I said goodbye to my wife today. She wasn't pleased about this situation, and honestly, it felt like she didn't even want to see me off. Do I blame her? Not at all. This might be my most ambitious adventure yet, possibly the most dangerous.
Her silence weighed on me as I left, a reminder of the risks I’m taking. I understand her reluctance; the promise of fortune feels hollow against the certainty of our separation. Yet, there's a spark of hope driving me forward, the belief that this journey could change everything for us.
It's time for sleep now. The fire is burning down, and the others in the caravan have succumbed to slumber. As I lie beneath the vast night sky, the stars seem to whisper promises of discovery and danger. I hope she dreams of the life we might have, as I work to make it a reality.
~ Journal of Emmet the Explorer
Snow fell.
As if it wasn’t cold enough. Nyla thought bitterly.
Colter hadn’t said a word to her since they had left Rat and his band of criminals. Those delinquents were probably in a drunken stupor by now.
Nyla’s short legs churned through the waterlogged road, struggling to keep pace with Colter’s longer strides.
To her relief, Colter finally halted in front of a large wooden door. Only now did Nyla notice the subtle changes in their surroundings. Even through the thickening snowfall, she could see the walls were a bit less dilapidated, the windows cleaner, the doors less... patched.
A creaky sign swung in the wind. "The Worn-out Welcome" was painted on it, some of the letters faded but still legible. Colter gestured for Nyla to enter, making no effort to open the rustic wooden door himself.
So much for chivalry, Nyla thought, rolling her eyes.
She pushed open the heavy door, its creak echoing in the quiet, and stepped inside. Warmth enveloped her immediately.
The interior was a welcome change to the bitter cold outside. Rough wooden beams crisscrossed the low ceiling, lending the space a cozy, rustic charm. A fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting a flickering golden light across the room.
Commoners sat at sturdy wooden tables, their murmured conversations blending with the soothing crackle of the fire. They glanced at her briefly, their interest waning as they returned to their discussions. At the far end of the room, a bartender moved efficiently behind a bar made of rough-hewn wood, the shelves behind him lined with an assortment of bottles and mugs.
Nyla inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of burning wood mixed with a hint of something herbal. She felt the cold gradually seeping from her bones. She rubbed her cheek, feeling the lingering sting from the earlier beating. If not for that, she might have actually felt at ease.
Colter stepped in behind her, the door closing with a final, resolute creak. He surveyed the room with a practiced eye, then headed straight for the bar.
“Follow me.” Colter ordered dryly.
“Are you always this welcoming?” Nyla retorted to his cold order.
No reply.
Cold bastard.
Despite Colter's arrogance, Nyla followed, her gaze darting around the room, absorbing every detail. This place felt like a sanctuary, a brief respite from the harshness of the world outside.
As they neared, the barman looked to Nyla with a welcoming smile. “And who might you be, young lady?”
“A stray. She won’t be staying,” Colter spoke before Nyla could reply.
“I see. Well, either way, welcome to the Worn-Out Welcome. My humble tavern. The name’s Rogan,” he said, drying a freshly cleaned glass.
“Thank you,” Nyla replied, forcing a weak smile. “It seems an odd name for such an inviting place.”
Rogan chuckled. “You can blame my great-grandfather for that. He wasn’t much of a people person, I’m afraid.”
“Yet he opened a tavern?”
Colter cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation. “Is Kael in?”
“Same place he always is. The others are back as well. You should see to Kiri.” Rogan's face tightened with concern.
“What’s wrong with Kiri?” Colter asked, his brow furrowing.
“They returned last night. It didn’t go well. Go see her when you can.”
Colter nodded, not responding further. “Come on, stray. Keep up.”
Nyla scowled. “My name is Nyla.”
Colter ignored her and walked past the bar, pushing through a hanging curtain into the next room.
“Better follow him; he won’t wait,” Rogan smirked, returning to his duties.
Nyla took a deep breath and followed Colter through a heavy curtain at the back of the tavern. They moved down a narrow hallway, the walls lined with old, faded portraits and lanterns that cast a dim light.
Colter led her to a set of worn stone steps descending into darkness. Without the flickering torches mounted on the walls, the place would have been pitch black. She hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairwell, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
“Where are we going?” Nyla asked as she carefully started down the steps.
