"Just another day till the next human settlement," Faelan reminded himself.

He was soaked. Since he had left Terr'Alveran, it had done nothing but rain.

Winter had started to pass in the two weeks he had spent in the elven land, and now rain and cold wind swept over the plains of Ecrana.

It'll be spring by the time I reach Terr'Grenn, he realised. I'm going to miss the season turnover festival.

He shrugged at this thought. There is always next year or the year after that.

Another gust of wind tugged at his cloak and hood. Leaning forward, he patted his steed on the neck.

"You're doing good buddy. After tomorrow, I'll have to go further on foot into the mountains, so I will have to leave you behind. But don't worry. I'll leave you with good people."

The horse whinied and shook his head, throwing water around.

Faelan smiled and patted its neck again, whispering something in its ear.

Then he focussed back on the road.

Not even a bandit would be out in weather like this.

He looked back, checking if his saddlebags were still secure. It would be disastrous if water got in. All his research and notes would be ruined, and his supplies would go to waste.

Luckily, the leather straps held firm—the oily leather shimmered as the rainwater fell off.

He turned back around to face the road and closed his eyes.

He called back to what Nym had told him.

His breathing slowed and became deeper as his heart pace steadied. The sound of falling rain and raging wind became more vivid as the scent of wet soil filled his nose. He could feel every single raindrop on his clothes.

He sat there like that, letting time slip by.

In the last few days, he had gotten better at slipping into a meditative state but hadn't managed to separate.

He had gotten close, yes. But just not far enough.

Curious, he decided to try something new.

With his eyes closed, he lowered his sight into the Veil, and a new light was visible, even through his eyelids.

He didn't open his eyes, but reached up to his chest, remembering his dream with the golden threads.

Nothing.

Steeling his will, he tried again.

Still nothing.

He recalled the dream, remembering the surroundings.

He again stood in the field of red flowers, the giant dead tree looming over him, golden threads flowing through the sky.

The sound of wind and rain fell into the background as he again reached up.

This time, something connected.

A single strand connected to the middle of his chest

As soon as he felt it, the world around him shifted.

Again, he stood in the forest clearing of his first dream. The girl's laughter drifted through the air. The greenery around him was vibrant and there was a subtle cool breeze.

Then he realised something.

He had his eyes closed, yet he could see clearly.

A remark from Aaron drifted to mind. There is more than one sight, boy. And we are blind to most of them.

He had wondered what the old man had meant with that. He already knew there was more than one sight. He was a Seer after all. But that still required open eyes. Perhaps the old man had meant something like this.

Or, I've finally cracked and have gone insane.

Faelan mentally chuckled at this thought.

He looked around and noticed some details he hadn't before.

In a perfect circle around him, the grass was brown and withered.

As he stepped forward, the grass wilted, and the circle grew.

He raised his head again and perked up his ears.

The laughter had died off, replaced by a soft growl.

His head snapped around as Aúyn appeared in his hand, just in time to intercept the snapping jaws of the black wolf lunging at him.

He tumbled backwards as the animal's weight dropped on top of him, his free hand keeping the wolf at bay.

The world around him had shifted again, and the sun disappeared.

It was dark in the pine forest behind the Orion keep.

Aúyn had disappeared from his hand, replaced by a simple throwing knife.

He remembered this day well.

He had been training at night in the forest, unable to sleep. Usually, he would have stayed within the keep, but something had drawn him to the wild.

Now, he was fighting for his life with a wolf, its claws raking across his arms as it snapped and growled at him with its jaws.

He tried to slash at it with his knife, but the wolf bit down on his wrist, forcing him to drop it.

He yelled in pain, kicking the wolf in the belly.

It whimpered and growled, biting down further.

Out of options and panicked, Faelan gave in to his fae instincts. Baring his fangs, he pushed off with all his strength and growled, ripping open the wolf's throat. Fur and blood filled his mouth, but he didn't let go. He held fast until the strength bled out the animal's body. Eventually, he pried his wounded wrist from the limp wolf's jaw.

He was covered in blood, and a stench of death filled the forest air.

He kicked the animal off him, spitting and gagging, trying to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

===================

His eyes snapped open as he was alerted by the whinnying of his horse. He lay slumped over forward on the back of his steed. It looked back at him with one of its intelligent eyes.

The rain had stopped, and the clouds cleared.

For how long was I out? he wondered. He looked up at the sky.

Late noon.

"Almost three hours," he muttered.

He patted his horse on the neck. "Thanks for waking me up buddy."

The horse whinnied again and shook his manes.

===================

After resting and waking early, Faelan reached the human village by the end of the morning.

To call it a village would be generous. The settlement consisted of twelve buildings built in a circle around a central well.

On his way in, he was greeted by two elderly farmers who waved at him as he passed their fields. He kindly waved back.

Once he entered the circle of buildings, he dismounted, making his way to a stable with a sign hanging in the front.

Entering, he saw two men cleaning the stables. Neither of them looked up as he came in.

"I'm looking for a Gillian Andreas," Faelan said.

Both men now looked in his direction. The oldest looking spoke first. "Who's asking, stranger?"

"Faelan Orion, of the house Orion."

The man looked at his companion. Said companion cleared his throat.

"I'm Gillian, sir. How can I help you?"

Faelan smiled.

"Excellent. Can I speak with you in private for a quick moment? If that is okay with your colleague, of course."

The first man shrugged. "Fine with me. You can take the back room."

"Thank you very much. Would you mind looking after my horse in the meantime? We've been on the road for an awful long time, and he deserves the rest."

"Sure."

"Perfect. Now that that's out of the way, Gillian, please lead the way."

As Gillian closed the door behind them, Faelan released the Silencing Weave he had been weaving since entering the stable.

