The road from Greyvale to Iderra was less a path and more a tapestry of worn ruts stitched together by the steps of traders, travelers, and thieves. The land between Conclave and the distant Mirrowfen Hills had always been neutral—no kingdom ever fully claimed it, for it lay between empires, a space for merchants, wandering souls, and those whose faces weren't meant to be seen. It was a place where everything could be traded, and nothing was truly safe.
Kael pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as they passed through the first of the forest's thinning borders. The trees grew sparser here, like the earth itself was too tired to bear the weight of green. Leanardo walked ahead, his eyes scanning the horizon with an unsettling intensity. It was a skill Kael had grown to respect, though it unnerved him to see Leanardo so alert, as though the world might tear itself apart at any moment.
The mist that had clung to the forest's edge in Greyvale seemed to follow them, swirling like a shroud of memory, wrapping around the pair as they moved forward. There was something about this place—this grey stretch between kingdoms—that felt both peaceful and dangerous, as though the land itself was holding its breath.
As they reached the first signs of civilization—a small, cluttered market town called Iderra—Kael could see the bustle of people coming and going, their voices rising in a strange mixture of tension and relief. The roads were narrow, lined with aging wooden stalls and canvas tents that had seen better days. Caravans huddled together like a family of wandering nomads, the scent of spices, livestock, and firewood heavy in the air. It was a stark contrast to the eerie silence they had just left behind.
But it wasn't the noise of Iderra that drew Kael's attention. It was the stillness of his thoughts, the unfamiliar weight in his chest that had become a constant companion since the fall of Conclave. He had thought, when he had left his home behind, that escape would be a balm. But the further they traveled, the heavier the silence grew.
Leanardo turned to him as they passed a stand of braided leather trinkets, a colorful scarf wrapped around his wrist.
"Keep your head down," he said softly, his voice low but deliberate. "Eyes here are sharp. They'll know a stranger when they see one."
Kael nodded absently, his gaze drifting toward the crowd. The people of Iderra were unlike those from Conclave—there were no smiles here, no warmth. Only the look of hardened souls who had lived too long under the weight of survival. Yet there was a certain raw energy to the place, an unspoken understanding that life went on here, even when the world felt like it was falling apart.
The two walked deeper into the town, where the air grew heavier with the sounds of merchants bargaining, children chasing chickens, and the occasional shout of a traveler demanding better prices. Iderra was alive with a restless energy, but there was no warmth in it. Kael felt it in his bones: this was not a town of joy, but one of necessity.
Leanardo stopped at a small food stall, where a lanky man was cooking over a spitting fire. He exchanged a few quiet words with the vendor before grabbing two bowls of something thick and brown. "Eat," he muttered, handing one to Kael before tucking into his own.
Kael took a tentative bite. It was bland, but it filled the emptiness in his stomach. He had not realized how long it had been since he had truly eaten something substantial. The bread from Conclave had tasted like ash in his mouth, and the scraps he had picked up on the road were hardly enough to satisfy.
As he chewed, his mind wandered back to those last moments in the kingdom—the ruins of home, the faces of those he had lost. The memory of Melia haunted him as she had every night since the fires, her ink-stained fingers reaching for him, her shy smile tucked into the corners of his mind.
"You need to speak when it weighs like this, boy," Leanardo said, his voice breaking through Kael's thoughts. "Guilt doesn't sit well in silence."
Kael swallowed, looking down at his bowl. He felt the urge to say something—anything. To explain, to confess—but the words tangled in his throat.
"I miss them," Kael finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Leanardo didn't look at him. He simply nodded, as if he had expected this. "The world doesn't stop for grief, Kael. It doesn't care. You'll find your way through it. But you'll have to carry their memory as you go."
Kael nodded, though the weight of it made his chest ache. He hadn't realized how much he had hoped that this journey—this escape—would somehow erase it all. But Leanardo was right. The world didn't care. It moved on, indifferent to the lives lost.
They finished their meal in silence. Kael could feel the town's eyes on them, the unspoken scrutiny that came with being a stranger. He could sense it on the edge of his skin, like a dozen hidden gazes watching him, judging him for something he hadn't yet figured out.
"Let's move," Leanardo said suddenly, standing and tossing his empty bowl to the ground. He turned, heading toward the outskirts of the market.
Kael followed quickly, his steps taking him farther from the firelight, farther from the noise. As they passed a row of abandoned buildings, Leanardo spoke again, his voice barely audible above the bustle of the market.
"We need to get to the merchant roads. They'll give us cover until we reach the Mirrowfen."
Kael nodded, adjusting his cloak, trying not to let his eyes linger on the buildings that lined the street. He had no love for Iderra, but it was the first place he had been where there were more faces than just his own. And for a brief moment, he almost felt as though he could blend in here—like he could disappear in the crowd, slip through the cracks of the world without anyone noticing.
But he knew better. There was no escaping the past. Not here, not anywhere.
The streets became narrower, the market sounds fading as they moved toward the outskirts of the town. The mist had thickened again, curling between the buildings like a breath held too long.
As they approached the edge of Iderra, a shift in the air made Kael pause. It was subtle—just a hint of something… wrong. Something unfamiliar. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but Leanardo's voice stopped him.
"Don't draw attention," he said curtly. "We're close. Stay sharp."
Kael didn't reply. His senses were alert now, every step heavy with the awareness that something was about to change. He could feel it in the way the mist thickened, how the air became unnervingly still.
They reached the last building before the road turned into the wilderness beyond. Leanardo turned to him, his face grim. "We have to go off the main road now. Once we hit the merchant roads, we'll find cover. But beyond that, we'll be on our own."
Kael nodded, though his mind was already elsewhere. He was thinking of the Mirrowfen Hills, of the unclaimed lands that awaited them, and of the shadow that lingered just beyond the trees.
For now, he followed Leanardo, stepping into the unknown with a heart full of unspoken words.
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