I had been living in Eldston for three months when the merchant caravan came, bringing with it rare goods, and news from around Kaldaris. It was the talk of the tavern that evening, and I couldn’t help but overhear.
People on the whole seemed to be getting used to my presence. Because I was trying to make use of my Apprentice Class as much as possible, those who had a heavy workload were always happy to see me and offer me some odd jobs and training in my Talents and Attributes, in exchange for some coin. Bertha had insisted I ask for payment for any work I do, after hearing that I had been doing odd jobs for free.
“You need to be paid for working, you can’t go around breaking your back for ungrateful sods with nothing to show for it at the end. Training a Talent isn’t payment, that’s something you earn by yourself. Where would we all be if everyone just did work for some progression and no pay? Starving in the gutter, that’s where!” She had said, “No, you ask for some coin, and if they have a problem with paying you, just send them my way. They won’t like being barred from the tavern!”
I was grateful to Bertha for forcing me to see the worth of my labour. Thanks to that, and my hard work, I had started saving up a little bit of money, which was always a nice thing to have for a ‘rainy day’. Should I need it, I would have enough money for supplies for a journey, a nice gift for a special occasion, or even the humble start of saving for a home of my own one day.
Okay, maybe that last idea was going a little too far. It would definitely take a long time to save that much. But it would have been nice to have a space that was truly mine again. My bedroom at the Worn Hearth was great, don’t get me wrong, and I was so thankful to Old Garret and Bertha for letting me stay there— but it wasn’t mine, not really. It wasn’t somewhere I would have chosen for myself, and although I felt happy enough there, I never felt I belonged there. Not for forever, anyway.
It was perhaps a combination of these feelings, and the news that came with the merchants that made me make the decision to leave Eldston.
The travelers had come from the next town over, with news that one of the smaller villages had been burned to the ground by bounty hunters. They had been looking for a child who was rumoured to have shown some magical talent, and the hunters had torn apart the entire settlement looking for them. Hearing this had happened, and so close to Eldston, chilled me to my core. What if they heard about Glowbug?
If these bounty hunters heard about a strange girl who appeared from the cursed forest, who had a pet with magical abilities, they would certainly come looking for her. For me.
I won’t let Eldston be torn apart and burned down on my account.
There was no way I could put these people who had been so kind to me in danger. I wrote a note for Bertha and left it on the little table in my room, a poor substitute for a proper goodbye, but it was all I could manage. I couldn’t face her disappointment or the arguments she would have made to keep me from leaving.
I packed what few belongings I had, and snuck away in the small hours of the morning, with Glowbug tucked away in the hood of my cloak. From what I had heard from Bertha about the capital city, Dawnspire, it was a safe place for those with magical Talents. It had a long history of Mage families living there, and the army’s presence was enough to warn any Bounty hunters or other unsavoury sorts from causing any trouble.
With a destination in mind, and my pack slung over my shoulders, I set off on the road to Dawnspire. One day, perhaps I would return to Eldston, to its ramshackle houses and uneven cobblestones, and to its people, who had earned a place in my heart with their kindness and laughter.
The faint crunch of gravel underfoot filled the quiet morning air. The landscape around me had shifted from the open plains around Eldston to rolling hills that rose and fell gently in the distance. The forest lingered as a dark green line on the horizon, but with every step, I left its dangers further behind. A cool breeze ruffled my cloak, and I tugged it tighter around me, feeling Glowbug’s soft hum of contentment against the back of my neck where it nestled in my hood.
The road unraveled like a thread through a tapestry of rolling hills, and over each and every hill were fresh sights and new possibilities. My pack sat heavy on my shoulders, filled with the bare essentials: a few days’ worth of food, a waterskin, and the savings I had managed to scrape together during my time in Eldston. Leaving that little village had been a hard decision, but I couldn’t let my presence put them in danger. The stories of bounty hunters burning entire villages in their pursuit of magic users had been enough to make up my mind. If they ever heard of Glowbug, of me, Eldston could be next. I couldn’t let that happen.
The thought sent a pang of guilt through my chest, and I found myself glancing over my shoulder as if expecting to see Bertha chasing after me, demanding an explanation. But there was only the empty road behind me, the village long since out of sight. I sighed, turning my attention back to the path ahead. “We’ll be alright,” I murmured, reaching up to give Glowbug a gentle pat through the fabric of my hood. “Just you and me now, buddy.”