“Stop asking questions. You wanted to see Kael, so that’s where we’re going,” Colter replied, his tone sharp and dismissive.
What a detestable man, Nyla thought, suppressing the urge to retort.
The descent felt endless, each step echoing loudly in the confined space. The air grew warmer and more humid, and Nyla noticed the scent of earth and stone becoming more pronounced. At the bottom of the stair the room opened into a spacious cavern, the wooden walls of the tavern had given way to rough-hewn rock supported by sturdy wooden pillars. Unlike Rat’s cave, this place seemed better maintained.
Makeshift wooden tables and chairs were scattered around, their surfaces worn smooth. The floor was covered with threadbare rugs, their once vibrant patterns now faded and frayed at the edges.
At a central table, a man sat. He was hunched over a table cluttered with maps, his grey hair partly tied back, with a neatly trimmed beard flecked with white. His face was weathered with lines giving him a distinguished yet rugged appearance. Dark clothing, practical and worn, covered his lean frame, with a long cloak draped over his shoulders.
His eyes, sharp and observant, moved steadily over the maps. They reminded Nyla of the drawings the Elder Priests used during their lessons. She had always preferred studying tinctures and herbal remedies, but the sight of the detailed plans stirred a sense of curiosity in her.
“You’re back early, Colter. Who is this you’ve brought?” the man asked, not looking up from his maps. His voice was low, carrying a gentle roughness.
Colter leaned against the wall, his gaze steady and unyielding. He tilted his head, motioning for Nyla to approach the table. "This is a Weaver," he said, his voice calm and measured.
Nyla stepped forward, feeling the familiar tendrils of fear creeping up her spine. Instinctively, she reached into her bag to grasp the reassuring smoothness of her Crystal. Panic surged as her fingers found nothing but empty space. It was gone.
"Looking for this?" Colter's voice was eerily calm as he pulled the Endora Crystal from his pocket, letting it catch the light. He twirled it between his fingers. "I think I'll hang on to it."
Wait, how did he get it from my bag?
Anger boiled within Nyla, searing away the edges of her fear. "That's mine. You have no right to take it!"
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Colter pushed himself off the wall, stepping toward Nyla. "You sound like a child," he said, his tone smooth and almost disinterested. "Though all you Weavers are used to getting what you want, aren't you? Typical Acolyte."
Nyla's eyes locked onto Colter's, her gaze fierce. "You don't know anything about me."
He stopped just a pace away, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "What's there to know?" he murmured, his voice soft but cutting. "You're all just mur—"
"Enough," the older man interjected, his voice firm and commanding. He remained seated at the table, his eyes flicking between Colter and Nyla with a calm authority. "Sit," he said to Nyla.
Colter inclined his head slightly, stepping back with an almost imperceptible nod. He leaned against the wall once more, his eyes never leaving Nyla. They held a cold, calculating scrutiny, as if he was weighing her every move.
Nyla begrudgingly obeyed Kael, seating herself opposite the grey-haired man.
“Now, why don’t you start with your name?” Kael asked, his gaze still fixed on the maps spread before him.
“Nyla. I assume that you must be Kael?”
Kael nodded, finally looking up. “You would assume correctly. My own assumption leads me to believe I am the reason you are here.”
Nyla nodded in return. “I have a letter for you.”
Kael raised an eyebrow. “I see. May I ask how you came to be in possession of this letter?”
“My mother gave it to me before I left the Tower.”
“Curious. May I have the letter?”
“Only if I have your word that you won’t harm me or turn me in once I give it to you.”
Kael smiled, a gesture that seemed more reassuring than threatening. “You have it. I have been called many things in my lifetime, a murderer of the defenceless is not one of them.”
Nyla looked at him intently. “And what leads you to believe I am defenceless?”
This time, Kael let out a chuckle. “Oh, I am sure that you are hardly defenceless in normal circumstances. But I would remind you of where you are—this is not the Tower.”
Nyla shied away from his statement, realising the weight of his words. This man seemed more dangerous than he appeared, his calm confidence more unnerving than any show of strength she had ever seen.
Kael held out his hand, “The letter, if I may.”
Nyla hesitated before pulling it from her pack, her fingers trembling slightly as she handed it to Kael.