To prevent himself from channelling too much, he overcomplicated it by adding unnecessary parameters. It took a lot more time and took a greater toll on his will, but only a mild headache hit him afterwards.

It was a little trick Minerva had taught him, but he never used it on the road since it took too much time.

"At ease, brother Gillian," Faelan told him, addressing him as a fellow member of the Brotherhood of Ashes.

"Why are you so early? The raven master Orion sent said you wouldn't arrive for another month."

Faelan raised his eyebrow before lowering it again.

Father must have thought I would travel around Alveran instead of through.

He chuckled.

"I took a shortcut. But that's not important. I need three things from you. A place to stay the night, a travel bag big enough to carry my equipment and supplies for two days, and for you to send a raven to the house of Ashes with a message I'll give you later."

Gillian nodded. "Yes, sir. You can stay in the inn tonight. I doubt they'll charge you for it. People around here don't give much for money. As for the bag, you should stop by Turin's. He's the local blacksmith and leatherworker, just outside of town."

Faelan frowned. "Turin? That's a dwarfish name, right?"

Gillian smiled. "Aye, it is. You'll see when you meet him."

"Is he familiar with our line of work?"

"He knows what he needs to know. You can trust him. I've been friends with him since I moved here."

Faelan shrugged. "Very well then. I'll bring you the letter by this evening. where can I find you?"

Gillian nodded upwards. "I live above the stable."

"I'll see you this evening then."

With these words, Faelan reached out to his Silencing Weave, folded it, and kept it with him. Again, he was straining his will, but it was to prevent further backlash.

He left the horse at the stable and asked Gillian to look after his equipment. After this, he made his way to the leatherworker.

===================

The stench of tanning leather hit him before he could see the shop. Ignoring the bad smell, he entered the blacksmith part of the building, following the sound of steel on steel, where the stench of fire, smoke, molten metal, and sweat drowned out that of the leather shop.

Behind the anvil stood a short-statured bald man with his back turned to the entrance, hammering away at an iron tool while billowing out a smithing song at the top of his lungs.

Faelan cleared his throat loudly with no effect.

He recognized it as a translation from an old dwarven forge chant as he listened.

Then he smiled. Without hesitation, he chimed in mid-verse.

"...our vow we keep.

With fire's fury, our Will we bind,

In steel and ash, our strength defined.

So let the mountains shake and roar,

For dwarven forge knows fire's lore.

In every piece, our legacy shown,

In fire, steel, ash, and stone!"

The smith quickly turned around with a raised eyebrow, spooked by the sudden voice, but quickly returned to his work, new vigour in his voice as he sang even louder.

"In halls of stone, where secrets sleep,

Our ancient art, our treasures keep.

With every spark, a tale untold,

In fiery depths, our hearts unfold!

Through ages long, our craft endures,

In molten streams, our passion lures.

From ore to blade, our hands refine,

In fire's dance, our spirits shine!

With sweat and toil, our work's begun,

In caverns deep, away from sun.

Through trials so fierce, our bond is cast,

In steel and ash, our legacy vast!"

As the smith finished the verse, he quenched the tool in water before laying it aside. He whipped soot and grime from his hands with a dirty cloth.

He whipped the sweat from his bald head and smiled a toothy grin.

"My my. And to what do I owe me this lovely ballad stranger? It's been years since someone joined me for a good forge chant. I'm surprised you even know the words."

Faelan also smiled. "I used to study dwarven history together with my sister. It's one of the oldest forge chants known to dwarven kind, right?

"Aye, it be. What can I do for you, friend?"

"I'm looking for a good travel bag for a three-day trip. I'm assuming you're Turin the dwarf?"

Turin laughed a bellowing laugh. "Turin, aye. But a dwarf? I wish. Half a dwarf will have to do. Turin the halflin', at yer service. Maker of fine tools and leatherwork. And who might you be, fellow half-blood? Fae, if me eye does not deceive?"

"Faelan Orion, of the House Orion," he said while giving a custom dwarven bow and smiled. "And yes, half-fae."

He followed Turin through a side door, entering the leather shop. There, a teenage girl was sweeping the floor.

"Keep an eye on me forge, Ella," Turin told her.

The girl nodded and rushed off through the door, dropping the broom.

Turin smiled as he picked it up and put it away.

"Eager little one that. Always willin' to help. Makes a great apprentice. So t'is a bag yer looking for, eh? Let's have a little look."

Turin made his way through racks of leather bags, all expertly sown together. He hummed a jaunty tune as he lifted a couple from their hanging places before shaking his head and hanging them back. After a little while, he gave a satisfied nod and handed it to Faelan who towered over him with at least a quarter of his size.

"How 'bout somethin' like this one?"

Faelan took the finely crafted bag and studied it. It had a single strap that would go over his shoulder and around his waist. On top of it was a single opening sealed by a leather flap.

It was big enough to hold all his belongings, but small enough to shift with him if he did.

"Looks like exactly what I'm looking for. How much is it?"

"Hmm. How 'bout another forge chant and a pint of ale at the tavern? Maybe five copper for the material. I'm willing to give it for completely free if you let me take a look at those daggers you carry."

Turin's eyes shone with curiosity and delight.

While reaching for his money bag, Faelan had moved aside his cape, revealing his belt, and with that one of his daggers.

"For free you say? Well, I won't say no to that. You have yourself a deal."

Smiling he put out his hand.

With an even wider smile, Turin grasped him by the forearm. "Pleasure doing business with you friend. Now how about we take a good look at these beauties in the back, ay? Got most of me inspection equipment there. Ella!? You can put out the forge and start cleaning stuff up. We're closing early today. If Josh comes by to pick up his tools, you know the prices."

"Aye, sir."

"Attagirl!"

Ella's laugh could be heard from the forge.

With that Faelan followed Turin into the second backroom of that day.