The first time Gray tried to sleep while walking, he tripped over a root and face-planted in a patch of wildflowers.
"Told you it wasn't a good idea," Aldric said, barely hiding a grin as he pulled him back to his feet. They'd been on the road for three days now, and Gray had already made three attempts to nap in motion—once by leaning against Aldric's shoulder, once by balancing on one foot with his eyes closed, and now this.
Gray brushed petals and dirt from his dark robes, his storm-cloud eyes narrowed in annoyance. "It would have worked if the root hadn't been in the way. Who puts roots on a road, anyway?"
"The trees," Aldric said, chuckling as he adjusted the pack on his back. It was heavy—filled with food, water, and a thick wool blanket Gray had insisted on bringing "just in case I need a nap in a cold spot." "This is a back path, remember? Not a royal highway. Trees grow where they want."
They walked on through the forest, the only sounds the crunch of leaves under their feet, the chirp of birds in the branches, and the distant gurgle of a stream. The sun filtered through the canopy in dappled patches of light, and for a moment, it was quiet enough that Gray felt his eyelids growing heavy again.
"Hey," Aldric said, nudging him with his elbow. "Wake up. We're almost to the first village. I need to buy more bread, and you need to stay hidden. Remember the plan—you're my mute cousin who doesn't like crowds."
Gray sighed, forcing his eyes open. "Why can't I just wait in the woods and nap while you shop?"
"Because last time you did that, you accidentally set a patch of grass on fire with your mana when you rolled over," Aldric said. "The villagers are already talking about a 'mysterious silver light in the forest.' I don't need them connecting it to the Lazy Mage legend."
Gray grumbled under his breath but didn't argue. He'd forgotten about the grass fire—his mana had a bad habit of acting up when he was tired, which was almost always. He pulled the hood of his robe up over his silver hair, making sure his face was hidden in shadow.
They reached the village an hour later—a small cluster of wooden houses surrounded by farmland, with a single tavern and a market square where a few merchants had set up stalls. People stared as they walked through—Aldric's silver armor and lion-headed sword made him easy to recognize as one of the Sixteen Greatest Swordsmen, and strangers in the village were rare.
"Sir Aldric!" A young boy ran up to them, his eyes wide with wonder. "Are you here to fight a monster? My dad says you once killed a griffin with just one swing of your sword!"
Aldric knelt down, smiling at the boy. "Your dad's exaggerating—I needed three swings. But no, I'm not here to fight a monster. Just passing through, buying supplies for a journey." He pulled a small coin from his pocket and handed it to the boy. "Buy yourself some candy. And tell your dad to stop telling tall tales."
The boy ran off cheering, and Aldric stood up, nodding at the other villagers who were watching. "Stay here," he said to Gray, gesturing to a quiet corner of the square. "I'll be back in five minutes."
Gray leaned against a wall, pulling his hood lower. He watched as Aldric walked over to a bread stall, chatting with the merchant. A few other villagers approached him, asking questions about his adventures, and he answered with easy charm—never mentioning Gray, never hinting at where they were going.
It was strange, watching someone who'd become so famous. Thirty years ago, Aldric had been just a scared young knight who'd stumbled into a dungeon looking for glory. Now, he was a hero—someone people looked up to, someone they trusted. And all this time, he'd been protecting Gray's secret.
A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A woman in a dark cloak was standing at the edge of the square, her eyes fixed on Gray. She didn't move, didn't speak—she just watched, her face hidden in shadow. There was something familiar about her, something that made the hair on the back of Gray's neck stand up.
His mana stirred, warm in his chest. He tensed, ready to act—but then Aldric was back, handing him a bag of bread and cheese.
"Ready to go?" Aldric asked, following Gray's gaze to the woman in the cloak. "Everything okay?"
Gray shook his head, pulling his hood lower. "Just someone watching. Let's leave."
They walked out of the village, heading north toward the Whispering Mountains. The woman didn't follow, but Gray could still feel her eyes on his back long after they'd left the houses behind.
"Who do you think that was?" Aldric asked.
Gray shrugged, taking a bite of bread. It was fresh, warm, and surprisingly good. "No idea. Probably just a curious villager. Or someone who recognized me."