Glowbug chirped softly in response, its light pulsing faintly against my neck. The sound was comforting, a reminder that I wasn’t alone. Still, solitude felt strange after months of bustling tavern life, of voices and laughter filling the air. I thought back to my first days in Eldston, how awkward and out of place I had felt, and how the villagers had slowly accepted me. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to my lips. I would come back if it was ever safe, but that day wasn’t today.
The day passed in a haze of walking and quiet reflection. The rhythm of my footsteps became a meditative beat, carrying me forward as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Memories of the forest flashed through my mind: the bone-deep cold, the endless hunger, the constant fear of what might be lurking just out of sight. Compared to that, this journey felt easy, like I was just on a hiking holiday. I had food, I had water, and I had Glowbug. And with my goals set in my mind, I felt like I knew what I was doing.
By mid-afternoon, the sun hung high overhead, its warmth beating down on me. I found a shady spot under a large tree by the side of the road and sat down to rest, pulling out a piece of bread and a slice of cheese from my pack. As I ate, Glowbug flitted out of my hood, its light dim in the daylight. It hovered nearby, humming softly as if to keep me company.
“You know,” I said, tearing off another piece of bread, “I’ve been thinking about how far we’ve come. Back in the forest, I didn’t know if we’d even survive the first night. And now look at us. On the road, heading to… well, somewhere.” I paused, glancing at the horizon. “Dawnspire’s still a long way off, though. I hope we’re ready for it.”
Glowbug chirped, its tones bright and reassuring. I chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy. I’ll try to keep it together.”
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully, the road stretching on in its unyielding monotony. My thoughts wandered, flitting between memories of Eldston and half-formed worries about what lay ahead. As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting the world in shades of gold and amber, I started to look for a place to camp for the night.
I found a small clearing just off the road, sheltered by a cluster of trees. The ground was soft and relatively flat, and a nearby stream provided fresh water. Setting down my pack, I began the routine of setting up camp: gathering firewood, clearing a spot for the fire, and arranging my meager belongings for the night. Glowbug hovered nearby, its light growing brighter as the shadows deepened.
As I sat by the crackling fire, staring into the dancing flames, a rustling sound from the nearby trees caught my attention. My heart jumped into my throat, and I scrambled to my feet, gripping the small dagger Torrin had insisted I carry in my boot after what had happened with the Ulvenworg. The rustling grew louder, and to my astonishment, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, his grin visible even in the dimming light.
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“So,” Torrin said, his voice carrying an edge of humor, “You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”
I stared, caught between exasperation and relief. “Torrin? What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” He stepped closer, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m following you. Did you really think you could sneak off without me noticing?”
“I didn’t want you to follow me,” I bit out the words, “It’s too dangerous. The bounty hunters—”
“Are exactly why you shouldn’t be out here alone,” he interrupted. “You’ll need help, whether you like it or not. And lucky for you, I’m excellent company.”
Despite myself, I felt a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t slow me down.”
“I’ll try to keep up,” he said with a wink, settling down by the fire. “Let’s see where this road takes us. Where are we going? Was there a plan, or did you just start walking?”
As we settled in for the night, the tension between us eased, replaced by a quiet camaraderie. I couldn’t deny that having Torrin around made me feel safer, even if I was too stubborn to admit it out loud. As the fire crackled and the moons hung brightly overhead, the road ahead felt a little less daunting with Torrin beside me.
The morning air was crisp as Torrin and I resumed our journey, now as a party. The road stretched ahead like an unspooling ribbon, its dusty surface edged with wildflowers and gnarled roots that spilled from the hedgerows. Glowbug’s light was faint, tucked safely into my hood as I had told it to. I didn’t need to see the little creature to feel its presence; its soft hum was a comforting rhythm against the back of my neck.
Torrin walked slightly ahead, his stride confident and easy. He carried himself as though the weight of the road meant little to him, and I tried to match his pace. The monotony of the road soon drew my attention inward.
“You’re quiet,” Torrin remarked, glancing over his shoulder.
I shrugged. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
I struggled to find the words, unsure if I wanted to voice my worries. Finally, I said, “Eldston. Whether I did the right thing, leaving.”
Torrin’s expression softened. “You did. Staying would’ve put them in danger. This way, they’re safe, and you’re not alone. I’d call that a win.” His reassurance didn’t fully quiet my doubts, but I nodded all the same. I let the conversation lapse into silence, focusing instead on the rhythmic crunch of our footsteps. By midday, we passed a group of travelers headed in the opposite direction. The small caravan consisted of a rickety cart pulled by a weary-looking mule and three people walking beside it. The travelers wore patched clothing and carried bundles of supplies strapped to their backs. One of them, a stout woman with a weathered face, waved as they passed.