Kael’s eyes narrowed as he examined the magical aura surrounding it. “This is quite the enchantment. Your mother gave this to you?” He turned the letter over, his gaze piercing through the layers of magic. “Who, if I may ask, is your mother?”
Should I lie? No, there’s no point.
“Elyse.” Something flickered in Kael’s eyes, but it vanished so quickly that Nyla wondered if she had imagined it.
“Do you mean High Priestess Elyse?” Colters voice sounded tense. Nyla turned to see Colter had straightened, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade.
“Judging from the magic on this letter, it would seem it is.” Kael muttered, his voice thoughtful.
“If this is true she can’t stay here, Kael. She risks us all!” Colter growled.
Kael raised a hand to silence Colter. “Calm down. She poses no threat to us. If she did, she wouldn’t have risked coming into the Common Sector.”
Colter grumbled, clearly unsatisfied.
Well at least he listens to someone.
Kael laid the letter on the table and placed the flat of his hand upon it. Whispering an incantation, the magic around the letter responded, swirling like a miniature storm. Tendrils of light crept up his arm, spiralling with a life of their own. As they reached his eyes, they ignited with a dim, eerie green glow.
Kael inhaled deeply, his breath steady and controlled. Slowly, he exhaled, the green light receding as the magic settled. In a matter of moments, the enchantment had vanished, leaving the letter as an ordinary piece of parchment.
When Nyla first encountered magic, it had sparked a fire of fascination within her, igniting her senses and filling her mind with wonder. Now, that same magic felt as mundane as brushing her hair, a routine part of her daily life. Yet watching Kael attune to the magic of the letter without a Crystal was extraordinary. Even as an Acolyte, she knew how rare it was for someone to wield even minor magic without the aid of a charged Endora Crystal.
"Now, let's have a look at this letter," Kael said, his voice steady and calm. He slowly unfolded the envelope, revealing a sheet of marble-white paper. Nyla held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mother had never confided its contents to her, leaving her in the dark, filled with anticipation.
The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity as Kael studied the writing on the page. Nyla's eyes were fixed on him, her mind racing with questions. Finally, Kael placed the paper back into the envelope and sighed, laying it on the table.
"Colter, send Rosalyn to prepare a room for our guest here," Kael instructed.
"Guest?" Nyla and Colter exclaimed simultaneously, the word echoing in the room like a thunderclap.
"Guest," Kael repeated, his tone firm and unyielding. "She will need some new attire, too. We can't have her walking about wearing Acolyte Robes."
Nyla felt a jolt of shock. Her thoughts swirled in confusion and disbelief. Guest? What was in the letter?
Colter shook his head, his disbelief mirroring Nyla's turmoil. "I don't understand what's happening here, Kael. She can't stay here. She's the daughter of a high Priestess. Are you trying to get us killed?"
Kael's eyes locked onto Colter's, a silent battle of wills. "This is not up for debate, Colter. Do as I have asked."
A surge of frustration pushed Nyla to speak. "You two know that I'm still here, right? Don't I have some say in this?"
Kael raised an eyebrow, meeting her gaze with a question of his own. "Do you have somewhere else to go?"
Nyla's heart sank. Do I have anywhere else to go? "Well... No," she admitted, her voice small and uncertain.
"Then there's your answer. Colter, take her now. I have to go and see Yviane." Kael rose from his seat, his height and presence suddenly commanding the room.
"Yviane? What did that letter say, Kael?" Colter pressed, desperation creeping into his voice.
Kael remained silent, draping his robe over his shoulders with an air of finality as he headed toward the door.
"Kael?" Colter called after him, his voice laced with frustration and unanswered questions.
"I will explain later. For now, please do as I have said," Kael replied, his words carrying a weight of urgency and mystery.
Colter finally nodded, though Nyla could see the tension in his posture. "Fine. But I expect answers later."
As Kael disappeared up the spiral steps Nyla had descended moments before, she realised her hands were shaking. Everything was spiralling out of control. Whoever these people were, they clearly weren't on good terms with the Radiant Order. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. She was an Acolyte, after all, and this entire situation felt wrong.
What were you thinking, Mother? This doesn't feel right. Nyla's thoughts were a whirlpool of confusion and doubt, her heart heavy with uncertainty.
“Come on. Follow me,” Colter said.
