The first days of the journey were relatively uneventful. They traveled at a steady pace, making good progress. Nymous led the way, his sharp eyes scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. Walther and Basil walked side by side, discussing the history of Vostralis and the significance of the patchwork.
"Vostralis was once a beacon of knowledge and power," Walther explained. "A city built on the principles of iron and magic. Its workshops were renowned for crafting artifacts of power, and its libraries held scrolls of great value."
Basil listened intently, absorbing the information. "But what happened to change that? Why is it considered a bad place now?"
Walther sighed, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "It all started with the transfer of a B-class patchwork known as the 'Eternal Forge.' This patchwork was essential for maintaining the city's magical forges, which were the lifeblood of Vostralis's industry and defense. The patch was originally managed by the Seraphine family, who had safeguarded it for generations."
"Why was it transferred?" Basil asked.
"The Seraphine family fell into disfavor due to political machinations and internal strife," Walther continued. "Their rivals, the Holkir family, seized the opportunity to claim the patchwork. While the Holkir were powerful and ambitious, they lacked the Seraphine's deep understanding of the patchwork's intricacies. The Eternal Forge required not only technical skill but also a profound respect for the ancient rituals that powered it."
"So what went wrong?" Basil pressed.
"The Holkir family, in their haste to assert control, neglected the rituals and overextended the forge's capabilities. They pushed it to produce more and more without proper maintenance, causing the magical infrastructure to become unstable. Within a few years, the city's once reliable and potent forges began to fail. This led to a decline in the quality of their artifacts and a series of failures they tried to hide. The final blow came when a ritual was performed incorrectly, causing a release of deity energies that corrupted the minds of the city."
"The corruption spread quickly," Walther explained. "By the time the extent of the damage was understood, it was too late. The city's governance had fractured, and different factions began to vie for control. The once-great city of Vostralis descended into chaos, marked by constant power struggles and a pervasive sense of distrust. What was once a beacon of knowledge and power became a place of iron and blood."
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On the fourth day of their journey, the group encountered their first significant obstacle. They reached a wide river, its waters churning, and discovered that the bridge they needed to cross had collapsed. The remains of the old stone structure jutted out of the water like broken teeth, making it clear that their path was blocked.
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Nymous studied the remains of the bridge, his brow furrowed. "This bridge was one of the main routes to Vostralis," he said. "It's exceedingly strange that this collapse has not been reported before."
Walther looked up and down the river, searching for a way to cross. "We need to find another way over," he said. "We can't afford to turn back."
Basil glanced around, spotting a narrow, rocky path leading upstream. "Maybe there's a shallower point where we can ford the river," he suggested.
"That's possible," Nymous said, nodding. "Let's follow the river upstream and see what we find. But stay alert. The riverbanks can be treacherous, and we don't know what else might be waiting for us."
They set off along the rocky path, their progress slowed by the uneven terrain. The sound of the rushing water grew louder as they climbed over boulders and navigated narrow ledges. After a while, they came to a spot where the river widened, and the water seemed calmer.
"This might be our best chance," Walther said, surveying the area. "The river looks shallow enough to cross here, but we'll need to be careful."
Nymous tested the water with a long stick, checking the depth and stability of the riverbed. "It's manageable," he said. "But we'll need to watch our step. The current is still strong."
They began to cross the river, moving one at a time to avoid putting too much weight on any one spot. Nymous went first, his movements sure and steady as he navigated the slippery rocks. Walther followed, his steps more cautious but equally determined. Basil took a deep breath and stepped into the water, feeling the cold current tug at his legs. He focused on keeping his balance, carefully placing each foot on the solid ground.
Halfway across, Samuel, who had been bringing up the rear, slipped on a moss-covered rock and fell into the water with a splash. "Help!" he cried, flailing as the current pulled him downstream.
Nymous reacted instantly, leaping back into the river and grabbing Samuel's arm. "Hold on!" he shouted, trying to pull Samuel back. The force of the river was too strong, and Samuel's hands were slippery from trying to hold on to the mossy rocks earlier.
Nymous used all his strength, but Sam's hand slipped away.
Samuel's eyes widened in panic as he was carried away by the swift current, gasping for air and struggling to keep his head above water. The churning river seemed determined to pull him under, and his desperate cries for help grew fainter with each passing moment.
Basil watched in horror, his heart pounding in his chest. Time seemed to slow as he saw Samuel's hand slip from Nymous's grasp. The world around him blurred, and suddenly, everything went dark.
In the darkness, Basil found himself standing in a vast, empty space. The oppressive weight of his fear and panic began to lift, replaced by a sense of calm and serenity. From the shadows, the young woman from his dream emerged.
"Listen to your heart," she said, her voice echoing softly. "You have the power to save him."
Basil felt a surge of determination. He instinctively reached for the patchwork hidden in his pocket. As he touched it, a strange energy coursed through him, and the vision faded, bringing him back to reality.
Without thinking, Basil tore the patch from his pocket and pressed it against his chest. The world around him shifted. The roar of the river dulled to a distant hum, and the vibrant colors of nature drained to shades of gray. Time seemed to crawl as he focused on Samuel, who was still being pulled downstream, his movements sluggish and dreamlike.
Basil took a deep breath, feeling the patchwork's energy intertwine with his own. He stepped into the river, the water parting around him as if repelled by an unseen force. Each step felt deliberate, but he moved with a confidence he had never felt before.
He reached Samuel, who was suspended in the water, his struggles almost motionless. Basil extended his hand, grasping Samuel's wrist firmly. The patchwork's power surged through him, and with a gentle but unyielding pull, he guided Samuel back towards the shore.
As they reached solid ground, the world snapped back into focus. The color returned, and the sound of the rushing river filled Basil's ears once more. Samuel coughed and sputtered, but he was safe, lying on the bank with water streaming from his clothes.
Nymous and Walther rushed over, their expressions a mix of relief and astonishment. "Basil, how did you...?" Walther began, but he trailed off, unable to find the words.
Basil looked down at the patch, feeling its power slowly ebb away. He was still trying to comprehend what had just happened. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I just...knew what to do."