“Good day to you,” she called. “Where’s the road taking you?”
Torrin answered before I could. “Redhill,” he said with an easy smile.
The woman’s smile faltered slightly. “You might want to watch your step if you’re headed that way. Bounty hunters have been stirring up trouble in the smaller villages. Burned one to the ground. We passed it on the road up the way, You’ll see when you come to it.”
My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “Thank you for the warning,” I said.
The woman nodded and moved on, her companions trailing behind. Torrin and I continued in silence for a while, the news that we could be walking towards danger before we got to the safety of Dawnspire settling heavily between us.
Two long days of walking later, the terrain had changed. The rolling hills gave way to flatlands dotted with patches of scrub and the occasional copse of trees. The air grew heavier, carrying with it a faint acrid tang. My unease grew with each step, and even Glowbug’s hum sounded subdued.
The first sign of the ruined village was the charred remains of a wagon lying abandoned by the roadside. Its splintered frame and blackened wheels stood out markedly against the vibrant green of the surrounding grass. I stopped, my breath catching in my throat.
“We’re close,” Torrin said grimly, his hand resting on the hilt of his shortsword.
We continued cautiously, the scent of ash and scorched earth growing stronger. The village came into view suddenly, its ruins stark against the horizon. Blackened beams jutted skyward like broken bones, and the ground was littered with the debris of shattered lives. The air was silent, the usual sounds of birds and insects conspicuously absent.
I stepped forward, the crunch of ash and debris beneath my boots seeming unbearably loud. My chest felt tight, my throat constricted as I tried to imagine what this place had been before—a thriving community, full of laughter and life. Now, it was nothing but ashes and dirt.
“They didn’t spare anything,” Torrin said quietly, his voice thick with anger.
“This is why I left Eldston,” I whispered. “I can’t let this happen to them.”
Torrin turned to me, his expression grim. “And you think walking this road alone would’ve stopped it?”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “I don’t know. But I can’t… I can’t let something like this happen because of me.”
“You won’t,” he said firmly. “Because I’m not going to let it come to that. I gave my word, Harriet. I’ll stand by you. Whatever comes.”
His words settled over me like a fragile shield. I nodded, my vision blurred as he pulled me into a steadying embrace. Together, we stood amidst the ashes, mourning for the lives lost and steeling ourselves for what lay ahead. When we finally turned back to the road, the fire-scarred village was behind us, but its memory lingered like a shadow, pushing us onward toward whatever lay ahead.
As the sun began its descent, we approached another settlement nestled in a shallow valley. This one was untouched by the horrors we’d just seen. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the market square bustled with activity. The normalcy felt jarring after the silence of the burned village.
“We’ll keep our heads down and camp a ways off from the village later,” Torrin said as we stopped just outside the village. “No unnecessary attention.”
I nodded, pulling my hood lower to conceal Glowbug, who nestled quietly in the folds of fabric. The little creature seemed subdued, its usual hum barely audible. We ventured into the village cautiously, keeping to the edges of the market square. I purchased fresh bread and cheese while Torrin stocked up on dried meats. We filled our waterskins at the well, avoiding lingering conversations or curious glances. The warnings from the travelers and the sight of the burned village had made us wary.
As we prepared to leave, a child darted out from behind a stall, nearly colliding with me. “Sorry, miss,” he mumbled, his wide eyes flicking to my hood before he hurried off. I glanced at Torrin, who gave a slight shake of his head. We didn’t need trouble.
Back on the road, the sun touched the horizon, casting the world in hues of gold and amber. The stale scent of ash still clung to my clothes. We didn’t speak much as we walked, the weight of the burned village hung heavy between us. The quiet was broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional chirp from Glowbug. Ahead, the road stretched into the fading light, its winding path pulling us forward. The silence between us wasn’t empty—it was measured, watchful, as if every crunch of gravel underfoot marked a promise to be ready for whatever lay beyond the next bend.
Name: Harriet Price
Age: 24
Type: Human (Level 1)
Titles(0/1): None
Classes(1/1): Apprentice
Professions(0/1): None
Talents(10/10): Basic Archery, Basic Cooking, Basic Endurance, Basic Mending, Basic Sneak, Basic Survival Instincts,
Intermediate Crafting, Intermediate Housekeeping, Intermediate Identify, Sense Magic
Condition: Normal
Attributes:
Vitality: 65/65
Physical: 16
Mental: 17
Social: 12
Luck: 11
Experience: 60/100