it became. Bandit attacks were common on these roads, especially as caravans like theirs carried valuable goods. And then there were the wild things—the creatures that lurked just beyond the tree line, always watching.
"Something's off," Moren said quietly, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the trees along the roadside.
Jaycen followed her gaze but saw nothing unusual. "You always have a sense for these things. We'll keep watch."
As the day wore on, the cold grew sharper, and by the time the sun began to set, the wind had picked up, carrying with it the faint promise of snow. The caravan master ordered them to stop for the night in a sheltered clearing, where they could light fires and prepare for the cold night ahead.
Once camp was set up, Moren joined the others around a fire, its warmth a welcome reprieve from the biting air. Veska sang for them and swayed to the music, her movements fluid and graceful, while Lucius stared into the flames, his expression unreadable as always. Jaycen, ever the caretaker, was busy helping some of the younger travelers set up their tents and reinforce them against the wind.
Moren rubbed her hands together, pretending to shake the cold out of her hands. Her earrings from Vaelwyn and Veilborn body kept the cold away from her. "We'll make Thornhold in two days, maybe three, if the weather holds," she said, her voice low enough for only her friends to hear. "But I don't think the road will stay this quiet."
Veska looked up, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "You expecting trouble?"
Moren nodded. "I don't know what, but I can feel it. Something's out there. Waiting." She could feel her inner wolf stirring deep inside her.
Without looking away from the fire, Lucius spoke in his usual calm tone. "We'll be ready when it comes. We always are."
Jaycen returned to the fire, his breath fogging up in the cold air. "We've been through worse," he said, sitting beside Moren. "We'll handle it."
As the night deepened, the camp grew quieter, the firelight flickering against the darkening sky. The wind howled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of snow with it. Moren crawled into her tent and dropped into her bed as her shift had ended, and Jaycen slept on a bedroll on the floor.
Sleep came fitfully, the cold seeping into every layer despite the fire's warmth. At some point in the middle of the night, Moren awoke to the sound of movement. She sat up, instinctively reaching for her weapon, hurrying out of the tent, eyes scanning the dark forest.
Veska was already awake on watch, standing at the edge of the camp with her hand on the hilt of Dawn's Radiance. Ever watchful, Lucius was already sitting up, eyes glowing faintly in the firelight as his senses extended beyond the camp.
"Something's out there," Veska whispered, her voice tight with tension.
Moren rose quietly, her breath fogging in the cold night air. She could hear it now, too—soft, barely perceptible footsteps moving just beyond the edge of the camp. She exchanged a look with Jaycen, who had already drawn his sword.
The group stood together, silent and tense, as the forest around them seemed to come alive with the sound of rustling leaves and the soft padding of footsteps. Whatever was out there, it was getting closer.
Moren's heart raced, but her grip on her spear was steady. Winter might have been on their heels, but something far worse was waiting for them in the darkness.
The soft crunch of footsteps grew louder, circling the camp. Moren's pulse quickened, but her grip was firm. She stepped closer to Veska, her breath visible in the cold air. Lucius had risen, moving with quiet, predatory grace as his glowing eyes scanned the darkness beyond the firelight.
The rustling stopped abruptly, and silence fell over the camp momentarily. Moren strained her ears, waiting for whatever was lurking out there to make its move. Then, a familiar shimmer caught her eye from the edge of the tree line.
The Fey Dog.
Moren's heart leapt. The jet-black creature phased in and out of view, its form flickering like a shadow against the dark forest. It stepped cautiously toward the camp, its once-pristine fur now matted and covered in dirt and leaves, but its piercing blue eyes were locked on Moren.
"Is that...?" Veska began, lowering her sword slightly as she peered into the darkness. "The dog from the market you told me about?"
Moren released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and smiled softly. "Yes. He must've followed us." She smiled at their furry friend. "Hi there."
The Fey Dog, sensing that it was no longer in danger, padded forward, staying low to the ground as it approached the firelight. It stopped just short of Moren, its head tilted slightly as if waiting for permission to come closer.
Moren knelt down, extending her hand slowly. "Come on," she whispered gently. "You're safe now."