"Unlikely," Aldric said. "No one knows what you look like. The stories say you're everything from a seven-foot-tall monster to a tiny old man with a beard down to his knees."
Gray grinned. "A tiny old man? That's new. I kind of like that one. Less intimidating than a monster. People are less likely to wake you up if they think you're harmless."
They walked on in silence for a while, the forest giving way to rolling hills covered in tall grass. In the distance, Gray could see the first peaks of the Whispering Mountains—tall and jagged, their tops covered in snow, wrapped in a layer of mist that never seemed to lift.
"Why do they call them the Whispering Mountains?" he asked.
Aldric gestured to the mist. "Listen closely."
Gray stopped walking, closing his eyes. At first, he heard nothing but the wind in the grass and the beat of his own heart. Then, faintly, he heard it—a soft, humming sound, like thousands of voices whispering all at once. It was beautiful and eerie, like the singing he'd heard in the space between worlds.
"It's the wind moving through the rocks," Aldric said. "The locals say it's the voices of the old mages who lived there before the fall. They say the mountains whisper secrets to anyone who's willing to listen."
Gray opened his eyes, looking at the mist-shrouded peaks. He could feel magic there—old magic, wild magic, the kind that hadn't been touched by human hands in thousands of years. It was quiet magic, though—peaceful, not dangerous. The kind of magic that would let him sleep without being disturbed.
"Good," he said, starting to walk again. "Quiet is exactly what I want."
They camped that night in a small clearing at the foot of the mountains, with a fire crackling between them. Aldric cooked a stew of rabbit and vegetables, while Gray sat on a rock, watching the stars appear in the dark sky. They were brighter here than they'd been in the village—brighter than anywhere Gray had ever seen them.
"Tell me about the griffin," Gray said, breaking the silence.
Aldric smiled, stirring the stew. "You said you'd stay awake for that part."
"I am awake," Gray said, though his eyes were already half-closed.
"Sure you are," Aldric said, but he started talking anyway. "It was ten years ago, right after I found the valley. The griffin had been attacking caravans on the old road through the mountains—killing people, destroying goods. The king sent me to hunt it down."
He paused, pouring the stew into two bowls and handing one to Gray. "I tracked it for three days, following its footprints through the snow. It was a big one—white feathers, golden claws, eyes like amber. When I finally found it, it was nesting on a cliff ledge, feeding its chicks."
Gray sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued. "What did you do?"
"I didn't kill it," Aldric said, taking a bite of stew. "I realized it was only attacking caravans because the drought had dried up all the food in the mountains. It was just trying to feed its young." He smiled. "So I made a deal with it. I'd bring it food every month if it promised not to attack any more caravans. We've kept that deal ever since."
Gray looked at him, surprised. "A deal with a griffin? I didn't take you for the negotiating type."
"Learned it from you," Aldric said. "You taught me that sometimes the easiest way to solve a problem is to not fight it. To find a way to make things work for everyone. Even if it means bringing a griffin a bag of meat every month."
Gray nodded, taking a bite of stew. It was good—warm and filling, perfect for a cold mountain night. He looked up at the stars, listening to the mountains whisper their secrets, and for the first time in thirty years, he felt like he was finally on his way home.
"Hey Aldric," he said, his voice soft. "Thanks. For waiting for me. For keeping my secret. For everything."
Aldric looked at him, his eyes warm. "Anytime. You gave me something no tournament or title ever could—you showed me what a real hero looks like. Even if he is the laziest man in the world."
Gray grinned, closing his eyes. "I prefer 'efficient.' Why waste energy fighting when you can just sleep and let things work themselves out?"
Aldric laughed, throwing a small piece of wood into the fire. "Whatever you say, Lazy Mage. Now get some sleep—we've got a long climb tomorrow. And no sleeping while walking this time. I'm not carrying you up the mountain."
Gray didn't answer—he was already asleep, his breathing slow and steady, his face relaxed in peace. The fire crackled, the mountains whispered, and above them, the stars shone bright, guiding them toward the valley where Gray could finally rest.