Charlisa sat beneath the curling tendrils of a fig tree as dusk painted the skies with lavender and rose. Her fingers traced the edges of the old silk map gifted by the merchant from Aetherion. Each city—Lysandra, Myrinthos, Eleus—sparked a longing within her chest that grew stronger with each passing day.
"I want to see them," she murmured. "I want to know more."
Kael stood behind her, quiet, his arms folded. "The cities?"
She turned to face him. "Yes. Not to leave this place behind... but to understand the wider world. The knowledge, the people, the ruins. I feel like part of my family's spirit is waiting for me out there."
Kael crouched beside her, brushing a curl from her cheek. "The lands between are not safe, Charlisa. Especially now. The dry winds have returned early—seasonal shifts have stirred the forest."
He pointed toward the horizon where stormclouds gathered at the mountain ridges. "There are beasts that move with the rains. Larger, hungrier than before. The forest tribes speak of wild beastfolk—ones who no longer follow clan rules. They attack without warning, take what they want, especially from travelers."
Charlisa nodded solemnly. She had heard whispers of such danger, even before the travelers had left.
"Some say they rob women, take their clothes, their dignity... some say worse," Kael continued. His voice was tight with concern. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."
She took his hand in hers, grounding him. "I don't plan to go now. I'm not reckless. But I have to believe there's a way—someday. When the seasons calm. When we can travel with others or build trust with the outer tribes."
Kael leaned his forehead against hers. "Then we plan for it. Together. I'll make sure you're trained to move like a mountain cat. We'll map safe paths. Perhaps one day, we'll go to Aetherion as a family."
Charlisa smiled, heart warmed by his unwavering support. "I knew I'd found the right place when I met you. This village, these people, are my roots now. But maybe the cities are my wings."
That night, as winds howled against their hut, Charlisa penned her first record on bark parchment: descriptions of the wild beasts, their seasonal movement, the behavior of beastfolk, and notes on travel strategies. Knowledge, she knew, was power.
The journey was not today. But it would come.
And when it did, she would be ready—not as a lost traveler, but as a daughter of two worlds.
With roots in the soil and eyes on the stars.