The morning sun bathed Amberheart in a warm golden light, but the city’s usual vibrancy felt muted. Silas couldn’t shake the shadow of his father’s words from the night before. He was seated in the study, his thoughts interrupted only by the occasional chirping of birds outside the window. Today, they would leave for Impsbane, the closest place for them to undergo Rowan's Soulweaver trial. But before that, there were preparations to make.
Rowan entered the study quietly, his expression focused, though softened by the bear cub nestled in his arms. The tiny creature looked up at Rowan with bright blue eyes, its golden fur catching the sunlight streaming in from the window.
“We should start gathering what we need for the journey,” Rowan said, breaking Silas’s reverie. “Uncle Chen is already making arrangements.”
Silas nodded, standing up and brushing off the lingering thoughts. “Let’s get started then.” They made their way through the familiar halls of the manor. As they reached the door, he glanced at the bear cub and raised an eyebrow. “Have you named him yet?”
Rowan smiled a hint of pride in his eyes. “I’m thinking of calling him Árktōs,” he said, his tone suggesting he was trying to impress Silas with the choice. “What do you think? It’s a cool name, right?.”
Silas gave him a flat look, unimpressed. “Huh... Even I know that’s just the word for ‘bear’ in Theron.”
Rowan deflated like a balloon, his earlier confidence evaporating. “Well, I thought it sounded cool,” he muttered, looking down at the cub.
Trying to salvage the situation, Rowan began to rattle off other potential names, his voice filled with a mix of determination and desperation. “Maybe Sunny? Or Cubby? Honeybee?”
Silas fought to keep a straight face, a grin slowly breaking through. “Honeybee? You can’t be serious, Rowan.” His laughter echoed through the room, the tension finally breaking.
Rowan flushed with embarrassment, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he cradled the bear cub closer. The cub, seemingly aware of the situation, grunted softly, its expression almost mirroring Rowan’s dissatisfaction.
Silas laughed even harder at that, doubling over with mirth. “It doesn’t even like the names you’re picking! Poor little guy.”
Rowan huffed, looking at the cub thoughtfully before settling on something simpler. “Alright, fine. How about Goldie?”
The bear cub made another soft grunt but nestled closer into Rowan’s arms, apparently resigned to its new name. Rowan gave Silas a pointed look, daring him to make another comment.
“Goldie it is, then,” Silas said, still chuckling but with a more subdued tone. “Simple, fitting, and not likely to embarrass him in front of other bears.”
Rowan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as they left the study. The cub squirmed slightly, adjusting to the name, while Silas’s laughter echoed in his mind, a small but welcome break from the heaviness of the day ahead.
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The marketplace was bustling with activity as usual, merchants calling out their wares and townsfolk haggling for the best prices. Silas and Rowan moved through the crowd with purpose, stopping at various stalls to pick up supplies for their journey. Uncle Chen was already there, speaking with a merchant whose wares were known to be of the highest quality.
“These will serve you well,” Uncle Chen said, handing them a package wrapped in thick, waxed cloth. “Recovery Salves for wounds, antidotes for both physical and magical poisons, and some powerful healing potions. Use them sparingly; they’re difficult to replace.”
Rowan took the package, nodding in thanks. “What about the communication devices?”
Uncle Chen motioned to another merchant, a wiry man with sharp eyes and a knowing smile. “Jared here has what you need.”
The merchant laid out several small, intricately carved stones. “These are bonded pairs,” he explained. “Speak into one, and the other will transmit your words to its twin. The range is about ten leagues, but it should serve you well in the field.”
Silas grabbed one of the stones, feeling its weight in his hand. “How do we activate them?”
Jared smiled. “Just press the stone to your lips and speak. Your message will reach the other instantly. But be cautious—using them too often can drain their power.”
Satisfied, they made the purchase and secured the stones in their packs. Next, they visited a weaponsmith, who had prepared a set of finely honed blades, and a blacksmith for portable shelters made of durable yet lightweight material. Finally, they stocked up on dried foods, maps of the region, and other essentials for their journey.
By the time they were done, their packs were filled, and their minds were focused on the task ahead. Uncle Chen assured them that everything had been triple-checked and they were as prepared as possible.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
As they were about to leave the marketplace, Aisha Graham, the second maid from the Lonestar Manor approached Silas, bowing respectfully. “Lord Sullivan requests your presence before you depart, young master.”
Silas’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded. “I’ll go at once.”
Rowan gave him a reassuring look. “I’ll finish up here. Take your time.”
Silas watched his friend for a moment, appreciating Rowan’s calm, steady presence, before turning and heading toward the manor.
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The Lonestar Manor loomed ahead, its grand spires casting deep shadows across the courtyard. Silas felt a familiar tension in his chest as he walked through the halls toward his father’s study. Minerva bowed as he passed, her face neutral, but Silas could feel the weight of her gaze. News travelled fast in Amberheart, and the events at Bitter Creek had not gone unnoticed.