After a brief hesitation, the Fey Dog moved forward, pressing its head into her hand. The fur was cold and dirty, but Moren could feel the strength beneath it, and despite everything, the creature was still resilient.
Veska sheathed her sword and crouched beside Moren, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Look at him," she murmured, her eyes lighting up with genuine affection. "He's a good boy, isn't he?"
Moren nodded, running her hand through the Fey Dog's fur. "He is. He must've been through a lot but still found his way here."
Lucius, still standing watch, gave a slight smirk. "Seems like you've got a shadow now."
Jaycen, ever the protector, relaxed as he lowered his sword, his face softening at the sight. "Looks like he's decided you're his people now."
Moren smiled as she and Veska exchanged a glance. "I think we'll need to clean him up first."
Veska grinned and stood up, already moving toward the magical tent they had set up for shelter. "Come on, let's get him cleaned up. We can't have him running around looking like a street mutt."
With a gentle nudge, Moren coaxed the Fey Dog into the tent, its eyes gleaming with trust now as it followed her inside. Veska had already begun preparing a basin of warm water, her movements quick and efficient as she gathered a few strips of cloth. The inside of the tent was spacious and far more comfortable than the cold outside, thanks to the enchantments.
Moren and Veska worked together to clean the dog, carefully washing away the dirt and grime. The Fey Dog seemed to relax under their care, its body leaning into Moren's touch as she gently wiped down its fur.
"He's beautiful," Veska remarked, her voice soft as she ran her hands through the now-clean fur, which gleamed a rich, deep black in the light. "I've never seen one like him."
Moren nodded in agreement, her heart warming at the sight of the creature finally at peace. "He is. I've heard about Fey Dogs, but I've never seen one this close before."
Now more comfortable and relaxed, the dog curled up beside Moren, resting its head in her lap as its tail gave a slow, contented wag.
Veska chuckled softly. "Looks like you've got yourself a companion."
Moren smiled, stroking the dog's soft, now-clean fur. "Seems like it."
As the night wore on and the cold wind howled outside the tent, Moren and Veska continued to fawn over the Fey Dog, sharing soft words and quiet laughter as the creature nestled closer to them. The warmth of the tent, combined with the bond they were forming with the beast, made the harshness of the world outside seem a little more distant.
For now, in the safety of the magical tent, Moren and her companions found a moment of peace, knowing that whatever dangers lay ahead, they had each other—and now, their loyal Fey Dog—to face them together.
As the Fey Dog grew more comfortable, Moren's familiar, Luna the Tawny owl, swooped silently into the tent, her wide, amber eyes gleaming with curiosity. She perched on the back of a nearby chair, her head swiveling as she took in the sight of the new arrival.
Sensing another presence, the Fey Dog lifted its head from Moren's lap and locked eyes with Luna. The two animals stared at each other in perfect stillness for a moment—Luna's gaze unblinking and the Fey Dog's posture alert but calm. The tension was palpable as if both silently assessed whether the other posed any threat.
Moren watched with quiet amusement, feeling the air thrum with the unspoken standoff.
Veska leaned in slightly, whispering, "Do you think Luna's jealous?"
Moren smiled softly. "Not jealous. Just cautious."
The staring contest between the two creatures stretched on for what felt like an eternity, neither willing to break eye contact. Then, with a soft flutter of her wings, Luna blinked first. She hooted softly and tilted her head, her way of giving approval.
As if understanding the signal, the Fey Dog relaxed, its tail giving a slow, contented wag. Satisfied with the silent exchange, Luna hopped down from her perch and fluttered over to Moren's shoulder, giving the Blink Dog a passing glance as she settled in.
"Well, looks like they've worked it out," Veska grinned. "Scoot over, I am freezing and need you to help me warm up.
Moren chuckled, gently scratching behind Luna's feathers. "It's a truce." She got comfortable and winced when Veska's cold body cuddled into her. Moren pulled a blanket over them as the Fey Dog settled back down at Moren's feet, content with his place in the group. Luna, meanwhile, kept a watchful eye on him, but the silent understanding between the two creatures was clear—both had accepted each other's presence.
Moren felt a sense of calm wash over her. Her family of companions had grown a little larger tonight, and together, they would face whatever awaited them on the road ahead.