Nyla hesitated, her frustration bubbling up. “What is going on?”
Colter ignored her question as he approached the rear wall of the room, pulling at a loose rock. With a grating sound, a large stone shifted aside, revealing a hidden doorway.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” he said dismissively, disappearing into the passage without a backward glance.
I really do not like this man, Nyla thought, hurrying to keep up. The stone door closed behind them with a heavy thud, sealing them inside.
“Hurry up,” he called, his voice echoing through the tunnel. She followed him down the narrow passage, the flickering torchlight casting restless shadows. Their footsteps echoed against the stone walls, creating an eerie rhythm that seemed to amplify the silence.
As the tunnel widened, a dim, warm glow replaced the darkness. Lanterns hung at intervals along the path, their lights dancing like distant stars. The ground sloped gently downward, and with each step, the low hum of voices grew louder, vibrating with the energy of a hidden world.
Nyla emerged from the tunnel and stopped, her eyes widening in astonishment. An underground city sprawled before her, its tents and makeshift buildings silhouetted against the cavern walls. People moved purposefully, some carrying supplies, others engaged in quiet conversations. The air buzzed with life—the clatter of tools, the murmur of discussions, all weaving together into a living tapestry.
She marvelled at the ingenuity displayed by these people, how they had carved a sanctuary into the earth. How does the Order not know about this place? she wondered. The city was carefully organised, with sections for sleeping, supplies, and communal gatherings.
“What is this place?” Nyla asked, unable to hide her awe.
Colter stopped and turned, his eyes meeting hers. “This is my home. And just so you know, if you do anything to endanger my home or my family, I will hunt you to the ends of this world.”
Nyla met his gaze steadily. “Well, that won’t be hard, seeing that Grimhold is the last city in the world.”
Colter grumbled but turned away, leading them toward large stairs carved from the rock.
Just beyond the entrance, built beside the stairs an outpost was set up with several tents forming a protective barrier. The guards stood at attention, their eyes scanning the area. Each was clad in mismatched armour. Though the armour looked old it was evident the men looked after their gear.
Weapons were stacked neatly near the tents, and a few guards conversed quietly, their voices low but watchful. The flickering campfire at the centre served as a gathering point, currently occupied by a group of small children.
The scent of roasting meat mingled with the earthy air of the cavern caught in Nyla’s nose, she realised it had been a long time since she had last eaten. Her stomach grumbled in recognition.
Suddenly, a small child with wild brown hair darted toward them. “You’re back!” the boy exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.
Colter grinned and crouched down to meet the boy at eye level. “What are you doing here, Joran? Was I gone that long?”
Seeing Colter smile was strange to Nyla; she was accustomed to being on the receiving end of his intense glares and brusque manner. The smile transformed his face, momentarily softening his usual stern demeanour.
Joran swatted at Colter’s hand as he tousled the boy’s hair. “You’re always gone too long! Did you get me a gift?”
Colter chuckled. “Don’t I always?”
Joran crossed his arms, a look of defiance on his face. “No.”
Feigning offence, Colter said, “Well, I guess you don’t want this then.” He pulled a set of colourful juggling balls from his pocket.
Nyla watched as Joran’s face lit up, the boy snatching the balls eagerly. “Oh! Did Rat give you these?”
“He sure did. Now go play, and I’ll catch up with you later.” Colter swatted the boy gently on the backside to send him off.
Colter didn’t look back at Nyla as he moved onward, and she followed closely behind.
Colter exchanged brief words with one of the guards as they reached the outpost, but Nyla was too distracted by her surroundings to catch the conversation. Her attention was drawn to the sprawling tents and makeshift buildings and the hum of voices of the city.
After a nod from the guard, they were waved through, and Nyla continued to follow Colter toward a set of stone stairs that descended deeper into the city.
Nyla paused at the top to take a deep breath, surveying the city below. The laughter of the children playing reached her ears, reminding her of her own childhood games at the Tower. The familiar sound tugged at her heart, filling her with nostalgia and a sudden pang of homesickness.
Is this my future? she wondered, fear creeping in.
Her mind buzzed with questions about her mother’s intentions: Did she know about this place? None of it really mattered now, she had no choice to but to push forward.
With a determined resolve, Nyla descended the stairs, ready to explore this new world and discover her role within it.