When Silas entered the study, he found his father standing by the large window, looking out over the estate. The room was quiet, the only sound was the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
Sullivan turned as Silas entered, his expression unreadable. “Silas,” he greeted, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “I’m glad you came.”
Silas nodded, keeping his posture straight. “You wanted to see me before I left, father?”
“Yes,” Sullivan said, walking over to his desk and motioning for Silas to sit. “I know you’re about to embark on a dangerous journey, and I wanted to speak with you about something important before you go.”
Silas sat down, his eyes meeting his father’s. There was a moment of silence before Sullivan continued.
“I know what happened at Bitter Creek,” Sullivan said, his tone measured yet unyielding. “Uncle Chen told me everything. He’s my attendant—of course, he would tell me the truth.”
Silas felt a cold weight settle in his chest, but he forced himself to remain composed. “I see...”
Sullivan’s gaze was piercing. “I’m not disappointed because you participated in killing them, Silas. What disappoints me is that you felt the need to lie about it. I thought you understood that you can trust me with the truth. Or do you still naively think that killing is a sin? ”
“I didn’t want you to think less of me… for what I did.” Silas hesitated, his voice dropping. “For how ruthless I had to be.”
Sullivan’s expression softened slightly, but there was still a hardness in his eyes. “You must learn to be even more ruthless with your enemies, Silas. Anyone who wishes to harm you and the people you care about deserves no mercy. When an ocean of blood lies at your feet, who will dare touch your bottom line?”
Silas nodded, absorbing his father’s words. There was truth in them, though they sat uneasily with him.
“One more thing,” Sullivan’s voice lowered to a grave whisper, his gaze intensifying. “This world is full of darkness that wants to swallow you and light that wants to use you. Remember, always walk a path between light and darkness. Don’t succumb to the darkness, but beware of the blinding light as well. The world and its inhabitants aren’t waiting for you to save it. You owe them nothing—not by virtue, not by power, and certainly not by birthright. The ones who fly the flag of justice, end up dead choking on their own blood and regrets.”
A cold shiver coursed through Silas. His father’s words weren’t mere advice; they were a directive—a blueprint for navigating a world steeped in harsh realities.
“Walk the line between pitch black and pure white,” Sullivan continued, his eyes boring into Silas’s own. “Find the grey path, Silas. It’s the only way to keep your soul intact in a world that seeks to tear it apart.”
Silas nodded slowly, the weight of his father’s words settling over him. He understood what his father was telling him—that to navigate this world, he would need to be both strong and wise, neither a hero nor a villain, but something in between.
“I think I understand,” Silas murmured, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “But it’ll be… difficult.”
Sullivan studied Silas for a long moment before saying “Survival is your compass; follow it!”
Silas took a deep breath, slowly digesting the words.
Sullivan gave a final nod and said “I’ve said what I should. Now Go! Your trials await, and I expect you to return victorious.”
Silas stood, bowing slightly before leaving the study. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as he walked through the manor’s halls. His father’s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the path he was now walking.
☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂
Silas met up with Rowan at the gates of Amberheart. Their supplies were packed, and their horses were ready. Rowan glanced at Silas, noticing the serious expression on his face.
“Everything alright?” Rowan asked, concern lacing his voice.
Silas forced a smile, nodding. “Just a last-minute talk with my father. Nothing to worry about.”
Rowan didn’t press further, but Silas could tell his friend knew something was weighing on him. They mounted their horses, the sound of hooves clattering on the cobblestone streets as they rode out of Amberheart.
The journey to Impsbane would take several days. As they left the familiar surroundings of the city behind, Silas found himself thinking about his father’s words again. He knew the trials ahead would test their skills and resolve. But with Rowan by his side and his father’s guidance in his mind, Silas felt a renewed determination.
They rode in silence for a while, the road stretching out before them. The landscape began to change, the rolling hills giving way to dense forests and rocky terrain. The air grew cooler as they ascended into higher elevations, and the sense of anticipation grew stronger with each passing mile.
As they approached the outskirts of Impsbane, the sun began to set, painting the sky with red and orange hues. Silas and Rowan exchanged glances, knowing the first trial was about to start.
Silas felt the weight of the responsibility he carried, not just for himself but for Rowan as well. His father’s words had given him much to think about, and as they camped for the night, he couldn’t help but wonder if his path was indeed correct.
But there was no turning back now. The trial of the Ruby-Eyed Serpent awaited, and with it, the first step toward proving themselves as true Soulweavers.
As Silas lay down to sleep, his hand resting on the hilt of Ebonheart, he whispered a silent promise to himself. No matter what happened, he would walk the grey path, navigating the treacherous balance between light and darkness. He would survive, and he would succeed.
And in the end, he would emerge stronger than ever before.